The Exchange Ch. 13

Dey was giggling. She wasn't supposed to be giggling, but her mistress was unusually laid-back, cold but not cruel. Peeking from behind a curtain that hung in a doorway, Dey happily expressed herself. It wasn't until Jorun walked over to her and shooed her off that Inka could find the necessary silence.

The new Empress Consort sat on a tall wicker chair. Her turban was sparkling with gemstones. Rows of necklaces were on her collar. Rather delicately, her ankles crossed as Jorun returned to serve her a cup of tea.

Kneeling before Inka, there was a single guard. His name was Kishor.

"I'm not an all-powerful being," Inka coolly said after she took her sip of tea. "I can't swear that Dey will be safe at all times, but I can swear to protect her to the best of my abilities."

"I'm eternally grateful for your care towards her, Your Majesty," Kishor said in his gruff voice.

"I'm certain that when Dey reaches her proper age, marrying her off to you will be highly satisfying. I'll gladly provide her with marriage gifts." Once a servant was hired, that servant was generally required to stay until a certain age (normally around twenty-five), and at that time they may leave and even marry. "Now that I've happily offered my services, would you be willing to do something for me? Something that's unfortunately dangerous?"

Nodding very deeply, Kishor the guard said, "I'm more than willing."

Another bit of tea. The cup was emptied. There wasn't much tea in the first place. It was more of a way to display her authority before the guard. Jorun took the cup and saucer away. "Several doctors have given me incense with many intriguing scents," the Empress said.

After Jorun had put the cup and saucer aside, she took a slim box and handed it to Kishor. Inka went on, "As for the doctor who gave me these particular incense sticks, I want you to learn as much about him as possible, and be secretive. We can't let anyone know what you're doing."

Kishor opened the box. Inside, there was a bundle of incense sticks and a piece of paper. The paper had the name of the doctor written on it.

"Once you've memorized the name, I demand that you burn the paper inside that box," Inka said as she picked up a hand fan with a bamboo handle. She fanned herself quite elegantly as she continued, "But take a single stick of the incense for your own studies, if you must. I'll store the remainder."

And that was that.

Later, Kishor had been given written permission from Empress Inka to leave the palace for a time. The reason he gave was that he wanted to see a family member, and that was what was written in the paperwork. He was visiting a family member, nothing more.

As the days floated away, Inka had very pleasant and easy-going moments, but she soon figured something out.

The days were too pleasant.

Empresses typically had important things to do on most days, not only secretive things.

***

Lavanya Patelrao, the Empress Dowager, was tugging on Empress Consort Inka's pale wrists and trying to urge her to an open spot on the floor. "Come, come now! You've studied so well!"

Inka didn't give many words, but she did try to dig her bare heels in the rug. From a short distance away, she heard her husband call out with glee, "Don't insult my mother with your headstrong side!"

They were in Nitishila's apartment. Inka's little family wanted her to show off the dance moves she'd learned over time. The Dowager was the most persistent. "Don't be a shy thing, Little Calf! Show your husband how beautifully you dance!"

As Inka stood there, watching the Dowager prance back to her seat, a few musicians came and started a few cautious notes. Inka purposely chose not to look up at Nitishila's face. She knew he was likely grinning, but she thought if she saw those teeth her face would radiate heat.

Well ...

She forced her toes to loosen up.

Took a breath that felt amazingly cold for the weather.

And she rose an arm.

And danced with the now more confident music. Nitishila understood that she hadn't been taught this style ever since her toddler years. He wouldn't take any offense with her poor performance.

In the middle of a twirl, Inka wondered to herself why she even cared what Nitishila thought of her dancing. There were a few short glimpses of Nitishila's happy face. Inka's brain screamed at her to not be bothered. Continue with the dance. Smoothly move the feet. Use foresight when arranging the fingers. Bend the torso as if little effort is involved. Feel free to let the jewelry slide around the limbs and clang.

When Inka tired of it all, she went to her knees and bowed. The musicians assumed that meant it was time to stop, but they remained in place so they could start another song when asked. Inka was looking down at the rug that had cushioned her feet when she heard loud applause from her husband and mother-in-law.

"You were so graceful," the Dowager said.

"Such a unique little beauty," Nitishila said.

