Chapter 28 - Meaningless Words

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I expect to have tea in Lady Thelea's room, as was planned before - but instead she decides to have tea out on the patio that adjoins her room, 'as the day is quite fine, is it not?'  I agree out loud, schooling my expression carefully.

Now, I can't really disagree if the observation is held according to the weather.  The weather is nice outside.  A bit chilly, but there are heaters out here to tend to our comfort.  The day itself is beautiful.  The surroundings, however...

"My Lady, may I assume you tend this beautiful garden yourself?"

She giggles, her eyes sparkling as she looks at me far too intimately.  "Why, Jhe Lotus, so I do!  What gave me away?"

I smile at her.  "Your touch with flora is very distinct."

It could be my imagination, but I think I just saw Edward fail to suppress a teeny shudder.  Can I blame him?  Hell, I just wonder how he's managed to survive all these years here, surrounded by scenery like this, and keep a (very tentative) grip on his sanity.

It would be easier to ignore if the plants didn't move.  If they stayed still, like normal plants, maybe rustling in the wind every now and then.  Reaching their taloned roots up out of the soil to catch mice is a bit much for me, though.  That's really my limit.

I sip my tea and pretend it didn't happen.  Edward, though, seems to dote on it, intrigued.  Well, his specialty is creepy stories, isn't it?  I guess he's been in the right place for the last few years.

Thelea sip deeply from her cup.  "As is your touch with fauna, Jhe Lotus.  I wish to see more of it in my service.  Your work with the Briarseal rat was so phenomenal that I believe I'll keep you on that task.  However... I suppose we'll have to give you some background.  Or a bit of an initiation."  At that, her gaze drifts to Edward.

Edward starts.  "This early, my Lady?  Don't you think it's too soon?"

"Really, Edward.  I thought such an event would alleviate your concerns for good.  After all... what else assures allegiance and knowledge of the Nul-deh'le tongue?"

My confusion is obvious - the growing sense of terror I'm feeling is not.  It's best to just pretend ignorance, isn't it?  But I have a very bad feeling about what's being proposed, and in the back of my mind I'm remembering Ebrellin-i's dance across the Jherent Nul's throneroom.

After Edward's reluctance to reply, Thelea adds: "And, as Jhe Lotus has said himself, if he fails... no loss to us, right?"  That's enough to chill me right through.  Edward just looks more troubled.

After some painstaking deliberation, he finally speaks.  "We should wait.  I would hate to have to... waste the King's time."  Beads of sweat are standing out on his forehead.  "But when he is more accustomed to our operation... when he's earned a little more trust... I think that it would only take a few days for us to be that sure of him, yes?  And then, he could gain all the familiarity with Nul-deh'le that will be necessary."

Thelea regards him with a knowing grin.  "You're a little upset that I'm giving him the red carpet, aren't you?  After all the trouble that you had to go through to gain your position... all your hard work, all your struggles.  I never made it this easy for you, did I?  And now, since you struggled so, this new apprentice can simply glide through.  So unfair."

Edward holds up his hands, fending off the accusation.  "My Lady!  I certainly don't mean to presume--"

She shakes her head.  "No, don't back down.  You did work hard, and it's unfair for me to just wave someone like him through.  In deference to your position, I shall do as you advise, and wait."  She crooks a finger under his chin, tilting his gaze up to her eyes.  "You're such a charming pet.  You've earned your place.  I shall let him earn his."  She leans forward and kisses him.

I feel a cold, scaly hand wrap around my ankle just then, and it takes every bit of strength that is in me not to scream.  I jerk away automatically, looking down.  A root has grasped my ankle.  Oh gods, the plants try to eat people?  That's disgusting!

Lady Thelea tsks, then leans down and slaps the root lightly.  It cringes away, then withdraws, though only as far as the patio stones.  It's still lingering, waiting for a chance.  Thelea sighs.  "Dryads get rash, you know, when you allow them to be the least bit unruly.  That's why I have to take such a firm hand with my gardening.  I obviously need to come back here with the clippers tonight."

At that, the root darts away into the underbrush, and I almost feel sorry for it.

It takes a few moments for everyone to compose themselves and for the conversation to feel as if it's gone back to normal.  Well, normal isn't really the word I'd use for this, but it's the only one within reach.  "If there is to be an initiation, am I to prepare for it?"  Not that I'm particularly excited at meeting the Jherent Nul - the thought freezes my bowels, in fact.  But I have to play this game if I want to survive... and I want to do more than just survive here.

I want to win at a game of my own devising.

"Don't worry about all that just yet, Jhe Lotus.  There's no need to prepare yourself... if you are ready, then you will be ready.  Until then, your job is the most important thing you could be doing."  She sips her tea, regarding me.  "We must have the Rhivend boy speaking Nul-deh'le as much as often as possible, and we must break him.  You are capable of both, I assume?"

You know, the scary thing is that I probably am.  "I can manage whatever task my Lady requires of me, on that score."

