54 - Waiting for the Storm's Full Fury

I hid in the library next day. Outside the library the whole Palace was full of the threat of Father’s rage and upset. Mahid dragged almost a full ten of slaves downstairs from his suite for flogging or other punishment. I heard from Antras later, that servants lost their positions for ‘clumsiness’, ‘laziness’, ‘being too slow’ and even ‘I don’t like your look.’

Ailadas found me there and I snarled at him. I gave him a verbal history report instead of a written one and refused to answer him outright in scientific study. “You want to complain to my father today, go ahead -- if you dare. Someone defied him yesterday and he’s furious still.” I know my smile was ugly. “Have fun.” He stood in front of the desk where I had the books I wanted to read spread out. He looked at me and I propped my chin on my hands.

I could see him consider, his spectacles reflecting the light from the clerestory windows, hiding his eyes completely. He was caught between my recalcitrance and Father’s mood and it wasn’t his fault. I sighed. It was so hard to not lash out because I felt bad. “Koren. I… can’t… today. I will have your assignments done tomorrow evening, my word on it.” I had, so far, kept my promises to him and for some reason was glad my word was still good, unlike Father’s.

“Ahem. Of course, Spark of the Sun’s Ray.” He bowed, and left me alone. I looked around to the other desks, the two old scholars allowed in from the University, the librarian sitting at his raised desk under the shaft of light from the windows. Under my papers were some of the books I had taken during the last Jitzmitthra, the books I wasn’t supposed to be able to read or bear for another ten years. The one I was reading was actually an Enchian translation of a Haian medical book.

I found out why it was a restricted book almost immediately. There was a whole section, complete with drawings, of people’s sexual organs, even… I slammed the book shut the first time I realized. Even unpurified women. But no devil showed up to drag me off to Hayel so I opened the book again, nervous that someone would see what I was studying, even though only Ailadas would dare look. And he wouldn’t bother me the rest of the day I was sure.

I read the whole section. I was fascinated, both horrified and enthralled, by the drawings of a child growing in a womb. When I read the Haian’s description of the damage caused by purification in Arko, and found out why so many babies died, I had to go vomit. I didn’t think it might be a lie because it was a Haian text and it was innocently trying to advise an Arkan husband to immediately seek Haian assistance for his wife, especially for a first pregnancy. Particularly if he did not wish to lose his first-born and possibly his wife.

I rinsed my mouth out and gathered my books, crawled back to my suite and into bed, hiding my contraband back on their shelves… that one… “Self-care and Basic Medical Aid for the Home,” by Vinchoser of Berit… tucked in behind the other books.

My suite somehow became an island of calm in the Palace, pressed on, on all sides by Father's rage.

Binshala brought me Post Observance, or Luncheon, in bed, stepping soft and quiet as everyone was doing. I looked at her calm face and wondered if she had children of her own, and if she’d lost any. It was something I couldn’t ask. “Binshala, would you inquire if Ilesias’s nurse would bring him to me? I think… I should learn to cuddle him.”

“Of course, Spark of the Sun’s Ray,” she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. I did my best to eat and ended up mostly drinking the hot milk meant to go into the kaf . I fed the fish to the cats, so ended up with seven of them on the bed with me by the time Binshala and Kaita, Ilesias’s nurse came in with the baby. “Oh dear. Did you want them here, Spark?”

“Yes, please.” Binshala took up the baby with authority from the younger nurse and pushed back the bedclothes. A thick towel went across my lap. “To soak up leaks should his silk pants not catch them, Spark,” she said, the glimmer of a smile on her face.

Ilesias was awake and looked less bruised and red, his blue eyes, a little darker than mine, fixed on me when he was settled with my arm under his head. He felt warm in a good way, not a pee way, and I smiled at him. I tried bouncing him a little and he gurgled at me. “Blphphph!”

“Blphphph yourself,” I answered him.

“If this lowly one may suggest. If the most excellent one would deign to make faces at the baby…” Binshala said quietly. I could make faces at him?

“Won’t that frighten him?” I asked softly. One of the white kittens sniffed at the fluff on the top of the baby’s head and began licking him. “Oh, look… He thinks he’s another kitten and is cleaning him!”

“No, Spark, not if the exalted one is gentle to start.”

Kaita twitched where she stood as if she would chase the cat away and Binshala shook her head minutely. Ilesias closed his eyes and as the kitten started to purr, he smiled. Then he looked up at me and I stuck out my tongue at him. “Look! He copied me!”

“He will Spark. The exalted one can show him all sorts of things, even before he can speak.”

He made me smile. I think he smiled back even though the Haian book said babies couldn’t truly smile this young. It looked like a smile to me. “Hey, Ilesias, you big fat little blob,” I whispered and kissed him. I’d have to quit calling him that or it would become his nickname. He cooed in my ear and grabbed hold of my hair in both fists.

“Ow! Hey! Quit pulling!” He squealed and Binshala and Kaita were there to free me without me losing chunks of my hair. I couldn’t help giggling.

The louder I giggled the louder he squealed and kicked and crowed. “You little stinker! You don’t have enough hair you need mine?” I tickled his tummy and he wiggled, his wrappings coming loose enough that he could wave his feet as well as his hands and he kicked and made a happy screech, with both feet kicking till he flopped on my lap like a fish.

“Spark of the Sun’s Ray?” One of my day servants… Lirenas I think… stood at the door, gloves tucked carefully into his sleeves. ““The Imperator wishes the Spark’s attendance. Right now.”

53 - "There is nothing I can't do!"

Father was fascinated with Shefenkas, if not exactly for the same reasons I was. As the war progressed, the Rejins washing into the centre of the country, gutting their resistance, Father had him into dinner quite often. I got very good at scrambling up into my listening spot.

In evening after evening, I received a political education, listening to Father and Shefenkas talk. They talked about power and control, the Gods and the people. Sometime after the fight that made Shefenkas Living Greatest there was one conversation I remembered very very clearly. Shefenkas went back to something he’d asked Father before. “You accept the title of Son of the Sun, you claim to make the laws and dispense the punishments in the Muunas’s name and the names of the other Gods. You accept the tithes and sustain the temples and priests. Your position flows entirely from divine right, and you told me you don’t believe any of it. How can you live such a lie?”

Father’s voice was calm as if He were instructing me in the ways of power, educating a child. “All these things are needful… They are necessary to control the ignorant masses! As for how I bear it – “ He laughed. “I’m Imperator! I can do anything. I can bear anything. There is nothing beyond my strength.”

I heard the pause as Shefenkas took this in. It was longer than an inbreath in a normal conversation. I swiped a hand over the hole and my ear, pressed ear to hole.

“Nothing? Nothing is beyond your strength? I don’t think so! In fact there is something that proves conclusively there is something you cannot do! Would you like to see my proof? Care to lay a wager on it?”

Father laughed harder. “You entertaining barbarian! Oh this is rich! A proof? I have to see this. What wager? You have nothing to match what I can stake.”

I could hear the fight-stare in Shefenkas’s voice but Father missed it. “I prove there is something you can’t do, you set me free immediately, no ransom, no harm, let me go safe beyond arrow range on unconquered Yeoli territory. If I fail to prove my point I send orders to my people to surrender. Yeoli becomes yours. Good terms, I think, especially since I know you’d renege on the bet no matter what oath you swore, while I would not.”

Father chose to ignore the last, intended as insult I was sure. I cringed at Him not caring His word was worthless. There was a clapping noise; I thought it was His hands. “Oh yes! Agreed! Go on! Prove to me what I can’t do!” He sounded excited as a child.

“By your own strength, with no other person or device helping you…” Shefenkas paused a moment, I heard a rustle and a thump that I realized later must have been him clearing a space and putting his elbow on the table. “—Right now. Beat me at arm wrestling.”

I caught my breath. NONONOnonono, God no, He'll gut younonono! The silence stretched and stretched and my stomach knotted tighter and tighter. I put my forehead down on the cool marble. I could feel it coming like a storm, like a lightning bolt about to strike for someone’s heart. Saliva ran together in my mouth and I swallowed and swallowed hard. Oh no. no no no Shefenkas no.

Father’s shriek hurt my ear and I flinched back away from the listening hole. I could hear it clearly even as far as I was. “YOU FIKKEN DIRT-BRAINED, BARBARIAN BACKSTABBER!” I couldn’t bear any more. I heard Him shrieking as I wormed away from the listening post, crying because I knew He’d hurt Shefenkas somehow. He’d not kill him but there were so many ways to inflict pain… I scrubbed my face with my sleeves, the lace scratching my tears away.

Father’s voice cracked high and tiny behind me, echoing out of the speaking tube I hadn’t plugged. “Guards! Meras!” I wiggled away, fleeing His ranting. But I paused. Had I heard that right? “Out! Throw him out!” I went limp, lying like a jewelled sweaty puddle in the secret passage. Thank you, Gods.

* * *

Once I made sure there was no one below I climbed down and took refuge in the nursery. It smelled safer than anywhere else in the Palace, with Father angry. Ilesias was nursing and I sat and watched him, his fists bunched and pushed into the breast, ear wiggling as his jaw worked. He paused, and made a stink, so I went back to my room so I didn’t have to bear that. Babies really didn’t have to care. For some reason I thought of Father standing, piss puddle around his feet, then shook it off. I had some weird ideas.

“Definas, I’d like to play chess, please.” He looked up from his book.