Getting back to her feet, Inka pushed a bracelet down to her wrist. The dance had forced it up. "Assuming those words aren't flattery, I have my skilled mother-in-law to thank. This is all because of her meticulous coaching."

"That's fine, all fine," Nitishila said, "now come and sit beside me."

Inka stayed close to Nitishila during the rest of the Empress Dowager's visit. When the cheerful mother-in-law finally left the couple, Inka asked for a cup of water. She was quite thirsty. When she reached for the cup, Nitishila quietly stole it away, which made her look up at his face.

Nitishila's eyelids lowered a bit, and then he said, "Don't strain yourself." Then he held the cup to her lips.

That was an almost nonsensical thing for him to say. He knew Inka was sturdier than she looked, and she'd just danced! Inka knew he knew she was sturdy. He'd said as much to her many times. As she drew in the cool water, she assumed he was in one of his more affectionate moods. Her assumption was proven fairly correct when he asked for a tray of sweets, and when it arrived, he chose to hand feed her.

The young Emperor rolled small pancakes of rice batter and coconut milk, and he dipped each pancake in an icing, shaking the excess away. He put them in Inka's mouth and told her fanciful, playful things. Then he moved on to a pile of gooey sugar and butter balls coated with poppy seeds. These things had an interesting texture. Inka told him so, and he smiled as he used his thumb to catch a seed that had fallen into the corner of her lips.

When it was time for the sweetened and fried gram flour, Nitishila used a little spoon and fed the tiny things to her. Inka thought they looked like shiny bugs, but they tasted very nice. She even confessed her thought to him. He laughed, his chest shaking against against her, and told her, "I've had glazed ants before."

The urge to make a disgusted face was so strong, but Inka was very disciplined. "I'd rather lick soil from the ground than eat an ant."

"Then I'll have to be certain that you never have to resort to such unpleasant foods." He put an arm around her waist and gazed down at her eyes. "Have you been burdened by your new position?"

She shook her head. "I wish that were so. You've been so preoccupied most mornings. I even worry that you'll lose weight." She lightly touched his arm. "Won't you share a fraction of your paperwork? You're aware of my proficiency, and an Empress shouldn't have a fully idle life."

Letting his nose skim over her cheek, giving her more of his heady scent, her husband replied, "Most Empresses shouldn't live that way, but my Empress is different."

"How so?"

Peacefully smiling, he tapped the tip of her nose with his first finger, then the second, and finally the fourth. "She's mine. That's how she's different."

Turning to pretend that a hanging poetry scroll was interesting, Inka sighed.

"Hm?" Nitishila touched her jaw and turned her head back to face him. His eyebrows were higher than before. "Don't sulk, Dear. I'm only keeping you in good health."

Inka pointed her teal eyes down to his beard covered chin. "You'd prefer an Empress that plays all day long."

She felt the hand at her waist swirl and caress her. "Is this not a fine strategy? A more relaxed life is good for a woman trying to become pregnant."

"But what of a man trying to impregnate a wife?" Inka took that hand on her torso and pulled it away. Then she pushed her seat, and herself as a result, a few inches away from him. "If a man has too much work in his hands, his body will respond to his brain. It's best for both parties to share what work there is, to ensure that neither one is overwhelmed."

Nitishila made a harsh little growl, reminding her of Indu. Then he gripped her upper arms and put his brow to hers. If there weren't any attendants nor servants around, he might have kissed her mouth. Inka knew because of how his dark eyes burned and how his tongue swiped out for a second. "You might not believe me, but I'm also rather proficient. Be at ease."

A twitch formed in his cheek.

Inka pretended to agree with him at that moment, but she knew she had to open the discussion again at a later time.

She chose the night, when they were alone in his bedroom.

Nitishila had likely not expected it at first. He'd slid a flattened hand under her pant's waistband and kissed her cheek. Yet Inka stopped him with a question.

"Have you been trying to pacify your detractors by denying me any power?"

Nitishila gripped one of her buttocks. Inka's belly retracted. She put her cheek on his chest. She felt his breath still, then felt it swell and rush out.

"I ... I don't know why wife would say such a thing."

"Shouldn't you? My servants are loyal and don't insult me, but they hear the gossip. Many people consider me to be a Life Eater. Priests have been making public ceremonies, loudly praying to the gods that I'll be kept in line."

