Ch: 252 Secret Asian Man
Sir Tony of order was not in his office. Carlos trundled along with his cargo and passengers, while Jerry slipped off afoot to the temple of Order, to seek him out. They rolled through the gate with hardly a second glance from the old watchman and were being unloaded by brisk, efficient orphans within a few minutes. While Willow stood a discrete distance away with her charge.
When Carlos turned the wagon, to head for the roundhouse by the baths, Willow stopped him.
“We cannot enter sweet Shai’s home with a prisoner. It would violate her traditions and mortal guestlaw. We must ask first, she is not within this dwelling.”
“So now what? Dump him at the temple of Order?” The wagon driver asked tiredly.
“We head to the inn, where Tony is, for some secret chinwag.” Jerry answered, as he trotted up. “We’ll take a bath, until they are ready to see us.”
“Oh yes… The public baths will be just the thing!” Willow cheered. “Plumeria raves about them… I have yet to dip this body in their waters.” The wagon rolled off under Carlo’s guidance for the roundhouse stables, while Jerry and Willow marched their prisoner off toward a set of quartz standing stones and a towering column of steam.
#
Jocomo, first assassin of the empress’ guild of Whispers had never experienced true luxury before. His training before being sworn into her service had been ascetic and rigorous, as it was for all the orphans lucky enough to be chosen for the Whispers.
His tattoo of a scarlet hand on his left cheek was a stark warning to all that he was Her hand and acted on Her will alone. He accepted the stares of the barbarian children all around, as he washed and slipped into the vast, steaming pool behind Willow.
“These children are under my protection and the protection of my sisters and friends.” Willow warned in a tense whisper as they neared the happy gaggle, splashing about together in the midday sunshine.
“Children have nothing to fear from me, or my empress.” He answered coldly, in perhaps the longest sentence she had yet heard him utter.
“Very good…” His captor sighed fondly in his ear. “I’ve become strangely fond of you and the odd light you emanate. It would be a pity to end you, now.” The calm assurance in the beautiful, strangely kind monster’s voice was chilling. As chilling, was his own certainty that she could and would; with little chance he could resist her. His mission would be doomed to fail if this creature decided to slay him. Jocomo had a faint hope yet, that his service would not be humiliatingly and dishonorably short.
His name might yet be mentioned in her prayers to Secret, once his duty was done. He could still enter paradise with his honor intact, so long as his mission was successful. So long as the barbarian witch, Gary Ward died by his hand… If he could manage to see to it that this Sweet Tooth Guild sent the empress her tribute in chocolate… He might even be deemed successful! His bloodsworn Contract might even be presented to her radiance herself, as proxy for his corpse. He could still be redeemed! Those thoughts brought a smile of pleasure to his usually stern features.
“I find this bath to be invigorating as well…” The creature holding him whispered softly, floating at her ease in the water.
Without her clothing or armor, he was able to get a good look at the being who held his fate in her hands. She was small, perhaps four and half feet tall and slender, her body was of pale, turned wood, embellished with miniscule runes, glyphs and sigils; where a human would have armpits, hips, genitals, nipples or a navel.
She was in all respects, a finely crafted wooden doll, animated by some spirit entity by unclean witchcraft… Beautiful, elegant and graceful witchcraft.
He couldn’t help but find the swift, fierce, carefully controlled being fascinating, despite her blasphemous nature.
#
Once safely ensconced in Becky’s room, her new sister had taken a needle and thread from seemingly nowhere at all. With deft fingers, she swiftly made enough hems, pleats, darts and tucks that soon, Gabbie wore an assortment of the giantess’ clothing with a fair fit, despite the size difference.
Perhaps her bodice was not filled to overflowing, like Shai and Becky’s… but some things simply couldn’t be helped without an actual seamstress and some time.
“We’ll have you properly outfitted soon.” Becky assured her with absolute confidence. “Come on, let’s go meet the whole family. We all can’t wait to hear your story!”
Gabbie came prancing downstairs dressed in the height of barbarian fashion. Resplendent in rich green, gold and white, she spun in place at the bottom of the stairs, enjoying the way her skirts swayed and twirled. “Becky promised to teach me to dance! Isn’t that deliciously naughty?” She sang to her two guardians, still in bright green flannel robes.
