Keeping the Fire: The Household Council

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The Duchess had given up her title, her lands, even her children for her position in the Fortress. Each in turn she had remade for herself. Her title was now Minister of the Keepings, her lands the elegantly crafted Manor of Ind, and her children a collection of slaves, common born servants, and employees that served as her eyes, ears, and when necessary, hands throughout the Fortress. She had spent the whole of the day in the council held by the Controller General the summary of which had been “everyone be careful,” with no other information of value for her three hour investment. Now she sat in another council, her own Household Council, a quaint term she had borrowed from her homeland for a meeting that was, in essence, a conspiracy of spies. She heard updates from each in turn, quietly hiding her anger as they described being stymied and watched at every turn. Someone had turned the Whale and the Mage on her and she had not yet sussed out just who. Her manor faced the sunset and was painted in its color, thus the name Manor of Ind from the Westin word for golden-orange. Content that she could hear no more from the rest of her “children” she turned her attention to the one certain not to dissapoint.
“What have we from the Ministers to the West?” Uhen of Bleeding-Rock stepped to the table. While the others in her council sat there by a matter of decorum Uhen always stood a few steps away until addressed. Some would have read this as aloofness, but Tavya knew it was upbringing. He was a slave. Her family had purchased Uhen when he was quite young when the foresaw a need to have a window into Fiedjan. Now in his early twenties, he had proved a good investment.

“Your Grace, the Ministers to the West are, as always, divided. Those close to the Fortress have been deeply concerned with spiritual matters and have noted a frightening rise in the cases of Spirit Possession, sickness, and cleansing needed since the Djaught Mehethe was announced. They believe there to be a connection to that announcement and point to other turmoil here as likewise related. The other half of the Ministers, those closer to Westa Proper and the Priestess Peiyadja, have been pursing an aggressive series of votes, appointments, and pointed ceremonies for the past two seasons.

“The aim?” asked Tavya, though she knew already what he was going to say.

“The aim of their energy has been securing troops Fiedjan for a push into Free Westin lands held by their enemies the Parliament. I believe that the Priestess means to slow down these activities while the Djaught is missing but can no longer restrain the fervor she has built.”

“And what is wrong with dedicated servants?” asked her Eyes on the East

“Nothing. But fanaticism in the name of a lord is a vice when it weakens that lord.”

“Seems foolish,” said Tavya, pushing Uhen along.

“It does,” he replied, and the table fell silent. Tavya motioned him onward with her hand. Uhen was a very loyal man and good slave. But just as he saw fervor without caution as a vice, he himself fell victim to a vice of deference without initiative. He was clever, but afraid to show it. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I think that Peiyadja has been caused to lose control. Someone is manipulating her servants, either gaining influence over some, but not all, or misleading those that do not support their faction.”

“My, my, that seems a familiar refrain. So strange how the Weatherclock seems to move the wind these days.” the council murmured over her reference. Tayva ignored it. Do you you have an idea of whom?”

“No, but there are messages coming from Dehali, from the Governor’s house there up to the Fortress, more often than normal. He, or someone under his protection may have a hand in it.” Tavya permitted herself a smile. She would have to remember to show Uhen tenderness today. He was always the clever one.

“It sounds to me that you have earned yourself a respite Uhen, perhaps a visit to Dehali as well.”

“I go where asked my'lady.”

“Of course. Speak to me in the evening.” Uhen bowed, almost to the point where his head touched the table, but looked up afterwords, hesitant.

“Was there something else?” she asked, giving him the permission he silently sought.

“Yes, just, a stupid question but one the Household Council has not addressed. What happened to the Djaught and the Luminary?”

“Oh, you hadn't heard? They're both dead.”

“Dead?” Uhen asked, surprised.

“Yes, well, either the Djaught had her killed but she had spies that killed him, or they both died from assassins directed by the Weatherclock, or they took on the plague in a homestead outside of Dehali, or they were taken captive by bandits and killed in a botched rescue. In any case, they are dead and the crown has reason to hide it. I thought you would have heard one of those stories by now Uhen, don't disappoint...”

“But, your grace, you believe them to be dead?”

“No, because I am not an idiot, but I don't consider them to be alive and well either. It is best if we all consider them to be both. Think of both options. In the mean while we must sort out the source of the many rumors surrounding their disappearance. And how do we do that Uhen?”

“The Govenor of Dehali.”

“Good, my child, you never disappoint.” The praise was genuine, as was the affection. She had watched Uhen grow from an clumsy and awkward child to a handsome and deft young man. That night, as she had on previous occasions, she would call him to her chamber. She would give him instructions on what to find out, where to go, what to do if discovered, all of those simple things. Then she would have him make love to her to her satisfaction. The freedom to pursue such diversions was one of the many benefits of leaving her half-mad husband behind in Flin. But even when Uhen was serving her desires she would be distracted only for a moment from the thoughts that had dominated her mind through two councils, a careful conspiracy and the throws of pleasure.

Tavya had given up everything, her title, lands, and children to be in her position of influence. Her Poet of the Hin-Hani had done the same. However much Polena had upset her these past months it was rare to meet a woman so different from her who yet shared the same drive. So it was, that even with all the distractions of business or pleasure she still thought of an enemy, a servant of foreign gods, a lap dog to usurpers and traitors. Not knowing where she was filled Tavya with a strange yearning. It was a distant echo of that of a mother missing her child.

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