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Day 3, to Ezho
As thou'st asked, Cousin, here begins the account of my travels with the embassy to treat with the Nazhmorhathveras. As I fear I'll take up half the page with the word, please accept the abbreviation NMV. Today I am traveling in the coach with Aunt Arbelan and she has tired of my poetry recitals for now. She says that twenty is not old enough to give the proper gravitas to Zhekhar's Cycle of the Gods. I fear this afternoon Lanthevel will make me conjugate aloud again. I am glad of his help with the NMVin, but it is rather academic compared to learning Barizhin with thine aunt.
We've stopped for the night in Ezho now. I did conjugate with Lanthevel, but also forced the issue of conversation, and we tried a bit with Captain Orthema. It was terribly awkward, and we had half the vocabulary we really needed to say much more than "Good Afternoon, pleasant weather we're having". Hopefully my wife will know E'zhin and can teach me NMVin properly.
Day 4, Ezho
We had thought Mer Celehar and Captain Olgarezh would meet us in Ezho, but now it seems they have been delayed again, and will join us directly at the meeting place, Vathekhar. I am not sorry that they will be finding a different way to the embassy. I know thou hast a great affection for him, but I have always found him a difficult conversational partner. He seems to drift just slightly out of range of anything I can understand. I suppose it is part of his calling, as he always says, but I have never understood how thou canst find anything about which to converse. Perhaps if I had any sort of calling myself, I might feel differently.
I have been thinking of how all the NMV have sharp teeth, like Merrem Orthema. I wonder if the same god blessed them and the lion-people from beyond the Sea? I wonder if they will still wish for a marriage to unite our peoples. I find myself hoping they do, as I was never particularly interested in any of the ladies at court. Even if they do not require a marriage, I will have had an adventure and gotten diplomatic experience. Aunt Arbelan says that is her favorite part, besides that the NMV "clearly understand more ways to gain power than we do". I have never seen her look as smug as Cousin Csethiro, but the family resemblance is uncanny.
Day 5, to Vorenzhessar
I find myself torn again as I don't think I have been since last I saw my mother. I have wanted to do my part for our family, and thou hast allowed me such a good way to accomplish that. Not only that, but in looking at the options for who might marry to seal this peace, I knew I did not wish to let anyone else take on this burden. I only wish thou hadst said anything for or against it, and not left it up to the Corazhas. I know thou hatest to use our marriages for political advantage, but cousin, dost not trust the decision that gave thee thy wife? Canst not trust it for mine? Thou wishest always to give us choices, but after that most terrible one, where I chose that thou shouldst keep thy position, I wish thou wouldst choose a bit more often, as most heads of house would do. I have not the perspective thou hast, Cousin, and I wish thou couldst remember that more often.
The road has become more treacherous this afternoon. I wish thou couldst see the landscape. I did not know the mountains of the Badlands were so many colors, almost painted in stripes. Were it not for the danger, I wish Mireän could have come, even as far as V'zhessar, as she would be blessed with a hundred new things to paint every hour and faint from joy.
Day 9, to Vathekhar
It has been slow going through the Badlands since leaving V'zhessar. The carriages were left behind in the town as there are no more proper roads along this path. At points, we can hear the Evresartha as we round the peaks on the backs of our mule train. Our first NMVis had come to meet us in V'zhessar to guide us through the switchbacks and along the cuts he swears were cut by the NMV over the centuries they've lived here.
His name is Morthu, for the sky, as it is ever changing, and so is he. He has been patient with us all, especially Lanthevel, who insists on writing down every bit of our expanding vocabulary whenever we stop. Learning their language (which they call only "the language") is still nothing like with Merrem Vizhenka, though he is quite funny about pointing out the differences between our languages just as she was. He knows far more about the Ethuveraz than I expected any of the NMV to know. I am glad to have possibly found a new friend in Morthu.
Day 10, to Vathekhar
I do not know whether to change my last entry.
Morthu is not a man, but a woman.
"Ever-changing, as the sky," she says. The way she speaks of it is difficult to translate, and I do not know that I can parse it well.
I believe it comes down to this: when she comes into towns, like Vorenzhessar, she cannot enter and do business for the NMV as a woman, so the Dein gives her a glamour to appear as a man until she has passed back into the safety of the NMV's territory and can commune with the Night Sky again.
For now, I will leave my last entry intact as nothing else would be changed except the pronouns.
-
"Your Grace?"
Idra looked up from where he had been putting away his journal. Morthu was grinning down at him with the soft face he had first seen across the fire this morning. Whatever maz made her face feminine today also seemed to make it glow in the afternoon light.
"Yes?" He was trying not to be annoyed at Morthu's extreme pleasantness today, but she gave him no distance to adjust to the realities of her.
As if there was a secret shared between them, her eyebrows twitched up and she said, "Are you ready to depart?"
"Yes."
She offered her hand (as she had done the past few days and he took it unconsciously as he had when he believed her to be a man) to help him stand from the awkward crouch he had adopted on the rock, then overbalanced slightly, and she steadied him by the shoulders.
Idra could not help staring into her eyes, as close as she was. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry despite the water he had drunk during this rest.
She was a few inches shorter than he was, with the tanned skin and light brown hair of most of the Nazhmorhathveras. Her face today was rounder than yesterday, with the same wide nose and plush lips, eyes that odd striation of grey and orange that looked like the fire of a forge. He hated that he noticed her body today as he had not yesterday: the strength of her control that had not changed, her trousers hugging her thighs just the same but now somehow indecent, and the way her tunic and vest stretched across her chest.
Morthu's eyebrow arched and she regarded him with some amusement again. In her language, she said, "Ride beside me and practice thy language?"
