5 - Did They Give Their Names?

Inensa Mahid sat in her chair overlooking the Mahid training hall, next to her friend, the Imperatrix’s mother, Daurama Liren. She held her place in her book with her gloves in the nearly shut volume, watching the Onyxine Razor Fans practice all around the babies who, even if some were female, did not seem frightened of the rumble of the faibalizitskai wheels as the girls passed silk handkerchiefs to each other, trying to keep the whole lot in the air at the same time and yet not missing a catch or a throw.

The handkerchiefs were weighted and the team had found that their ‘Graces’ training crossed over well into faib. Tesha Riala jumped and bounced in the midst of the floating kerchiefs with Elsha’s boy.  There were not enough children born of the last eleven Mahid women, to have the crèche opened, and everyone seemed more comfortable in the training hall, where the girls still did their dance training, and now some faib.

“Inensa,” Daurama set down her embroidery.  Even in the bright lights of the hall it would be hard for her to see her stitches, they were so fine.  “Aren’t you afraid that they’ll run into or knock over the babies?”

She asked it, every time.  “No, Dau.  I’m sure of it.”  Inensa set her book down on the table and rose up to her own skates.  She had taken it up, since Minis loved it so much... and Jorasa and her faib team were so thrilled with it.  She had to admit it was exciting when she got good enough to move fast in the Marble Palace.  She bent her front knee and pushed off, low, timing her glide in-between the darting, laughing Mahid girls.  Laughter.  So strange in the Mahid corridors.

Tesha turned around, reaching for a blue kerchief, saw her coming and raised her arms for Inensa to catch her up, hold her close as she turned and scooted back the way she came, this time between Elsha and Borasa instead of Eforasa and Amitza.

She could feel her daughter’s giggling against her and despite herself, she smiled as she straightened.  “Now is that proper for a well-brought up Mahid girl?” She asked Tesha, sternly.

“Yeha, mama.”

“Hm.  You’re right.”

She sat down with Tesha on her lap and they watched the others swap out the sticks and hoops of Graces, for the silk handkerchiefs.  They never mentioned that this was part of their heavy training, for the exhibition matches they were still doing, since they didn’t have a full second string that a real team needed... and they were only now touching on the truly professional, as their fathers and brothers and uncles had been.  Their coach, when asked for his secrets, training up a Mahid girls team so incredibly fast only smiled and said ‘They’re Mahid.  Put it down to that.”

“Mama, I want skates.”  Tesha wiggled on her lap and bounced.

“To ask properly you would say “Mama, I would like my own skates, please.”, Inensa said.

“MamaI’dlikemyownskatesplease!” Tesha said in a single breath.

“I will look into it.”  Daurama picked up her embroidery and smiled to herself. This child picks things up, but I’m not used to being a mother.  I truly don’t know if the next thing I say to her will ruin her or not.  We don’t know what Mahid is, or should be.  I could be doing this all wrong.

Itasas sat down in the middle of the floor, suddenly howling that the toys he wanted had been put away and Elsha scooped him up, plunked him into the barbarian sling on her shoulder and went right back to her training as he, tears still wet on his face, began to crow and thump on her side with his little legs.

“Dowager Imperatrix?” It was Erl, one of her son’s household servants.

“Yes?”

“Sera... there are four women asking to speak to you, personally.”

“To me?”  As Dowager Inensa supported Kyriala, and Farasha.  She did not hold office hours officially of any kind.  That kind of thing was for her son to do.  “Did they give their names?”

“Yes, Sera.  They say they are Mahid.”

4 - There's Something Wrong

The Fenjitza chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pen, feeling the tap of the clip against the bottom of her silver mask.  At first it had been one or two letters from maskers up in the mountains, concerned about a consistent problem in the area, that of infertility.  The stack of letters on her desk showed a pattern that followed the river down to Arko itself.  Not consistently.  It had been a problem intermittently for at least a generation, among the miners in the mountains.

Now... now there seemed to be an explosion of the problem and it had hit the city itself, despite Risae’s Protocols for cleaning the water.  Could it be an illness in the water?  That made no sense given the variability of the spread. The Fessas goddess’s protocols for cleaning the water were both thorough and quite exacting.

The midwives in the city... across the city... were now reporting that there were no pregnancies for them to monitor.  None.  From the Imperatrix whom she was advising, down to the lowest oka.

“Narilla?”  It was the Fenjitzas at her door.  It stood open so that she could hear the choir in the main Temple hall and should anyone need her attention.  “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Radas.”

He came in, as she rose for him and they both settled down on cushions to one side of her tiny desk. She poured kaf for them both from the pot that an acolyte had just brought her. “I have a problem that I think only the Goddesses might have an answer to,” he said without preamble.  “I’ve had reports from my priests and dekinases that there are a lot of newly married men who are...” he paused, as if searching for a way of saying something delicately enough.

“... concerned that they are potent?  Because they and their wives don’t have children on the way yet?”

He looked concerned,  “Ah.  Yes.  Exactly.”

“The midwives in the city are reporting that they have no one to tend.  There are no young women looking to have a midwife attend on her before her birthing time.”

“But perhaps they don’t feel the need?”