She and Becky swept in and took the last two seats remaining at the grownup’s table. The three little tykes were off in a booth of their own with a pair of middle aged people, excitedly telling ‘Grandma and Grandpa’ all about their mysterious new friend, Gabbie. The little ragamuffins waved at her when she sat down, as though they hadn’t just seen her a few minutes ago.
Her host, that strange Gary fellow, was just finishing a severely truncated version of his story for her two guardians, with no mention of Gabbie’s own supposed extraordinary origin. He spoke as though he were the only ‘otherling’ present, while hinting at the existence of many more, ‘somewhere out in the world’.
“...So that’s the deal, it’s all just a cheap trick to keep the whole population dancing to this outsider cult’s tune.” He grinned with a chilling sense of menace and hostility peeking out from somewhere. “Now I’m going to make them dance to mine.”
His smile of cold, hungry bloodlust faded away, but the aura of something dangerous and strange remined. His mate, friends and children seemed oblivious to the effect, even as she was chilled to the bone by his mere presence.
Finally, Gabbie realized what it was; his shadow… it did strange, unnatural things, nearly constantly. At the moment, it was lurking in a dark corner and peering about as though possessed of a Will and Mind of its own.
With a shudder, Gabbie eased herself in between Becky and Esperanza, finding comfort between those two warm, buffering presences. That also placed the massive bulwark of Shai, between herself and the giantess’ uncanny and distressing mate. With a sigh of relief, the empress discovered she could no longer see the man’s lurking, looming, leering shadow.
George rose, as she joined the table and bowed to her deeply, in the northern manner, rather than genuflecting thrice, as tradition demanded. “Duke Belen, duchess Belen, honored nobles… May I present Gabriella Rex, empress of Light, radiant gift of the gods, Pontifex Obscura.”
The silence that fell on the room was deafening, as all eyes found the young woman with a tiny tea cake halfway to her lips. “In this place, I shall be Gabbie.” She announced firmly, her voice crackling with authority.
“You’re the… empress?” Becky asked softly. “...of the Empire of Light?”
“Yes, sister. Now pass me that tea pot, I’ve never poured my own before… it looks to be quite fun!” She smiled at her new friends happily. “I think I’ll be taking all of you back with me… we’ll have such fun!”
Another deafening silence descended, this one broken by George. “Radiant one, empress of my heart, you cannot return, with or without these people.” He said firmly. “Within one month of your ‘disappearance’ a new empress will be seated on the cubic throne of Light.”
“Impossible!” She scoffed. “I alone am the Pontiff of Secrets… none other can command my whispers!” Her tea pouring skills were weak, so Shai’s firm steady hand reached all the way over to help, heedless of the hot ceramic kettle she gripped in her bare hand. She smiled at her new friend and helped her master the subtle art of pouring tea, with a smile that warmed the empress all the way through. It felt familiar, comforting… motherly?
George’s voice dragged her back to the present moment, away from that faintest of memories, of a dark complexion and smiling eyes… and that soothing, almost forgotten warmth in her embrace…
“No, empress, you are not. There is no Pontifex Obscura, the god Secret has no followers, nor cultists. That title was fabricated many centuries ago to hide whatever ritual it is that binds the Whispers to you so tightly.” George strained visibly as he spoke, sweating and writhing in discomfort.
“The whispers are bound to you through an occult Contract and a Geas of obedience far stronger than those placed on others.”
“What?” She asked in a very small voice.
“Your radiance is a foundling, empress of my heart. An orphan selected by the guild of Taxmen and Assayers, as part of their role in the succession, as it has been since time out of mind.” He said slowly.
“You were brought to the palace shortly after the death of the previous empress, Estelle the benevolent, a week before her majority. That is when I was promoted to First Physician, on the death of my predecessor. Your fate was to be the same, to die just before your majority…” He tugged uncomfortably at the loose folds of his robe, as though the soft garment were constricting him.
“Kara of Joy discovered the awful truth, while investigating the origin of our cursed regalia.” He sat and fidgeted awkwardly as he spoke, clearly struggling with some internal conflict.
“You were to be murdered by the triumvirate of clerics before the feast of Secrets. As has been the case for every empress for as long as records have been kept.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
‘Auntie Ess’ leapt to her feet at that pronouncement, searching for foes in every shadow. “And how should they accomplish this, under the eyes of the empress’ Whispers?” She demanded coldly.