Idra swallowed again and took a step back, wanting the distance for just a few more hours so he could come to terms with her. He shook his head and looked at anything but her face. "I promised the Zhasane I would ride beside her and recite the next verse of the epic to her." It was not true, but Arbelan was politic enough not to give anything away.
From the corner of his eye, he could see that she frowned. "Then, be careful of the third switchback, and enjoy the vistas with the honored lady."
Just to prove himself truthful, he did ride beside Arbelan for the afternoon, reciting the next two verses of the epic poem of the tale of Gizhalezh and the monster he fought (quite amorously, to Idra's ear). The third switchback was indeed treacherous, and they all held onto their well-trained mules for dear life as the animals made their little hopping strides down the path. The whole party were bent over the necks of their mules, except Morthu, who held her reins loosely and leant back in her saddle, apparently afraid of nothing, even the fall off the mountain that seemed ready to claim them all.
Day 10, to Vathekhar, continued
Dost remember the night of the first masque after thy wedding, and how Cousin Csethiro dressed as a member of the Untheileneise Guard and the only way anyone could tell was that she was half a foot shorter than any other Guard on duty, and she was dancing with the Emperor? Morthu has reminded me of it. She is quite formidable. Not like my mother, but with a strength that I believe might make even her —
-
Morthu sat roughly beside him, jostling his arm as she handed him the bowl of stew that was their supper. He frowned at the smudged line on the page and sighed. He supposed he could not avoid her indefinitely. She was their guide, after all.
He capped his pen carefully to keep the dust out and stowed it with his diary in his pack. In the language, he asked, "What am I to call thee? Min Morthu, or dost have a more specific title? What is most respectful?"
She snorted and bumped his shoulder. "I am only Morthu. The People of the Night Sky have far fewer titles and ways to make ourselves different from each other, much as we have only one level of formality."
Idra chewed a chunk of the stewed game thoughtfully. "Why dost thou think that is?"
"We have no need to make ourselves more important," Morthu said. "To survive in the steppes and the badlands, we must rely on each other so strongly that we cannot have those differences. Not men nor women, not children nor elders, not the dein nor folk. We all must do the same work, with the same consequences if we cannot achieve it. In thy world, in the cities, elves and goblins all only do a few things and never learn how to do what their neighbors do. The People of the Night Sky do have each their own specialty, but we must each know how to live alone because we are so often separated by circumstance, and we must survive."
"But," said Idra, turning to look her in the eye, "ist not a contradiction? Thou must be no different than the group, and entirely able to live on thine own?"
She laughed and switched to Ethuverazhin. "Yes, exactly. We must be at least adequate at everything. You will see when we arrive at Vathekhar, Your Grace."
Idra felt an abrasion in his mind when she used his title, as though she was running sandpaper over a rough spot in him. It was just how he had heard so many people use "Serenity" to placate Maia over the years. He didn't like it.
In the language, he said, "No, if thou art to be Morthu, thou must call me Idra."
Her eyes flashed with the light of the setting sun as they widened slightly before she grinned again and nodded. "Good. I would rather be friends than whatever thou art to thy companions here. Tell me again, what is thy relation to Arbelan Zhasane? And, if it please thee, in the language, as thou wilt have to explain it many times in the coming months, and best to practice it now."
From across the fire circle, Lanthevel straightened at that, and Idra took pity on him, inviting him to come take notes with a nod of his head.
Day 13, to Vathekhar (within sight, really)
Morthu says that as the eldest diplomat in the embassy, Aunt Arbelan will be the main negotiator. Of course Aunt Arbelan is quite amused by this development. Mq Lanthevel is pretending annoyance, but Morthu promises that there will be more than enough for him to do to support her, if in fact he was worried about being bored. (I do not think he will be bored, as he is already planning some sort of dictionary to aid in translation.) (I had understood his field of study to be philology, not linguistics, but when I pointed this out, he became quite amusingly sour-faced and would not answer, so now I do not know.)
Mer Celehar, too, is to be party to the negotiation. I wonder if he knows it yet. They seem to view him as the dein of the embassy. I was lectured quite intensely by Morthu today that a dein is not a witch, as we had been told. Apparently the maz that deins hold is but a focus of the strength of their group. It is more like a blessing, or, yes, like a calling. So, perhaps Mer Celehar will understand that he is the second most highly sought party after Aunt Arbelan.
We did meet a small scouting party who are escorting us the rest of the way to Vathekhar in the morning.
I find myself wondering what sort of lady they will have me marry. From what Morthu says, their women are more like her and Cousin Csethiro than Aunt Arbelan or my sisters. I can only hope whoever she is, she wishes to be married, unlike well, at least as much as I wish to be married. Mostly to be useful to thee and thine aims.
No, I do not know why I am stuck on that point, cousin. I can hear thee from hundreds of miles away and months in the future, with that gentle question. Thou knowest it drives me mad, but I think thou dost it to push me off balance. Sometimes I do wish thou wert not the emperor, cousin. But, I know what thy response to that would be, too, so now I am only conversing with thee in my head. Perhaps it is time for me to
-
The knock on one tentpole startled him out of his writing.
"Idra?" called Arbelan. "May we enter?"
He leapt to his feet and pulled his long overcoat back on over his nightshirt. "Yes, just a moment!"
She was, of course, still dressed entirely appropriately, and he held open the tent flap for her to enter. She took the seat on his bed (the most comfortable surface in the tiny space), and he took the little stool where he had just been writing.
"What's toward, Aunt?"
Arbelan looked at him with her piercing blue eyes that looked nearly black in the single flame of his candle. "Idra, we need to speak with you about the favor you and Min Morthu are showing for each other."