Almost in a reflex, his fingers squeezed her buttock a little tighter. "You're overthinking. Give your mind its well-earned holiday."

Inka reached back and took his hand off her backside, then pulled it out of her pants. Then she stepped away from him and sat at a window. She heard Nitishila make a vexed huff as she peeled back a curtain to look at the bright moon. "If I become pregnant, would you give in? Would you let me have the work?"

His feet thudded on the floor as he moved closer. "I'd be more confident if you threw a tantrum, as my mother or rotten little sister would do." He touched her shoulder. "Your distant technique is much more disturbing."

Shrugging her shoulder out from under his hand, Inka said, "I understand that a ruler is a servant to his people, but limits must be put in place. You've been insulting my intelligence for a superstition's sake. Is that not quite dishonorable?"

Above, Nitishila's voice rose. "Is protecting one's wife so dishonorable?!"

A different woman might've flinched or even cowered. Inka didn't even move. "What am I meant to assume?"

"Assume nothing, for I won't change my mind here." He walked away, possibly to get to the bed. "I understand your situation far better than you do. For once, you'll have to admit that you're unaware of all the implications in this situation." Inka heard the mattress depress with his weight. "Now come. You know you're not in a position to ignore me."

Inka closed her eyes as she privately examined her options.

Her exhale came with her realization.

She was technically free to refuse any "meetings" with him, but she knew they desperately needed a child, which required regular "meetings."

Besides, tangling with her husband was so enjoyable.

***

Roshan, the white bird, was visiting again, but this time someone else arrived soon after. It was an even smaller, gray bird. There was a note tied to it's leg, which it held out obediently. Ignoring Roshan, Inka freed the note from the gray bird and waved a signal to it, letting it know it was free to go, and it did so. Roshan was all alone again.

In Inka's private bedchamber, she read the note in the morning light. Then she picked up an ashtray, put the paper in it, and burned the message away.

When there was only ash, Inka looked at Jorun, who was searching a drawer for a hair comb. Inka had so many that she couldn't describe most of them. "Jorun?"

"Yes, Mistress?" She approached with a bone comb in her hand.

"Tell my cook to pack away some fine leftovers." Inka sat down so Jorun could more easily comb her hair. "Then take the food to the head manager of the Communal Serving Department. Tell him that he's been working very well, and I'd like to reward him with this food." In a small mirror, Inka watched her short curls glide through the comb's teeth. "Then give him secret instructions. He's meant to carefully monitor every servant that leaves the palace for whatever reason."

"Yes, Mistress. I'll perform to the best of my abilities."

Inka believed her.

In the afternoon, Inka was visited by Nitishila. He was grimacing, and his movements were tight. Inka personally massaged his nape and pressed her palm in his back, particularly near the shoulders. He made mildly indecent noises as this happened, which had Inka's maids giggling behind their hands.

"My husband had been working very hard, hasn't he?" Inka said as she looked to Jorun. "Perhaps I could give him some cheer? Go and find it, Jorun."

Bowing, Jorun said, "Right away, Your Majesty."

Flipping his hair behind himself, Nitishila straightened in his seat and asked with a wary tone, "What's my wife plotting today?"

Touching her own cheek with her fingertips, Inka told him, "There are no plots. I simply made a gift for you."

A single black eyebrow rose as Nitishila took a cup of tea. "You? You've made a gift for me? Have I finally melted a portion of your heart?"

"I wouldn't make that claim." Inka shrugged. "I assumed an Empress should make a few pretty things here and there for her Emperor."

Jorun returned holding a rolled fabric scroll. She handed it to Nitishila with a humble posture. Then she returned to her post.

Nitishila's eyes widened, then softened, as he opened and admired the embroidered calligraphy and flowers. He let his fingertips trace some of the stitches, and he said with a hazy tone, "It's a charming gift, and the message you've chosen is gentle." He took a moment to read it aloud. "Most of a dream is lost by the time one awakens, but that shouldn't become a frustration. Two minutes of a memory taken from reality are more rewarding than an hour's worth of a dream."

"It's my hope that you'll hang this scroll in your apartment," Inka said.

Rolling the fabric back in place, Nitishila said she didn't need to hope anymore.