"Good."

Edward tilts his head, a smile trying to form on his face.  "You know, boy... much as I'm hesitant to aid you... I must admit, I'm curious as to whether you're aware just how dangerous--" his sentence cuts off and he raises a hand to his neck, where his collar would be.  His shirt collar covers it up, and because he's acted so willing, I forgot that Edward was even wearing one of those contraptions of Ebrellin-i's.  He looks at Thelea with shock, but there's not that much surprise in his expression.  I suppose in his line of work, having that collar triggered is an expected hazard.

Thelea's smile is patronizing in its cruel kindness.  She waggles a finger at Edward.  "Now-now.  No giving the boy hints."

Edward seems truly alarmed.  "But if he--"

"Shh."  She turns that smile in my direction.  "Let him learn the ropes on his own, Edward."  She raises an eyebrow at him.  "As you agreed before, there wouldn't be much loss if an accident were to occur... or were you misleading me on that account?"

Edward shakes his head fervently.  I think he's afraid to speak right now.

I grin.  "All the best lessons are learned through experience - very little of my trade can be taught by mere rote."  I give Lady Thelea a wink.  "And at that, I am wont to practice said trade again.  It seems I only have a few days to prove myself... and time grows short, as Radia is prone to act fast against its aggressors."  I don a forlorn expression.  "I do believe my family might miss me and protest my absence this time."

Thelea laughs - a long, mocking laugh.  It seems I'm entertaining her quite well.  Edward looks daggers at me and sips his tea.

When the Lady recovers, she dismisses me with a gesture.  "Go then.  Break our Rhivend boy, and make me proud."  Something dangerous sparkles in her eyes.  "If your achievements are grand enough... perhaps I'll waive this grace period that dear Edward demands, and advance you more quickly to initiation.  After that... we'll try you on more dangerous quarry than a mere human."  She profers the key to Elric's cell.

I rise and bow.  "Such an offer!  My heart pounds with excitement."  And oh, it truly does.  "I will make haste, then."  I reach forward over the table, cup her hand, and kiss it.  Then I take the key and leave before Edward can think of a way to kill me where I stand.

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I watch that Akribastes wretch go, still trying to figure out how someone that was so beneath my notice in Radia has now become the most prominent obstacle before me.  He's not even a Poet, and is a rare non-Armed Akribastes.  At least I never had to worry about that with Stevane.  She was a wily enough Poet, but she's in a collar now - and there's never been any chance that she'd be Armed.  Too interested in other things.  I like to think I turned her away from that sort of fighter's life.  Too delicate a thing...

I don't like that the Kommissar has her now, though.  She should be mine like all the rest of the Poets here.  I wonder if my Lady will give her to me instead.  Xen's nothing to her, after all - I've more royal Xaillyndesse blood in me than he does.

It's so difficult to think now.  But then, I can feel it drawing near now.  Perhaps that's why I've been tensing up so much about the Akribastes boy being initiated.  I couldn't be feeling any concern for him.  That's laughable.  He's beneath me.

Everyone is beneath me - and soon the conceit will be more literal.

My Lady rises.  She inclines her head towards me.  I nod, then rise and bow.  "I feel the summons," I say.  I try to keep the dread or the sadness out of my tone.  I should be feeling neither.  I should want this.  He's our master, and I should want to feel closer to him.  Even more important, it's my responsibility to bring all of the Poets closer to him.  They're not very pliant when it comes to that - work is hard.  It's always hard.  But I'm the most capable - when I was in Radia, I was second only to the Poet King, after all.  Elric was one of the other seconds, and now he's my subordinate here.

If only I could tell Jhe h'Logos what kind of power is available here for the taking.  But my Lady has cautioned against that sort of thing.  And of course, he likely wouldn't understand - and he's too busy.  Often, too ill.

I'll do this for him.  I'll bring glory to the Poets, no matter how they kick and scream along the way.  That's how trainees have to be brought to heel, after all.  I learned my lesson about going soft.  It only breeds willfulness.  There's so much willfulness in the young ones, in the foreigners, in the not-so-well-bred ones.  I'm a brilliant teacher.  I'm powerful.  I can do this.

Reporting to our King is simply a step forward along that road, isn't it?  This dread I'm feeling is just silliness.  I've tried to rid myself of that sort of thing - to rid all the Poets here of it.  There's no time for play, only for work.  If we play, we might displease him.  And if we displease him, I'm the one who has to answer for it...

I shudder.

Thankfully, my Lady is turned away from me now, and doesn't see the flinch.  I follow her to her bedroom.  It's funny that there isn't a more official direct route, especially here in Lyiannethe, the heart of Nul-worship.  But the entryways are strictly controlled, and only Lady Thelea can direct access to Nul through her portal.  It makes some occasions in her bedroom a little... chilling.  Even when the portal is closed, I can see odd reflections in her mirror - shadows that aren't there.  I can see my own reflection change.  It's easy to shake the tricks from my mind, of course, but it's still unsettling.  Especially now, when we're about to enter Nul.  Her vanity mirror is completely black, the glints of light along the plane actually warping and bending inwards to be sucked in along with the image.