Idra blinked, suddenly panicking that he had acted inappropriately with this new friend. "Yes, Aunt?" It had been years since his voice had cracked, but in this conversation, he was feeling far more like an adolescent than he had since at least Maia's coronation.
She tutted and patted his hand. "It is not so bad as that. Do not look like Edrehasivar when someone presents him with an unexpected gift." Idra could not help smiling at the thought. "Good, now, what do you know of Morthu's clan? Alzheän will not say exactly who her parents are, but Alzheän was surprised to see that Morthu was our guide through the badlands. Have you noticed the little bits of deference they pay to her?"
Idra had noticed that all of the Nazhmorhathveras did things for each other that seemed to him like deference. "We think that after our conversations with Min Morthu about the Nazhmorhathvereise way of life, it is simply how they live."
He explained about their lack of social classes and distinctions between men's and women's work.
"We think," said Idra, "though we have yet to discuss it with Min Morthu, that is why they required a lady of high status to be part of the embassy. And His Serenity would never have sent Csoru."
Arbelan laughed. "Yes, we can see that part of it, but Idra, there is something different about how they treat Min Morthu." Her eyebrows drew together and she looked at him very seriously again. "We think there is more to her than meets the eye, and not only because of the maz that lets her blend into a crowd of men when she likes."
Idra frowned. He valued Arbelan's perspective, but he couldn't see how it mattered. If Morthu was somehow important, the Nazhmorhathveras wouldn't have let her be their guide through the mountains. Not only would they not have let a dein do this sort of guiding, Morthu wasn't albino, so she couldn't be a dein in the first place. She did not have that sort of blessing.
"What would you have us do, Aunt?" Idra was unused to Arbelan approaching him in this way. Maia trusted her judgment, so Idra trusted her judgment, but he could not tell what to do with this particular piece of information, such as it was.
Arbelan sighed. "We are not certain there is anything to be done. We only see that if you do anything that they might interpret as an unfavorable connection, we will have to find our way around it in the negotiations."
"We thank you, Aunt," he said. "We will be sure not to sully Min Morthu's reputation."
He fell asleep that night planning to distance himself when they arrived in Vathekhar tomorrow.
Day 14, Vathekhar
The NMV are so different from how we have been told, cousin. Captain Orthema was not wrong in his descriptions of them, nor have the secretaries of the previous W.f. Foreigners. It is clear, though, that those descriptions are like a shadow at sunset, shaped perhaps correctly, but distorted so much that they cannot be properly understood.
They are not polite how we would understand it, but they are slow to anger in a way I would never have expected from a people with whom we have been at war for nearly 90 years. Most NMV speak E'zhin as fluently as NMVin, though it is very much its own dialect (according to Lanthevel) and sometimes we have to rephrase things to be understood.
Mer Celehar did arrive before us with Captain Olgarezh. He is as put out by the way they treat him as I had expected. He and Aunt Arbelan have gone into a private conference with Lanthevel and Orthema to discuss the current state of the treaty and what we may concede. The representative of the Prince of Thu-Everesar is expected any day, and then the treaty negotiations may proceed as planned.
Morthu has continued to be my guide in camp, though that mostly involves showing me the day-to-day activities of the NMV. I can only assume it is to prepare me for a life where I will spend part of my time with them. As I found from our journey here, the NMV are much less concerned with women's and men's work, and are instead focused on giving the right work to the right people. Everyone can do the basic tasks required to survive, but some are better at sewing, others at cooking, and still others at hunting or the land management they call farming (not what we would think of as farming at all, as they wander the steppes planting and reaping in a cycle that seems as complex as any estate management in the Eth'az).
I have been thinking today of something Aunt Arbelan said to me last night in camp, that Morthu is in some way different or more respected by the NMV. I do see that they allow her different freedom to do as she likes, but I cannot tell what it signifies. I think tomorrow I will have to ask Morthu about her position, if indeed she has one.
-
"What dost thou ordinarily do in thy clan?" asked Idra as he and Morthu mended one of the hide tents that made up most of the Nazhmorhathvereise camp. He was quite bad at it, not being used to the fine needles and how even the less sharp end had to be pushed through with a little piece of reinforced leather tied to his forefinger so he did not hurt himself.
Morthu shrugged one brown shoulder. "Before this temporary peace, I liked scouting and hunting best." She flashed a smile and a look that was saying something Idra couldn't quite interpret. "But, I was always fascinated by the elves, even when I was killing them."
Idra swallowed, surprised that she was telling him this now. "Fascinated how?" He pictured Morthu crouched over an elvish soldier, plunging her knife into his chest.
"I wanted to know why they were so loud, and why they couldn't seem to leave us alone, and why they were so colorless, and then how they had managed to build a castle on Carrion Bones…" She trailed off, looking angry and sad, then looked at him, a fierce look in her eyes. "Then, I wanted to know if this new emperor of theirs who had done so many new things, according to the newspapers, if that emperor would see us how he saw those dragons? Would he give us back the place of our dead like he gave the dragons their resting place?"
Idra gazed back into those fiery eyes and said, low and sincere, "He always wanted to give back Carrion Bones, ever since he learned of it from Captain Orthema. It took many years of political maneuvering, but he has always wished to right this wrong done by our grandfather."
She blinked, her brow furrowing. "Why? His father had no love for us. Why should he?"
"I do not think he likes the idea of war," said Idra. He tried to think of a way to explain Maia in a way that would not make it apparent how gentle and kind his cousin was. "He believes in true justice more strongly than either Varevesena or Varenechibel did. Or rather, he believes in discovering what is most just without respect to politics, and then finding a way to make the court and the empire change to accommodate that justice."