“Poison in your meals. It seems that a new crop of Whispers is already being trained in secret, as is a new First Physician. I was to die with you, as was poor Kara. She learnt the truth and knew she could never survive revealing it to you, the geas of obedience she and I received is simply too potent.” He sighed.
“By the same token, her fate was to die with us. Her sacrifice gave us this slim chance.”
“How can you speak of this then if the geas slew Kara?” Gabbie demanded in the silent room.
“My bonds with Healer carry additional oaths and strictures, to preserve life, do no harm and ameliorate suffering… These allow me to struggle against it with some success. That is why the head priests of Joy and Healer are not privy to these secrets and are your guardians, rather than the triumvirate of Order War and Craft.”
“My regents know of this plot?” She demanded fiercely.
“They are this plot. The triumvirate has been the real power behind the throne for generations uncounted, concealed behind a string of child empresses.” George said grimly. This secret is the Empire’s greatest mystery…”
“The real mystery is why you clowns never wondered why you never had an empress die of old age… and why the tax collectors are in charge of selecting the new empress.” The big, brown haired man snapped, seeming in a foul temper.
“Though…” He murmured, pausing to reflect, as the room digested the fast flowing information. “If you wanted them to be unquestioned and unanswerable…” A sour, wry grin of unpleasant satisfaction spread across his face, like a creeping seizure.
“Poor folks, crafters and merchants never want to interact with tax collectors and the only thing rich people really fear is being taxed…” The guffaw of disgruntled and disappointed mirth he barked out jarred his mate into action.
“That be all fer ye, Gary! Come children, we go tae the workshop fer music time wi Fats an Starman!” Shai gathered her brood and her mate and dragged them all below by sheer force of personality. “This be talk fer grownups.” She scolded her biggest and most unruly baby.
When they were gone, duke Belen set his gaze on the woebegone and trembling empress, hugged firmly between Becky and Esperanza.
“Are you seeking asylum? If so, granted… if you want my help in some ill thought out…”
“Hush, fool of a man!” Celeste barked at her husband. “She’s only just learning this as well!” She turned to George, pale and sweating, but still fighting the good fight.
“What is your plan? Do you have some goal in mind? Or simply escape?” She asked the priest.
“Escape was foremost on our minds, but Kara had some ideas of her own. She left a journal in my care, before departing for Secret’s realm.” He answered slowly.
“She suggests some courses of action, if we act swiftly. Our first priority, after her radiance’s safety, is to halt their plots before a war can begin.” He sighed in exhaustion.
“A war?” Duke Belen snapped. “Between whom?”
“Between the Twelve Duchies and the Empire, of course.” George replied, sounding annoyed and uncomfortable.
“The Oddsmen’s guild, the Readers, Bookmakers and, oddly enough, the Chocolatier’s guild, all report that the Twelve Duchies will not be holding an indenture auction this season. They report that instead, all of your current crop of stock will become members of the ducal warbands. The triumvirate have come to the strange conclusion that you mean to start a war of conquest, rather than assuming that you are abandoning your barbaric traditions.”
He blushed and went pale in turns, when he finished speaking. “Apologies, lords and ladies… I meant to say… rather…”
“No, you got it right.” Becky snapped at the flustered priest lord. “The indenture sale is barbaric… and has become controversial over the last few months, is that not so, your grace?”
The strangely intense young woman spoke to her duke with a level of self assurance and confidence that took Gabbie’s breath away. She stared down in wonder at the tiny, fierce woman smooshed against her hip.
“Such discussions are not for this time and place, honored cleric.” Duke Belen replied smoothly, he even nodded a slight acknowledgement of her point as he spoke.
“Cleric?” Gabbie mumbled down at her suddenly close confidantes. Lost in far too many new things, she hugged Becky and Ranza closer, finding comfort in her two new sisters.
“Yeah, I’m kinda high priestess of Knowledge, First Reader of Marduk, officially.” She whispered casually. “It’s been a busy few months… since Secret died.” Poor Gabbie left that bit of gristle on the bone; she had too much caught in her teeth already, to try and bite into anything more.
The tiny woman sighed and stood, tugging at Gabbie’s hand. “Come on, you’re no good to anyone like this. Naptime.” Becky hauled the bigger woman upstairs without resistance, leading her on and vanishing together around the landing.
