Varna Ch. 01

This is meant to be part of the Tales of Leinyere Story Event. The events in this story take place some 200 years after the story 'Smitten'. The remainder of these chapters will appear in due time - but if you're used to my usual schedule, I can't promise that there will be a new post every 4-5 days (I'm going as fast as I can). Thanks again to my editors, Alianath Iriad and Lastman416, and to Nouh Bdee, for starting the project. Also, in case you missed the tags, this story should be considered non-erotic (like Borna or the Three Sisters). Hope you'll like it anyway.

*****

Aidar Cunedda, Grand Duke of Varna, sat unmoving, hardly even blinking. He seemed to be staring off into the distance, but his eyes were unfocused. None of his guards and attendants would disturb him; when the mood was upon him, the Duke could remain this way for long periods of time. He was, effectively, alone with his thoughts.

Finally, he reached up a hand to stroke his short white beard. Then he spoke.

- "Send for my sons."

- "At once, my Lord." said Tir Storum, the Captain of his Guard. Five soldiers were immediately dispatched to carry out the Duke's command.

The Duke returned to his silent communion with his own thoughts.

*

Aludar, eldest son of the Grand Duke, was no longer reading. The candle was burning low, and his eyes had grown tired. He sat at his desk - a reading table, really - with his fingers steepled in front of him. He'd been considering the material at hand, but then his attention had drifted away.

The knock on his door surprised him.

- "Yes?"

- "Your Father calls for you, my Lord." said the Guardsman on the other side of the door.

Aludar frowned.

- "Very well." he said.

*

Another soldier found the Duke's second son, Merik, in a dark hallway, around the corner from his private chamber. The Guardsman did not immediately announce his presence, given that the Duke's son was grunting as he busily slammed his pelvis into the backside of a black-haired female who was leaning face-first against the wall. Her blue skirt was tucked up around her waist. This was not love-making - it was far too primal, almost too violent.

The soldier wisely retreated three steps, back around the corner. Lord Merik would not appreciate being interrupted at such a time. The soldier was not blind, either: given the quality of the Lady's skirt, she was not just a servant girl. And given the colour of her fine garments, he was also fairly certain he knew exactly who she was.

Merik was a noisy fornicator; the Guardsman was able to ascertain quite clearly when their coupling had reached a conclusion. He waited a little longer, so that the lady could rearrange her clothing. Only then did he call out.

- "Lord Merik!" he said, loudly. He delayed an additional moment before stepping around the corner.

- "What is it?" The Duke's son did not ask how the Guardsman had found him. The lady turned her head away, so as not to make eye contact.

- "Your father calls for you."

- "Now?"

- "Now, Lord."

*

The next Guardsman had a little further to go; the Duke's third son was not in his chambers, either. The soldier made enquiries, and was soon directed to the main barracks. Lord Nathal was not difficult to find: there were almost a dozen of the Duke's foreign mercenaries gathered around him, most of them laughing or smiling at something the young man had just said.

- "Ha! Come to join us, Jelme?" asked Nathal, with a grin. He had a fantastic memory for faces and names. The Guardsman was no longer surprised to be recognized and remembered.

- "I fear not, Lord. Your father sent me for you."

- "Ah. Well, then. Duty calls. Another time, lads."

*

It was dark, and raining heavily that night, as I remember. I was still awake, so I heard the first knock on the door. So did Glasha - she immediately rolled over, instantly alert.

There was a second knock on the door.

- "My Lord?" called a familiar voice. It was Seyamka, my favourite among the servants.

- "Yes?"

- "There is a soldier here. Your father is calling for you."

- "Thank you, Seyamka." I replied.

Glasha didn't speak right away. She looked at me, with her big, brown eyes.

- "It's a test." she said.

- "It's always a test."

- "Be careful, Tauma."

- "I will."

*

The archer released the bowstring. His arrow nicked the very top corner of the target butt, and glanced off. It struck the stone wall at the far end of the courtyard.

- "Damn it!" said the young man holding the bow. "It's too dark. I can't see a thing."

- "You won't always be fighting in daylight, Lord Toran. The conditions may be far from ideal. Try again." said his trainer, a handsome elf with long orange-red hair.

