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Authors: Ashley Fox

Tags: #hope, #freedom, #book club, #tarot, #tales of fairies, #the otherside

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Her nubile consort was engaged in a heated
discussion with Admiral Mullein of Sea Holly House about the
possibility of, and competition, in trading Sanguine. The wily old
sea dog kept his composure and held out his reluctance on giving
the Empire a toehold in Danua.

Passing them
by Tomas paused in an errant beam of light to take up a glass of
elderflower cordial, sweet coolness easing the tension in his head
and eyes, most likely from too long reading into the night. Dawn
had caught him unawares, again. His moment of peace was burst with
a hearty booming chuckle. Situated in a broad band of sunlight
lounged Houses Helianthus and Yarrow. The Lord Coleus of House
Yarrow was wiping the mirth from his rotund cheeks, grey speckled
curls awry. His sun haired brother Cleome, the Head of House
Helianthus, grinning with a mischievous humour. Their wives
reclined near by, Lady Dianthus, Head of Yarrow, and Lady Artemisia
her younger sister and wife of Cleome, with identical expressions
that acknowledged their husbands would never escape boyhood. Tomas
hid a smile as he meandered past hearing snippets of conversation
centred on the harvest to come, and the expectations of the
sisters

new breed of apple
and the quality of cider it would make.

Seeking the coolness of the shadows Tomas
drifted toward the third and final grouping of Houses. Of these he
felt compelled to watch. He rather suspected there was much of the
old blood in these houses, betrayed by a certain wildness in their
beauty, and it reminded him of days long gone, of another place he
once hoped would be his home.

In the soft, stirring shade dwelled a member
of House Foxglove, soft brown hair hanging loose about his
shoulders, green eyes coldly watching the ladies with whom he
stood, and yet at a remove. A man entering his late twenties, as of
yet unmarried, his House known for their steadfastness to the Crown
and Rose. Lord Aruncus and Lady Astilbe, the Heads of Iris House,
sat side by side. Dusky brown and silver hair mingling, identical
blue eyes that held a feral humour. Their fingertips stained with
the muted hues of the rainbow, evidence of their skill and trade
with dyes. They worried that whatever the council was about it
would cause more levies on the land, yet their expressions gave the
impression that they secretly found it all very amusing.

Listening
politely and offering reassurances were House Water Lilly. The
whole clan held a wetly ethereal beauty, long golden hair, pale
blue and green eyes, gentle flush of pink on cheeks and lips,
puddles of watermarked silk in blues around them. Their faces held
expressions of wide eyed innocence and good faith, as the Lord
Shastra, a remarkable tall and svelte man, maintained that nothing
could tarnish the grace of Danua. When his lady smiled there was a
subtle to it that suggested nothing would
dare
to tarnish that
grace.

The garrulous
old man that was dubiously the Head of Gentian House ambled up to
them, his bald pate glistening with sweat, velvet jacket rumpled.
He grabbed a handful of canapés from a near by attendant, somehow
managing to put them all into his nearly toothless mouth, and
whilst chewing set about his discourse.

Now, now young Sirs, Ladies.
There

s no fret to be having
now. We

ll do what we always
do, lead him on by the apron strings,
we

ll take, and smile, and
do what

s best for us
because that what they want really,
isn

t it? A chance at us? At
this? That

s why our King
married that boy

s mother,
now she wasn

t too bad, a
fine Lady, a tragedy that was. That must have stuck in the old
buzzards craw now, hey? But time flows on,
he

ll do us proud and
we

ll do what
we

ve always done. Apron
strings!

