Riyoon's Rebirth, Chapter IV - A Jeli's Fate

                After we had had breakfast, I decided I would see out the Jeli children I had met the previous evening; Renkou declined to join, saying that they needed to discuss the ramifications of my arrival. This concerned me, but They declined to comment further, and insisted I go make friends.
                I traveled through the village to where the Istmemwa lodged; it turned out to be near the river, separated from the main road circling the village by an alley or two. All of the huts had been decorated with dyes of black, blue, and deep brown, colors that in part reminded me of the Chaj-Dlo. Had I not known where precisely to look, the music guided me; I could hear the strumming of stringed instruments not unlike the sounds I had heard the previous evening, along with another sound reminiscent of raindrops, though distorted. I was not quite sure what to make of it.
                I circled around the huts to find a gathering of people of all ages, from elders to little children, most of whom wore trappings of blue and violet; among them, I found the two I was looking for. They hadn't noticed me quite yet; Toujou stared almost absently off into space as her fingers danced with a practiced grace over the surface of the strings, and Lapli poured low over a strange barred and gourded instrument, his face a mask of concentration, his effort the source of that indescribable sound.
                "Newcomer," one of the women greeted me. She carried a ringed rod in one hand, and with the opposite arm, she supported a child on the corresponding hip. The former she shook back and forth, the jangling of which held the attention of the latter, who made clumsy grasps for it.
                I smiled and dipped my head. "I am Riyoon," I told her. "I came seeking my friends."
                By now, the others had taken notice; many continued to play with only glances of acknowledgement in my direction. The boy however threw down his sticks and rushed to greet me.

                "You came!"
                "Of course I did."
                "We aren't finished, Lapli," Toujou chided him. “The patient will eat ripe fruit.”
                Lapli rolled his eyes. “Work is good, so long as one does not forget to live.”
                “The wise create proverbs for fools to learn, not to repeat.”
                “Children,” the woman said. “When two elephants fight, it is the grass that is trampled.”
                They fell to silence.
                "I did not mean to interrupt," I apologized.
                She shook her head. "You did not know. Lapli on the other hand…"
                The boy, defeated, returned to his instrument.
                "I'd be happy to listen to you play," I told him with a smile.
                He beamed, but it didn’t last; he looked to the woman, and she to the elders.

                The Istmemwa watched me for a moment, conferred among themselves. Silence took the place of their music as they did so. Then, the elder spoke. "We shall play for you, Newcomer."
                "It would be my honor to listen."

                A single drumbeat. Silence. Again. Again. The man let each note resonate on its own for a second or so before sounding another, his eyes intent on me.
                Then, the sound of jangled steel joined him. The woman, with her babe, twitching her rattle in time with the drum, so close behind as to be a high pitched shadowy brass.

                And then Lapli played. The rods thundered up and down his instrument, throwing off a cascade of wonderful sounds that washed over the drums and uplifted the brass. The previous instruments fell in line with his increased pace, and two women began to sing. Then, Toujou began plucking at her instrument, and the words took to life in a way they never would have otherwise. I could see it unfolding before me…
                They told me the tale of the girl and the spider; the girl, who, with her keen senses and kind heart, found all of the most delicious and nourishing food to bring to her village and share with her people. The spider with its cunning and greed, who sought to steal from her the secrets of all the best things.
                After much pleading on the spider’s part, the girl brought along the spider, and she showed it her secrets. With each revealed, the spider, overcome with greed, would gobble up all of the food and  leave nothing to be shared. Then, overcome with remorse, the spider would beg her forgiveness and ask to be shown her next treasure. Three times the spider did this.

                As it happened, the third and final time, the girl revealed to the spider the place where the very best honey was kept- tucked deep in a hole high in a tree. Finding this, the spider clambered inside, barely able to fit from all of the food it had eaten.

                Once the spider had eaten all of the honey, it had grown too large to escape the tree. It begged and begged, but the girl would not help it; instead she set off to collect her true harvest to deliver to the needy.
              

                "Do you know why we play these songs and tell these stories, Lapli?" Toujou asked.
                "Of course I do!" the boy yelled, his cheeks flushed. He was looking at the ground.
                "Lapli is.…quite excitable," the woman explained.
                I nodded.
                "We're jelis. It is our honor and our responsibility to keep tradition alive and remind our people of who they are and where they come from." Lapli stated flatly.
                Toujou was unimpressed. "That's what father tells you."
                "And he's not wrong!"
                "No, he isn't," Toujou agreed. "But do you know what he means by that?"
                "Of course I do!"
                "You lack the resolve and reverence of a griot," Toujou said.
                "You lack the spirit and the energy! You're the one who's doing it wrong!"
                "Do they always argue?" I asked.
                "Often," the woman told me.

                "Who is correct?"
                The siblings stopped and looked to the woman. She ignored them and stared at me with a small smile.

Empathy

Break off a piece of me so I hurt too.

So I can fit in this hole with you.

Pact - Soloist

                I carry Feil back to his chamber. By now, I imagine the servants would have finished the changing of his sheets, and perhaps with some coaxing, he will sleep again. The prince, my son, did not want to go, and I, the King, do not blame him. However, I have come to realize that I cannot not bear to see him, seeing her, my wife, his mother in such a state. To stare at us, content, yet vapid. This is the price of a Joining?