“Of course, Spark of the Divine Light,” he said as he shut it and jumped up to come with me to my games room. He seemed a lot happier since Ilian had been disgraced. The cold stone seemed to cringe from the kernal of fury inside it. I tried not to think of Father, somewhere else in the Palace, raging.

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52 - The Big Presentation

Coronet Regal Ilesias Tathanas Kurkas Joras Aan
[image by Shirley Meier]

The trumpeters were out in force next morning, parading the call through the city that there would be a presentation at noon. The orators on the corners repeated the same message and callers on skates as well. It was a cacophony that drowned out the Imperator’s chime and the clock-tower, as people realized it was a half-holiday and began preparing to close their businesses.

The whole ceremony would take place on the Presentation Balcony, so the Platform stayed tucked away under the pavement, the fountains dropped to waist height but not turned off. I was thinking of how reluctant I ought to be to hold Ilesias. Father would expect me to be reluctant so I should appear obedient… but indifferent.

After the Noon Observance the Mahid Choir -- a hundred strong -- an immaculate blot of black -- filed out onto the Steel Gate steps. If I leaned over and looked straight down I could look down on the bumpy sheet of gold their heads presented, the youngest – their pre-adult voices sweet as angels, upheld by the deeper rumbling tones of the men.

They sang “The Magnificent”, one of the Imperial hymns, and the Processional for Father to make his entrance. The crowd prostrated as best they could, packed as closely as they were, and he gestured them up, graciously before settling onto his throne.

He wore the Imperial Robe of course, and my blue silk tunic was so heavy with topazes I had trouble standing. The pearls on my train made it worse but I had my companions to carry the bulk of it for me. The Blob -- I should start to think of him as Ilesias I suppose – was engulfed in enough gold and pearls it was hard to see him in it.

The latest Imperial record, with its golden cover, was brought out and the past ten generations of Aans were read out, ending with my page. Father reached out and ceremonially turned the page to a blank one and Ilesisas Tathanas Kurkas Joras Aan was raised over it. He squawked as he was unwrapped, and his hands and feet were painted gold and pressed to the pristine white page.

His nurse scrubbed the residue off and swaddled him back up again as I fidgeted and clenched and unclenched my hands behind my back rather than ripping at my gems. I pretended not to see the nurse offer the re-wrapped baby to me until Father said. “Take your brother, Minis.”

I twitched as if I hadn’t been paying attention, which amused Father. Ilesias was crying when his nurse handed him to me, and I made my face masklike as I took him. I was happy enough to be stiff as I stepped up onto the riser so my brother and I could be seen.

Father rose carefully, ponderously and the cheering crowd quieted.

“The Gods are good, Arko! Your Imperial line is secured! I present my Coronet Regal in the arms of the Heir under Muunas’s Eye! See my sons, my Splinters of Light, my Chips of Sun on earth! The Gods are good! Do I hear an amen, Arko?”

“AAAAAAMMMEEEEENNNN!!!!” The crowd’s amen made Ilesias cry harder. I could feel his cries through his whole body, vibrating in my arms and against my chest. I felt something under my ribs then I wasn’t sure of. Whatever it was, it was fierce and soft at the same time. I’d figure it out later.

We had to stand in the sun while the choir sang another hymn. “Glory, Glory Glory”. I was sweating by the time the last chorus of “Glory, glory, glory, To The Ten Almighty/ Who were, and are, and will forever be!”, and Ilesias’s little face was bright red.

***

When my companions lifted my tunic off me, it took both Ordas and Definas working together to get it over my head. I sat down, so tired and sweaty I didn’t feel like standing, a little light-headed. Binshala called Misahis to check me and he gave me some drops and told me to plunge my head under in the cool pool when I went to wash.

I was a little nauseated but managed to eat the bread and cold soup he ordered. It had no additives in either and I was able to swallow them. I bathed, my companions actually giggling and splashing on the big pool’s steps as I floated in the cool pool. I was pleased to be able to float without anyone noticing, probably thinking I had a foot or hand on the bottom.

After I was dry and tucked into the bed I was able to dismiss everyone, except Binshala of course, who asked if I wanted another cool drink before I slept.

I lay on my side, my head propped on my hand. “No, thank you, Binshala. Would you do me the courtesy of instructing me?” She glanced up from where she stood, her slight height putting her eyes just barely higher than I was since my bed was so high.

“If it is a matter on which this humble one can possibly instruct your royal self, Spark of the Sun’s Ray.”

“Oh yes, please sit down. I don't know how long this will take. It’s about Ilesias the Blob.”

“Your illustrious younger brother,” she said quietly, and sat down in the chair next my bed that put her eyes on level with mine.

“Sorry, yes. I was trying to make a joke but I guess it fell a little flat… do all babies look squashy?

She smiled a little. “Yes, they do.”

“Even me?”

“Yes, your magnificent self did. Many have the mark on the forehead too; most likely it will go away.”

“Okay...I was trying to figure out how to ask that politely. So... how do I... um... he's too little to cuddle really... how do I handle him properly? I'm afraid I'll hurt him or break him and I want to learn how not to.”

She got a soft look on her face and I felt happier because she liked me asking, I think. “Well, first of all, babies are much tougher than they look.” It was my turn to listen hard. “But they're scared of falling,” she went on. “So you must never let them think they're going to or they'll cry. And when they're so young they can't hold their heads up, you have to make sure you cradle the head.” She risked reaching out to stroke a stray hair out of my face. “He's not too little to cuddle, not at all...”

“So do you think he'd like that? Being cuddled I mean.” I found myself turning my cheek into her hand and her gloves were cool. I took a deep breath and felt better than I had all day.

“Of course he'd like that! Babies love being held more than anything. Sometimes when they cry, all they want is to be held.”

“Oh.” She moved over without saying anything, the chair right next the bed and curled her arm around me and I nestled into it, my hand holding on to her arm. It was almost like the middle of the night times. “Like this?” It was instruction and so, acceptable.

“Exactly like this. That's all they need, to be held and rocked, and they'll stop crying.”

“Rocked,” I repeated softly.

It was as though I could hear her smile. “This lowly one will show you how to do it at her next opportunity.”

“I want to learn how to love him, Binshala... thank you for teaching me,” I whispered. I could feel her take a deep breath and wondered what was behind it.

“How to love him?” she repeated. “That is very commendable on your part.”

“Binshala... when I look at him get scared...” I clung a little harder.

“Last this humble one heard, Spark of the Sun’s Ray, you were still Spark of the Sun’s Ray.” Of course. She had worked as a nurse to the Imperial family for years. She would understand instantly what my fear would be. “I wouldn't worry,” she finished.

I heaved a sigh. “I'll try not to...”

“And your gentlemanly self must not treat him angrily; it's not his fault you're afraid,” she said firmly. Just the same as Shefenkas. Don’t blame the baby. I nodded against her arm.

“Do babies like to be read to?” I was trying to think of ways to be close to him in a way I could do.

“They like more to be sung to. Read to when they're older, old enough to start to understand stories.”

“I don't sing very well... but I can try... unless he yells because he doesn't like it.” She hugged me a little more.

“They don't care how well your royal self sings. They just like to hear the notes.”

“Oh good.”

“They like gentle songs... lullabies, like this humble one used to sing to the exalted Spark.” I could smile because I knew I could do that.

“Like Ten Silver Horses.”

“The exalted one has it exactly.”

“I can sing that. But he'll pee on me again maybe. He can't help it, right?”

“No, they don't learn to control that until they're older.” I felt a subdued twitch as if she were suppressing laughter.

“It’s icky.” I found the urge in myself to make her laugh. Out loud if I could.

“He's not looking you in the eye and thinking, 'My big brother, I think I'll PEE on him!’” I giggled at her teasing. “Yes, it's icky, but it's how babies are.”

She let me go, finally. I supposed her arm was getting tired, but her glove brushed my cheek before she let go. “I guess it washes off,” I said doubtfully.

“Of course it does. It's just baby pee!”

“It won't make me sick then?”

“Oh no, not at all!” She had the oddest little smile on her face, it reminded me of Shefenkas’s when he was teasing me. “Else this lowly one would have been sick all the time she received Imperial pee upon herself,” she paused and then the smile got a little wider. “From You Whose Blessings Will Shower the World.”

I ducked my head and giggled again, louder, a little embarrassed. “Yeah,” I said at last and to change the subject “—So, If I want him around a lot, will I be making more work for his nurse? To bring him to me? I mean I was thinking... maybe when I play the harp or play time, even if he can't play with me yet.”

“No, you won't be making more work for his nurse. She has to be with him all the time anyway. He might well like the sound of the harp.”

“Then I'll ask. And you can show me how to hold him right and cuddle him.” I nodded decisively.

“This modest one will be pleased to do that.”

“Thank you Binshala.” I yawned wide enough to make my jaw crack. “I feel a lot better. You do such a good job... and it can't be easy.”

“Well,” she cast her eyes downward and got up, smoothing my bedclothes. “This very lowly one is excessively honoured.”

“May I ask you again if I have more baby questions?” She blew out the lamp, letting the moonlight take over the job of flooding the room with light, all silver…

“Of course, Spark of the Divine Light. This one will be here for you.”

51 - Threatened by the Blob

I held onto -- Ilesias -- even as a slave slid a chair behind me so I could sink into it, the three little pages arranging the train of his presentation gown artfully around my knees.

“Oh I like that pose,” Father said. “But I still like the look of you standing. Haiksilias will cope with it and can complain all he wants.” I still didn’t understand what He was talking about. Why had Father given this son the strongest, best name in the whole possible gamut of names open for the Aan line? My name was a joke. I was his minimum. His Diem Wards Back boy, not even named for the hero Sinim. Did he want me to automatically hate this baby?

