* * *
'Sy
* * *
I'm too furious to properly help my son drag Elete into the bed in the King's quarters. I let Gerald handle it on his own. As it is, Elete's lost more than enough weight to barely be an effort for Gerald to lug about. Most of the difficulty is in how TALL Elete is. And for some reason, that makes me even more furious. Just seeing how much he's let himself and his health go. Watching his slack face and frantically trying to figure out just what the hell to do about it. Katherine isn't here, she's off doting over her failure of a father. She always knew what to do with Elete, whenever any of us did at all. Now what?
Stevane takes one look at me pacing up and down the length of Elete's room and then promptly sends Lyric out to get tea. "Right in that room. However the Peacock King liked it, except with honey. Has he...has he told you that story? Oh, of course not. He probably didn't mention his brother much to you. Jhe h'Lete never really said much about him to me. But...well...tea."
Lyric nods and shakes his head at the appropriate times. "He spoke a little bit of Jhe h'Logos. Um. He said that he was proud of his brother but they um, they fought a lot." Lyric's getting shaky. He almost drops the teapot. It could be that my anger is getting out of hand and affecting others in the vicinity. I try to control it. Diyn whispers to me from across the boundaries of the Poet Hall. I anticipate something in support, but it's more of a contemptuous glare reprimanding me for not controlling myself.
But you're part of me, I tell him.
I fail to see how that makes you my problem.
I almost curse aloud, but I refuse to lose my dignity in this situation more than I already have. Elete's gone and fucking overexerted himself right when I need him, and all I have to show for it is a suit covered in cat hair! Something touches my hand. I jerk alert from my thoughts and stare down at Stevane. Her eyes are wide with tension, but she stands up straight.
She hands me a teacup. "Here. It's just a mild stimulant and it helps with the nerves." It's almost said from rote. I prod at her mind just a little and realize that she's precariously close to shock. Elete was close to her since she was born, after all. He's also her task, and she's close to failure now.
"It wasn't your watch."
She shakes her head as she kneels by her King. "It should have been." She brushes his hair back from his forehead, then gently tugs the crown back just a bit. "We shouldn't take it off. It's bracing him just as much as the Hall is, as much as he gets poked for constantly wearing it. Besides, it'll leave such a dent in his hair--" she chokes back a giggle, then swallows. Hysterics. She looks up, then cocks her head at Gerude. ...Gerald. That's Gerald. She gestures for him to come closer. Gerald, being the stable, obedient boy that he is, obeys. She gestures for him to lean down. He frowns, but complies. She plucks a feathered little fluffball off of his head, which begins to mewl. "Okay, now go find a few others. You and Lyric." She frowns and concentrates on the furball in her hands as her brothers rush out of the room to go bring some more of those wretches in.
"I kind of thought them up when everything was getting to be a handful for all of us." I'm not sure if she's talking to me. She almost sounds as if she's talking to herself. "Jhe h'Lete kept talking of convenience. I just thought, wouldn't it be nice if I could set something on top of him and he wouldn't want to get up? He'd finally sit." She sighs heavily, then kisses the shenanigan on the nose before resting it atop Elete's head, right in front of the crown. "Cat purrs are therapeutic. And they're sort of a little bit of him, since he put his energy into their making. Really it was silly..." She sniffles, turning away. "It was silly of him to go on and finish something like that right now when he's so sick."
My daughter is crying, and it hurts me in ways that Elete did not manage with any of his neglect or scatterbrained logic.
"Here, I've got some--oo! It puffed at me!" Lyric and Gerald each have an armload of shenanigans, with more of the little menaces piled on top of Gerald's hat. They try to just pile them on Stevane, who automatically hisses at them for the ridiculousness of that idea.
"Calmly - calmly, I said! - put them near him, or on him in a way that won't suffocate him."
"Here," says Jhe Averseen, moving with a grace and curt adeptness that reminds me very much of Katherine. I wonder why I didn't notice Bronwyn before, and then realize I'd been trying my damnedest to ignore her up until now, so as to feel I was in more control of this bloody situation. I decide I might as well just leave now and let the Poets handle things by stacking a wiggling pyramid of shenanigans around the Poet King. Then Elete has the indecency to pick that very moment to move.
"I think he's waking up!" chirps Lyric. My son. The budding Poet.
"...Dai'? Jhe h'Akribastes? What is the meaning of this?" Elete sounds dazed, almost drunk. Then I realize a shenanigan tail is stuck in his mouth and muffling his words. Bronwyn daintily plucks it out, then cradles the somewhat damp animal.
"Jhe h'Lete, you got sick." Stevane offers the King his tea, battling aside squirrel tails.
"Is that why I'm covered in meowing fur?" Elete takes his tea and sips it. By the unholy places, I think he's gaining coherency. "Oh thank you, dear. My favorite blend."
"My brother Lyric picked it." She looks back over her shoulder, not so much glancing at me as directing Elete's attention to me. Possibly it's a preventative measure. The pressure in the room seems to be rising, and I could be at fault for that detail.
Elete follows her eyes, then settles his focus on me again. His eyes widen. Oh, good. He's discovered that I'm not happy with the current situation. He tries to rise for a moment, but three Poets and one on his way to being one, plus a mountain of shenanigans, is enough to impede Elete frombowing at me.
I step forward. The Poets tense. I realize that they're getting ready to have to defend their King from me. I also remind myself that three of them are my children. Heavens. How did it come to this?
I sink to my knees in front of Elete's bed, which helps offset my height from intimidating them just a little bit. I don't want to hurt anyone. Alright, that's an outright lie - I have some intense desire to hurt Elete right now. But that's not what I'm here for, though I feel it's what I ought to do. "I'm here on Armed business."
Elete pales.