And so saying
he veered off, trailing behind an unaware attendant carrying
goblets of chilled wine. Tomas watched his retreating, age stooped
back and wondered if there was any sense in the old
coot

s words. Tomas
wasn

t so sure the power and
might of the Empire could be so easily dismissed, but he had a
point in that Danua had done very well in keeping it at a peaceful
arms length throughout the centuries. His form was slowly swallowed
into the milling masses. The lesser houses and nobles flowing from
group to group, in hopes of attaching themselves to a greater
power, or perhaps already in the service of one. The young forming
smaller groups attempting to imitate their elders, or using it as a
chance to escape to the gardens and summer sunshine. And of course
the endless flow of attendants and servants. All but Thistle House
were represented, and it was said that the Head of that House was
infirm. If the news was truly of importance it was timed remarkably
well. With the summer solstice a short time away it was nearly a
full court, the Houses gathering for the celebrations before going
home for Harvest. Indeed, maximum impact.

Tomas thought
back through his letters and the gossip the children had brought.
Of Danuan Court only the normal gossip; who was allied to whom, who
had taken a secret lover, what challenges had been issued and met,
the latest fashions and intrigues. A whole host of fanciful,
daring, and sordid tales. Nothing out of the ordinary. Merida was
calm, the usual abundance at harvest expected, the plans for the
Embassy going ahead for the Empire

s toehold there. Of the Emperor continued debate on his
search for a wife, and as ever, pervading everything else, the
delicious wonder and mystery. Sanguine.

With a soft sigh the door to the Little
Council Chamber opened, the King strolling through talking quietly,
the Queen on his arm laughing at some jest and waving a dismissive
hand. At their entrance a hush spread out around them, like a
pebble dropped into a lake before, as one, they rose to intercept
them. Lord General Karse followed, a stiff expression on his face
and a white knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword, he made a bee
line for Captain Madder and the Knights.

The King
raised his hand to forestall any onslaught, then deftly caught up
two glasses of cordial. Passing one to his Queen, he raised his
own.

I see I am blessed
with the company of my gracious Court, is there a special occasion,
or have you merely gathered to make free in the sunshine? To summer
and happiness!

The gathered nobles hurriedly joined in the
toast, the gathered force loosening up slightly, once drinks had
been downed. The Head of Arabis House stepped forward.


So what of
the meeting sire? What news?


News, Andro?
Very little I

m afraid,
other than over zealous young courtiers. Nothing Navew could not
handle on his own! Some showy affair in Kaelistra that has set
tongues wagging. No doubt you

ll hear all the details soon
enough.

At which
Arabis gave a gruff nod. Navew edged forward looking a little wide
eyed as he caught sight of the Mistress of the House, who it was
said actually had more power than the King inside the Palace walls,
and also happened to be his wife.

My King, if you will excuse me? I have plenty to be getting
on with, couriers to speak to, not to mention the outrageous prices
of manure I intend to refuse to pay, and of course Privet
will

.ahem. Yes, good
day!


I think I
may go sit and talk for awhile, husband.


Of course,
my lady wife.

With a tender
parting kiss the Queen was soon welcomed with open arms and settled
into a couch with the ladies Dianthus and Artemisia, both of whom
had young children. The sound of feminine mirth and exasperation
soon filled the air around them.

Across the
way the Dracaena had intercepted the Lord General Karse, an elegant
hand poised on his arm, and an immaculate eyebrow raised in
invitation.

Karse, darling,
are sure we

re not to have
hordes of ravaging Aumorrans or Imperialist descend on us? It would
be a terribly frightful way to end a party
that

s just getting started,
don

t you think? Do
tell!


Oh have no
fear, my dear lady, it seems it

s all a matter of gossip. That young Emperor seems to have
felt a bit bad about that massacre he orchestrated a few months
back. So he

s given a gift
to the poor, a statue of that bloody Goddess of theirs. The height
of two men and made of Sanguine they say. Set up in the razed
ground and supposed to offer protection. Bit late for that, I
think. Mmm?


Sanguine!
But that must be worth a fortune. Surely
it

s merely plated, but even
so

what does it do? How do
they say it?

She wafted a
hand.

Charged! What has it
been charged with?


Well, my
lady, that part was rather vague. Protection for the innocent, and
to bring criminals to their feet is what was said. Now as to how?
Charges, I don

t know, not
so fancy as that revelation of a light Salvias
had.