But I was his older brother. He… he smacked his lips in his sleep, yawned but didn’t wake, though his nurse startled like a mother hound alert to every sigh from her one pup. I was supposed to be happy he was there, Father was. In his sleep a fist waved free of the wrapping and I stopped him from smacking himself in the face with it. Didn’t he know where his fist was? His fingers wrapped around my thumb and I drew in a breath. He was strong. I didn’t know babies could grab-on that strongly. My brother.

How was I going to… manage… this? How? I didn’t have a book on how to be a big brother. I didn’t have any kind of text. I couldn’t ask Father. He had no surviving brothers. I had never heard of any uncles. I looked up at Him and wondered what happened… had Grandfather had a younger son as well? I didn’t know.

I don’t even know what the look on my face was, but it certainly amused Father. He threw back his head and laughed whole-heartedly. Perhaps he thought I was overcome with some kind of joy. All I wanted to do was strip Ilesias of his gold and silk and topazes and slide him back into the Mahid nursery, just one more Mahid. Either that or drop him quietly down the nearest garderobe.

I felt a sudden warm wetness on my lap and snatched him up off it with an exclamation of disgust. “I’m wet!” He woke and wailed as the nurse took him from me, quickly, and I pulled my kilt away from my legs, or tried to. Father started laughing at how quickly I was moving, over the baby’s quickly muffled protest at the sudden action. “He peed on me!” Father laughed again, more than he had in days before.

“By-your-Illustrious-leave-Sire-may-I-go-change-my-clothing?” I babbled in all but a single burst and when he waved me away, still laughing, I fled away to wash and change my clothes again, my face locked into a rictus of disgust.

He’s going to take my place. I’m less safe than I was before. Because he’s chosen the same way I was chosen I have to be very very very careful from now on. He’s the one with the best name. He’s the one with a proper birthday. He’s not old enough to ask Father impertinent questions. He’s the perfect little flesh tag. I have to be very careful to be more like Father, show less independence. Why did he get the best name? “BINSHALA,” I shouted as I ran into my rooms, tearing at my kilt, the buckle catching, I couldn’t get it open, get it off my body. The buttons popping off my shirt as I tore it off and flung it to the floor in a terrified rage. “GET THIS VILENESS OFF ME! Get it OFF, GET it OFF!”

She came running, the slave actually sliding on her knees as she stopped in front of me, fingers prying at the stubborn belt. “Spark--"

“I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU, I DON’T WANT TO TALK, I NEED NEW CLOTHING NOW!” I panted and screamed, fists clenched, trembling all over my body, burning with shame having his piss on me. I felt hot all over, tears of rage squeezing out of the corners of my eyes. I was older but HE already got more than I had. I was Heir, but if I stepped out of line I was dead and HE’d take my place. The slave managed to open the jammed belt and I almost jumped out of it as she pulled it down over my legs, I moved so fast I half fell, ended up on hands and knees scrambling away from my contaminated clothing.

“Spark of the Sun’s--" Binshala reached as if to catch me and I scooted up onto my feet and ran to the bath, yelling.

“LEAVE ME ALONE, DON’T TOUCH ME I DON’T WANT ANYONE LOOKING AT ME, I’LL KILL THE FIRST PERSON WHO ASKS IF ANYTHING’S WRONG! NOTHING’S WRONG! EVERYTHING’S PERFECT! I was so angry and upset I managed to slam the outer bath door and dashed through the cascade, water pulsing down on my head, before I huddled in the hot tub in a crest of bubbles, pounding the edge of the tub silently with my fists.

The Lesser bath’s clock tipped a flying fish forward and the bead ran down its back before chiming down on the bronze turtle shell before disappearing down the turtle’s throat when the inner glass door of the bath clicked and Binshala came in with a tray and a suit of clothes draped over her one arm. “Did the Spark of the Sun’s Ray wish to dine in the baths? Or dress for the meal?” She didn’t look at me, her eyes resting on the tray in her hands.

One tantrum and I had lost something I had found I wanted. I had lost my gains with people around me. His fault. If he hadn’t peed on me, I wouldn’t have screamed at Binshala. I took a deep breath. Shefenka’s voice in my head, I imagined it. What would he say? … I couldn’t make the words come. I tried to think of it and was just getting mad all over again when I thought of Shefenkas’s kid. I was jealous of him even though I’d never met him. He had a dad who loved him and didn’t think he was a skin flap that would one day take his place. That was what gave me the words, the thoughts. Shefenkas would look at me with his alien, dark brown eyes, and say… The baby didn’t choose, your Father did. Your little brother isn’t your enemy by his choice. But you can choose. Choose what, I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t think of anything else he might say.

Binshala was still standing there, quiet as a marble statue so as not to set me off. I took in another breath that hurt all the way down into my chest. “Binshala,” I whispered. “I’m… sorry.” She looked up at me, then back down at the tray. I heaved my sodden, wrinkled body out of the tub. I had better not hide in my rooms now that the baby’s existence was revealed. If I hid… I felt like I was losing my grip on the Rim when I hadn’t even known I was clinging onto the edge. If I hid, I’d slip a little.

“I’ll eat with the court, Binshala, thank you. Please put the tray down and help me.” Her nod was a fraction that I would have missed if I hadn’t been watching for it. “Father surprised me today. He presented me with a new little brother. His name is Ilesias.”

She—faltered. That was the only word for it. She caught her breath as she straightened, nothing showing on her face as she turned to me, holding out my clean kilt to step into. She was the only one willing to risk my temper when I threw a tantrum – there was no nonsense of a dozen people to place three pieces of clothing on me and all the separate jewellery.

“A little brother. This lowly one dares offer felicitations.” Her hands on me, clasping a topaz collar on my neck, strangely reminiscent of part of my Jitzmittra costume, were warmer somehow as if she would comfort me. Did she know something about Father and my brother? Had she heard gossip, below? I patted her shoulder and stopped her from going down on her knees to latch my sandals.

“You needn’t. I can do that. I have to go or I’ll be late for the meal. Binshala… I meant it when I said sorry for yelling at you. Are my companions dressed for Mid-After?”

“Yes, Spark of the Divine Light.” I put my chin up and put a calm look on my face, with as much of a smile as I could manage. I would look like an Heir. Not like a brat. An Imperial son. I was as much Ilesias the Great’s bloodline as my little brother, name or no name. I would try not to be scared. My stomach was empty. I was empty. I’d have good appetite to try and fill that odd hole in my gut.

* * *
“Dear Che, {scratched out Yeoli characters}

[In Enchian]I cannot come to visit you, even now more than before. I know this is… I don’t know how to ask. How do I deal with a baby brother?

Father has picked me a baby brother and named him Ilesias. I’m frightened. Do you think Father is thinking of replacing me? He gave the baby the best name, after Ilesias the Great. He was born on a respectable day, Risae 1, not a joke day. His name isn’t a joke.

Father presented him to me today and I had to hold him and he peed on me and Father laughed. I… had a tantrum and screamed at everyone in my rooms after. I have to say sorry to you to for losing my temper, when I promised I wouldn’t.

How do I… bear… a little brother? What is the right thing? I don’t know. Father… I don’t know if he ever had brothers. I’m going to check that. But Father killed Grandfather. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel with a little brother. Could you help me, please?

Your devoted fan,
Minis

I got Antras to take my letter down to the Mezem and stay for the reply if there was going to be one. It was late when he got back so I thanked him and dismissed him. I slid into the window seat with a lamp and put it on the shelf over my head, pulled the curtains. They were the heavy winter silks so no one would be able to see me, even with my light inside. The glass window looking over the woods and lake was a black rectangle with no sign of humanity.

I had written the letter to Shefenkas after the Mid-After meal, I just had time to send Antras down to the Mezem before I had to be in at Dinner. He was waiting with my answer when I’d finished.

I was stuffed full of food. I felt a little sick even because I had gone to Mid-After and eaten every course. Then a few beads later, still feeling full, had done the same with dinner. I managed a belch, which made me feel better, and looked at the seal. He’d gotten a fancy K and R, and I bet Skorsas had dictated the type of wax… red and black shot through with silver flecks. I had to smile thinking that Shefenkas probably didn’t give a toss what colour his sealing wax was.

[in Arkan:] Dear Minis:

[in Enchian:] I’d scribe the entire letter in your language if my ability were sufficient, but as the matter is of great importance I want there to be no chance of misunderstanding.

How to deal with a baby brother? What to feel, what is the right thing? My first inclination is to say, love him, but I know that, as usual, your situation doesn’t allow for such a simple answer. You fear your father will replace you with him not only in the position but in his regard, and you have every reason to believe your fear is well-founded, I think. It is the habit of Arkan Imperators to be concerned that their sons might prove threats to themselves, and this is the first thing your father will think of, as he was the worst threat to his own father.

So I cannot blame you for your anger, though as always I say it’s best not to take it out on people who are not themselves to blame. More important than apologizing to me is apologizing to them, if you haven’t already.

My suggestion in regard to your father is this: remember, if he sees you as a threat, then at heart he is afraid of you. Give him no cause to fear you and he is less likely to move against you.

With your little brother, remember he has chosen his situation no more than you have chosen yours. He did not choose his name or his birth date or his father. To treat him angrily for your father’s decisions would be to do him injustice, and don’t imagine a child does not feel it; you have felt it yourself, as you know.

