16

Dragon

            After her afternoon sail around the greatly expanded but stabilized lake, Lady Ciani invited me for a garden picnic in Pallas Eden’s favorite greenhouse, one featuring a special, somewhat dry climate especially well suited for a series of herbs the Alnese had collected on their many travels through our galaxy. The greenhouse also numbered among my favorite spots in the Hamlet, and I often strolled through it on my afternoon walks during my summer visits. Special, clear panels had been installed on the side overlooking the lake, and the solar heating panels maintained a wonderful, almost O’bonne balminess filled with herbal scents. These past two summers, whenever I needed to ponder a particularly vexing question, I favored a low bench installed right in front of the view panels, backed by the most fragrant herbal bed of the greenhouse. Her ladyship was sitting in that very spot.

“Ashewe,” Lady Ciani rose to greet me as I stepped into Eden Hamlet’s little oasis, and I quickly bowed to her so she would slide back onto the bench, “The Justiciar tells me you find a little solace in this particular patch. I am so happy to hear it. I’m about to impose dreadfully on you. How does that very wise Kobran saying go again?  Offer someone a drink and they’ll soon claim the whole well?”

Her words did not come as a surprise. The moment I had given in to their combined pressure and accepted to continue working with Pallas Eden in the Islands affair, I had let myself become enmeshed in a problem far bigger than I had imagined. Now the price would have to be paid. I knew the favor she was about to ask, that I postpone my O’bonne shore leave due to start the next Alnese month. Postponement at this point really meant canceling it altogether, at least for this year, and the thought of staying through a third winter on Alnos made me shiver even before she went on.

“Dear friend, not only am I about to ask you to remain with us and help us work towards a resolution with our newcomers, I’m about to request O’bonne mediation formally. I need to discuss the proposal with the Council first, of course, but I believe my eight advisors will agree with the initiative. Even the few short days I spent on the Islands made it plain that Alnos is in crisis.”

Her words made me feel trapped, gasping, as if the room had suddenly emptied of air. Staying here would also mean wrestling with the genie I had let out of the bottle towards the end of last winter, when I had finally succumbed to my young Alnese suitor’s warm smiles and even warmer body. Even though I knew deep in my heart that I would not have been able just to run away and leave him, somehow, I needed that option.

I sighed deeply, and she smiled apologetically.

“I understand your distress, Ashewe, and at the same time, I know that sympathy makes little difference. I still persist in my selfish desire to keep you here with us.”

“It is not selfish, your ladyship.”

“Thank you, Dragon, it’s most kind of you to say so.”

“I am happy to convey your ladyship’s request to our Assembly, and don’t doubt that it will be granted.”

“It would give me particular pleasure if my old friend Nyemba were available.”

“My esteemed colleague will be honored by your ladyship’s particular attention, of course, but he is not a trained mediator.”

“Well, we’ll need one, of course, but I’m sure my old friend would acquit himself admirably of the responsibility. As would you, if you decided to step outside of your primary call as an observer. No doubt all planetologists are innate mediators.”

“I only hope we prove worthy of your ladyship’s kind assessment.”

She waved away the acknowledgement and continued, “Alnos is fortunate to be able to count on O’bonne assistance in this matter. We are faced with a daunting challenge, Dragon. And since you agree to convey Alnos’ request to O’bonne, dare I hope you’ll also agree to stay?”

“That is a very difficult question.”

“And of course, here I go again impatiently pressuring when I know I have made the request and need to give you time to consider it. What a poor choice of regent I make, so completely devoid of all the necessary qualities! But let me at least offer you this: If you agree to stay, my steward will make every effort to craft a schedule that allows you frequent visits to this little oasis, and my gardeners have already started to install an herb chamber in Alnos House’s roof garden. I would be honored to have them proceed with a similar addition to Pallas House. I do think it an excellent innovation.”

“It is kind of your ladyship to think of my comfort.”

“Dragon, if matters deteriorate here, we shall all of us have preciously little comfort.”

She looked out over the lake, and I let my eyes follow hers across the water towards the southern, mountainous end. Her face turned resolute, “I will not allow my world to drown in a sea of debt that will last for generations. That’s what happens once a crisis turns into a war. In this case the eventual outcome scares me the most. How can any people ever recover after committing genocide?”

“Your ladyship!” burst forth before I could clamp down.

She smiled again, a sad, grim smile this time, “Has anyone told you how Mythras got started?”

“Mythras? Arthmis’ second wave?”

“Arthmis’ second wave, yes,” something about that description amused Lady Ciani, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what, “Well, has anyone told you their … what do you call it? Their myth of origin?”

I shook my head, and she continued, “Mythras was created during the days of Lord Daimyo, who, like me, grew up in the border lands. In those days, an island clan, Ran, insulted a border clan, Nandez, and gradually, the conflict escalated into a vendetta and then full war, until one fateful day Ran, Kuan, Chantico and Minguard joined forces and overwhelmed Nandez. Then Nandez called in its closest allies, Vinyat, Xhania, and K’elle, and set out to destroy Ran. The four border clans knew no bounds, killed every adult and divided up Ran’s children among themselves.”