Morthu laughed, almost, but not entirely sarcastically. "Well, I suppose that is the sort of emperor who would treat with barbarians."
"You are not barbarians, though," said Idra, almost automatically.
Her smile showed her sharp teeth as she laughed again before chiding him for his terrible stitching.
Day 20, Vathekhar
I have not been able to discover who the NMV intend I will marry. The young people of the clans are largely involved in the day-to-day needs of their kin, and Morthu has introduced me to any number of young women (and men) who have attempted somewhat to include me in their work. They seem to view Morthu as my guide here, too, as she does whatever I do. I cannot find that she has any particular specialty here, nor any particular title that makes her exempt from the day-to-day like a Dein.
The negotiations continue every day, and Aunt Arbelan seems to be enjoying the complications. I will admit that I am not included in most of the details, but the NMV and our negotiators seem on good terms at meals and in the evenings for the—carousing is not the right word, as it is not for entertainment exactly, more like communing? Not like court dinners, more like informal dinner parties with everyone entertaining each other afterward, but in the open air or one of the large tents.
-
Idra was pressed to Morthu's side at one of the smaller fire rings tonight. There had been dancing earlier at the largest fire ring, but the atmosphere had mellowed now. Across the camp, the musicians had begun a complex harmony on some stringed instruments and a flute that lent itself well to quiet conversation. The music seemed a call and response from one musician to another as the night itself bloomed into the million pinpricks of light.
Morthu bumped his side and asked in Ethuverazhin, "So, why didst thou come to Vathekhar?"
"I need to be useful," said Idra, not thinking very hard with the warmth of the fire and whatever had been in the drinking horn. "And, this embassy and my marriage is something useful I can do."
He was not looking at Morthu, but he heard the test in her voice. "But, thine uncle the emperor is known to be as apolitical in conducting his family's life as it is possible for an emperor to be. He rejected thine aunt's apparent suitors simply because she did not wish them. We know these things even out here in the Steppes."
"That's not how I was raised, though. I was always expected to marry for a useful alliance—"
"But," Morthu interrupted, "thine uncle does not use his family that way, so thou couldst be free to find thine own wife for thyself. Edrehasivar has two healthy sons, so thou couldst do as thou likest."
Idra could not help frowning. "I was never going to marry for love, or however the Nazhmorhathveras find their partners. And, I'm not free. I haven't been free for a moment of my life, not as one of the Drazhada. I don't have choices, so I cannot do as I like."
He glanced at her, noticing the bronze glow of her in the firelight. "I have had one choice in my life that mattered, the night I refused the throne and betrayed my mother."
Morthu pressed firmly into his side, not a caress, but almost like she was lending her strength to the cold, confused boy he had been.
"I do not regret my choice, really," he said, needing to explain somehow, to someone who knew no one else involved in the worst moment of Idra's life. "I didn't want to be the emperor. It was my fate until my father died, but then I was spared. My mother wanted me to be the emperor more than she could see any reason at all. It was not a difficult choice, except that my father had loved my mother. I do not know, but I think he must have chosen her, as the Prince of the Court."
"Didst thou not choose to come to Vathekhar to marry one of the Nazhmorhathveras?" she asked, poking again at the same place. "Ist not a choice?"
"It was a choice to be useful that my cousin would not have made, but that would benefit the Ethuveraz and his aims," he said, as abruptly as he ever spoke. "And now, I can do as the Drazhada ought to do and marry to weave my line into the most useful line for my emperor's aims."
Though he was looking at the fire, he could almost hear the roll of her eyes as Morthu said, "Thou livest thy life with too many ought-to's and shoulds and useful actions. What wouldst thou do if thou hadst none of those? What wouldst thou like to do, Idra?"
Idra could not imagine having that sort of life. It seemed it would be empty of purpose in a way that wiped his entire being to nothingness. Without what he ought to be, he would be but a smudge on a page. "I would not be who I am without those pieces of my life and obligations. I would be nothing, Morthu. Thou hast many ways to be a member of thy clan, but I can only do what the Drazhada need of me."
It was Morthu's turn to be abrupt. "I have but one way to be a member of my clan, as each of us has but one way to be part of our clan. It does not mean we have no choices, Idra. Our choices make us what we are. Thy choices put thee here, at this fire circle of Vathekhar."
They stared into the fire for a few long moments.
"Nothing has felt like a choice, Morthu. Nothing since that night."
Her arm slipped through his, settling the crooks of their elbows to interlock.
Idra could feel her eyes on him and looked into hers. She smiled a little, her eyebrows raising just slightly and her ears falling slightly in relaxation. It made his ears fall to match.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and released it, pink and plump and shining. "Pretend thou hast a choice? For me, Idra?"
His heart thumped in his chest. He thought he might finally understand why she was pushing him this way. "Thou wantest me to say that I'd kiss thee, I think, but I'd not do that. It would be unfair to whatever of thy kinswomen I'm meant to marry."
Morthu did let her eyes roll skyward at that. "I don't know any woman here who would think kissing someone thou wishest to kiss would be unfair to her. I especially do not think thine intended would mind. We do not consider a kiss to be any particular signifier of belonging. Thou art perhaps thinking of thine own people's propensity to claim with a kiss." She gave him a little look of challenge.
Idra had attended a few parties at court in his younger years that were for the secret (or perhaps not entirely-secret) purpose of kissing. They had all been too young for it to mean anything in those games, and he had not had any particular feelings for any of the young ladies.
It was an odd sensation in this moment to know he was being goaded into kissing Morthu, and feeling like he was fighting his own instinct to do just that at the same time. He believed that to her people, it might mean nothing, but to Idra himself, it did mean something.