Not only that, but the best way to prevent him acting against you in the future himself is to be loving to him. If his raising is to be like yours, with those who become too close being removed, then insofar as you take a hand in it in a loving way, you could become very dear to him, and win his unending loyalty. You and he are brothers not only in blood, but in adversity; think of it that way.

Warm regards from your gladiator,
[in formal Yeoli:] Ivaen Chevenga Shae-Arano-e semanakraseye d’Yeola-e

I sat for a time thinking about it. It made sense. I could… I could… get him on my side. He and I could… hmmm. I could learn how to love and teach him. I felt like a huge weight came off my chest. Father was expecting me to fight my little brother… it would make me less dangerous to Him if I paid attention to the threat the baby presented.

I smiled to myself. I would pay attention to him… but not the way Father expected. Binshala would tell me how to handle a baby, maybe without getting peed on. And I did like being cuddled. Like Shefenkas said… he’d feel it. If I could, he could… when he got old enough to not be a blob.

The letter exchange from Chevenga's point of view

50 - A Red Blob in Gold Lace and Topazes

My school-room was quiet, the remaining Companions diligently working at their desks. I wasn’t sure they were being so industrious and careful out of fear of losing their places or out of gratitude for Ilian and his friends losing theirs. I thought I might ask the youngest some casual questions soon.

I closed my musical composition book where I was copying “A Harpist’s Libretto” in preparation for learning it. The bead clock in my room chimed quietly and I knew Father wanted me in the garden for something, He’d said so this morning at breakfast, His face full of a secret glee.

It was probably to present His new water-driven automata, either the clock they’d been building in one of the Throneroom atria with the mechanical fire-birds singing on the half bead and the gilded sea eagle that would flap its wings on the bead, or the ‘drinks serving’ mechanical slave that was supposed to come out of its box when one pushed a button.

If I stopped copying here, I’d have time to bathe before changing my clothing. I had to change, since I had worn the silver spider-satin this morning and while it was allowable to have the same clothing for luncheon, I had to change before the third formal of the day. I was secretly practising my swimming skills when no one was looking. Once or twice an eight-day, I’d get up at night when I couldn’t sleep or was sweated awake by a nightmare, I’d swim because often it was the only time I could be alone.

I was pleased because I could make it all the way across the big pool and back without putting my feet down. My swimming wasn’t very elegant, more a four-legged paddle than the sleek strokes Shefenkas had done without thinking about it. Next I would try to paddle all the way around the edge without stopping or grabbing onto the wall.

Binshala had to re-brush my hair for me but the smooth damp strands felt good against my back. The day was uncommonly hot for a winter day.

I and my Companions went down to the atrium where I was informed my Father was taking his leisure. I was surprised to find Him still on the massage table. The masseur didn’t pause as I dismissed the boys, the smooth kneading motion of his spade-like hands never faltering, his tinted spectacles unreadable. The man had been blinded when he acquired the position. I was reminded of Shefenkas covering his injured eyes with the same kind of spectacles and shivered inside.

“Most Illustrious Father, I am here at your command.” He turned his face toward me but didn’t open his eyes. That meant I had to stay on my knee until he did. I was glad I had picked a soft spot of grass to kneel on by the time he opened his eyes and dismissed his masseur.

“Good, my boy. My adjunct. My minimum. Flesh of my flesh.” He sat up on the table and slaves jumped to wipe His flesh with warmed wet clothes to take off the excess oil, since He did not care to endure the water of a bath or cascade, after His massage. The water, of course, had the same scent as the massage oil, heliotrope. He still didn’t tell me to get up so He was making a point of some kind. I just didn’t know what it was.

“My adjunct. I have felicitous news! Marvellous news for you! Get up, get up my brilliant little reflection!” He slid off the table and the slaves swarmed to lay the under-robe over his shoulders and an Aitzas man I didn’t recognize leapt to tie the belt for him, obviously someone new. A gem-bright blue velvet robe went over that and another slave brought a brazier up to warm the air anew. He accepted a cup of chocolate while He sat down in His chair and His feet were raised so that a slave could work on each foot, paring away slightly roughened skin, cleaning and trimming the nails and so forth.

Behind him, the masseur packed up his case and slaves removed the massage table, whisking away the dirtied sheets and silk blankets. I swallowed dry phlegm. My stomach knotted. “I’m wild with anticipation, Glorious Sire.” I caught a whiff of his feet under the perfume. He laughed as if I made a joke. I set myself to show incredulous joy at what He said, no matter what He said.

“You are such a child my son. I love giving you gifts. You, my son, my Heir, are a big brother! I’ve just chosen your little brother.” My mouth dropped open, my eyes popped open wide. I felt like He’d just punched me in the chest and I couldn’t breathe. A… a… a… little brother? That meant… that meant so many things I couldn’t even think of all of them I was so shocked. It meant I wasn’t his only Heir anymore. It meant… I… had a rival.

He beckoned to a slave and from behind a boxwood planting a little procession came. Two new-minted, or at least just new-trained, third threshold, personal Mahid escorted a woman… a wet nurse, though not one of Father’s personal stable, carrying a baby wrapped in a cloth of gold presentation gown. It trailed down to the tile at her feet and looped up to where three little pages – his first Companions -- held the train of it behind her. At my Father’s gesture the woman presented the gold wrapped bundle to me.

I had my hands knotted into fists behind my back as she pushed him under my nose and I could smell a sweet, milk smell. I could hear Father draw in breath and knew I should take it – him – before I was told. I put out my hands and she set the itchy gold lace ball in my arms.

He was sleeping. His face… hard to see what he would look like but Father favoured gracile girls when he chose Mahid concubines. He was a red blob nestled into the silk swaddling, protected from the presentation gown’s itch, his eyelashes fine and long against puffy rufous cheeks. He was completely bald though I couldn’t see his entire head, buried in the swaddling as it was. He had a deep ‘V’ of birthmark over his forehead and I glanced at the strawberry on Father’s cheek. Had he chosen him because of the birthmark? I shook my head and looked back down into the baby’s face.

He looked insubstantial, with wax-doll fingers curled up tight under his pudgy chin. New born. The grin on my face was a rictus. Didn’t anyone see that? Breathe. Breathe. He’s proper born on a proper day, not mis-born on one of the days that don’t exist. My gut tightened up even more. “You won’t drop him, my minimal, you needn’t be so tense!” Father laughed. “I shall have your portrait painted… just so… You holding your brother. Yes. Once he is presented to the populace and his hand and foot prints have been entered into our family book, Haiksilias will paint that. Like he painted…” He cut himself off with a sigh. “A new painting. Yes, I will have him use that canvas. Very appropriate.”

What was he talking about? I didn’t understand. “Father? What do you mean?” The baby was beginning to stir slightly, I could feel a tiny foot kick as I held him. Father shook his head refusing to answer, addressing instead a question I hadn't asked. “His name,” Father said. “Is Ilesias Tathanas Kurkas Joras Aan.”

49 - So I Don't Get More Job Offers

I paused at Iska’s desk again on my way out. He was back from wherever he’d gone. “I require the services of your gate guard for a tenth, fessas. I came without escort. I will send him back expediously.” His eyes widened for a moment before he could school his expression and flicked back to the empty spot where my Mahid usually stood. “That guard is one who already knows I am here, and I wish to be inconspicuous.”

He visibly gulped. “As… as the enlightened and intelligent Splinter of the Ineffable Light commands.” The man sent a boy scampering off, and came with me as I pulled my hood up and went down the hall.

“Guard.” He came to his feet looking intriqued. “I require your attendance.”

He looked at Iska. The fessas manager nodded and then at the guard… “The gate is covered, Nisas, you come back when he lets you go.” He saluted and he stood aside to let me out the gate.

It was very different being escorted by someone not Mahid. He was more inclined to talk, for one thing. “So, the exalted, glorious one likes Raikas, huh?”

“Um. Yes, I do.” He actually paced beside me, scanning the shadows of the buildings on either side of us as we went.

“The divinely gifted one is faster than this lowly worm thought, as was said. This clot has noticed the Spark’s speed on the exalted faib skates. Does the Ineffable enjoy playing faibalitz? It would suck if the most-high weren’t tah bein’ allowed.” I agreed solemnly that that would, indeed, suck.

At the corner with where I was offered the twins, their procurer took a look at the guard, fully geared and obviously on duty, lamellar armour and all, and decided not to solicit any business. “He says they’re twins. And says she’s too young to be pure…”

He snorted. “Ai, ai, ai, she doesn’t look a day under nine if yah ask this clot of dirt. But then she might never be purified, given the unfortunate’s line of work. She mayn’t ever be.” He flexed his arm as though considering making the twin’s lives better by making them orphans. “There’s father’s ‘d send their girls to Hayel fer a few chains. Sh’d be strung up by their ownself’s fambly jewels if y’ask me.”

We left them behind in their dark alcove, unstrung. “The fellow who offered me a job has also vanished. I wonder what kind of position?”

“Kinda job where the Divine Spark would have to accept a man’s meat inside – one place or another.” He didn’t say, what did you think? But I could see that clear as a shout. I should have thought of it. “Of all kids in all Arko, the untouchable one would need that kind of job the least.”

He looked at me as though I was dumber than dirt, and suddenly I could have smacked myself. Of course. A job out of an alleyway? In the middle of the night? A sex-boy and probably a low-class one in this neighbourhood. I felt stupid.

