“Is this not for the First of the Mahid to deal
with?” Inensa’s voice was calm.
“The honourable Sera’s father has been called to the
Highest Office and has been there for more than a bead.” That was alarming. Her son needed to speak to his grandfather
for that long? There was something not
right going on.
“Then I shall certainly see what I can do to resolve
this Mahid problem. Bring them to Risae’s
Garden room, if you would. I’ll receive them
there.” She rose and Dau, who had Tesha
on her lap at the moment said. “I’ll keep her, she’ll be fine with us.”
“Thank you, Daurama,” she ran gloved fingers over
her daughter’s head, making her squirm.
“Mama!”
“Be good for Auntie Dau, all right?”
“Yes, Mama. I’m always good!”
“That is sometimes debatable but I agree with you
right now.” It was hard, sometimes, to not just smile at her little girl’s
nonsense and her lips twitched with amusement as she turned to follow Erlas.
Risae’s Garden room was a tiny space on the
Honorakia level, where the Imperial women’s quarters met the Serulean stairs up
from the Mahid level. Inensa paused to
let her servants remove her skates and replace them with soft blue kidskin
shoes. It was still hard to look down at
herself and see colour in her clothing. Her
gown -- really a split trouser gown, that shockingly daring fabrication by the
Imperatrix’s designer -- was mostly black lace, a dusty black, almost a
charcoal colour rather than true onyxine, the lace over a shockingly bright
blue. Blue shoes. She accepted her blue and black feather fan
as she rose to climb up the enormous pink marble staircase, to her meeting.
It would be in one of the five Goddess garden rooms in the
women’s halls, full of the sun-loving plants cherished by Risae in Her aspect
of surgeon and vivisectionist.
Just as her father tended his menagerie of
flamboyantly coloured toxic flowers and insects and animals, she had taken up
tending the sun-loving poisonous plants.
The enormous datura with its white flowers as large across as her hand,
the tiny blood-red berries of the boringly named Flat-leaf, the various
Arkanherb trees, trained to a ‘weeping’ form so that the frosted buds swayed in
the breeze from the open windows, filling the garden with their musky green
scent.
She settled into her favourite woven chair, and
waited. She had an idea who these women
might be and when the four were shown in, with chairs for them, and followed by
a servant with the afternoon kaf service on it, she was only mildly surprised.
The four women were dressed in black, though no one
made onyxine any longer, black and formal Mahid as she used to be. For a moment she felt a pang of loss for that
uniform anonymity.
The eldest sank into
a credible curtsy and the other three followed suit, despite all of them
carrying toddlers. They were some of the young women who had been married into
the Mahid... right at the end of their running loose, by Second Amitzas in anticipation of regaining control of Minis. Anticipation that the Eclipse Court would
need to breed more Mahid.
“Sofonisba,” Inensa said. “Alaria. Melforasha. And young Sulatesha. Alaria, as I recall you attacked me last time
we saw one another, for making you be a Mahid.
It seems that your freedom is something you four have reconsidered, perhaps?”