            She crept up to me in the way that she often did. Serene, gentle. I could feel her arms work their way around my waist in that way that indicated concern. I did not pull my eyes from the map laid out before me.
            “You’re doing it again,” she murmured in my ear, kissing me. Her lips, so warm, soft. I closed my eyes and let her love carry me- but only for a moment.
            “I am doing what any king must,” I told her. “The people depend on me.”
            “They do indeed.” She circled and tucked herself up under my arm, her head beneath my chin. “But what can a fatigued king provide for his people? All men need their rest.”
            “The armies will not offer respite,” I reminded her. “They will be pleased to attack us when we are least ready.”
            “And what do your scouts say?”
            “Months. A year’s time at the most.”
            “Then, your majesty, I believe you can afford one night of rest.”
            I held her at arm’s length, and stared at her, stared down at her. Lovely as she had always been. Lovelier now with the life she carried. I placed my hand upon her swollen belly, and she placed her hand on mine. “Is that what her majesty believes?”
            “She does.”

            And so I spent a day with my family. I did my best. We rode about the kingdom on horseback, canceled Feil’s lessons for the day and met with the villagers. Instead of the best the kingdom had to offer, as we typically enjoyed, we took bread with the common folk and lived, at least a little, as they did. And what a day it was.

            We sat on the balcony together, Ralasia and I, with Feil nestled between us. Just the three of us. The sun fell toward the horizon, and brought the long day toward its close.
            There can be more days like this,” she said.
            I looked at her, and she met my gaze, smiling.
            “Can there, mommy?” Feil asked, excited. “Do you really mean it?” He turned from her to me, hopeful, beaming, and in spite of my exhaustion, I smiled and tousled his hair. Still, I knew better than to make promises.

            It wasn’t easy to relinquish a day in this manner, laughing and smiling and pretending nothing was wrong. But I did it, for a time. Sometimes, even now, when I really try, I can almost fool myself. But just like the Drakon, obligations have a way of appearing, whether we want them to or not.

            A shadow covered us then, and all mirth faded. Well above us, well past us, the Drakon travelled upon outstretched wings. He paid us no mind, and yet, for those fleeting seconds of darkness…Feil cried out, and buried his face in his mother’s bosom. I held them both close, and she looked at the Drakon, and finally me with a pointed and unwavering expression. The Drakon flew off toward its mountain, unaware of our exchange…

            How long has it been since we had a true conversation? How long since she last smiled, truly smiled? Such things seem distant memories, and further still every time I look at her.  And for what, really? The table still stands in the corner; the armies move closer. I have given that which I hold most dear to protect my kingdom, and all might be lost anyway. The plans we have laid do not reassure me.

            “There’s a better way,” I told her. Empty words. I knew it, and she knew it.
            Ralasia would not pretend for my sake. “This is your part, my love.” She thrust the scroll into my chest.
            “We’ll find a better way. One without—“
            She stared at me with piercing eyes. “Without bloodshed, my King? Because someone will bleed. Our soldiers. Theirs.”
            “But not you,” I pleaded.
            “What is a monarch if not for her people?”
            I spread the scroll halfheartedly across the table. Runes I had learned in my youth and almost forgotten. Honestly, I had hoped I would. Then I could never make use of the terrible power.

            Terrible power, and at a most terrible price. “Ralaisia,” I whispered to her, again. As I have done. As I often do. I’ve decided that if nothing else, my Queen shall remember her name, even if she knows not its meaning. She smiles at me, as she often does, and she strokes my hand and wrist with her perfect fingers. Her eyes gleam golden now; I’m looking at a different woman, and I can’t know if my Queen will ever return to me. The Drakon warned me; I had been pretending, even then, that I was ready. Only now do I realize the extent of my unpreparedness.
            I haven’t received the mercy to consider the possibility. Yes, throughout my nights, I am trapped in my keep with my addled wife and terrified child.  For all its misery, however, the days are far worse. The court is far emptier without its Queen, and everyone knows it, though none as much as I. This was what we agreed upon; the ‘best’ choice. The King, ruler to his people, must not disappear, for fear of fears. A departure of the Queen however, easily placated through rumors of illness. The eyes in the court, however, are not satisfied. Watching me, and the empty throne at my side…Worse, touring the kingdom, seeing so many of my subjects. Queen Ralasia is, quite frankly, the face of this nation.

            “But you are the queen, my love,” I told her. “You are the queen and a mother. What will I say to our people? What will I say to our son?”
             “And you are a king and a father,” Ralasia replied with a gentle smile. “You are both. You rule the kingdom, but you rule our hearts as well, Feil and I…” she crossed the chamber then, and drew my hand to her belly. “And soon, your little kingdom will have one more member, who will love and cherish you as well... It is because I am a mother that I do this for our kingdom, and it is because I am a queen that I do this for our family. Feil will understand in time, and you guide him, along with all of our people…” she kissed me then, and held me close. “We’re in this together, my love.”

            I remember her words, but I forget her voice. Now, she does not speak to me, and I hardly know if she is present at all. She is warm, and seems to love, but I do not know if she understands. If this is a Joining, it should have been me- subjects be damned. Had I but a second chance, I would never allow this burden upon her shoulders. I would never allow her to join with that drakon, to lose flesh and blood, to risk her life. The place of the King is before his people, and that includes the Queen, foremost. In that regard more than any other, I have failed my people.
            And now, I’m waiting for a dragon child. My Queen is pregnant with a child, and that child will not be human.
            My Queen has lied to me. We aren’t in this together. I’m alone. Feil’s alone. And Ralasia…

            We may all have to pay for this before it’s over.