I nodded. It was so strange, so late at night, talking to my guard, who wasn’t Mahid. It was almost like the times after a nightmare when the unreal part of the night happened. “I’n this lowly worm might… throw a prayer upwards… this’n could hope… When the Divine Spark becomes the Imperial Sun… it’ be a good thing… a kind thing… if the streets were… cleaned. An’ not jes washed if the Ineffable one gets this clot of dung’s drift.” He gazed out, making as though he were not addressing me, but the air… in the neutral, almost equal to equal mode… “Course mayber there’s not enough water nor salt in the whole ocean… nor clear water in the lake… to wash th’evil out of men’s souls. It sticks.”

“Hmm. The problem is to see that most people get fed first. Then they can think about something else other than empty bellies. And maybe not have to do bad to eat.”

He shrugged, his armour squeaking, still addressing the air, when I didn’t take offense at his familiarity. “Some’s aren’t slightest bit good though they’re fat-fed.” His eyes glinted in the lamplight as he glanced to see if I would take it wrong. “Y’must know sommat like that.”

I pressed my lips together. That was a pretty good description of Ilian, I thought, but what I said was. “I’ll certainly think about it. They need to learn not to be rude. I know some like that.”

“I’ll bet the exalted one might.”

“Too many full fed, and don’t care,” I continued, and wondered why the guard looked so grim as if his thoughts tasted bitter. We were already on the Boardwalk by then so I knew I didn’t have time to ask him, so our feet on the boards were the only sound for a bit. “You like working the Mezem?”

“Course. Pays well. This’un, wonders…” I looked at him and didn’t interrupt. I was learning a lot I’d never thought before, from a lower solas Mezem guard. “See’in all the fans… curly black wigs, wearin’ crystals, learning bits o’ Yeoli… ta be like Raikas. Fawn on th’guy like he’s a God… while we chew up his country.” The regular reports from the war front… the new war were coming out every Pages. “Y’wonder what they think – y’can never read their eyes.”

“Oh they think we’re crazy,” I said. He looked down at me. “They think we love and trash something all at the same time.”

“How’d the Spark of the Divine Sun learn that?”

I shrugged. “Talk to them… talk to Raikas… Read some.”

“Raikas speaks his mind more’n most.”

“He’s a good representative for his people I think. The others… don’t talk to me much and I don’t bother them a lot… but I’ve talked to them, too.”

“The Spark of the Sun’s Ray certainly knows a great deal. Or thinks your exalted self does.”

“Know th’enemy,” he said. Even if he wasn’t right I wasn’t going to try and convince him otherwise. “This lowly’n heard what Raikas said when the writers went swarmin’ around like buzzards on a carcass. That one said…’I’m not gonna speak ta a hairy soul o’ ya. ‘Cept the one who swears on’s hope o’ Selestialis he’ll write the exact n’ whole truth o’ what I say,” sez that ‘un. ‘Course they scattered like rats.”

“I’m not surprised.” If Intharas found a writer who could swear to that, I’d read every word.

“Too much truth’s not good.” We were at the edge of the square, still back in the trees. I stopped and so did he.

“I’d like to give you a tip, for taking you out of your way and away from your post –“ he cut me off with a snort. I was glad of his informality in a way, glad he wasn’t noticing how easy he was being with me.

“This’ns not a waiter. The elevated one should keep that’ns riches, Spark of the Sun’s Ray, like all the most high kind. This lowly one has all this one wants.” I was surprised. He didn’t want anything? Really? “Best ‘o the evenin’ to th’ most high, Spark of the Sun’s Ray. Hope that one isn’t in trouble.”

“No, I’ll be all right… but…” I must have looked like a fat little fish with my mouth falling open. “I don’t want to be rude to you.”

He turned back to me, a serious look on his face. “This lowly one knows, and it confuses the Hayel out of all the ones beneath your most high self. Where’s the rude Spark of the Sun’s Ray?”

I had no answer for him. It was as though that me had evaporated but I could feel the shape of him inside me. “I don’t know. He’s kind of hard to find, lately.”

“Have that nasty exalted one hidden away somewhere? Up the most high sleeve? If’n that one stays hidden all the illustrious life long, while your elevated self'’s Imperator… Your exalted self’ll have done a magnificent thing.”

I stared at the man, hearing in the solas accent, in the dark of the city night something I had first heard out of Shefenkas’s mouth. The guard… I had never looked twice at him. I didn’t know his name. I couldn’t see him now, in the dark between two street lamps on the edge of Presentation square. In the weird time of the dark it was as if he were all Arko talking to me.

“I hear you. I’ve promised some people to try. I promise you, now. I’ll do my best.”

“Do that for this one, Spark o’ the Sun’s Ray and this one would need no more ever.”

I nodded. “I understand. Gods night to you, then.”

“Same to the illustrious ‘n from this low worm.” He thumped his chest with his fist and turned around to swing away down the Boardwalk, whistling. I waited until his tune faded, and the sound of his firm steps were gone before I slid behind the statue and opened the door.

At the top, I cracked open the door at my fountain, and caught the fading lamplight as Binshala checked the fountain room. She wasn’t calling… yet. But I had to wait until she went to the next room over and I could sneak out of the floor. I pulled my sandals off my feet, tiptoed into my room to stuff them and the cloak under my bed.

I slid into the window seat in the hall between the library and my office, behind the half-drawn curtain and lay down in the pillows. “Nurse? Binshala?” I called her from her search.

She came with the light and exclaimed over the nightmare that must have gotten me into such a filthy sweat.

48 - Out Alone

Even after all the excitement, Shefenkas being all right – I prayed to the Ten that his eyes would heal well, suddenly reassured that prayers could be heard -- and the incipient bar brawl at the Fig… I couldn’t settle. Kyriala hid anything she felt behind her veil… she’d gasped when the beer glass was hurled and I hardly had to pull her anywhere… she slid under the table faster than I did, because I pulled the tablecloth with me. She didn’t look distressed even as the Mahid started felling people left and right. Her eyes in the dimness under the table glittered with… what? Excitement? No… it couldn’t be. She was much too proper to be anything but distressed. Probably terror. “It will be all right, Serina. Don’t worry.”

She didn’t answer me, and that was when the owner knelt down in front of the table, so I turned to him. He looked terrified, his make up smudged under his eyes making him look a little like a ring-eyed beach-rat. “I didn’t think I’d see the underside of your tables again, Ienas. I’m impressed with how clean they are.”

After I had my glass of wine and tried the crisp beef things the new chef had created for us, I handed Kyriala into her carrying-chair and got into mine, not caring to stay around for the rest of the clean up.

I wouldn’t… couldn’t go rushing down to the Mezem that night. The city was full of celebrating fans and Riji mourners so aside from it being too dangerous for me to be out alone, without guards, I thought Father would have me watched tonight to see if I would go to visit Shefenkas.

I hadn’t been too afraid to be out alone the other night, but that was along the boardwalk… a very safe place. This time I’d have to go to the Mezem and even if it was in a good part of the city, it would be further than I had ever gone alone.

That night I slept sound. I slept long enough that I missed breakfast and had to make up with a big mid-morning meal. For once I had appetite. I was able to sit through lunch and made the presentations of the city awards. For a full afternoon, a flow of glass prizes, plaques and medallions flowed from my hands to the street-sweepers and washers, fire-fighters, sewer workers, cliff polishers, laefetas mechanics and lamp-tenders of Arko. By the time the last beaming recipient was ushered out of the Silver Presentation Lounge, I was tired and ready for a nap, but there was the third Formal Meal… Mid-After.

I read the special print about the fight, and they explained the fight move by move. The story about the fans breaking into the Mezem and bodily carrying Shefenkas off to be celebrated through the city and the to the ‘House of the Mountains’ bar made me laugh but also made me concerned about his eyes. They were bandaged still, in the evening. I sent another prayer to the fessas God, figuring if any God could fix such things it would be Him.

I managed to wait three days, before I decided I could sneak out to see him. I took a cloak with me to cover my nightclothes. I wasn’t sure how to dress myself without letting everyone else know so I slipped on my sandals and went out that way.

The Boardwalk was quiet, the only sign of life as before, were the Filter Gate Road lights. I made it down to the gryphon statue and turned away from the lake up into the Solas quarter.

It was a middle solas street, with mostly solid stone houses set cheek-by-jowl with a shoulder-wide alley between each one, a scrap of space between each house and the street, most of them with the burned out miniature house on a pedestal in front of each one, showing that the head of the house was assigned to a unit out-city. Here and there a complete miniature stood, showing that the master of the house was either too young, retired, or assigned in the city itself.

At the first cross-street a young man peered out of an alleyway between two dark houses. “Pst. Hey kid, you lookin’ tah score some ‘Eternal Climax?’ Best EC in tah whole sect’n.”

“No.” I shook my head in my hood. “Thanks.” EC was mostly bogus as far as I knew. 1st Amitzas said it was mostly an opiate and hallucinogen mix.

Four streets over another polite young man offered me a position if I wanted one. And the next street I was shown a very pretty set of twins, one girl one boy, if I wanted them for the night. “I swear, she’s young enough to not be pure yet, if yea get mah drift.”

“No. No… Thank you.”

“Ye’re missin’ the best!” He yelled after me. “They’ll be gone if’n yah change yer cojitatin’!”

I crossed the Avenue of Statuary and passed a couple of boys hanging around under the lamp at the corner near the Statue called The Immolation of the Korsardinians. “Hey Fis, didja see that?”

“See what?”

“That kid… he’s wearing silk jammies with about a year’s worth chains of gold lace on the legs.”

