Night Talks

Later that evening, just as she’d been about to start her nightly spear drills, a servant came to Orialu’s rooms with a summons from her mother.

“Did she say what for?” Orialu asked as she fell into step with the servant, Ai Naa’s spear still in her hand. She already had her guesses; what she truly wanted to know was whether Orisai had given that information. Was her mother feeling generous tonight, or did she mean to let Orialu stew in uncertainty?

“I am sorry, my lady,” said the servant as he hurried to keep up with Orialu’s far longer strides. That gave Orialu a little twinge of guilt; she tried to slow her pace to match his. “Her Radiance said only to escort you to her personal gardens, nothing more.”

“Pff, don’t apologize, Mother’s the one who decided to be all cagey about it.” Orialu waved her free hand dismissively, then noticed that she’d already begun outpacing the servant again. For the love of –

Then she remembered that she had Ai Naa’s anchor in her hand.

“Look,” said Orialu, “I’m sure you have someplace else you’d rather be, so why don’t you go there? I know the way, I can reach Mother’s gardens just fine on my own.”

The servant gave her an unsure look.

“She ordered you to bring me all the way there, didn’t she?”

The servant nodded.

“Well, can she really blame you if I decide to do this?”

One side of the gallery they walked down was made up of open arches that faced out upon the courtyard below. Orialu pivoted, took one-two-three strides in a running start, and then leaped through one of the arches into thin air.

Behind her, she heard the servant give a short cry of distress. Most everyone at court knew Orialu could use her spear to fly…but she supposed knowing that was a little different from seeing her actually throw herself off a building.

The ground came flying up at her, but Orialu wasn’t worried; at this height, she had plenty of falltime to pull herself into a side-seated position on the spearshaft. She stopped her fall with room to spare, then glanced down at the faces in the courtyard, all of them now upturned and staring at her: an Ilisaf great-aunt with a man on each arm, a kitchen worker carrying a basket of lunar plums, a group of children gathered around the fishpond. Orialu waved down at all of them, grinning. Then she rose back up to where her mother’s man was peering around the side of the archway, as if he were still bracing himself to hear the crunch of Orialu’s bones against the courtyard tiles.

“Isn’t it only proper for a daughter to answer her mother’s summons as quick as she can?” Orialu said, and flashed another grin at him. “And I can get to her so much faster this way – but what’s this?” Orialu put a hand to her face and widened her eye in feigned shock. “Why, there’s only room for one person on my spear! I guess I’ll just have to fly over to Mother all by myself. How unfortunate. Who ever could have seen this coming. Oh, well, filial duty calls!”

With that, Orialu gave another wave and arrowed off into the night.

There wasn’t much novelty left to flying over the Ilisaf court; Orialu knew it so well that she was fairly certain she could navigate it blind. But the novelty of flight itself never lessened. Whenever she took to the air, Orialu felt the same thrill in her heart that she’d felt as a ten-year-old girl taking her first short, shaky flight a mere span off the ground.

That thrill died down as Orisai’s private garden came into view.

Hello, Mother, Orialu thought as she spied the top of Orisai’s head from on high. A properly respectful daughter would have approached on her own two humble feet, but Orialu wasn’t feeling particularly respectful just now. Not when Orisai had pulled her away from her spear drills. Not when she didn’t even trust Orialu to come here on her own. Not when…

Orialu shook her head. Whatever feeling was welling up in her, it had picked the wrong time; if she was going to deal with her mother, she needed to go in with as clear a head as she could manage. Orialu sat still in midair, her hands wrapped tight around Ai Naa’s spearshaft, and forced herself to breathe in and out, slowly, until each breath came smooth and steady. Until the nameless, furious roiling in her chest subsided.

Then she sank down silently through the air, until she was face to face with her mother.

Sitting at a tiled patio surrounded by flowering raintrees and night-orchids, wearing a light linen housedress, Orisai looked every bit as elegant as she had earlier that day, heading court arrayed in silks and gold. Before her stood a table with a small evening spread: two kinds of tea, egg porridge and grilled flatbread, saltgrass soup, dishes of pickled vegetables and pickled fruit. As Orialu descended, she saw that a place had been set at the table across from her mother.

“You rang?” said Orialu. Instead of dismounting, she stayed seated on the spear, shoulder cocked, ankles crossed and tucked back pertly.

Orisai looked at her for one silent second. Then:

“Pants,” she said. “And all your hair pulled back in a tail…darling, why are you dressed like a laborer?” Though her smile didn’t waver, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “And where is Iru?”