“Now, tell me about this plot to start a war…” Duke Belen grumbled quietly.
“As you know, officially, all orphans in the empire are inducted into the imperial legion of War on their majority, to serve five years, as is the law.” He said, sounding far more comfortable on this topic.
“However, some few are indentured directly to the empress herself, through her role as Pontifex Obscura. These are the empress’ Whispers, her secret police, assassins and bodyguards, loyal only to her and answerable only to her.”
“We are familiar with them… our forces on the fringe encounter yours with some regularity… things get tense at times, but so far, there hasn’t been actual trouble in centuries.” Leopold spoke gently to the distressed priest, whose face was once more twisted in discomfort.
“The empress’ First Assassin, her ‘Bloodsoaked Left Hand’ has been deceived and sent to your duchy, with orders the empress has no knowledge of. He is deadly dangerous and will carry out whatever task he has been set, even… or perhaps especially, if it costs his life. They are odd creatures, the Whispers…” He said sadly, before darting his eyes to where ‘auntie’ had been sitting, ready to gasp out an apology to the dangerous woman. Her seat was blessedly empty.
“Describe this person and what you know of their orders, intent and methods.” The duke snapped at George, bringing him back to the moment at hand.
“The empress’ Whispers always bear a tattoo of a red hand on their left cheek, as a warning and sign of the empress’ Will. Beyond this, I know nothing of him or his methods. The Whispers are highly secretive and answer only to her radiance… Traditionally the empress’ Whispers join her in her tomb, to guard her as she travels to Secret’s realm. We seal them in alive… I’m afraid.”
“Entombed alive?” Celeste asked in a shocked whisper.
“The empress’ guards invariably die with her, but her diplomatic corps and secret police traditionally join her in death willingly, unknowing that she was murdered. Their geas’, conditioning and Contracts see to it that they never survive the empress’ death for long, in any case. This has been our deepest secret, hidden behind our own little barbaric tradition… for uncounted generations.”
“I see. So your mad dog killer is somewhere in my duchy, or on his way here, with some unknown task… intending to start a war between the Empire and the Twelve Duchies…” The duke said softly. “And you can tell me nothing more than this?”
“The triumvirate, the heads of the temples of Craft and to a lesser extent War and Order seem upset by rumors of some local oddity, some craft cultist or witch that has been causing trouble up north…” He murmured apologetically. “I never paid much mind to their mauverings, I’m afraid.”
“I think we can guess who they mean…” Tawny sang sweetly from the piano bench, as she resumed playing. “We can only remain alert and do what we can to protect the peace.”
“Very wise, daughter.” Leopold Belen said firmly, as he rose from his seat and set his sweetly rounded duchess on her slippered feet with care. “For now, The discussions in this room must remain a close held secret. We have been forewarned, an advantage we should protect with all care.”
He turned to the shaken, trembling priest. “Your party should lodge at the palace…” He faltered, when the duchess’ slippered toe clipped his ankle. “... if you feel well enough to manage the trip through town.”
“No, Papa.” Tawny answered from her seat on stage. “My guests need rest from their journey. Furthermore, if their identities are to remain secret, they should stay here, where odd things and new faces will go largely unremarked.”
“We have some family stuff going on.” Liam remarked from over his guitar. “She’s one of us, I think.”
#
Jocomo slowly relaxed in the strange bathing pool, letting his mind drift in ways he usually did not. The creature ‘Willow’ soaked nearby, ever alert and tireless as a… a tree, he supposed.
The barbarian men women and children that came and went in the bath paid her and him, no especial mind, save for a few old veterans who saw his tattoo and recognized it. Those watched him warily, but did not approach or trouble them.
A few minutes after they joined the bath, Carlos appeared, accompanied by a middle aged, slightly doughy woman with a pleasant, if slightly vacant smile on her childlike face.
He joined the bath with his companion, a developmentally impaired relative in his care, no doubt. Something about the smiling, abstracted woman disturbed the tattooed man instinctively.
Her eyes landed on him and suddenly sharpened to an eagle’s fierce glare. “An imperial Whisper?! Beware Carlos, men and women bearing that brand are dangerous and unhindered by morality, the law or good sense!” The woman seemed to say.
