Dragonfly, Page 2

  Lagan held up his hand. "I know, Ram, I know. But I also know that the Brigardians had a brave army, as

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  well equipped and trained as ours. They did not give in easily, but yet they fell."

  "They were starved into submission. Fergox cut them off by sea--that's what broke them."

  Lagan sipped his wine. "I'm glad to see you've been paying attention at council. I will never again say that your glazed look is because you are daydreaming. But you are right. Fergox exerts his power by both land and sea. We might be able to match him with our armies, but we will never be the equal of the Pirate Fleet. That's why we need an alliance with the Blue Crescent."

  Ramil nodded. It made perfect sense. The Crescent navy was famed

  throughout the known world for its strength as a fighting force. Used mainly to defend the waters of the Sapphire Ocean, the four Crown Princesses could call on at least a thousand ships with highly skilled crews who also trained as land-based fighters. These marines were a remarkably versatile force, even more surprising in Ramil's view because half of them were female. Women did not train for combat in Gerfal. But the Islands were a long way away and though Gerfal and the Blue Crescent were not enemies, neither were they exactly friends. Their cultures were worlds apart.

  "So how are we going to make this alliance? I can see we will benefit from their navy. What do they get from us?"

  "Initially, raw materials and promise of military support in the event they are attacked. We do not know

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  which country Fergox is going to strike first, but we both have an interest in seeing the other survive. And there's something else too."

  "Oh?" Ramil was feeling tired after his long morning of riding. He yawned.

  For all the threats to Gerfal, his father appeared to be on top of everything.

  He had little to do but approve the sound preparations for their defense.

  "What else?"

  "A royal alliance."

  "What?"

  "In short, you."

  All tiredness vanished. "No! I'm not marrying one of their matriarchs. I don't want a white-painted she-witch as a wife."

  Lagan frowned. He had expected his son to react like this, which was why he was holding this meeting in private. Prejudice against the strange people of the Blue Crescent ran deep in Gerfal--indeed the King was not too keen on them himself.

  "Not a matriarch. The match is to be with one of the Crown Princesses."

  "But that's no better," thundered Ramil. "She could be anyone--the most recent one was dragged from the gutter if the stories are to be believed."

  Lagan sucked his teeth, waiting for his son to finish his outburst.

  "There's no royal bloodline--just a series of nobodies dressed up in stupid costumes! Heaven's sake, Father, they prize poetry and paper-folding over swordsmanship. I doubt a native of the Blue Crescent Islands has

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  ever sat on a horse. They're all for boats and canals, not roads and carriages like a civilized country!"

  "You're being ridiculous, Ramil. The waterways of Rama are among the wonders of the world."

  Ramil was annoyed with himself, recognizing he'd gone completely off the point with his sweeping attack on Crescent culture.

  "Look, Father, put yourself in my shoes. You know as well as I do that marriage to one of them would be a living death. They are so formal they have sixty things to do before and after belching. God knows what you have to do before kissing a Crown Princess!" Ramil shuddered at the thought.

  "Don't do this."

  "We have no choice. It is the only way our two countries can be brought to trust each other--we need the Blue Crescent if there's to be a throne for you to inherit."

  Ramil tried a different tack. "I thought the Crown Princesses didn't marry."

  "This one does."

  "Which one? They're all near ninety, aren't they?"

  "You exaggerate, Ramil."

  "So I'm to marry one of four but I'm to have no say in the choice, not even to say which I'd prefer?"

  "Correct. This is a marriage of state, not a farm boy picking a milkmaid at a barn dance."

  Ramil bunched his fists. "I'm not going to do it, Father."

  "You will do it for Gerfal. You will do it to show that you take your responsibilities seriously."

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  Ramil stood up abruptly, with half a mind to storm out. "You can talk. You always said you married Mother for love."

  Lagan threw another log on the fire. "I married selfishly. I weakened Gerfal by choosing your mother."