“I wish, Radas.  Let me tell you.  When a woman is bearing she finds a midwife who can be with her, early.”

“I’ve had a number of Arkan medics come to me,” he said somberly.

“Have you spoken to any of the Haians in the city?”

“Not yet.”

“We need to report this to the Imperator.  Aside from this possibly affecting him and the Imperatrix, it’s an Empire’s problem.”

“Do you have any reports from elsewhere in the Empire?  I don’t.”

“Only from a trail of small mining villages from upriver.”

“Let me gather my notes,” he said, setting his kaf cup down.

“I’ll meet you at the portico.”

Slight glitch in the story... I'll be back sometime this week.

3 - How is This Possible?

“Hey, Min.”

“Gan... ceremony finished?” The bead clock chimed.  Kyriala sat up resolutely, still circled in Minis’s arms. The white cat, Altras, who'd been lying across them meowed imperiously as they moved and stalked away to an empty niche in the column of the bed to wash his chest.

“Minis, I’m not ill.  I’m fine.” She wiped her cheeks clean, heedless of her gloves.  While the Imperator and the Spark of the Sun’s Ray could go gloveless, an Imperatrix never did.  Minis sat up as well, as Gannara sat down on the sloshing bed. 

“Farasha... she’s gone down to the archery range to hurl alat at targets,” he said.  “Just as you two matched up your cycles...” He looked grave and sad.

“Oh no!  Farasha too?”

“We hoped... we all hoped that you both...” Gan looked away.  He wasn’t as desperate for children as Minis was, and wasn’t subjected to the Assembly’s solicitous and regular inquiries, but he still felt badly for Fara, who wanted their first child sooner rather than later.

Minis sat, looking grave.  “Gan... I’m going to visit Akminchaer tonight, after I finish.  Perhaps something happened to me while we were dragged all over the Empire, by the Mahid.  Maybe it affected you and I and... maybe Ky too.”

“2nd Amitzas did house all three of us in some odd and filthy places.”

“Barely Post-Fire fortresses... maybe... maybe...”  Minis shook himself.  “I need to go to the office now. I have appointments all day.”

“Did you eat first?” Kyriala pulled herself together.  “You’ve been here all bead and I didn’t hear the ‘Eating’ chime at all.”

He had the grace to look shamefaced.  “I skipped luncheon.”

“Stop that!” Ky and Gan said it simultaneously and then, at their looks at each other, all three burst into a giggle.  The parrot, Doof, soared down from the canopy and landed on the pillow next to them.  "Stop that! You EAT!" She squawked. Which made them laugh harder, perhaps, than was necessary.

“Yes, dears.” Minis reluctantly unwound himself from Kyriala’s skirts and sleeves... somehow they’d all gotten wound around him... kissed her, turned to kiss Gan.  “When Fara gets all her upset worked out on those poor targets I’ll be here with you both, to hold her too.  I’ll re-schedule or cancel on somebody.”

“I’ll let her know,” Gan said. 

Kyriala held the hot water flask against her middle.  “Antras will be up shortly with something you can eat without getting messes all over the paperwork.  I’ll see to that.”

“I love you.”  His look was both grateful and somewhat harried, as a tap came on the door.  Bella scrambled up and trotted toward the animal door, paused when Minis didn't jump up to follow her.

“Imperator?”

“I’m coming,” he called to the under-clerk sent to fetch him.  “Tell Atzana that I’ll be right up.” The dog huffed and sat down to wait for him as he set the parrot on the bed-rail so it not puncture the bed again.  Then Bella haunted his heels all the way up to the office.

Forzak, Forzak, he thought as he went up to the Highest Office.  Father Gods, Mother Gods, Oh Ten is there something wrong with me that I cannot father a child?  Is it punishment for something?  After the Ten Tens I didn’t think that was possible. 

For a moment the memory of that glory, when he’d managed to set aside all his fears, just for a single, astonishing instant, rang through him, and he paused reveling in it.  The memory had come back after the assassination attempt.

I will talk to our Haian and I’ll keep praying in the chapel.  Radas and Narilla seem to think everything is all right, but... I’ll talk to Narilla.  Maybe it's something I’m doing wrong.  She’s a midwife as well as Fenjitza.  Surely she will know why this is happening.  It can’t be just me.  It’s happening to Gan and Fara too. 

He greeted Atzana, trying to smile, and settled to the desk to sign the morning’s finished correspondence. Bella settled under the desk as he uncapped his pen.

 

For once he wasn’t looking forward to Intharas’s afternoon interview.  He hasn’t asked me about it for the last five Pages so it’s about time for him to politely inquire if we can expect Ilesias to be demoted from Spark of the Sun’s Ray anytime soon.

Comments Being Moderated

I have been forced to turn on the comment moderation, since I've been deluged with these pseudo-comments that are all spam.

Not written in english and not suited to content. Obvious as hell and annoying in the extreme.  Especially since I've started a comment contest over on Warbird (kyrustalain.blogspot.com).  It's actually getting me down and if I could respond with a DOS attack against these people I would.  What have I sunk to?  Heartily angry.  I believe these are coming out of Germany but the foreign language they are written in originally, does not seem to have German syntax.