"If it is true that the woman who is intended for me would not mind, then I would kiss thee, Morthu."
Her head tilted forward and her lips touched his, tenderly. His arm went around her shoulders, pulling her closer still, and her hand came up to cup his cheek. Their mouths moved against each other, lips parting slightly to breathe each other in.
The first kiss became a second kiss, then a third, then there was no way to tell when one kiss ended and the next began. Her sharp teeth grazed his lips and tongue, and he did not care. Idra had never quite believed that kisses might be like this, or known why they might lead to bed. But, with Morthu, he wanted to be closer.
This, however, he would not allow himself. He doubted that sex was allowed without some sort of claim, even for the Nazhmorhathveras, so he made sure they kept well apart but for their mouths.
Finally, they parted and Morthu grinned at him. "I hope thou makest this choice again, Idra."
He chuckled and kissed her forehead as she leaned into his side again, her arm wrapped around his waist. "Was it a choice I made, Morthu?"
She sighed and clutched his coat in her hand. "If thou dost not think so, then I hope thou makest this choice some day."
-
Idra woke the next morning with a fuzzy feeling in his head and a grudge against the sun for shining so brightly. Arbelan had sent a note that he must attend the negotiations this morning, so he pulled a comb through his hair and set it in the braid and tashin sticks he had brought for whatever formal occasions he would need. He found himself smiling through his hangover as he thought of how Ino would have pulled his braid apart and redone it herself if she saw how uneven it was.
The tent for the negotiations was filled to the brim with nearly every member of the embassy and the heads of all the Nazhmorhathvereise clans at Vathekhar.
Idra found Morthu, dressed in what must have been her own finest clothes, half covered in intricate beading. There was a young woman standing beside her who wore an even more elaborate dress.
That must be the woman he was to marry.
The dein stood and the whole room quieted in a moment.
In Ethuverazhin, he said, "We are pleased to announce that with the sun this morning, we have completed the final arrangement for the treaty between these four largest clans of the Nazhmorhathveras and the Ethuveraz. We thank the Archduke Idra Drazhar and Morthu of the Nazhmorhathveras for becoming the knot that will bind this peace."
A cheer went up from the whole assembled throng.
Except that Idra could do nothing but stare at Morthu.
She had known.
I especially do not think thine intended would mind.
No, of course his intended would not mind if he kissed Morthu.
He was so angry he could barely put two thoughts together. His mind raced as it had not since that night when he and his mother had betrayed each other.
We do not consider a kiss to be any particular signifier of belonging.
She had lied to him last night and every day since Vorenzhessar. She had known and kept it from him and confused him on purpose to amuse herself.
This was the woman they had chosen for him.
Arbelan appeared before him, breaking his furious stare at Morthu. Quietly, she said, "Idra, if this is not what you wish, we will find another way."
"No, we thank you, Aunt," said Idra, forcing the words out with as much politeness as he could muster.
"At least take the day to decide if this is what you want," she said, her soft voice barely audible over the increasing tumult of celebration.
Idra looked over her head again, meeting Morthu's fiery gaze again. She looked unsure for the first time he had known her. Though he knew she could not hear his words, he knew she would understand them anyway as he said, "We do not need the day. We will marry Min Morthu. We will do it because it is our duty."
Then, he turned and strode out of the tent.
Day 21, Vathekhar
Thou must be having quite a laugh as thou hast read this, Cousin. As thou knowest what I did not, that Morthu was the woman chosen for me by the NMV, even before we left the court to travel here.
This morning, my presence was requested at the negotiations. The first time they asked for my presence.
Of course Morthu was there already, in the intricately beaded clothes that are their finery here. Their Dein announced that the four largest clans of the NMV were ready to seal the treaty. I had not understood that the bulk of the terms had been agreed slowly over the past months of preparation and these weeks at Vathekhar were only to formalize them. I suppose I should have asked more questions about everything if I really wanted to be involved.
The Dein then announced that their representative to seal the treaty would be Morthu. Cousin, I do not think I have been so angry in my life that this was kept from me. Aunt Arbelan tried to tell me somehow just before we arrived, but I could think nothing of their deference to Morthu. Now I know it is because they felt sorry for her that they treated her kindly, because I am the outsider to whom she has been tied. (Oh yes, I have learned NMVin and in learning, I can just make out how they pity her for the too-pale man she must marry.)
But more than my anger at Aunt Arbelan, I was angry that Morthu has known all these weeks that she was my intended—all the way back in Vorenzhessar. I have never been made the fool this way, and I do not know what I shall do. She knew. Of course she knew. And, I believed the NMV were simply keeping it a secret all this time for propriety! How they must have laughed at the silly, proper elves!
Apologies, Cousin. I have mastered myself again. It feels perhaps stupid to say, but I do not like surprises (as thou well knowest), and this surprise felt as terrible as that night in the cellars, though at least they did not force me to choose. I am ashamed now of what I said, but as the only person I feel I may tell with no threat of judgment (as I know from our conversations in the gardens).
I do not know what to say to Morthu now. I do not know what to say to any of them now.
-
Of all the embassy on its march to the Anmur'theileian, Idra felt the most calm in riding beside Captain Olgarezh. Mer Celehar's guard was a man of few words, but he had a wry wit and unflappable good humor that Idra found himself attempting to emulate despite his annoyance.
Morthu had been seeking his company since the morning of their betrothal. She left prairie flowers around his tent, and found the best bits of the evening meals, and sat close but not sharing his space directly. He had the impression she was courting him, in whatever way the Nazhmorhathveras did.