  "She was a princess--"

  "Of a people that counted for very little here in the north. If I hadn't met her at the Great Horse Fair, I would've been married to Fergox's sister, did you know that?"

  Ramil shook his head.

  "I ducked out of the match, I admit. Junis was not the woman of my dreams. I knew my father was planning the wedding so I took the decision out of his hands and married in a ceremony in the desert before he could stop me."

  Ramil suddenly understood. "So is this why you have not told me any of this before? You were afraid I'd bolt and hitch up to the first likely looking woman?"

  "Yes. You are very much like me, Ramil. I was afraid you'd make the same mistake."

  "But your marriage to Mother was not a mistake. You were happy--you had me and Briony--"

  "We were happy, yes, but Gerfal was not. Think what might have been if I had allied us to Fergox by marriage: we wouldn't now be fearing for our future. But if you do your duty, you give Gerfal a good chance of surviving free of the warlord. Indeed, even better: you stand to expand our own power westwards--we could see Burinholts on two thrones."

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  Ramil seethed with anger--he felt like a sheep herded into the shearing shed, about to lose the comfortable fleece of dreams and pleasures that had so far made up his life. "But you forget the elections they've got there."

  Lagan waved his hand airily. "Practices can change. Those elections are open to abuse and have been manipulated by Fergox. Why do you think an insignificant girl was chosen as the new Crown Princess? He's bribed some of the priesthood--he's weakening the rulers. When the Crescent Islanders realize this, they will want to put a stop to it, drag the Islands away from the vagaries of elections into the modern age of strong hereditary leaders. To men."

  Ramil considered his father's words carefully before replying. "So what you are really asking me to do is to marry this crone to cement an alliance while all along we're planning to take over?"

  "Not a crone. I have already said we will only accept a woman of child-bearing years. And yes, we can offer the Crescent Islands strong leadership when the time is ripe."

  "Can I refuse?"

  "If you refuse, I will open negotiations with Fergox for a suitable match for you. I understand his sister is still unwed. The Inkar Yellowtooth will no doubt accept a fresh young man like you in her bed."

  "You are joking!"

  "Sadly, I am not. I wish to spare my people a war we cannot win. Without the Blue Crescent, the only future

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  is as a vassal state of Fergox. He would ask just such a sacrifice of us--a pledge of our loyalty."

  Ramil was overwhelmed by a desire to start the day again; go back to the forest but this time forget to come home.

  "So I have no choice?"

  "No, I'm sorry, but you don't."

  "The wedding--when, where?" Ramil snapped.

  "The details are yet to be decided. Go and take a bath."

  Lagan dismissed his son with a sigh. Ramil stalked out with his shoulders hunched. It grieved the King to know that he had just shattered his relationship with his only son. He remembered exactly what it had felt like to have his father behave as king rather than loving parent. His father had never treated him the same after his marriage to Ramil's mother, and his beloved wife had barely been received at court until the old king died. He feared Ramil would now hold a similar grudge
against him.

  Once the Prince had gone, the King rang a bell. The chief of his guard came in.

  "See that Prince Ramil does not leave the castle until further notice," ordered Lagan. "Make sure he does not visit the stables on any pretext."

  If the guard thought the order strange, he did not say. He bowed and left quickly to organize a twenty-four hour close watch on the young heir to the throne.

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  Chapter 2

  T

  ashi was the last to arrive at the Hall of the Floating Lily, the seat of government in the four isles and one of her favorite places in the palace. The roof opened out from a central dome in the shape of an inverted water lily, petals becoming cream-colored pillars turning blush-pink where they joined the mosaic floor. The patterns on the ground reflected the rich culture of the Blue Crescent: the ever-present motif of the water lily, perfect beauty floating on the water like the Islands themselves in the Sapphire Sea; the dragon of eternity chasing its tail; the leaping dolphin, legendary friend of the first Mother; the dragonfly, the herald of the Great Goddess herself, catching fire with a fragment of her glory.