I supposed the lace on my nightclothes would show under the edge of the cloak. I was about four doors down from the Fig and could see the bulk of the Mezem ahead of me when I realized they had quit whispering to each other and were walking after me.

I sped up a little and so did they. Perhaps they wanted directions or... something... For a second I thought I should stop and talk to them. I glanced back at them and saw that one of them still had the dagger he'd been cleaning his nails with, in his hand. Why would he keep it out? I looked back at them again and they were both looking at me. I had a bad feeling about it. I jumped into a run and they bayed after me like a brace of hounds that’s just seen the rabbit flush into the open.

I realized then that they meant to at least beat me, maybe kill me. That I had no Mahid with me. That they might not believe me if I said who I was, even if I didn’t want to get into trouble if anyone found out… I was affronted. How dare they? But I was suddenly more scared. I might never be able to tell them how rude and illegal they were being.

Father impaling them after I was dead wouldn’t make me feel better. I ran like a rabbit, panting, wishing desperately that I had my skates on, my heart hammering in my throat. I was so sweaty it poured down, soaking my nightclothes. The Mezem gate just didn’t seem to be getting close fast enough.

“Fis! He’s getting’ ahead! Get ‘im!”

“’s up-fikken-hill, Diz!”

I reached the gate box for the Mezem and seized the bars. “Let me in!”

The guard inside looked up, bored. “Waddaya mean, let ya in, kid? We’re closed.”

The two boys stopped across the street, not willing to do anything while there was someone to see. I pulled my hood back and said, louder, “Let me IN, forzak you! If those two get hold of me, Father will eviscerate you!”

His boots came off the desk with a thump as he finally recognized me. I thought they hired smarter people than that. “Oh! Spark of the Sun’s Ray!” He got up and pulled the ring of keys off his belt, calling across to the boys still standing in the shadow of the arch across the road, trying to look innocent. “You ruffians better back off! It’s true he’s the Splinter of the Light Effulgent… or if it's only maybe true, you don’t want to find out the hard way, eh?”

They looked even more uncertain as the guard went around to open the door and I didn’t let go my hold on the wooden bars. “Well, come in, Blessed Sparky. This very lowly one didn’t realize your illustrious self was so fast.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Still a little shaky, still a little scared, still panting. “Sorry. My mouth got away from me, I shouldn’t have threatened you.”

“But if this pathetic one may be so bold to ask… where are the Imperial Mahid?”

I was very glad to have the gate locked securely behind me. I leaned against the wall and considered. The truth was simple enough, sort of. “They’re probably asleep. Don’t tell anyone I was here, okay?”

He cleared his throat and swallowed the phlegm. “The miserable Mezem can hardly let your invaluable self return to the Marble Palace without an escort.”

I pushed off the wall where I leaned. “I’ll deal with that when I leave… later. Um, thank you.”

He looked confused at first then it cleared on his face. “Your magnificent self is here to visit someone… isn’t he…” It wasn’t a question.

“You don’t need to know. I wish no one knew.” I opened the inner door and headed down the hall past the weapon’s trust.

I stopped at Iska’s desk. He looked up and then nodded his head in a properly deferential dip as if I came at this hour, unescorted, all the time. His eyes flicked to where my Mahid usually stood and obviously was not and then back to me, but didn't say anything.

“Iskanzas. How are his eyes?”

“Better each day, Spark of the Sun’s Rays. He’s not seeing clearly yet… won’t be for a while. But his eyes will heal entirely, in time.” I could see him contemplate whether he should say anything else before he continued. “He’s asleep now, Spark of the Sun’s Ray.”

I thought it likely he might still be awake. “I’m sorry to wake him, but I risked sneaking out of the Marble Palace to see him. I won’t be too long.”

“As your astute self wishes, Spark of the Sun’s Ray,” he said to my back as I headed up the stairs. I could hear the wheels on his chair squeal as he got up behind me.

The upper hallway was quiet, all the doors closed, everyone asleep or trying to. The next fight day was tomorrow, though no great headliners were listed. I tapped on Shefenkas’s door, quietly. Inside I could hear Skorsas whisper inside…”Kaina marugh miniren why doesn’t the world leave us the fik alone?” Coming closer as he came to the door and opened it. “WHAT? OH!”

He backed up a step and I put a finger over my lip, “Shh.”

“Spark of the Sun’s Ray!”

“I won’t keep him awake long, I promise.”

From inside came Shefenkas’s voice. “Skorsas?”

I stepped by the boy, who held the door open for me, his lips pursed. “I also promise not to drag him out into the city.”

“Hi.” Behind me I could hear Skorsas mutter behind me “Small victories” as he closed the door behind himself and the room went as black as the inside of a cat. Of couse. Not only was it the middle of the night, but it would be hard on his eyes.

“I’m sorry if I woke you –“

“That’s all right –“ I thought I could hear him getting up on one elbow. Just as I thought I should ask, he said, “You can bring in a light, lad.”

I hesitated. “It won’t hurt your eyes?”

When he answered me I could hear the smile in his voice. “It's not as though I don’t have to deal with it during the day.” I went out to grab a corridor light and when I came back I could see Shefenkas had an eyepatch on one side, the other unbandaged, but still closed. A pain wrinkle stood in the middle of his forehead.

It disappeared behind a pair of dark-tinted spectacles he picked up from his night table. Once I set the lamp down safe I flung myself on his chest, even as I was, sweaty and dishevelled, not bothering to take off my cloak. He caught me in a hard hug.

“Oh, lad. It’s okay. It’s all right.”

“I needed to know… I needed to feel…”

He stroked my hair. “That I’m here, yes. I know.”

“I’m sorry.” He shifted me a fraction and adjusted his hug.

“You’re sorry? For what? I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“I tried to stay away, to leave you alone… why are you sorry?”

“For letting him get so close to killing me, while you were watching.” I shivered all over when I thought of that.

“Not your fault,” I said. It was my father’s fault for the fights, for enslaving Shefenkas, for not taking him out of the Mezem once he knew… all kinds of fault.

“Of course it was my fault. My mistake, my fault.” I shook my head.

“Your eyes. They’ll be all right, Iska says.”

He sighed, his chest going up and down under my cheek. “Yes, they’re healing.”

“Do they still hurt?”

Shefenkas tapped the spectacles. “He let me take off the one eye patch today and wear these, but yes they do still hurt. I’m taking painkiller.”

I ran my eyes over the bottles and vials on his night table. Lots of Haian things it seemed. “I like the spectacles.”

“You do? They look good on me?” He held his chin up and turned his head slightly striking a pose, that quirky smile on his face showing me he was joking. I smacked him lightly with my fist on his chest.

“Oh!”

“It's been hard being blind, but Iska’s ordering me to do nothing but rest anyway.”

“Are you getting Skorsas to read to you?”

“No. Arkan strategy and tactics doesn’t interest him so I’m not subjecting him to it.”

Maybe he’d like some of the other books I’d been reading. “Wild Untamed Heart is a pretty good book.”

I could see the eyebrow climb up behind the dark glass and wire. “Wild Untamed Heart? Sounds steamy.”

“Um… Yeah, I guess. Or maybe Ripped Gloves.”

“Aren’t those too old for you? You’re only eleven. Ripped Gloves?” His whole face twitched and I realized he was trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, I get them from the library or from the Press.”

“Only in Arko. You’re trying to learn something about sex that isn’t from your father, I assume. Wise inclination. The less you learn about sex from your father, the better, in my opinion.”

I shrugged, never having thought about it before. “I didn’t think it was plausible that the hero kept getting his gloves ripped off every time he turned around though… especially with the beautiful poor boy there to help his injured hands.”

This time he snorted. “No, I suppose not.”

I hugged him hard again, not wanting to let go and he tightened his arms around me too. “Father is still going to ransom you.”

“I figured,” he said. “Was he worried when it looked like he would lose my ransom?”

“Not really.” I wasn’t going to tell him that Father had a sex-boy under his robe at the time.

“I suppose it would be good for him, either way.”

“Is there something I can do? Something I can get you that will help?” I had a couple of tears forced their way under my eyelids. My fright and my flight had made me stink… I could smell myself under the cloak and hoped I didn’t offend my friend’s nose too much.

“For my eyes, you mean? Not to worry, I’m getting the best; Iska got a Haian in. And Riji Klifas is out of my hair.” That startled a laugh out of me and I started to feel better. “You must be glad of that. You must have been jumping up and down.”

“I was. I nearly fell out of the Imperial Box. My Mahid caught me by the back of my kilt.”

He stroked my hair again. “Well, Minis, if I can take Riji, who else can I not take? I’m glad he caught you.”

I smiled against his chest. That was true.

“To be fair, he should have won. He did win, tactically. What he should have done was kill me while I was out.” I shuddered all over again. “That was his mistake. If he hadn’t made it, I’d be gone. But he underestimated me.”

“I underestimated you,” I said, turning my face down out of the light.

“You?” He patted me like I was a much younger child. “How so?”

“I didn’t see how you could win when you were… down. And how did you know where he was?” The thumping helped.

“Let’s just say I have a gift. I knew exactly where he was the whole time. I was pretending not to so he’d go on not knowing. And when you’re fighting you don’t really notice pain. Your mind is on fighting.”

I turned my head back down to hear his heartbeat and he used his arm to press my head to his chest. “Ah, lad.” Then he sniffed. “You’re sweating or did some heavy sweating recently, lad. Why is that?” His hands checked me over a little, came across the damp patches on my back under the cloak where they hadn’t dried yet.