But really, shouldn't that have happened before their betrothal was announced? Courting was usually a matter of presenting one's attributes to the object of one's interest.
"Why would Min Morthu be showing me her interest now, when it is my duty to marry her? And she knows I would do my duty above all. But, now she seems still intent upon my choice of her." He sighed and glanced at Olgarezh, who was listening, but also watching Mer Celehar on his horse ahead of them. "You are similarly dutiful, are you not, Captain?"
Olgarezh let out a little snort. "I am far less dutiful than my charge, whose duty to Ulis takes him from one end of the Ethuveraz to the other, and me following in his wake, hoping none of his enemies notice us this time. My duty is to him, and his duty is to Ulis." He glanced toward Idra, not quite meeting Idra's eye, but Idra felt that perhaps Olgarezh was taking the measure of him. "Is this duty of yours more like mine or Celehar's?"
Idra frowned, but he did think for several long moments before answering. "I do not, perhaps, understand the distinction. My duty is to marry one person for the good of many."
"Is it your calling, Your Grace? To marry this stranger and live your life in service to this peace?" As those questions swirled in Idra's mind, Olgarezh continued, "And what of Min Morthu? Is that what she wanted of her husband? That he should have a calling to something greater?"
Olgarezh's eyes softened as he looked again at Celehar. It was not entirely a secret that Celehar and Olgarezh were marnei, nor that the Archprelate had accepted some sort of vow that they were partners in Celehar's calling. Perhaps it was a sort of marriage, in as much as marnei could have a marriage.
"What did you want of your partner? A calling to something greater?" asked Idra.
Olgarezh's eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled. "A new adventure each day."
This adventure had been interesting, but Idra did somewhat prefer the rhythms of court. He thought he might enjoy the rhythms of the Nazhmorhathveras that Morthu had shown him. He did not like the idea of constant new places and situations. It sounded a bit exhausting.
"What if I don't want adventure?" he asked. In a smaller voice, he said, "What if I just want to be useful?"
"You'll get that regardless, marrying Min Morthu. What else would you want now you'll be of use in the treaty?"
Idra thought of everything he had experienced since leaving the court. He had learned of the Nazhmorhathvereise culture and passably learned their language. He had done what he had come to do, giving himself in marriage to bind the treaty.
He thought also of Morthu's smile, sharp as all her people, but sweet, with a tilt to her mouth even when she was not smiling at anything particular. She was happy, and gave that happiness to others with no thought.
He thought of kissing her that night, the feeling of wanting that he had not felt with anyone else, even at those adolescent kissing parties. He wanted more of that, if he could set aside his feelings of betrayal from the following day.
"What if I don't actually want anything else? Except what I already have? What if I can be happy with being useful with Min Morthu?"
"Then," said Captain Olgarezh with authority, "you learn what she wants and do whatever you can to help her achieve it."
Idra looked at Olgarezh again and could somehow tell that what he said was exactly what he had done when he found Mer Celehar and began to follow him.
"Thank you, Captain."
Day 25, to the Anmur'theileian
Now, when I've finally come to terms with the whole messy business, now Aunt Arbelan says that my marriage to Morthu is not entirely necessary! They are quite content if all but one tower of the Anmur't'ln is decommissioned and Mer Celehar and the Dein can quiet the hauntings, which Celehar says is his calling, if the hauntings wish to be quieted.
I think our Aunt is trying again to give me choice, but as I have discussed with Morthu (nearly endlessly for the past few days), my choice was to come here at all, to have suggested that my marriage could help this treaty. I would have "chosen" anyone they intended for me.
The more I see the differences in NMV culture from ours, the clearer it is to me. The NMV see this marriage of the emperor's kin as a signifier that the Ethuv is taking the treaty seriously. They understand us enough for that. But, too, I think that the Ethuv will not take seriously any treaty with "barbarians" that does not include someone as high-ranked as an archduke. Arbelan has insisted that she knows thee as well as I and that thou wouldst not want me to do this if I was merely forcing myself. But, I am not forcing myself, Cousin.
I do not know that I understood why this was so important to me until these past few days. Writing to thee has helped me to understand myself in a way I could not have done even in talking to thee, or now to Morthu.
Yes, Cousin, I think I can anticipate thy question. I am not entirely comfortable with Morthu's deception, even now, but I find I enjoy her company as I did on our journey to Vathekhar, and more even, as our betrothal has given us more privacy than we might have had at court.
-
They could see the Anmurtheileian from here, with its huge watchtowers lit up across the canyon, though it was still a day and a half away due to the circuitous route through the land between them. The grasslands of the previous few days had given way to crags, outcroppings, and odd little streams.
In a "stargazing" scheme, Morthu had taken Idra up to one of the crags with their dinner as the sun set, and the whole scene had been bathed in golden light. They ate in companionable silence, then Morthu crawled into the warmth of his body, her back to his front as he reclined against the most comfortable rock, his legs bent for stability as she used him for a chair.
In the language of her people, Idra said, "Why wert thou chosen, Morthu?"
She played gently with the seam of his trousers where it bunched at his knee for a moment before answering.
"I told thee I was always fascinated by the elves?" He nodded, letting his fingers trail up and down her arm, just enjoying the feel of her skin. "Well, that's not common amongst the People of the Night Sky. We've been at war for longer than the living, and hated them for encroaching on generations of the dead. But, we've not been the only ones in the steppes in our dead's memory. We've just always been able to overpower or gather in anyone else. Thou knowest the towns of the badlands were ours before they began to trade with the elves? And, elves think everyone they do business with are in their empire."
She sighed. "I've strayed from thy question, but I swear it does relate."