- "Ugh. Alright." said the young man. He squinted in the darkness, trying to select another arrow.

- "How is he doing, Enneiros?" asked a young woman, standing beside the elf.

- "He makes an effort, Lady. I fear he will never be a great archer, but if he continues to apply himself, he may one day achieve competence."

- "He's trying to measure up to his brothers. It seems to come so easily to them, but Toran has to work so hard."

- "Success comes with perseverance, Lady."

- "If it comes at all."

The elf inclined his head in agreement. At that moment, a Guardsman entered the exercise yard.

- "Lord Toran - your father has called for you."

The young man with the bow turned. "Just me?"

- "No, Lord. The Duke has summoned all of your brothers."

- "Then I'm going with you." said the young lady.

- "You were not specifically summoned, Lady Sanatha." said the Guardsman.

- "So?"

*

Nathal was the last to arrive. It was something that he contrived to do quite regularly, without making any obvious effort to do so. Naturally, it annoyed the rest of us.

- "Pardon me, Father - I was in the barracks." he said. Then he took his place in the center of our line.

Our father did not respond. Instead, he simply continued to examine us, as if we were prize hogs that he was thinking of selling at market - if only he could be assured that we would fetch a decent price.

He always insisted that we line up, from right to left, by order of age. We didn't know why - and no one dared to ask. We did his bidding. Aludar first, on the right, tall and lean. Merik, almost as tall, but thicker, more imposing. Nathal, with his perfect hair and handsome features, and some sort of half-smile forever on his lips. Then me. I knew how I appeared, next to my brothers: merely average. Average height, average build, average looks.

Next to me in age was our sister, Sanatha. We all loved her; it was perhaps the one thing we all had in common. Even our father never had an unkind word for his daughter. Like Nathal, she always seemed to be about to smile. She could see the humour in almost any situation. Most of all, I think, we liked her humility; she was genuinely unaware of how attractive she was.

Next to her was my youngest brother, Toran, who was barely 17 years old, and still unsure of himself. He was far too conscious of his lack of height, and of the freckles which covered his cheeks, nose, and forehead.

- "Why did he call us?" I whispered, to my sister, without turning my head.

- "Dunno. I just invited myself." she whispered back.

Other than ourselves, the only other people in the room were two Guardsmen and the Captain of the Guard, Tir Storum. He was a grizzled-looking veteran (who'd never actually been in a battle), with a square jaw and an impressive mustache.

Father had not completed his examination of his offspring. Or he was not ready to speak. That, or he simply enjoyed keeping us in suspense. I still couldn't read him.

Whenever I looked at my father, I saw only his disappointment. The lines of regret and frustration were etched on his face, and only partially concealed by his grey-white beard. His thin lips were tightly compressed in his habitual expression: a frown of disapproval.

Disappointed in his wife, disappointed in his children (Sanatha was the only one he might have genuinely liked - and she was a girl) ... he'd come to believe that the Gods were mocking or punishing him. There'd been no great challenge or crisis during his reign, no easily-solved problem that might have earned him the admiration or even the respect of his people. How would he be remembered? What sort of legacy was he going to leave?

Finally, he raised a hand to stroke his beard - the usual prelude to a speech.

- "It's time you were married." he said.

My father was looking at Aludar when he spoke. But then he shifted his gaze to Merik, and looked at his second son for a good, long moment. He repeated this process with Nathal. Then his eyes were upon me. There was no particular expression on his face; this was just his way of leaving me in no doubt that his statement was meant for me as much as it was for my brothers. Finally, he turned his gaze to Toran.

- "Me? Me as well, Father?" asked my youngest brother.

- "All of us, Father?" asked Aludar.

The Grand Duke was not one to waste words - not even single ones. He simply nodded his head, once.

- "I have invited a dozen suitable young ladies to Elmina for the harvest festival." That was six weeks away. "You may choose your own brides," he said, "so long as she is one of the twelve."

I felt as if I'd been punched in the stomach - I had trouble catching my breath. I shouldn't have been surprised. We were all of marriageable age - Toran just barely. Aludar had been married. And this was something that I knew was coming - it had been coming for a long time.

Aludar cleared his throat. "What if I already have a possible candidate in mind, Father?"