  Tashi approached her fellow rulers with a carefully measured step. Marisa of Phonilara, the First Crown Princess, was already sitting on her throne--the Throne of State, which was carved like a ship in full sail--her white robe spread around her so she looked like an old wrinkled figurehead. The Second Crown Princess,

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  Safilen of Lir-Salu, a fine-looking woman in her fifties, was just taking her seat on the Throne of Plenty--a magnificent piece decorated with images of the harvest of land and sea. She swept the folds of her green robe, embroidered with golden sheaves, so that they rippled gracefully to rest on the floor. The Third Crown Princess, Korbin of Rama, followed her, sitting down swiftly on the Throne of Justice. Her face was set in a frown, fingers stroking the blue sash in her lap in a subtle sign of irritation. Her chair was cast from bronze, its back shaped like the blade of a sword. Korbin was the closest to Tashi in age, being only twenty-nine. The last place, the Throne of Nature, was built of plain wood. It was no better than many a chair in a matriarch's hall but its simplicity was to remind the four rulers that the riches of the land and sea, the civilization their ancestors had built here and the ocean they had come to dominate, were all founded on the natural gifts of the Islands. Without the blessings of the Creator Goddess, none of this would exist.

  So why, wondered Tashi for the hundredth time as she approached the seat of unyielding wood, does the most junior Crown Princess get to sit on it?

  Tashi bowed to her sister rulers and took her place, spreading her dragonfly robes in an elegant arc around her feet to mirror Safilen's gesture.

  A bell rang in the roof, signalling that the government was in session.

  Marisa rose to her feet. "Sisters, the first matter for our consideration are the preparations for our defense

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  against our enemy, Emperor Fergox Spearthrower. Our messenger birds from the embassy in Gerfal have brought a reply to our proposal of alliance.

  King Lagan agrees."

  Tashi joined in the round of polite applause from all in the room. She had known that the First Crown Princess, responsible for foreign affairs, had spent months conducting these delicate negotiations. Tashi remembered the rough-looking ambassadors she had practiced bowing to only the month before. Their tunics and trousers had seemed very out of place amongst the robes of the Blue Crescent court, their loose long hair almost wild compared to the modest veils customarily worn in the palace. And the Gerfalians had all been men.

  "King Lagan agrees that our alliance must be cemented by ties that cannot be easily broken. He proposes a royal marriage with his only son and heir but has rejected my suggestion that this should be with a daughter from one of our leading matriarchal families. His Majesty is clear that only a Crown Princess will do. Though it is against our practice, I reluctantly agree with him. Extraordinary times demand extraordinary measures. Prince Ramil must marry an equal to show that the two nations join as equals."

  Tashi did not at first understand what Marisa was saying--it was so unexpected. Crown Princesses were allowed to marry, but only as a private matter, kept away from the court. The Second Princess was well

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  known to have been married happily for twenty-five years, but few had seen her husband, rumored to be a priest in one of the lesser temples. But a public--a state--marriage was unheard of, a major break with tradition. Tashi was not the only one to be surprised; all the councillors gathered on the benches around the thrones looked perplexed, a very extreme show of emotion for the notoriously controlled court of the Blue Crescent.

  Safilen rose to speak.

  "Sister, I understand the wisdom of alliance, but marriage to one of the four, that will have results none of us can predict, change the entire balance of power in this court."

  The First Princess acknowledged the justice of the remark with a nod. "Of course, I know this, but we can also predict that this court will not exist in a few years' time if we do not forge alliances now. What will Fergox Spearthrower make of our customs and our laws? Nothing. He will

  desecrate the temples of the Mother and put us all to the sword, Crown Princesses and commoners alike, if his behavior in other countries is anything to go by. I propose a change, yes, but nothing as radical as he would force upon us."

  Korbin rose.

  "If what you say is correct, sister, then the only matter that remains is which one of us shall be chosen to represent our country in this alliance?"

