Bandim

By the time he reached Johrann Maa’s chambers, Bandim’s mind was in turmoil. If she had sent for him, that meant she must be gravely ill. She knew better than to bother him with silly trifles. And if she was gravely ill, that meant she might die. And if she died, everything Bandim had worked for would fall apart.

He wrenched open the heavily carved wooden doors of Johrann’s chambers–those that had once belonged to his mother–and sped inside, only to stop short at the sight he beheld. Johrann was sitting at the dressing table that had been gifted to Empress Phen from King Eron of the Metakalans some decates ago, carefully plaiting her long fronds. She started at his sudden appearance, and let her braids fall.

‘Your Grace?’

It took a moment for the significance of the scene to sink in. Clearly, there was no illness…

Bandim’s rage erupted like a spurting flame.

‘Betrayal!’

Johrann sprang from her stool as if he had struck her with lightning.

‘Your Grace?’ she asked again.

Shoulders heaving as he seethed, Bandim strode forward, reaching out for her. His anger bloomed purple and his claws twitched, but a semblance of sense returned to him. He withdrew his hand as she recoiled. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her scheme.

‘I was told you were ill,’ Bandim said, clenching his teeth. ‘And here you are, fully well–and I look like a fool!’

Johrann tentatively leaned towards him.

‘Who said such a thing?’

‘A guard in my mother’s tower,’ he replied.

As the words escaped him, a horrible possibility reared its head. His mouth went dry. What motivation could there be for such a lie, except…

‘I need to get back to the tower, now.’

Johrann started to ask for clarification but Bandim was in no mood to explain. He strode from her chambers and she followed in his wake. He tried to keep as much decorum as he could as he crossed the palace. It wouldn’t do for his subjects to see their emperor running back to his mother’s tower in a frenzy. Yet inside he indeed felt frenzied. Inside, he felt sick. How could it be possible? Who would want his mother, someone most undoubtedly thought was dead? Was it someone from inside the palace, or the family? Or was it a plot by his enemies to destabilize his rule right from the beginning? Possibilities raced through his mind like charging animals.

By the time he ascended the many steps to the top of the Widow’s Tower, his hands were trembling so hard they could barely grip the thick, carved banister bolted to the curving stone. When he reached the top, his worst fears were confirmed.

Johrann was right on his heels as he stopped at the threshold of the chamber that had been his mother’s prison. Now it was empty save for the echoes of her presence, like the unmade bed and the meagre scraps of uneaten food he had allowed her.

‘She’s gone,’ Bandim said. He balled his trembling hands into fists. ‘That guard, whoever he was, has done this. I want him found and brought to me. I’ll slit his throat with my own claws!’

Johrann, who had been hovering at his shoulder, slipped past him and entered the room. She crossed to the bed, tugged the edge of the covers to smooth the wrinkles, and turned back to him. Her expression made Bandim’s blood boil. She was smiling.

His ire rose again like flames and he took one step forward, reaching out to strike the grin from her fine features. Instead of recoiling, she strode to him and grabbed the hand that sought to beat her. The lines around her eyes were tight with fear, but still she smiled. She clutched the hand in both of her own, squeezing tightly.

‘Your Grace,’ she said, ‘please do not despair over this. Yes, your mother is gone. However, it is of no consequence.’

The desire to strike her reared again, but Johrann still held onto Bandim’s hand. He could have wrenched free from her grip, but something in her face made him stop and listen. It was the look of someone who was about to tell a truth.

‘Explain.’

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His single word evoked his power. Johrann briefly bowed her head and continued to smile.

‘I know your mother was a cruel being,’ she said. ‘I know you wanted to give her what she deserved, after all these cycles. She deserves the fear. She deserves the pain. Most of all, you deserve the chance to exact these things upon her. I know you are angry that she is gone, and the idea that you have been betrayed by one of your own guards cuts deeply. You will find out who has done this, and you will punish them as you see fit. However, please do not despair beyond this personal loss. Your Grace, your mother was practically dead for many cycles. She is weakened and has no power. Whoever has taken her as simply given themselves the burden of a broken and useless female to bear.’

Bandim thought on her words for a moment, but there was still doubt under the rage.

‘And what of how my enemies might take advantage of this situation?’ he asked.

Johrann’s laugh was light, and she reached for his other hand. She brought both to her lips, kissing the backs of his knuckles.

‘Your Grace, in order for your mother’s disappearance to have any value for those who seek to hurt and destroy you, she would have to have some value to you beyond the ability to take her life. Do you care for her?’