“Ah. Well. I don’t have my Mahid with me and a couple of boys chased me up to the Mezem Gate.”

“Where are your Mahid?” He held me carefully. “They didn’t hurt you, those boys?”

“No. I ran faster. Um… I sneaked out without my Mahid. They don’t know I’m gone.”

He sighed. “You’ve got to stop doing that. It's dangerous.”

I shrugged. “Yes. I know, now. But I didn’t have any money on me or any jewellery at all.” His fingers slipped over the cloth of my sleeve, snagged on the lace at the wrist.

“You’re wearing a fortune in silk and lace, lad. They might have stolen your clothes and cut your throat to stop you from telling the sereniteers.”

For my night clothes? “Oh. Um. I promised not to keep you up long.”

“Who’s going to take you back to the Marble Palace?”

“I was going to ask Iska to borrow the gate guard for a couple of tenths, to walk me back. I can still get in, in secret, once I’m back at the square.”

“Good idea.” I took a deep breath. It sounded like the end of him scolding me, but he finished off with one last thing that almost called my tears out because I wouldn’t be able to meet with him again at all. “Promise me, on your hope of Selestialis you won’t do this again?”

I held my silence a long moment, not wanting to swear. “I… On my hope of Selestialis, I swear I won’t do this again.”

“All right.”

“Good, you sleep well, okay? I slept really well the night you won.” He snorted a laugh.

“I will. I did too, except that the nuts dragged me out. I slept in long next morning.”

“Yeah, I read about that.”

“The only way to stop a fight between fans and gladiators and to get them out of here was to go with them.”

I shook my head. “Crazy fans.”

He was smiling a little though and looking thoughtful at the same time. “I guess it does touch my heart, even if I pretend it doesn’t. It’s a strange kind of love, but it's still love.”

“I mean something to them that is allegorical…” He used the Enchian word that I wasn’t so familiar with. “You know what the word means? I don’t know the Arkan word for it. It means, when you say something is like something else.”

“Oh, yeah. I do. In Arkan it's allegory or allegorical. Tobeas uses it all the time.” Shefenkas repeated them back after me.

“I mean something to the fans that is a symbol for something of their own. What it is with me, I’m not sure. Maybe you’d see it. What are they seeing?”

“Well, since you’re semanakraseye I suppose you’re an allegory for them, too.”

He signed charcoal with one hand. “No, the semanakraseyesin is not allegorical. I do what I do. I guess the allegorical aspect might be there in that I represent their will…” His voice faded off thoughtfully, a little sleepily.

I felt guilty but didn’t want to stop talking to him, for the last time I’d be able to be close to him. Maybe forever. “Someone as strong and good at what he does… a hero I guess. Someone to emulate.”

“Emulate? In their own ways, I guess.”

“Like a champion, of what they see as good. Like you were the man against the beast, fighting Riji.”

“But then what did they see in Riji? He was hardly… ah -- That I can see.”

I thought about it. “Maybe with him it was freedom from all restraint where nothing matters but blood.”

“His fans must be weirder than mine.” I didn’t need to see, to feel the smile. But he was seriously thinking about it, as well. “His fans are supposed to become my fans now that I’ve killed him. How are they going to manage that?” I sighed. I had no idea. “Maybe I shouldn’t try to plumb the mysteries of Arkan fight fandom,” he continued.

“They’ll have to find freedom in your unpredictability.”

He chuckled at that “…I might make myself crazy trying to figure it out -- But I’m so predictable. I go in, I win in one stroke if I can, I go out –“

“You might drive yourself crazy and then his fans would find you easier to love.”

“I don’t want that. The germ is bad enough.” The germ of the head, he meant.

I sat up, finally. “I keep saying I’m going to go. I don’t want to.” He smiled at me.

“I know. Part of me doesn’t want you to.” Really? He didn’t want me to go away? “But I think you have a busier day tomorrow than I have.”

“The mirror at the Fig got broken,” I said, searching for something else to talk about.

“That beautiful mirror? How? Crazy Riji fans?”

“Yeah. Someone… threw a beer mug at someone singing ‘Ice Roses—‘”

“You were there?” He looked concerned again.

“Yes. I slid under the table when the fight started… so did Kyriala – and I got my Mahid to stop it.”

“You’re betrothed was there? I didn’t see her in the Imperial box. She must have lost some innocence that day. Mine must have been the first manhood she’s ever seen. Or does she go to fights and has seen kilts cut off before?”

“I don’t know what she’s thinking. She doesn’t show anything. And she’s just a girl.”

“You needn’t ask for my sake.”

“She’s two years older than me and she already looks like a grown woman.” I felt disgusted. “I’m not going to get my growth for years.”

“That’s how it is,” he said, obviously trying not to laugh at me. “Girls get their growth first. Not fair, but that’s life. And you’re, what, eleven? You have a way to go before you get really randy, then and a lot of them will be full-on women.”

I had a drink of water out of his water cup. “If randy is what Illian did, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“No. That’s not randy, that’s toadying. Randy is wanting to do it with someone who wants to do it with you too.”

“Oh, yeah… but kind of more mouth-on rather than hands-on. I understand that.”

“It starts in the eyes. You look at them, they look at you. With Ilian that wasn’t there at all.”

“The books talk about that.”

“To look is to imagine,” he said as I put the empty cup down again.

“I feel like a little boy, next to her,” I complained. The lace on the edge of my sleeve had a loose thread. I grabbed it between thumb and fore-finger and started pulling on it. It snagged tight and didn’t unravel immediately.

“It’s as I say, Minis. Give it time. You don’t have to marry her tomorrow. When are you supposed to marry her? Third threshold?"

“Yes.” The thread began unravelling a little.

“Lots of time to get big. That’s how old I am, roughly. Another year for you maybe. I was twelve when I was going up on the mountain with girls – every day if I could.”

I made a face. “I’d rather skate than think about sex.”

He laughed. “That will change.” He took me in a hug again and I curled in against his chest.

“Oh, okay. I keep saying I should go… and then start talking again.”

He chuckled, his laugh rumbling under my ear. “You do. It's as I say, I can sleep in until noon if I want.”

“I should, or I’ll fall asleep on you. Not a good idea, since no one in the Marble Palace knows I’m gone.”

“Yes. They check on you and find you gone, they’ll panic.”

“You sleep in, then.” I peeled myself up off his chest before I could fall asleep. As I got up, Shefenkas put a kiss on my forehead.

“I will. Go with Muunas.”

“Yeah. You stay with Muunas.” He grinned at me as I picked up the lamp.

“Night, Minis.”

___________

this scene from Chevenga's point of view

47 - All Figged Up

I, Ienas Aratinas, fessas, do swear on my little professional god and my hope of Selestialis that this year has been either a blessing or a most profound curse. I will get back to you when I figure out which one it is. Let me explain. You remember back at the beginning of the year, when I had the Heir himself sitting in a dog costume under one of my tables, held on a leash by a one chainer gladiator-buck? Well… the Heir proved pretty accurate in his picking… the gladiator that is…


The man is an eighteen chainer with the Living Greatest gladiator – retired, of course, or he wouldn’t be living greatest now, would he? – pissed at him. And today… the fight of the decade… if not the century… or even a whole Rejin of years… Karas Raikas is facing Riji Asadji… called ‘the Mangler’, in the ring this afternoon and will either be the new Living Greatest, or lion food.


Both those gladiators have thousands of fans… and when the fight is done they will want to either drown their sorrows or celebrate their victory… no matter who wins – I will. If I’m lucky, the Heir himself will show up after… not that I can count on it, or be disappointed if he does – or doesn’t – but I’d better be prepared for it.


The Fig is polished to a shine like sun on steel, with every little thing fixed, tidied or re-stocked. For the day I’ve managed to rent the cool and cold storage space both in the basement below my neighbour’s place. Since he is a purveyor of artwork he really doesn’t need it and we’ve been dickering over price for the rental for years… and he comes around this eight-day… what luck, hmm?


My ‘official’ patio-space has been doubled in size because I managed to reach my cousin working at the Offices Dispensatory of Outdoor Licensing in the Marble Palace, city administration. Kaj was out on the new… temporary… edges, adjusting the borrowed tables. More good news, I’d managed to hire two more waiters. The bad news… disastrous news… was that Haik had been hired away from me. He was working as a second under chef in the Marble Palace for far more than I could ever hope to pay him, possibly to be a Head Chef for his Imperial Bratliness one day.


I was stuck with his junior chef who hadn’t yet successfully done his Masterpiece. Ruras Shelas wasn’t master yet… and the kitchen help… well they were good for chopping, dicing and peeling. Two dish-boys were on today and I had gone into a pretty significant debt to pull in several bottles of the Tatzian… just in case… I got five bottles of the 122, a ten of the 153, and a couple of bottles of 201 – that cost more than the 122 together. And even a full cask of a Ro 89, a rare vintage as good, though younger.


I stepped outside of the restaurant and looked up the street toward the Mezem. You could hear the course of the fights if you knew what to listen for. The poor fools who died before… their deaths barely rated cheers with the bulk of fifty thousand people waiting for the main event.


I checked to see how the kitchen was doing as the main fight started… and Ruras was there, sweating but ready for the onslaught. I’m not a fight fan myself and to be honest this fight wasn’t going to make me one. I nodded at Riji who was joking with the newest boys that today his namesake was either going to be gold or mud.