A young lord of House Foxglove had taken
aside the King, engaging him in muted conversation for a moment, a
resolute expression on his face, before Coleus, Cleome and Lord
Gentian descended upon them followed by a host of lesser nobles. As
the vision of the King faded beneath a swirling tide of silk and
gauze, Tomas noticed that the high priestess Vervain and Anise had
slipped easily through the crowds to join Iris and Water Lily, the
Houses that sought the old ways.


Times are
once more changing


What will
become of us now?


A new power
has been born, squalling onto the earth.


With life,
comes death,


And out of
darkness, comes light.

 

CHAPTER FIFTHTEEN

 

The Ten of Swords, Reversed

 

 

The drums beat in the valley.

Above the air hung heavy, charged with
electricity. The storm clouds stacked high above the south and
eastern ridges of the mountains that ringed like vast elliptical
arms grasping at the churning charcoal towers lit by internal
lightning. Sight dimmed to a harsh white light, swiftly fading. The
pass at the distant northern point was pierced by the great river
Vorath, which escaped its deeply carven bed in a myriad of
waterfalls and smaller tributaries, before wending its way through
the centre of the broad fields, until passing through the pass at
the southern point, eventually thundering its way into the Sea of
Sorrows.

This was the
valley of the broken Farrahnaan Empire, now more commonly known as
the Grain Bin. It

s entirety
taken up with intensely farmed fields, even the
mountain

s feet terraced to
yield. Instead of grain the valley held people, soldiers, a vast
army camped amidst the stubbly fields. The harvest gone, sold, and
sent to the Empire. Rations packed securely in long winding rows of
carts, corrals of mules, the
cavalry

s horses near by.
For every armoured, scarred soldier there was a meagrely outfitted
slave. Some corralled like the cattle, others bustling through the
hordes.

All seemed infected by the frenzy of the
approaching storm, whose chill breezes broke through the humidity
to pass over clammy skin. All across the fields tents were being
taken down, their canvas snapping as if they struggled to escape,
supplies being securely fastened and checked once more, soldiers
checking weapons and armour. The hissing multitude of whetstones
adding tension to the distant rumbles of thunder, to the drums.
Fires spotted the terrain, ruddy glows belching smoke, over them
hung iron pots full of uncommonly good stew. The last meal.

The storm clouds rolled inland, closing over
the eastern ridge of mountains, creating a roof over the valley.
The underside traced in the orange of the fires, the black bodies
with theirs flashing blue entrails pressing down, adding an ionised
tang to the ripe air. The eastern ridge was punctured by three
passes, the central pass leading to Merida proper. The gateway to
the broken Empire. Here the last vestiges of power still clung, the
faded line of Emperors still dwelt, though their reaches only
extended to the valley and the wealth they wrung out of it. Their
one time glory was evident in the palace that spanned the
Farrahnaan Pass.

Inverted and heptahedral the seat of Farrah
hung suspended within the natural fissure between the two mountains
that created the pass. Four of its sides ended in points driven
into the very sides of the mountain, a third of their total height.
The apex of the palace buried in the earth at the very centre of
the pass, two roads leading around it a sharp angles. From this
apex the building grew floor by floor, each taking up a greater
area than the last, and all ringed in lavish balconies. The top
floor was roofed by the very sky itself, around its edges broad
steps led up to columned walkways offering views of the mountains
and valley, of Merida. In its very centre a great raised bed of
stone, on which was carved and painted a map of what was once the
Farrahnaan Empire and surrounding lands. The map itself was
exquisitely to scale, and highly detailed, it would take thirty men
to circle it. It was the last pride of the old days and was
maintained, even the bodies of water kept filled to the correct
level, the pond like seas kept free of plants and fish, the ancient
mechanism still kept the rivers flowing. It was here that Teza of
Farrah, the last son, stood and betrayed his people.

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