He chuckled and nuzzled her hair. "I did ask, and I've gotten used to thine answers giving me far more information than I expected. Please, go on?"
Morthu curled his arm around her waist and threaded their fingers together.
"When your people began to reach out for this treaty, when your emperor wished to truly negotiate, and especially when this first peace was agreed to, I thought it was just more of the empire doing business with the People of the Night Sky. But, again, I had always been interested in just how that would work, how the elves would make everyone like them, through trade and money. They'd done it with so many goblins, who are citizens, but still not elves. I wanted to see how it was done. How elves can make us like them, but also not like them. I wanted to do what I could to make sure we are treated fairly."
"Thou wishest to advocate for the People of the Night Sky. But, thou couldst do that as part of the negotiations, couldst thou not?" asked Idra.
"Remember, newly beloved, I am not a negotiator. I was a scout and a killer, and now I have no particular place in my clans. But, in marrying for this treaty, I could be a scout again. I am going into new territory and can bring back useful information for my people. I want to know how the elves do what they do, so I may find either a way for my people in the cities and towns, or teach them how to keep themselves Of the Night Sky while remaining true to the treaty."
He let that seep into his understanding of her.
"So, thou wert not chosen? Didst choose thyself?"
She laughed. "Such it always is with the People of the Night Sky, except for the Deins."
They let the silence fall again for a few moments, as the sky deepened from bright orange to pink behind the Anmur'theileian.
"Why didst thou choose me?" She froze for a moment in his arms. "I know thou didst. Wouldst not have played thy little game if thou wert not choosing, I think."
She took a couple of breaths, rubbing his arm where it held her gently at her waist. "I wanted to know thee as a man before I knew thee as my betrothed. Canst blame me? Thou couldst have been like the men in town I hide my true face and body from. I had to be sure who I was marrying. And, though thou wouldst take any woman given thee in the name of the treaty, I would not take any man."
Idra could not help fishing for the compliment she was withholding. "And, what didst thou find that made thee want this particular archduke?"
Morthu pinched his arm. "Thou art like a hunting cat scenting a rat, newly beloved…" She rolled the word, atheilu, newly beloved, in her mouth like a purr. "It is less that I found what I liked in thee, but that though thou hast many times insisted that thou hast not chosen, thou didst whatever that attempt at choice was, and kissed me. Truly, Idra, if thou hadst not wanted to kiss me, I would have let thee marry some other woman who did not care if her husband liked her."
What a strange knot he had tied with her, his insistence on not choosing, and her insistence that he choose at least this one thing. This, at least, he might explain to her.
He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers, one at a time, as he had found that she liked that night of their first kisses. "Thou knowest, I think, that my mother tried to depose my uncle, the emperor? My mother would have woken me in the morning to tell me my life had changed again, but my uncle, my dear cousin, wanted me to know what was being done, so that I had some choice in it." He could feel the tears welling in his eyes as they often did when he forced himself to remember this most defining moment of his life.
"She would have thrust me into the most dangerous position but the most powerful position if I could survive the danger of a regency. My cousin, my dearest cousin, he gave me the choice: I could side with him and remain as safe as it is possible for a prince to be. I could grow up and remain myself. But that would force my mother to condemn herself to the fate of traitors. Or, I could side with my mother and be in the precarious position of all regencies, controlled by my advisors as I was still a child for another two years. My cousin, not yet my dearest cousin, would certainly have been killed though he would have signed the abdication papers as they insisted he must. I would have been lost in the title of the emperor, probably Varenechibel the Fifth, as they would have insisted on a return to his policies.
"I had the choice, because my dearest cousin wished that I not be forced into the same position he had been forced into. It was the hardest and easiest choice I have ever made, and I barely remember it as it was the middle of the night and I was angrier and sadder than I have ever been in my life." He sniffed back the tears that now broke his voice.
Quietly, Morthu said, "And now thou dost not like lifechanging choices."
He nodded, not trying to speak again until the lump in his throat could be swallowed down again. She rubbed up and down his leg where it still propped them upright and squeezed his arm tight around her. He held her close, burying his face in her neck.
"But thou didst choose once more at least. To come here and be useful." It was not quite accusatory, but it was close.
"Because my cousin would never have chosen for us, me and my sisters. He would not choose for my aunt Vedero, either, since he knew she did not wish to be married, and she finally brought an acceptable alliance to him. So, I knew I had to find an alliance he could use me for. And, what better alliance than with the People of the Night Sky, who he wanted so badly to find peace with?"
She was quiet for a long moment, and they watched as the Anmur'theileian lit its watch lamps.
"I wanted thee to choose me as I chose thee, Idra."
He nodded again, trying to find something both good and true to say.
"I am not a romantic, Morthu, but I like thee. I like talking to thee, and truly I have never told anyone what I've told thee tonight and on other nights. I like holding thee, and I quite liked kissing thee. I did not like that kissing thee was a test, but I understand why thou didst test me. Now, I find that I want to find my way with thee, as thy husband."
He took a breath, gathering further courage. "I want to know what thou wishest to do, to help thy people—our people, as thou saidst. I want to be thy champion in the Untheileneise court, so everyone knows what an Archduke will do for his wife."
She barked a laugh at that, then could not stop laughing, pulling away.
Idra did not think there was anything particularly funny about what he had said, and began to feel his Drazhadeise obstinacy, until she said, "No, newly beloved! It is nothing you said! I am sorry! Please, it is only that I had somehow forgotten that you are an Archduke. And, that when we go to your home to meet your family, the dear cousin you speak of is the emperor! Truly, the emperor Edrehasivar!"