Seemed, because Jocomo’s finely honed senses detected the true speaker; the woman’s shadow, floating unnaturally on the surface of the pool and watching him with great care.
“Beware yourself, demon!” He snapped, with a glare for Carlos and the creature whose hand was clamped on his shoulder in a woody, viselike grip. “This parasite is an abomination and must be cleansed!” He hissed.
“I don’t like him!” Kelli announced quietly. “He’s scary!”
“Yes, dear we met a few like him a few years ago… they were not nice at all.” Ellie remarked calmly. “Where ever did you find this, lady Willow?”
“He tried to murder me in the most outrageously rude manner, then had the temerity to apologize to what he thought was my corpse… that was when I decided to keep him alive.” She almost purred her last sentence, pulling him close, into an awkward embrace.
“I never considered trying to tame one…” Elli murmured, while Carlos soothed Kelli.
“Oh, he can’t be tamed, not properly. He’s all bound up with some tangled mortal spells and a Contract with…” Willow trailed off, smiling at him in an amused manner.
“He’s contracted to an outsider as well… Fancy that!” She chuckled with the soft sound of leaves stirred by a cheeky spring breeze. “Not a true outsider, something mortal and… familiar!” Willow’s giggle of delight skipped over the bath as she hugged her prisoner even more tightly. “Oh, now I see! How delicious!”
#
Down in the workshop, Fats and Starman appeared without any effort on Gary’s part, the two shadow figures leapt out and took shape as soon as he stepped off the stairs with the kids. “Hey!” He snapped in agitation. “Wait for it buddies!”
“I called them, Papa.” Rio scolded him firmly, with a tug on his trouser leg for emphasis. “They came to me.”
With a jolt he realized that his own shadow remained entire, no parts were missing at all, even temporarily. “How?” He asked lamely, too puzzled and awash in new things to handle any more.
“Rio’s first gift is waking up!” Amy sang happily. “He can see and talk to ghosts, just like you… ‘cept not as creepy. He’s not haunted!”
“I’m spiritually over-conditioned, that’s all!” He blustered at the three tiny kids.
“Over-conditioned!” Shai scoffed. “Tis a fancy way of sayin’ yer shadow be too fat! Silly man of mine. Settle down an play wi the kids. I’ll fetch lunch down, ye great toddling bairn that I love!” She kissed him deeply and parked her mad boy on a stool with his banjo for some pickin’. “I’ll be right back!”
Gary relaxed and slipped into the groove, frisking along with some of his oldest friends, playing variations on ‘Blue Moon’, to warm up while the kids got themselves tuned.
“A lot of heavy stuff is going on, kids.” He said quietly, once the children were in the mix and following the bouncing ball. “You can always talk to me, Shai, Becky, any of the family about… stuff, ok?”
“We’re not babies, Papa!” Wilf muttered sourly.
“You’re right Wilf, but I need to talk to people about stuff too, I’m not a baby.” He pouted childishly over his banjo and tickled out a quick ‘Lullaby in G’ to make his very grownup point.
“Gary, yer not a year old yet.” Amy pointed out, which Fats and Ziggy found endlessly entertaining.
“Waller, Stardust… I’ll take away your ghostweed!” He shook his fist at the two laughing shades, who ignored his threats, as was proper and traditional.
They were still playing and giggling together, when Shai came back down with a basket of sandwiches on her arm and a smile on her lips. A light lunch and a nap would settle them all in nicely, she decided.
An hour later, her little band marched straight upstairs without complaints, until they found Becky and the freaking empress in the big bed, snuggled together with Ranza and fast asleep...
The kids looked at Shai, Shai looked at Gary, he shrugged and changed into pjs with a wonder woman twirl. “I don’t get a vote, I guess.” He mumbled, not unhappily as they all climbed aboard the S.S. Naptime, bound for dreamland.
#
Fifth bell sang out slowly, ringing the end of the impromptu conference. The well dressed, thinly disguised nobles departed in a group, drawing much comment and no little supposition from the watchers and gossipmongers.
“I should go unload that cargo on Bounty…” Liam muttered tiredly, when the noble visit wrapped up and they all vanished back to the palace. Except for Tony, Adele and Filly, those three remained, soaking in the private bath together as afternoon prepared to become evening.
#