I can only hope they go away soon.

Exhaustion Part MMDDDCXXLVII.2

I'm still exhausted.  Still working on Chapter 3 of Bearing but it is nowhere near finished. 

Tomorrow is my second to last radiation treatment, then the burns can start healing.  I will be glad when one breast ceases to look 'cooked'. 

2 - Imperial Prayers to Selinae

Minis raised the wine goblet to the crowd as it threw off its soaked clothing, prepared to meet the new year cleansed.  Ky stood next to him, in white samite shot through with gold and silver threads, just as the feathers of her fan were pure white and only barely tipped with gold.  She was sure her face was as pale as her dress and she held onto her gorge and to her consciousness with clenched teeth.

I will not bleed through. Just let me get through this, let the new year start and let me go lie down around a hot water bottle. Her monthlies had not gotten easier, since she and Minis had married.  She’d hoped that wedded bliss would make her body less tense and thus less in pain.  Akminchaer had said it didn’t really work that way.  Farasha and Gannara, at her back, were there, ready to catch her if she fainted.  It wouldn’t be auspicious for her to faint.  She gulped another deep breath.

This menses was both late and particularly heavy so her pain was correspondingly high.  Minis finished the libation that started the year, turned to offer her his arm as the crowd made its restrained cheer for the start of the 47^th Year of the Present Age. Though truly it was again 547^th, given that the former Imperator had graciously sought another extension from the Ten.

“Lets get you in, Ky,” he said, trying not to let his worry show.  Then he shrugged and put his arm around her waist to help her.  Let the conservatives squawk that he was unseemly to touch his wife so intimately in public. “I’m all right.  It’s just a little worse this time.” She and he both knew she was lying.  He helped her down the hall, through the massive glass doors. Once inside he threw propriety to the winds and scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the Imperial bedchamber, to lay her gently down on the warm bed. She could feel the slide of her woman’s beads against her skin as he kissed her.  “I have to go open the next sitting of the Assembly,” he said.  “I love you, Kyriala Aan.

“I love you, too, Minis Aan."

Gannara had a ceremony to do in the Temple, as the Imperator’s alesinas... something that Minis and his scholars had dug out of the archives from before his grandfather’s time, the last Aan Imperator to have official wife and alesinas.  Shefenkas had been so busy setting things right after the war that such ancient old rituals had had to wait, anyway.

"Come on, love. I'll see you comfortable."

"Thank you, Fara. I don't know what I'd do without you." Farasha saw her out of the elaborate dress and Ky wrapped herself around the glass bottle coated in felt so the boiling water in it not burn her. She closed her eyes to put herself into darkness.  The room was bright and full of light but her heart was full of tears and she wanted to let them out.  But the servants would hear and the Pages of the lip would carry that little story to the printed Pages.  She could see the headline, not from the Pages itself.  Intharas was not so crass as to trumpet every little thing about the family.

No, the Sunrise Watcher was the rag printed once every eight-day, was devoted to watching the Imperial family.  Ili’s every tantrum, or escapade, every kiss that Gannara and she or Farasha and she shared in what they thought was private... Every time that Minis and she cuddled it seemed that someone caught a glimpse and wrote the most lurid passages about them. 

The Sunrise Watcher was also the most relentless speculator as to Minis’s potency and her ability to bear children.  The last nasty little article speculated if her having her ‘Purification’ eased might have damaged her ability to get pregnant at all.  As if she weren’t under Haian care and Akminchaer were not giving her remedies and supports all these past months! 

They were speculating on how good a healer he could be if she couldn’t bear as well as all kinds of vile speculations about Minis.

She’d hoped.  This time her menses had been so late.  There had been a dozen extra white beads slid over on her woman’s belt and she’d been so hungry through Jitzmitthra this year.

Then.  This morning.  She’d woken up to the most horrific cramps she’d ever had and the nausea.  And the blood.

Again.

Every month.  She’d prayed on her knees in the Temple every day but Selinae’s eyes were blank and cool stone, as always.  A baby.  A child. She’d prayed in the Imperial chapel.  Every day.  As she lay in bed, folded around her pain, her tears squeezed out of her clenched shut eyes.  They would not be denied.  She pulled a pillow over her head and sobbed.

**

Minis sat through the interminable ceremony, from the Crystal Throne, when what he wanted to do most was go be with Ky.  He knew she was probably in tears.  They’d prayed together in the Imperial Chapel enough to know how she felt.  He felt the same way.

I was worried I couldn’t... procreate.  I was worried.  Surya, looking at my energy, said everything would be fine.  I believed him.  I need to talk to Akminchaer again.  He tested my seed as well and said everything was fine.  He said Ky was fine. He said it was probably just the stress of having the whole Empire’s hope for an heir pressed on us.  Even Grandfather said we needed to relax about it.

The House whip and the House cudgel finally settled their weapons in their respective sockets or across their chairs, ceremonially, and he was free to go eat.

There was a stack of New Year’s correspondence on the desk in the Highest Office and his audiences started in less than a bead.  He went back down to the bedchamber instead, and without saying anything, wrapped himself around his quivering wife.