That’s the deal with the fights… simple black and white. Win or lose. The howling started and I idly wondered who was bleeding out, as I wiped down the wine safe counter one more time. Then I looked up just as the noise got worse than I expected and there was something obviously different going on. It went on so long, I figured it was Riji who won because he always dragged things out. “Hey, Rij? I think… either way… today your name ought to be Ijiras… just in case…”


He straightened the last kid’s collar and looked over at me, nodded and went to pass it on to the rest of the staff. Fans, especially wildly drunken ones, chose the silliest things to pick fights over, so Riji had taken the backwards name after the last eight fights Riji the Mangler fought.


The surf-roar from up the street faded away and we all braced ourselves, even the new-hires -- at least the ones with sense enough to listen to the long-timers workers. The many bodied, many minded, much monied monster was about to descend on us.


A good tenth later, the place was packed tight and every inch of claimed patio space as well. I had a huge smile on my face even as I swung two full trays of wine-cups up over people’s heads for my special tables. I’d set four tables at the edge of my outside space on risers so that the view of the Mezem was better and so my special guests could be more easily seen.


Since his Brattiness had visited during Jitz, a lot more Aitzas deigned to grace my beloved Fig and I had to make allowances so they could easily seen… especially by those who wrote or reported for the Serpent’s Tale.


That was when I saw the carry-chairs coming down the street and thought… ‘oh my professional god’ and ‘dad, too much success could break me.’ It was the Spark of the Divine Sun, looking a little rumpled, a little sweaty and… a girl. I set my tray down and made to shield my eyes politely as they passed but instead they were set down just between my patio opening and the express chair lane.


Oh, sweet little working-class god. He… they are coming here. Again. Oh shen, hurray.

“Ienas,” he says as he gets down and holds out his arm for the girl… she’s young enough that she doesn’t need the gold veil she’s wearing. He remembered my name? He remembered my NAME? “Greetings on this fine, fine, day. My fighter has covered himself with glory and I and my betrothed would like my favourite table inside, please.”


“Of course, Spark of the Divine Light.” Inside I babbled to myself. His betrothed, Serina Liren, that would be. “Certainly, this one humbly informs the exalted young man, that the Fig possesses Tatzian 201 should the celebrated palate care to be graced with such mere ditch-water.”


“Oh! Oh yes. That would be lovely. What would you suggest for a round for the house?” My. Greater. Professional. God.


“Everyone?” My voice cracked a bit as I shooed Jan Ril Tishan, Aitzas and his entourage, out of the way with their meals and drinks complimentary. “Um… this lowly worm’s most abject apologies for blurting out such a thing, most exalted eminence! If the celebrated personage would –“


“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ienas, would you have enough Tat or something equivalent?” He tucked the edge of the tablecloth under his chin as though my humble pub were a fancy restaurant. I gulped.


“This one… has a cask of Ro 89…”


“Excellent! I will buy it and you may serve who comes… it’s a fine vintage not one to get drunk on… one cup to your customers… on me! Karas Raikas won against Riji the Mangler after he was disarmed and down!” He turned to the girl. “I stole this man’s chef unfortunately, so I can’t recommend anything yet.”


“I will, of course be happy with anything, Ser.” Her sho para, the woman attendant, stood carefully behind and accepted the girl’s newly removed veil. I flagged down Riji… Ijiras… and sent Kaj back to get the new platter idea I had to come up with to replace Haik’s signature dish, and we went into the back to roll out the cask of Ro.


The place was so jammed that the space of courtesy around the Heir and his… betrothed, a girl so ethereal I had to blink as if her beauty blinded me… was about a body wide and that only because of his Mahid. No Jitzmitthra nonsense this time. They cut through the crowd in a way that made my bouncers look like little girls in pink dresses.


“Why, why, why did Riji have to come back? He was Living Greatest! He didn’t need to prove anything!” A Riji fan in the middle of the room moaned into his beer. The table next to his had a group of Raikas fans going on about “… roffessional god, what a move! How did he do that?”


“Why, why, why? He was a professor! He had a good wife and two little boys! Oh, Ten, why?”


“I thought Raikas was done, dead, dinner for lions! And then, and then, and then! I’ve NEVER seen a fight I thought so done turn around like that!”


“Why, why, why?”


“You think Raikas will be blinded? –“ “Hey, that kind of stuff heals.” –“Besides, from what he did it looks like he could still fight blind.”


“Why? Gods, why? Why?”


Typical post fight chatter, except for the sad stuff about Riji trying to make a comeback. A Raikas fan stood up and began singing that song they’ve all picked up “Ice Roses on the Mountain.” I didn’t mind it because for once the fan who chose to sing had a good voice.


Since Ijiras and I were seeing to the vintage I didn’t see the drunken idiot who started it, though I learned he was fessas, Toor Kalsias, when I sued the man later. “SHUT THE FIK UP WITH THAT CATERWAULING!” I turned in time to see him get up from the middle of the room and hurl a full, heavy beer glass straight at the singer. Who stood right in front of my Puckered Fig mirror.


Oh, no! Was all I had time to think, even as I saw him punch the man behind him who had grabbed him, trying to stop him hurling the glass, and the return head butt, as the glass, and the amber arc of the imported beer, sprayed across the Imperial party, tumbled toward the singer. The world went so slow. He, of course, ducked throwing up his arm to protect his head and the glass bounced off his forearm no no oh, my professional god, not -- and smashed right into the centre -- that. The smashing glass sparkled out into the room, razor shards of ruin and destruction ringing like chimes. My heart.


“No! No! Kaj! Break it up! Break it up!” I lunged toward the fights that had already spread from the initial punch. But there was a counter in my way and a thick crowd of people in Kaj’s way. I ducked a hurled chair. The sound of the crash of glass pulled half the crowd toward it rather than the spreading fighting. Oh hayel fired goatspawning dogmothered bastard.


I heard a shrill voice yelling something like “Mahid! Stop them! Don’t hurt them but stop them!” And at first I didn’t understand why the people fighting were falling like the glass from my once precious mirror. Then I saw -- their hands going from attempted punch to touch the darts sprouting out of shoulders, butts, arms. I even saw one bloom in the cheek of a man less than a ten of steps away from me before he dropped the chair he held and fell over.


Of course. The Mahid. They’d stopped the fight. People would have fled except the outside crowd blocked the door. It was like the whole patio stared in my front door and window, a little shocked, wondering what exactly was going on. Silence crashed into the room as the last fighter fell. One final piece of glass slowly peeled off the wall, tumbled down to smash on the floor.


Oh dear. I picked my way across to the Heir’s table… there was no sign of either him… or her… but the tablecloth was dragged, along with all the table dressings, half under it, and the bench where he’d sat. I went down onto the ground expecting the worst. He’d blame me for this. I’m ruined. I thought. My going down in the full Heir’s obeisance put my eyes a couple of hand spans off the floor and I found out where the Heir was.


He’d slid under the table and apparently pulled both the table cloth, still tucked into his collar, and his betrothed with him, out of the line of possible danger. He locked those unearthly blue eyes with me and he was… smiling? I closed mine and waited for the roof of Selestialis to fall on me.


“I guess I must like how clean you keep the undersides of your tables, Ienas. I thought I wasn’t going to see underneath this time!”


He was laughing? He… he… my eyes popped open. He stood up, helping her up… and gestured for me to get up. His Mahid snapped their dart tubes shut and were going around, gathering the darts they’d used to stop the fighters, pulling them out of inert bodies. “Would you like to have the Sereniteers called to haul these miscreants away to cool off and, perhaps be made to pay some damages?” What? What? He’s talking about law and damages? What? I just nodded as one Mahid was sent to fetch the strong-arms of the law in Arko.


Now that I wasn’t afraid I was going to be dragged off and impaled or given to Mahid or something equally horrible I could mourn my mirror. I let my eyes flicker to the people daring to get up and start picking broken glass off themselves.


“Why don’t we have our drink outside, Serina?” The Spark said and she nodded. “I’ll give you dispensation to move everybody out until you can get the glass up and re-seat the inside tables. Shall we?”


And that was all it took to move everyone outside. My little professional god, the kid did pay for the Ro for everyone, and for his own orders. His Mahid handed the unconscious drunks to the Sereniteers who came pounding up as though they could have stopped the riot that could have been in full swing by now.


Ruras outdid himself. While all Hayel broke out in the restaurant, he kept his mind on the fact he’d have to feed the Heir. The Puckered Fig’s good name depended on the food as well as the wine… He did something innovative… he took beef cubes… pounded them flat and spiced them both sides… rolled them around sprigs of spring-green spikes and threaded them on skewers like street food and deep-fried the lot. He sent the dish out even while the glass was being swept up. He’d make a good Head Chef. Shen… I’d have to start paying him like one, too.


The Divine Spark then did something that convinced me he was a good kid, no matter what any fool in the street said, or at least he’d learned to be.


He called for paper and ink while having his glass of wine and scribbled a note that he folded and sealed, then another. He handed them to me when he left. Himself -- with his own hand.


“Ienas, I cannot imagine your place without the Fig on the wall and want to help you replace your mirror. Enclosed is a note to the glass artist, Hersas Menin. Send the bill to me.”


I sat down behind the counter where no one could see me… the work still going on outside, the kitchen and serving staff running back and forth, Kaj doing the work I should get up and do and I swear, I had to stop and take a breath. My mirror… well… it had been broken before… Once, when dad ran the place and now once with me… Perhaps that would be the expensive legacy of the place…


The garbage boy finished cleaning the glass and I let customers back inside, hoping I wasn’t just dreaming all this the night before the big fight, though I was a lot sweatier than was usual in my dreams.