The stupidity of the question made Bandim’s brows furrow.

‘Of course I don’t.’

Johrann smiled wider.

‘Would you go to great lengths to get her back?’

Bandim shook his head. As he answered, he followed Johrann’s thoughts. His insides settled.

‘No.’

‘Do you love her?’

Bandim needed no time to think of his answer.

‘No. I never have.’

‘Then, Your Grace,’ Johrann continued, pressing the backs of his claws to her forehead, ‘what have your enemies achieved? What power have they gained over you? In truth, none. They can ransom her, and threaten to kill her, but will that mean anything to you?’

Squeezing her claws, Bandim brought her hands to his chest.

‘No.’

Her truth calmed him and the love in her eyes soothed his ire.

‘Then they cannot use this to hurt or undermine you,’ she said. ‘If they ask for a ransom, tell them they would have to pay you to take her back. If they threaten to kill her, thank them for saving you the burden of doing it yourself. I know you wanted to give her what she deserves, and to have that taken from you is intolerable. However, please do not fret, Your Grace. Your enemies can do nothing to you with this. She is of too little consequence.’

‘You’re right,’ Bandim said. He grasped her chin and tipped her head up. He held her gaze. ‘What would I do without you, my Johrann? You are the voice of reason in my passion. You temper me and keep me even.’

Unable to bow her head in humility, Johrann closed her eyes instead.

‘I am but your servant, and the servant of Dorai,’ she said. She opened her eyes again. ‘And soon enough, you and Dorai will be one and the same. At the gathering of the pious in three days I will help you to finally fulfil the will of the goddess. Dorai will return, living in you.’

Bandim released Johrann’s chin and slid his hand to the side of her face. He caressed her armored cheeks with his thumbs, staring into the deep grey of her eyes.

That was his next step. First, he had sought to seize the crown. It was his hatchright, taken from him by his mother’s wretched love for his brother. Taking the throne had been easy, thanks to Johrann. No one suspected his hand in Mantos’s death. How could they? There was nothing to suspect. The young male had collapsed in his grief. That was what they all thought because that was the story Johrann had seeded in them. Her cleverness knew no limits, Bandim thought. She primed a few servants, some merchants, and even a handful of nobles loyal to the Dark, with more details to spread. While it was tragic to lose the emperor and the heir so quickly in succession, had it actually revealed a weakness that was now gone? If Mantos could succumb to grief so easily, would he have made a good ruler? He had been known for his bravery in the battles of his father, but had his toils in war spread cracks through his strength? Had it drained his resilience?

The answer Johrann provided for those mouths to spread was yes, he was weak. No, he would not have made a good ruler, and wasn’t it better that this weakness was exposed before he ever took the crown? While Bandim may have believed in things most folk found difficult to accept, wasn’t it for the best that a strong and true ruler was to wear the crown? Those few mouths spread her words through their circles, and soon enough, the entire court, city, and country were agreed in the idea that Mantos would never have been a good emperor. It was much better that Bandim, the true heir, was plucking up the mantle of rule. It wouldn’t be long until he was crowned. By the time he was, Bandim fully expected Mantos to be a distant memory.

That was only the first part of their plan. The second part was the most important, and the part that would allow Bandim to achieve everything that he had always dreamed of. Within days, Johrann promised to fulfil that which was promised in the Book of Divine Tears: The One of Two, pushed aside, will rise like flames, and the goddess will inhabit him.

‘I am the One of Two,’ he said.

Johrann laid her palms flat on his hands, still pressed to the side of her face.

‘And I am the True Believer,’ she replied. ‘I will ask for the return of the goddess, and it will be granted. Now is a time of destiny and triumph. Dorai will return to this world and live within you. You will become her, and you will know no bounds.’

Bandim leaned forward to kiss her. Johrann’s lips felt as they always did: soft and welcoming, and yet cold. At their touch, the memory of his mother’s disappearance seemed like an ancient tale.

‘We will succeed,’ he said, kissing her again. ‘You will bring me everything that I want.’

‘I live but to serve you,’ Johrann said. ‘I will deliver you power and glory. I will crown you with Dorai’s power, and once I have, no-one will be able to stand in your way. They can steal your mother, but they cannot stop you from spreading the truth of Dorai across the world.

‘I will make them all see,’ Bandim said. ‘And I promise you, I will be the ultimate winner. And I will have my mother back, and I will kill her.’

Johrann grinned.

‘Nothing can stop you.’

Bandim grinned back.

‘Nothing can stop me.’