That caught all of us by surprise. Merik and Nathal turned their heads to look at Aludar. I myself had no idea that he'd been contemplating marriage again. Of all of us, he was the only one to have taken a wife. The unfortunate girl, from a wealthy house in Portoa, had only been with us for a year before she died giving birth to a baby girl. Aludar's daughter, a delightful little toddler named Sirma, was now 4 years old.

Father made us wait for an answer.

- "Who?" he said, finally.

Aludar took a deep breath.

- "Bathene Esin."

Merik's mouth fell open. Even Nathal appeared to be stunned. I heard my sister whistle softly. Bathene was the daughter of Tir Esin, one of the most powerful Tirs in Varna. He and his family dominated our port town, Whydah, and its environs. Tir Esin was also our uncle - our mother's brother. Bathene was our first cousin.

She had red hair, green eyes, and a mischievous sense of humour. Lovely girl, eminent, wealthy and powerful family. But I was still shocked that my brother had been considering re-marrying. He hadn't given a hint of it.

Father didn't look surprised at all. Through all of this, his expression hadn't changed one iota. He might have blinked once.

- "Very well." he said. "A baker's dozen, then. I will add her to the list."

- "Thank you, father."

- "You are dismissed." said the Grand Duke.

But one of his children wasn't ready to be dismissed.

- "What about me?" asked Sanatha.

My father didn't flinch. He didn't even look her way.

- "Not yet." he growled. He wasn't going to have this discussion with Sanatha - not here, and not now. She understood that. But father must have been slightly flustered, because he repeated himself. "Dismissed."

As we left the audience chamber, my sister and I approached Aludar. He waited until our brothers had moved on, and gave us a tired smile. My oldest brother was dark-haired, and brown-eyed. His face was angular, with sharp planes. He sported a neatly trimmed goatee - a style which had gone out of fashion before he was born. He was thirty years old.

Some found him distant, or remote, but I knew that he was simply distracted - wrapped up in his own thoughts. He was often startled when people addressed him, as if he really hadn't expected them to do so. Aludar was also extremely polite, so that he sometimes seemed a touch too formal.

- "I had no idea." I said. "How long have you ...?"

- "Ah. Since the summer, when I was in Whydah. I've been considering the best way to approach Father on the subject."

- "Well, that's been solved for you." said Sanatha, with a wry smile. "Have you, ummm ... spoken to Bathene?"

Aludar smiled back at her. "Yes. And to her father. They are both ... agreeable."

- "Good for you." I said, with genuine feeling.

- "I'm happy for you, too." said Sanatha. She gave Aludar a hug. He had to lean down in order to hug her back.

- "Thank you." he said. "Thank you both. I'm sorry - I'm a bit ... occupied at the moment. There's ... something I have to do. Will you excuse me?"

- "Of course." Sanatha and I watched him walk off.

- "That was odd." she said. "And ... what about the rest of you, Tauma?"

- "What about us?"

She just shook her head. "Marriage. Come on ... you know Merik wasn't thinking of a bride. He's still only interested in sowing his wild oats."

- "Which he has an apparently endless supply of." I said.

- "Right? As for Nathal ... who knows what he's thinking. Toran was caught completely off guard; I don't think he ever expected something like this. But the only one of my brothers who's given less thought to the subject of a wife would be ... you."

My sister knew me well. She knew that I'd already met the love of my life.

- "We've ... talked about it. It was always ... a possibility."

- "I know what Glasha means to you." said Sanatha. "I hope that ..."

- "I know."

- "It's a test." she said. "I don't know what Father is up to - but with him, it's always a test of some kind."

***

Aludar entered his private chamber. He was not looking forward to this - not at all.

His mistress, Lavara, was sitting by his reading table. She had poured herself a glass of wine. She was undeniably attractive, thought Aludar - not classically beautiful, but she had a certain 'earthy' quality, and the bright blue of her skirt complimented the blue of her eyes, and her black hair. But she wasn't very intelligent. Aludar had known that from the very beginning. In a sense, it was his mistake.

- "You should pack your things." he said.

- "What? Why?"

- "Because you're leaving."

Lavara was shocked. She had no words to form a question.