"This morning, our Peacekeeper's wounded and some civilians were withdrawn from Audiva Rocale. In exchange, other Armed forces were sent in. This was done later in the day, as was indicated by yourself, Jhe h'Logos. I can tell by now that there is conflict in the Aurocan Palace. There is undoubtedly killing. And you...sent the word that it should be done, yes?" I blink, then breathe, and go on. "This was your plan. So, now that it is later in the day, I ask you: are you going to go on and do it, or do you have some brilliant idea as to how to avoid this ridiculous bout of bloodshed that my Armed are involved in?"
Elete only shakes his head, but his pupils are dilating, his focus blurring to somewhere far distant. I've seen him look through the veil of Time before. It's common for him. I've never seen him do it in such a haze, though. I almost wonder if he can see it. "No..." he whispers, "that is how it happens. This is what should be." But he, himself, looks confused.
I narrow my eyes. He stares back into mine. "Fine then," I say, "as much help as you seem to be at all for the Armed anymore. As capable as you are of doing you job, anymore. Go on and do it." Stevane opens her mouth, but restrains herself from speaking. Good. I won't have to restrain myself from slapping her for giving one of her insolent retorts.
Elete looks into the distance again, then closes his eyes, and raises his hand. Gently, he turns his wrist, then snaps his fingers. The effort of it looks miniscule, but the act makes him collapse backwards. "I can't change what's already happened. I have to send them on. I can't alter--"
"Shut up." I close my eyes and breathe. I open them. Elete looks like he's staring into his doom. That's a good way of putting it, in fact. "Just stop your talking, for once, and listen to what I have to say. You are confined to this space until Jhe o'Radia gives word otherwise. Until you are fit for your position again, your duties here are ended. You are not capable of making rational decisions, showing restraint with your arts or powers, or guiding others to be capable of acting in your stead. You may think you cannot be replaced." I stand. "You are in error. I will see to it that someone suitable will stand in your stead until you are well again." I clench my fists as I walk towards the door. "If that time ever comes."
I don't wait to witness the horror reeling over him. I suppose that makes me a poor friend and a shitty comrade. The truth is that I can't stand to be in the Poet Hall for one second longer.
I don't notice it at the time, but as I leave, Bronwyn's footsteps follow mine.
* * *
Gerald
* * *
"Jhe h'Lete? You've got to rest."
I watch Stevane hold the Poet King down single-handedly, then wonder if I should help. Funny that I'm in shock and she's being all responsible here. Even Lyric's trying to scramble and sort out all the shenanigans that are swarming all over the place. Bronwyn followed Dad. So what use am I?
"Gerald? We need more tea." Stevane swallows back tears. "Please."
Okay, I know it's dire when Stevane remembers her manners. I go for the pot, pouring us each a cup and refilling Jhe h'Logos's. He doesn't quite meet me in the eye as I do so.
Can Dad really demote the Poet King? Even as Jhe h'Akribastes...can he?
"I'll be fine. Stevane, please. I really need to get up and... see to things."
"No. No, sir, you really don't." Tears pour down her cheek as she pulls him back to at least sit on the bed. "He'll feel better in the morning. And you will, with some rest. Okay? If you get up now you'll just piss him off." She smiles at him. "I've been sick in Daddy's house before, so I know. And you should know that too by now, silly. So stop panicking."
Elete pauses, then smiles at Stevane. "You're giving me a dose of my own medicine, finally." I notice that suspicious twinkle in his eyes, and decide that I'd better intervene before Jhe h'Logos gets a Really Good Idea That Just May Kill Us All. Before I do so, though, Jhe h'Logos collapses into the bed.
Stevane very sheepishly looks at her fist, as if she's wondering who possibly could have moved it. "I um... don't tell anyone." She sends a sharp look to both of us.
"Wouldn't dream of it." I stand up. "I um...maybe I should go see if things are okay on Dad's end."
Stevane cringes. "Have fun with that. I need someone to stay with me. I'm going to make sure Jhe h'Lete sleeps the whole night through."
Lyric raises his hand, which is quickly adopted as a new shenanigan perch. "I'll stay."
She cocks her head. "You sure?"
He grins. "I miss you, and this place is pretty fun. And these little critters are so cute!" He pokes at the shenanigan on his hand - a little cream-colored one with red points and cardinal wings. "Aww, look at you! What's your name?"
The shenanigan replies by biting his finger.
When the resulting scream doesn't wake Jhe h'Logos, I know it's okay for me to leave.
* * *
'Sy
* * *
Arriving at the Armed Hall, assembling Jhe Julia Wysthaven's Shadow Brigade, sending them off ahead with orders to do as they must, shuffling into my office, collapsing into my seat - it's all a blur. Thoughts bat ineffectively at my brain, like moths. That was my son Lute in that squad. I never asked him if he found anything out about my youngest son's attempted assassination. I haven't even talked to Lyric about that, and he was right there. I've left three of my children in charge of a man that I can't even trust to count up to twenty right now without using negative integers or having to divide fractions. I don't even know what Jenny's up to. As if that last part is some sort of cue, someone in my office coughs, and then sets down a cup of coffee in front of me.
Jhe Bronwyn looks up at me with red eyes that are very timid, but have the tiniest, strangest flicker of bravery in them. "I thought you might prefer it right now, sir. Sir, if you don't mind...I'm going to attend to the paperwork now, please."
I blink. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think of asking about that."
"Oh, no sir, Jhe h'Akribastes, it's not a problem at all, you were very very busy, and I should have seen to it myself what with knowing that already, just pardon me while I go work, I've got coffee enough to keep me up til dawn, not that I ever work here til dawn!" And with that, she's out of my office, which is left eerily silent.
There's nothing left to do. I should go home.