During my studies, I had come across a number of stories of inter-clan conflict, but I was startled by that outcome, and by the bluntness with which she described it. Alnese conflicts were usually buffered by accumulated blood ties, and these same ties often enabled cooler heads to prevail and put an end to fights before they spun out of control. I wondered what ties had existed between the eight clans in question, all the while keenly aware how our mountain people claimed the same shared blood intensified any erupting rage between two antagonists.

After a brief pause, Lady Ciani continued, “Of course the children’s island and mainland relatives called in Arthmis, but every one realized that the Order could not enforce its judgments or re-establish the peace. Then Lord Daimyo went to the border personally and demanded that the border clans yield up the stolen children. He went straight to the great hall of Xhania, his former clan, and proclaimed that their heinous actions had saddled all of Alnos with an unpayable debt. He refused to listen to any of the border people’s rationalizations and swore he would personally find every single stolen child and return her to her kin. Once he started to follow through with his threat, the four border clans finally realized what they had done, realized the weight of their debts to Ran, to Alnos, and to God, and they yielded. Then, Lord Daimyo made it clear that the four border clans could repay their debts by creating a special Arthmis unit that would protect the new Ran. He challenged the border people to send the best of the best, those Arthmin that had distinguished themselves over the years. And they did.

To acknowledge their debts, the border Arthmin also swore ice penance.  During their time in ice, they started to invent new training routines, new ways to refine and improve Arthmis techniques. And that is how Mythras came to be.”

Long before she finished, I realized the story was a bribe, or perhaps something like an advance, a way to pay me for what I was about to sacrifice. Nevertheless, I drank in the story like a thirsty traveler in our hottest desert, and I made matters still worse by asking rather eagerly, “So is that why titled Mythran leaders are legates?  They are Arthmis emissaries?”

“They are Lord Daimyo’s emissaries, yes, his legates. Sometimes, we also call them Daim to honor the memory of the one who created the order. Legend has it that Lord Daimyo served as example to the first Mythrans, that no one could beat him for the first fifty years of his life. But that could just be silly Xhania pride. There’s plenty of that to go around.”

Her tone had grown teasing again, but I could still sense deep concern beneath the lighter mood. She shifted back towards the lake and returned to her earlier observations, “Ashewe, if the insults from the newcomers continue, more and more of our people will take offense. And this time, more than four border clans would join together and know no bounds. It could quite possibly reach a point where Arthmis would not be able to stop the blood letting even with Mythras beside it. I have no desire to follow in Lord Daimyo’s footsteps, although I shall not hesitate to do so if I must. But O’bonne has centuries of experience mediating conflicts, and nothing in the universe is sharper than an O’bonne mind.”

I acknowledged the oft-repeated compliment with a brief nod, and replied, “As I have already assured your ladyship, it shall be my pleasure to convey her request to our Assembly. I’m sure O’bonne will be honored to offer the insights of our experiences.”

“Thank you, Dragon. And what about my personal request to you?”

“Your ladyship is convinced that my continued presence here could help?”

“Yes. You need time to reflect on it, of course, as I well know.”

I was quite awed by her faith in me, awed and humbled, and I knew even as I accepted the offered time to consider that she had won me over with that faith. The promise that I could be of service to a people I respected and admired despite their fearsome wild streak proved irresistible. I gave myself away with a sigh, but was not about to confirm it. I would take the time offered. Shortly after I let the sigh slip, Lady Ciani concluded our interview with a dinner invitation, and I wandered back to the house and to my quarters.

Kyet had snuck in and was waiting for me, sprawled across my body chair. Sneaking into my quarters went against the rules, but this time, I did not feel like reminding him of it.

“She’s asked you to stay,” he observed without prompting.

I activated the controls to my bed and when it slipped out of the wall with a quiet hum, I let myself drop into it with a sigh of relief. Flashing a shy smile, he half-rolled, half-crawled out of the chair and onto the edge of the bed. We could still count the number of times I had let him share it, never more than two or three hours. And from the very first time, he had always stopped right there, at the edge, and waited for me to extend a guiding hand.

“Will you stay?”

Part of me wanted to hold back, put a note of suspense into his life, but I felt drained by my interview with her ladyship. I longed for the comfort of our growing intimacy, for his hug and his touch and his uncanny ability to fit right into the little openings I allowed, just fit perfectly.

Adjusting ever so slightly towards him, I stretched one arm until I managed to brush my fingertips against his thigh, “Probably.”

His smile grew a little brighter, “Good.”

“I thought you might feel that way.”

He leaned forward, lifted the thigh into the bed, and flowed towards me as I burrowed under his sweater for warm skin, my Alnese substitute for the O’bonne sun.