Responsibility Ch. 12

Her eyes still moved around in ways one might not expect, searching the area for another glimpse of the tall, thin figure. She hadn't seen it again, but that didn't mean it wasn't around.

By the time they'd all had their loyal horses, and cute mule, resting at the stables again, Rahela had settled her nerves and assured her eyes. She'd only misunderstood the scenery. There wasn't anything too frightening out there.

The hood of Rahela's cloak was quickly jerked, two little motions. She turned her head as her feet paused. The Emperor was there. He had some of her hood between his fingers. He was looking down at her with his normal little smile. "Come with me to see my mother," he said.

Rahela tried to bow. She'd forgotten that he had her hood. He laughed a bit in his throat and let it go so she could be proper.

Some moments later, they found the Empress Dowager in an interesting state and an interesting place. She was downstairs in what was essentially a catacomb. Rows upon rows of stone coffins in separate rooms. It wasn't delightfully warm in this dark place, but it wasn't cold either.

Down a long hallway and near an offshoot, inside one of the rooms, the Empress Dowager was speaking with a group of sculptors. Those sculptors were showing her a very long coffin with a lid that had a carving of a married woman. Well, either that or a prostitute, and Rahela had a strong feeling that a prostitute wouldn't normally be buried in such a place.

The Empress Dowager had a different aura than she normally did.

She had on an older, column-like surcoat that didn't display any of her figure, although it was still richly made and beautiful. She had a white wimple that plainly draped across her collar, but the head-rail over her head was black with no patterns nor adornments. Her headdress was short and plain.

Over her nape, there was a long necklace made of large beads, solid gold and black pearls in an alternating pattern. Her fingers fiddled and played with the jewelry. Sometimes, the beads would be put to the woman's lips, or even lightly drawn into the mouth.

As the group of eight entered the room, where they found the Empress Dowager had only a single lady-in-waiting accompanying her, Rahela soon figured out the smooth, white lid and its carving were meant to be for someone that wasn't dead yet. The coffin's length, the elegant and flawless beauty of the stone woman's face, the exquisite stone jewelry. This was indeed meant for the Empress Dowager.

The Emperor greeted her happily, pulling on a bit of her surcoat and grinning. Then he asked, "Are you pleased with this?" He gestured low, over the heavy stone lid.

One of her eyebrows jerking a little, her lower lip seeming to partially bloom, the Empress Dowager quietly gave her answer. She didn't even look at her son. "It's a beautiful piece. They've done so well." She turned her body towards Rahela. One of her nostrils tensed and her lovely eyes seemed wince as if she wanted to smile. "This princess of yours," she said, "she hasn't given a single protest. Even if this marriage fails, she should be noted in history." The hand that didn't hold her necklace fluttered at the sculptors. "A statue should be made of this Tiny Princess."

Folding his arms, the Emperor agreed. "I had the same intention. Her plaits will stand out."

Rahela witnessed a little business-like conversation where the Emperor made an order with the sculptors. Apparently wanting a head start, one of the sculptors took a roll of measuring strips from his pouch and went over to Rahela. As politely and respectfully as he could, he measured her height and width. Then he took some notes in a wax tablet. "Your Highness, we'll have to make a sketch of you later," he said. "You'll be visited by us soon."

Then, the sculptors volunteered to carefully push the empty coffin closer to a much smaller one. Rahela had thought it was a child's coffin at first. If it had been arranged to stand up, the carved person would be maybe a foot shorter than her, and Rahela wasn't tall at all. But when she saw the large crown shape, the beard, and the sword in the figure's hands, she thought she might've realized something.

The Emperor's father, the previous ruler, he'd been quite short.

Rahela's conclusion was affirmed by the Empress Dowager's next actions. No warning. She knelt down at the small coffin and she let her fingertips graze the figure's cheek. The Emperor shrugged at this and said, "We'll leave you with your thoughts. Come, Little Princess."

The group left the catacomb. The Emperor said he had a short lesson for Rahela, and he'd personally give it. After a long walk, they went into an immaculate, huge office. Stacks and scrolls were piled on one side of a wide desk. A servant pulled the chair out, and the Emperor sat down. Rahela knew what this place was for.

Paperwork. She'd had her own equivalent in her homeland. This lesson was simply a way to help her learn more about current events, not necessarily how to push paper around.

It was hopelessly dull, but understandable. Rahela spent her time standing near the desk listening to him talk on and on about what he signed and stamped, and especially about whatever he rejected. It was one of the most sober experiences she'd ever had with him.

She imagined the Empress Dowager would perform all his duties while he was off to war, but now that he was here he did what was expected and necessary. His long, often scarred fingers held each paper carefully. He wasn't coarse nor careless. It seemed that every single line of writing was vital to him.

Rahela couldn't find a flaw there.

Once, she spied a list of certain nobles that were required to attend the next Imperial Court meeting, the one in which Rahela was meant to be a witness. One of the names was familiar.

Utkinsky.

Her lungs felt almost clogged.

The Emperor certainly was aware of this.

She knew it.

***