Keeping the Fire: At Arm's Reach

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When Polena imagined meeting with a King there were two images which came to mind. The first was of a deified and painted lord, trumpets, cymbals, hundreds of courtiers and servants with fixed smiles, their hearts held in fear. The second was of cold and dark chambers, the low lamp light, the hushed voices of conspiracy while the plans that will shape the lives of thousands are made with cruel strategy. Neither image had prepared her for her actual meeting, which had more of the quality of a deposition delivered in an elegantly ordained room, to a table of ten grey haired elders all but one of them men. She expressed regret for the uproar she had caused in court; doing so without apologizing, gave her beliefs on Djasho; without any indication of sources she had seen in the Archives, and offered the assistance of the People in the Fortress's decision; giving no sign of how her nation felt about the matter. It was a lengthy, yet efficient discussion and Coralm let her take lead in it. He was ever close with a guiding word if she faltered, ever ready to redirect a barb or counter a trap sent her way. Yet, his touch was light, more a tutor than an overseer and for that she was gladdened. It seemed funny to her that she should be given so much freedom. The poor king, she thought, asked no questions the entirety of the evening. Perhaps he trusted his council and was listening intently but to Polena, on that night, it seemed that he had less choice than she in shaping the future of Fortress Edgar.

After the meeting she left with Coralm and she thanked him for the trust he had granted her.

“It is not granted Comae, you have earned it,” his eyes elsewhere as they walked, “follow me, we'll go back by way of the street of Purple Cloth.” It was the way he had told her to remember and she had memorized it, twisting as it was. As they started along a narrow tunnel that ran under one of the oldest walls of the Fortress he spoke to her more frankly.

“I kept you at arm's reach because I did not know who you were sent by. You'll understand Polena that there were many scholars closer than Meeda that could have been granted this post.”

She understood that more than he could know. It had been a long journy for Polena, longer still for the thought of leaving her ten year old daughter behind, but perhaps a welcome respite to be away from her wife.

“Other nations know that we are a factious People in the Alliance despite the Creace that blesses us.” Coralm continued, “To let them believe that you and I are rivals by keeping you cloistered a while has been double useful. I wish to maintain that ruse. We should meet in my quarters once a week, but in the future I will expect you to found your own friendships and keep your own company. At least while this Djaught is here.”

“I think I can do that,” said Poelna, pleased that she might not have to be quite so secretive in her association with the Duchess Tavya, “perhaps try and draw some information from Flin? They seem opposed to Fiedjan work here.”

Knight Luminary Coralm was silent a few paces, then looked all around them as if trying to find a sound. They had come to a wide avenue given over to merchants. The stalls were wood framed windows built right into the walls and shuttered for the night. Two more floors of shops and housing were above them, open to the street below and the stars above. It seemed a dark and exposed place.

“Yes,” Coralm said, his voice notably quieter than before, “that might be well. Fiedjand has been seeking the throne here by influence and marriage for a few decades, and they have about a quarter stake in the Ministers. Flin has a third stake, and is loathe to lose any of it. It might be good to get closer to them. I take my leave of you here.”

“Where do you go?” Polena asked,

“Do not worry for it. Head home and stay safe on the way.” and quickly he turned down a hall that led further into the Fortress. Polena started back to her quarters alone kicking herself for thinking she and Coralm were going to be more like equals, yet the feeling was soon gone. It occurred to her, walking down the center of the Street of Purple cloth, that she was terribly exposed here. Someone could be watching from one of the two stories above, from a shuttered shop, or one of the many narrow halls that turned off of the street into the tight, dungeon like corridors of the older parts of the Fortress. Maybe it had been the way Coralm seemed suddenly spooked, the strangeness of being alone in a place normally filled with people, or the uncommon view of the tangle of stars above. She found herself walking faster, becoming frantic, and by the time she reached her quarters she was certain there were footsteps behind her. She locked the door behind her and slid a table before her balcony door. She had begun that night reveling in the freedom she had been granted. She ended it at once aware of just how fearful freedom can make one.

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