"You'll sleep with the maids tonight." continued Aludar. "Tomorrow morning, you leave for Whydah, unless my brother is willing to take you in - which I highly doubt."

- "But ... I didn't ...." Lavara tried to organize her thoughts. "It was just ..."

Aludar joined his hands, fingers interlaced.

- "I might have forgiven you the first time." he said. "Eventually. But the second was your doing, entirely. It was you who sought him out. Honestly, Lavara - in the hallway?"

She gulped, and then hiccupped. There was no denying what she'd done. She couldn't decide what she felt: shame? Or fear?

- "What ... what will happen to me?"

Aludar frowned. That was it: Lavara never did anything - things happened to her.

- "There's a purse in my chest." he said. "Your passage to Whydah is arranged. Once there, you can look up Master Tuhan. He's a merchant. And a widower, I believe. I met him once. He remarked on your beauty - I believe that he meant it as a compliment to me. I've written a letter of introduction for you. It should be easy enough for you to become his mistress."

- "Oh."

- "You may have plans of your own. That's fine. I find, though, that I care less and less what happens to you."

That hit Lavara hard. "I'm... I'm sorry, Lord."

- "As am I." said Aludar.

***

I told Glasha everything. She was the only person in the world from whom I had no secrets.

- "All of you?"

- "Except Sanatha."

- "Strange ... why now, I wonder?"

I told her about Aludar's choice, our cousin Bathene, and how Father had allowed her to be added to his 'list'.

- "I could do the same." I said. "I could ask him to include you."

Glasha smiled at me, and gently shook her head. "You know he'd never do that. Far more likely that he'd send me away." She'd always done her best to avoid antagonizing my father. With only a few exceptions, she'd managed to do so, for the most part.

She reached up, to softly touch my cheek.

- "No need for regrets, Tauma. We've always known that this was a possibility."

- "An inevitability, you mean."

- "Exactly. So ... we'll just have to find the best possible wife for you."

- "That would be you." I whispered.

- "Other than me." she said. "You know what I meant."

- "I don't want to lose you, Glasha. Ever." I said. She already knew this, but it bore repeating.

- "And you never will."

I believed her. She could be exceedingly blunt, or even brutally honest, but she never gave me the slightest reason to doubt that she loved me just as much as I adored her.

- "Really? Isn't there something I could do which would make you leave? Because I don't ever want to do that ..."

- "You wouldn't." Then she smiled. "You're far too analytical, far too calculating to do something like that. I still wonder, even now, why I'm so attracted to you."

- "Long acquaintance." I suggested. "I grew on you - slowly."

- "Very slowly." she said.

***

My childhood memories - especially before the age of 5 or 6 - are very few, and very vague, or else they are only fragments: quite clear, but frustratingly brief.

Yet I have no trouble remembering the first time I met Glasha.

There was a corner of the exercise yard set aside for the children to play in - and there were plenty of us: my brothers, the children of servants, and the offspring of the Guard or the non-human mercenaries (many of them illegitimate, though it made little difference to us at that age).

Merik, at 11, was the undisputed king of the yard. He was simply bigger and more aggressive than most everybody else. Aludar was 15, off training at arms, or with his tutor - I can't remember which. Nathal was 9, and already everybody's friend. Sanatha was only three; she and Toran were considered far too young for the bustle and jostling - and the occasional rough and tumble - of the large group in the yard.

I can't explain why - I truly don't remember - but the very first time I set eyes on Glasha, my heart went out to her. She was a scrawny, skinny little thing, with those enormous eyes ...             

Nor can I explain why I instantly felt a kinship - a liking for her. I don't believe that we are superficial enough to be drawn only to good-looking people. I like the way my friends look, even if they might never be described as handsome or attractive. There must be something about the structure of their face, or perhaps the way they carry themselves, or even the sound of their voice which appeals to me.

I knew who she was: the Ducal court is home to only a few hundred people, and her birth had created a bit of a stir, something that folk never tired of talking about. Her mother was a half-orc warrior in the Duke's service. This was a custom begun by the first Duke, Arivan Cunedda. In return for autonomy and a degree of protection, the Red Knee orcs sent a number of their best fighters to serve in the Duke's bodyguard.