Her took her hand then, weaving their fingers.

They watched a musician play flute. Then they left the apartment for a walk in some of the common areas. Eventually, Nitishila asked her, "Would you like to see the Harem Wing?"

Blinking as her mind translated the words, Inka tried to understand what he meant. "I thought polygamy was banned long ago?"

Leading Inka away, supposedly in the direction of this so-called Harem Wing, Nitishila explained, "It certainly was. There's a problem with keeping your wife and concubines in one location. They tend to murder each other, or even your children. However, the wing that the royal concubines of the past lived in couldn't simply be demolished. It would be a waste."

Inka was soon at a section of the Royal Palace she hadn't been to before. It seemed luxurious enough, but once the couple was inside she found that it was hopelessly empty. Each room was a shell. Nitishila told her, "My great-grandfather had his wife and two hundred concubines. I imagine most of those women died virgins, and my great-grandfather likely didn't know the names of one hundred and ninety-five of them."

"Then why keep them?" Inka asked.

"Gaining concubines is a fine way to make alliances with important people," Nitishila said, "and it increases the likelihood of producing heirs. It was also a way to satisfy a man's libido while diminishing the risk of a bastard." He shrugged and peeked in a room with a dark tiled floor. "But it had more risks than rewards. Why the practice lasted for so many centuries is beyond my understanding."

Her hand placed against a door frame, Inka asked, "Have these rooms truly been unused all this time?"

Nitishila leaned back against a wall and put his hands on his hips. "I believe so."

With a sigh, Inka said, "If only this wing could be repurposed."

"Why couldn't it?"

Inka tilted her head to one side. The dangling and draping jewelry on her turban twirled and sparkled. "Would you care to explain?"

Nitishila's teeth were shown in one of his dashing smiles. "I imagine my brilliant Empress could offer a use for this place."

From the door frame, to her heart, that's where her hand went. "Well ... I might need a moment." She walked to a window and opened its shutters. Her arms went to the windowsill as she looked out at a bare lawn that might have once displayed a garden.

She heard Nitishila behind her. "I might not need to wait long."

Fairly certain that was a compliment, Inka pretended she didn't care. Then, she whirled around and said, "I have an idea."

He nodded to her.

Inka almost smiled. "This wing could function as a small medical school." She gestured towards all the available space. "We could hire the finest doctors willing to teach, even offer them a a library and laboratory. The students would be anyone who could pay the tuition fees, but I hope they won't be too high."

"Hmmm." Nitishila's dark fingers folded around his chin as his eyes narrowed. "A university, but smaller. It would be a fine investment. We'd have better access to the latest medical research, and the doctors and students would have better access to the elites, even to us. A highly studious one might earn a scholarship from a kind patron."

"Centuries from now," Inka said, "the people might praise us for caring for their health. You see, when there are more physicians, apothecaries, and other people selling their services, then there is more competition. When there is more competition between sellers, they are forced to keep their prices lower in order to lure new customers. Contributing to the amount of medical professionals will make healthcare easier for even the lower classes to receive."

Nitishila left the wall to go over to her. He took her shoulders and kissed her brow. "An Empress who appreciates the importance of serving the lower classes is a radiant one. The gods must smile upon you."

Concerning Inka's lack of responsibilities, this was an unexpected compromise.

She smiled as she was given even more compliments.

And as her thoughts interlocked.

***

The seasons changed. The cool weather returned. Inka's hair reached her shoulders, finally giving her a fashionable look.

Inside one of the rooms in her apartment, carefully rolled and stored in a closet, there was a tapestry. On a cloudy morning, the Empress Dowager visited Inka, and she asked if her latest tapestry was finished. Inka confirmed it, and had the tapestry shown to her.

It was exactly what Inka had wanted it to be, weaved images of all the terrible scenes from Princess Lataa's betrayal and the results thereof. The Dowager frowned and said this was far too upsetting a subject for such a beautiful piece, but Inka shook her head and told her something that felt important.

"Now that I've finished this work, I feel as though I'm no longer the victim portrayed. I know this is a nonsensical feeling, and I sincerely apologize for lacking the rationale required of my status. Still, there is a dewy peace in my heart. I do have my nightmares on some nights, which often have me awakening with pure terror, but I'm always easily calmed and I remember what I am now."