Or can I see myself in that mirror, at the same time?  Is that just me trying to withdraw and back away?  I can't do that.  I've got my Poets to think about, after all.

She takes my hand and steps through with me.  Like every time I go through the mirror (which shouldn't be able to take us in, considering the vanity below it - but that never seems to matter, because just looking at the mirror is enough to suck you in halfway), it feels like my mind peels back a little, gives way to something bigger, meaner, before I'm able to squeeze past it and pass through.

The slight nausea I feel once I'm on the other side is easy enough to ignore.  I've gotten used to it, though the first few times were not... kind to me.  I had my Lady with me then, though, and with her I was able to survive it all, come through intact.  I will be fine.  She's with me now, clasping my hand.  I will be just fine.

I say it in my head like a mantra.  Repeating the words makes them more of a pattern and less of a meaning, which is safer in the King's Court.  He doesn't like our Poetic languages, much as I try to get our Poets to please him.  He only likes his own language.  But thinking in that is... well, suicide.  My lady says the tongue of Nul is too grand for minuscule beings such as ourselves to keep as our own.  Oftentimes the King's Herald will remind us that to Nul, our worldly languages are childish babbling, as annoying and worth dignifying as a fly's buzzing.

I keep myself quiet until bade to speak.  I prefer it that way, really.  Best to be seen and not heard - even better, to be beneath notice and not heard.  My first encounter with Nul taught me...

But no.  I don't think about that anymore.

Because I try to stay beneath notice, I notice nothing different in Nul's throne room.  I only kneel at the right hand of my Lady and to the back - a respectful distance, but still near enough to her that I feel she is a shield to me.  It takes my Lady's words, then, to bring it to notice:

"Respect to my High King, but his servant wonders at the location of his Herald?"

My eyes skirt up.  A shadow is missing from the side of the King's throne, true enough.  How could the Herald be missing?  Where could he be?

"--why your corrupt body and wretch shadow-puppet were summoned at all--" I jerk automatically, unable to suppress the reaction.  The King's voice is a rarity in this room, at least any time I've been in it.  He never needs to speak when he has his Herald, after all.  It's a dusty cough from dark crevices, a forgotten memory's dying murmurs.  It brushes over the cobwebs that hang over the corners of my mind - corners I've closed off out of pity for myself.  I can't help but shudder.

This is why he has a Herald.  My Lady says it is as a mercy to us.  I don't believe that, but allow her to keep her own conceits.  But if his Herald is gone now... and we were summoned because of it?  Why?

She bows low against the floor, kneeling so far down that her forehead presses against it.  "Surely my Kommissar will know his whereabouts, my King.  Perhaps I should go and fetch--" her voice halts in a choke.  I only bow a little lower.  There's no one to hide behind now, and I feel exposed.

Watched.

"--sorry," she manages to grind through her throat.  "Such impertinence from a favored servant of yours.  You are fully capable of summoning your own servants."  Save, of course, the missing Herald.  I'm getting a bad feeling about that.  A worse one than the ones that usually plague me in this room.

"--no purpose in summoning that which has failed. Rats in your home.  Vermin keeping vermin, summoning vermin--" the sentence ends in a raucous cough that makes my stomach turn.  It turns into the cold and dark feeling of something bigger than both of us, than anything else either of us could ever behold, hating with a depth that is so personal yet so distant.  It makes me want to hide, or apologize for being born and marring the King's existence with my stupid little body.

It tires of our language.  Can you do nothing, Poet?  Thelea's question is voiced with all quiet, along very private channels.  I cannot blame her.

But it makes me want to quail, because I understand what she's asking of me.  I speak.

I speak the Nul-words.

"An' forgive is none to thus of us who do sit here in your great shadow-- smote us cut us backhanded-- but were to forgive an' ask us what there is to do of service to your great kind--" my voice breaks into a hoarse cough, phlegm welling up in my lungs and triggering a deep panic. I don't have that kind of sickness, no.  It's just a dream.

Just a side-effect.  I spoke too much of it, must have slipped and not guarded against it like I should have.  My breathing is fine.  It was always fine.  I am a Poet and I can heal myself. But I can't be so loud about it, or he'll notice.  Committing Poetry before his Throne - the consequences of such an action are things I've only heard spoken of in rumor, and the Arachne-kin never lie about those horrible stories that intrigue me as much as they kick up my gorge.

"--need a Herald.  Leave Palace.  It is dead to you now, as are those who have not answered summons.  Useless-dead.  We shall rebuild, you and I.  Come here."

And with a wave of disgust and horror I realize that the seen-unseen gauntleted hand is beckoning not my Lady, but me.

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