“There I was, about to relax after a full day of royal duties with a nice long bout of spear practice,” said Orialu, “when suddenly I received a summons from my mother!” She put a hand to her chest in mock earnestness. “I just had to respond right away…and why keep you waiting when I could fly right on over? Not your servant’s fault if my spear only seats one.” Orialu couldn’t help a grin as she spoke on. “That’s another reason I’ve got pants on, by the way, I’m sure you’d hate for me to flash my delta at anyone who happened to look up – ”

“You do have a gift for making the things you do sound reasonable,” Orisai cut in. “That should serve you well later in life, at least. But I believe you already know that that isn’t what I’ve called you here to discuss.” She took a sip from her glass of tea. “Sit. Are you hungry? You must be. Muscles like yours require a great deal of fuel, do they not?”

Orialu hopped down from Ai Naa’s spear and took the indicated chair, then laid the spear across her lap. She made no move to touch the food. If last night’s snakemeat had been a gamble, everything laid out here was certain to make her sick.

“Can’t,” she told her mother. “I’m going back to spear practice as soon as we’re done here, and if I eat right before that…I mean, you know what happens to a carbonated drink when you shake it up, don’t you?”

“How vivid,” said Orisai dryly. “Well, eating at odd hours is a time-honored custom of bloodroyalty everywhere. I suppose I should be glad that you’re acting within the bounds of tradition, for once.” She placed a few slivers of golden pickled maku fruit onto a point of flatbread. “But there are other traditions to which a girl your age should be giving some thought.”

“Oh,” said Orialu lightly, even as a cold heavy feeling began in her stomach, “so this isn’t a performance review?”

“Would you like it to be?” Orisai said.

“And let you keep me away from spear practice even longer?”

“You’re inheriting a throne, darling, not a spear. I’d say a performance review after a political function is well warranted.” Teach me to bring it up in front of you ever again, Orialu thought. “But if you can self-analyze well enough, perhaps we may skip it.”

“You’ll never make me budge on the spear,” Orialu said at once. “But…we could’ve had that argument in private, maybe the night before. Instead of right in front of Neimu and the servants on the day of.”

“And?”

“And I should’ve just swept Neimu right past Attari Ila and kept walking.” The look on her sister’s face during that confrontation still hadn’t left Orialu’s mind. “I just wanted to protect her. Instead I…”

“Drew every camera in the crowd onto your sister, while damaging our goal of appearing open and approachable to the press mob.” Every word from her mother’s mouth crushed Orialu’s insides a little further. “Thereby necessitating that I intervene before any further damage could be done. The guards in the crowd would have located Miss Ila and brought her into custody either way, I hope you realize.”

Don’t cry. Orialu’s fists clenched around Ai Naa’s spearshaft. What she’d done had been worse than useless. Don’t you fucking cry.

Orisai took another sip of tea. “What else?” she said into the silence.

“Maybe I should let you summarize my failures, Mother.” Orialu heard the rawness in her own voice and hated herself for it. “You phrase it all so much more elegantly than I do.”

She didn’t know what kind of response to expect from her mother then – a sharp word? A cold smile? A look of contempt? Orialu steeled herself, and waited.

Orisai’s face softened.

“Orialu,” she said. “I had no other complaints.”

Orialu’s heart swelled painfully in her chest. She looked at her mother in disbelief, in hope.

“Your temper and your lack of caution got the best of you today, it’s true,” said Orisai, “but you do have the makings of a worthy heir in you, darling. For all your mistakes today, you showed me that as well. Sit up straight, look at me – come now, where’s that confidence you so love to display?”

Orialu pressed the heel of one hand to her eye and swallowed once, hard, then did as her mother said.

“It seems you have trouble seeing within yourself what I see,” said Orisai.

“I only have one fucking eye,” Orialu bit back. Don’t, another part of her thought helplessly, she’s being good to you, don’t, but her tongue had run away with her once again. “Maybe that’s got something to do with it.”

“Why do you wish to make it more difficult for me to praise you?”

Her mother was offering conciliation, and what was Orialu doing? Slapping it away like a petulant child. “I’m sorry,” she said, her throat tight with shame.

Orisai looked at her a moment, then gave a soft almost-sigh and rose from her seat.

“I know you feel you’re not ready to inherit.” Orisai circled behind her daughter and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Orialu felt herself sag under her mother’s touch, as if Orisai had found the one knot holding all the pieces of her in place and undone it. “But I see the confidence you project to others. Most of the time, it fools even me. You can be sure it will fool your inferiors as well.” Orisai ran her other hand gently over Orialu’s hair. Tears tried to rise in her throat at that, ridiculous, pathetic; Orialu swallowed them down deep. “I see the way you speak in public, when you can remember your diction,” her mother went on. “I see the gift that you have for making those around you look and listen. I see the force of personality you can project when given the chance – you’d be a terror on the debate floor, if you could only control your temper.

“You feel yourself unready,” Orisai said again. “You are unready. Not because you are rash, or temperamental, or forgetful, but because you are nineteen. My goodness, darling, did you think you’d have to inherit at twenty-three, as I did?” Orialu heard a smile in her mother’s voice, and a touch of pity. “The only reason I took the throne so young is because your grandmother, my honored mother, was taken from us far before her time. You know our family’s history – or at least enough of it to answer this question – how old is a typical Ilisaf venarch when she assumes rulership?”