  Tashi raised her fan to hide a smile. The Third Princess

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  made it sound as if marriage was a sporting competition. In importance and age, Korbin was clearly the front runner for the task.

  "King Lagan requires the wife to be of child-bearing years so that narrows our choice," continued the First Princess with the merest glint of amusement in her eyes. "Our ambassadors describe Prince Ramil as (forgive the undiplomatic language; I asked them to be frank) 'an uncouth boy of eighteen.' We must vote as to which of our two younger sisters should take up this burden."

  Two younger sisters. Tashi suddenly woke up to the fact that she was being seriously considered for the marriage.

  "The one chosen should be prepared to spend much of her time away from court. Her role will become that of a roving ambassador between us and Gerfal."

  Marisa did not have to spell it out, but Tashi knew what that meant. If the Crown Princess was away from the Islands, she would lose much of her power, miss the government sessions, reduce her influence with the people.

  Tashi glanced at Korbin's severe face: she too was quickly counting the cost.

  But I can't do it! Tashi thought in a panic. I'm barely accepted as it is. A strange marriage would just about be the end of me, demote Kai further in importance, signal the end to my training and education. Added to that the fact that I don't want an "uncouth boy."

  "We wil vote in the usual way," announced Marisa.

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  Each princess picked up the four voting sticks that sat on an arm of each throne--white, green, blue, and orange.

  "Blue or orange?" intoned the First Princess. "Begin."

  As described in the Law of Voting, second scroll, paragraph one, each ruler chose her stick. A bell sounded. One by one, four sticks were cast onto the tiled floor between the thrones, falling on the lily mosaic designed to be a reflection of the dome above.

  "The decision is taken," Marisa declared.

  Tashi stared at the floor in disbelief. Three orange sticks and one blue lay at her feet. The three older princesses had all voted for her.

  "But I can't--" she began.

  Her three co-rulers looked at her in astonishment. No princess ever raised a personal objection in open court.

  Tashi stood and bowed. "Forgive me, sisters. What I meant to say was 'As the Goddess wills.'"

  She walked out quickly, knowing she was b
reaking precedent by leaving before her elders, but she couldn't stay there after what they had just done to her. Once in the corridor she broke into a run, gathering up the heavy brocades of her robes in clenched fists. Little Kai, unimportant island of the union, sacrificed to please some distant king and to keep the other three safe. She could scream. It should've been Korbin: she was older, fully trained as a diplomat, more than ready for marriage, representative of the largest island, Rama, so less

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  likely to lose her influence. So many reasons pointed to her.

  But they had all voted for the youngest, least important, most dispensable princess at court. An insult to the Gerfalians if they realized it.

  And an insult to me too, Tashi realized. They probably thought a goat herder would be a good match for the "uncouth" barbarian prince.

  Tashi stormed into her bedroom, shut the door in the Etiquette Mistress's face, and threw the bronze fin-gerbowl out of the window. It made a satisfying clang as it hit the pavement below.

  She flung herself on her bed. She'd do her duty but Goddess help Prince Ramil if he expected any more from her than that. If he did, she would make his life very unpleasant.

  The point when Ramil completely lost his temper was when he was refused entry to the stables. He had intended to fulfill his promise and take his little sister riding, but a guard stopped them both at the entrance.

  "I'm very sorry, Your Highness, but the King has ordered that you are not to be allowed in here." The guard, a jovial man for whom Ramil had often bought a drink in the inn by the castle gate, was now looking very sober and very serious.

  Inside their loose boxes, the horses neighed, sensing the presence of their favorite rider at the door.

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  "Ram, where is the pony?" whispered Briony, clutching her brother's hand nervously.

  "The pony is in the stable, but apparently I'm not able to fetch it for you."

  Ramil could feel his temper getting the better of him. "The Princess--is she allowed in?" he snapped.

  "Of course, Your Highness." The man lowered his spear.