“Somewhere in her seventies,” Orialu replied. It should have given her some measure of relief. Decades would pass before she’d have to rule. Instead, somehow, answering made her feel uneasier than ever before.

“Exactly,” Orisai said. “Of course you should keep at your lessons, the more you can learn before ascending, the better…but really, a girl your age would be better served thinking about marriage than about an inheritance still fifty years away.”

Orialu’s whole body suddenly felt stiff and icy.

“Perhaps I’ll bring you with me to the Opaline City next time my duties take me there,” Orisai went on. With one hand, she untied Orialu’s hair. Then she began to play with it, carding her fingers gently through the teal-black strands. “Would you like that? You’ve always loved visits to the City…and there is no better place for marriage-making, truly.”

“I’m only nineteen, remember?” said Orialu. Her voice sounded thin and weak in her own ears. Don’t let it shake, don’t you dare. “Too young to – ”

“Oh, to marry, certainly,” said Orisai. Her other hand was still on Orialu’s shoulder, warm, too warm. Orialu’s skin began to prickle hotly under its touch. “But it’s best to begin looking early, before lesser families can snap up all the likeliest boys.”

I don’t want to, Orialu tried to say. Her heart hammered against her ribs. I can’t. But all that would come out of her mouth was, “I…”

Her mother’s hand in her hair went still for half a heartbeat, then resumed its movement.

“You’re good at thinking on your feet, of course,” Orisai said. “Your performance with the press and that little verdict you delivered to Miss Ila are proof enough of that – but a ruler must be able to think in the long term, too. Marriage will be your first chance to prove you can truly strategize.”

There were more words after that, but Orialu didn’t hear them; her mother’s voice had begun to sound fainter, distorted, as if coming to her through a long stone tunnel.

Marriage? How can I take a husband, when I already have Ai Naa? Who the fuck would want me, if they knew the truth? The more Orialu thought about it, the sicker it made her. Lying to her family was bad enough, but she hadn’t chosen her parents, her sister, her cousins, any more than she’d chosen the color of her own blood. Going and picking a man on purpose, though…making him her husband, making him spend the rest of his life beside her and Ai Naa, unwitting until the truth came out and she hurt him, or worse… And children, what about children? Just the thought of trying to raise them around Ai Naa was enough to make her panic. I can’t, Orialu thought as a metallic ringing filled her ears. Mother, forgive me, I can’t –

Horror shot through Orialu’s body, for while the voice was hers, the words were Ai Naa’s.

When her defenses were down, as they were now, and when there existed a point of overlap between her desires and those of her beloved, Ai Naa could twist her mindvoice and make it speak for him. Orialu wanted to be free of her mother’s expectations. Ai Naa wanted flesh. To her beloved, the equation must have been so simple.

But killing her own blood, her own mother…Ai Naa’s hunger and Orialu’s revulsion crashed together in the pit of her stomach. She let go of the spear and wrapped her arms around her own middle, shuddering. Never, she thought blindly, locking her teeth together until she thought her jaw would crack, never, I’ll starve us until the sun dies before I’d let you –

“NO!”

Orialu stumbled to her feet, hands thrown out in a gesture of pushing-away as instinctive as it was worthless. The table went crashing to the ground; plates and bowls and glasses shattered against the stone patio. Orialu stood panting, shoulders heaving, watching as red and black tea pooled around the ruined food.

Silence filled the garden. Orialu felt her mother’s eyes on her back, and a cooling patch of sweat where her hand had lain on Orialu’s shoulder. She hadn’t even realized Orisai was still touching her.

“I – ” said Orialu, for she knew her mother would demand an explanation, “I’m – sorry. I panicked.”

That was no lie, but now she had to think of one to explain why she had.

“Father,” she said, grabbing at the first thing her mind offered. “I thought of him – while you were talking – started wondering what kind of parent I’d be, if I’d be like him…”

Orialu bent to retrieve the spear from where it had fallen off her lap, then turned to face her mother.

“Can we both agree,” she said, “that now might not be the best time to talk about marriage? Considering…everything?”

“I do forget how young you are,” Orisai said, almost to herself. In the lantern-lit garden, her face was half-shadowed, unreadable. “Forgive me,” she said, and raised her head. Light found the rest of her face, traced a line of gold fire down the curve of one of her horns. “Perhaps it really is too much at once. An early start may be best, but deferring the matter a few weeks more will make little difference. No, darling, you needn’t think of this anymore until after execution day.”

How kind of you, Orialu wanted to snarl, but saying that would only trap her here even longer. Instead she said, “Thank you, Mother.”

Then she took to the air on her spear, and found an empty rooftop, and landed there; and only then did Orialu allow her body to shake, and shake, and shake.

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