He chuckled a little at that, too, as he had thought of himself that way so little these past weeks. He picked up her laughter, clutching what must be her foot, and seeing the absurdity of them here discussing the future of their marriage, when his Cousin Maia was the ruler of the whole land.
"I think he will like thee, and thou wilt like him," he said.
She wiped her eyes from the tears of her laughter and finally managed to still her shaking voice. "You elves say everything is liking…" He could see her frown in the glow of the quarter-moon. "Thou likest me, thy dearest cousin will like me, everything is so bland!"
Idra took her hands in his, looking into her eyes as best he could in the low light. "I have never loved anyone before, mine own newly beloved. I can see that I will love thee, but I am slow to anything I cannot be pushed into, as I think thou now knowest." She huffed a little breath of annoyance, but something in the tilt of her mouth was still fond. "And, I am about to make one choice this evening, which I expect thou wilt be glad of."
"Oh?" Morthu's eyes narrowed.
He swung his legs around under himself and raised onto his knees, just slightly higher than she sat on her haunches. He leaned forward and whispered, "Thou hadst hoped I would make this choice for the first time, or maybe again…"
And his arms wrapped around her shoulders and his mouth met hers in a kiss that did feel like a choice, to marry his atheilu, his Morthu, this beautiful woman who challenged him in a way he hated that he needed. Her hands fisted in his coat, pulling him down over her.
Her mouth was sweet with the berries from their dinner, hot and soft. His lips trailed down her cheek, peppering kisses across her skin, and then he wanted to taste her, finding the spot where her jaw met her throat that made her moan with pleasure.
She stopped him suddenly, with a hand on his shoulder, and when he looked down at her, he could see all the stars reflected in her eyes. "Idra… Make me thy wife as my people do it tonight? Beneath the moon and stars? We'll be married as thy people do it in two days at the fortress, but please, join the Night Sky with me tonight."
"Yes, of course, what do we do? Do we need the Dein?" He started to get up, wanting to do as she wanted, the first thing he could do for her, to become her husband in the Nazhmorhathveras before she became his wife in the Ethuveraz.
But, she held him firm, cupping one hand around his cheek. "No, it is only for us, to lay together beneath the sky and feel their blessings, and then to tell the Dein in the morning."
He laughed at the simplicity. "What blessings will we receive from the sky?" He almost did not want to look up at the sky for fear he would see it watching him.
She pulled him down to rest atop her again, whispering, "That is one of the mysteries of marriage…" She kissed him softly. "The blessing is not something that can be explained with words, newly beloved." She smiled against his lips. "Dost know how…?"
Idra kissed her back, harder, wanting somehow to prove the opposite of his next words. "In theory, but only in theory."
"Let me show thee," Morthu murmured, and then kissed him with new purpose.
He was glad to learn every little piece of her pleasure. How to pull the breathy little moans from her when his mouth met the dripping center of her. The almost-tickles behind her knees and over her round bottom. Just the right pinch and massage of her bared breasts. How it amused them both to wrestle for who might be on top.
And, she, in turn, let him guide her through what he knew of what he liked. Just the barest twist at the tip of his prick with her hand slick with spit. How his ears were so sensitive, her mouth on them made his prick jolt against her leg in a way that made her giggle. Then, when she put her mouth on his prick, how he nearly lost control entirely and that only made her growl a sound that was both terrifying and infinitely enticing.
When he finally entered her, slick with desire, he could not help looking up into the sky. He thought it was that he was staving off his climax, but then he saw that mystery she had told him was the blessing of their marriage.
"Seest the star?" Morthu whispered, her own voice full of an awe he had not expected.
"Tis ours?" Idra whispered back.
"Yes, husband."
He let himself become her husband, and she became his wife, feeling the blessing of their star in every thrust of their pleasure, every breath, every touch, every word. These were the spirits, the bonds, the blessings given from the Night Sky to their people.
Day 26, to the Anmur'theileian, continued
Wish me joy, Cousin! (Thou wilt have wished me joy already, but is that not how the gentlemen in Goëlar's books always announce their elopements? Ah, well, being a married man, perhaps I am entering the phase of my life where I amuse only myself and my wife.) (Cousin! I have a wife!)
-
The Dein had been eating breakfast with Arbelan and Celehar when Idra and Morthu came back into the camp and approached to inform him of their marriage.
He stood and took their hands, looking each of them in the eye with the uncanny blood red of his albino eyes. "You have received the blessing of Night Sky?"
Idra and Morthu answered merely, "Yes."
"Then, be blessed." He gave their hands back to them and sat again to finish his jerky.
Arbelan offered them each bowls of the porridge. "Your Grace, what has happened? What blessing did you receive?"
Idra could feel his face flushed, though it was silly, because they had only anticipated their vows to the Ethuverazheise gods, and those vows were not negated by anything they had done last night. He took a deep breath, took Morthu's hand, and puffed out his chest as he said, "Wish me joy, Aunt!"
Her eyes widened as she recognized why he would say that.
Morthu scoffed. "But, we did not elope, husband. It was a proper marriage, just not an elvish one."
Arbelan reached over Idra's lap and patted Morthu's hand. "Indeed, dear, but your Drazhadeise husband does enjoy the occasional bout of drama, as you may recall from the announcement of your betrothal. We will say, you do seem to bring it out of him as we have not seen from anyone else before."
Morthu seemed to enjoy that, and Idra enjoyed that Morthu enjoyed it.
Day 28, the Anmur'theileian
I can barely believe it has been an entire month since I left the court.
Yesterday, we arrived at the fortress, and this morning, Morthu of the Nazhmorhathveras became Dach'osmerrem Morthu Drazharan, which looks in my hand as if I have married a different woman than Morthu actually is. She finds it funny to make me call her by her full title already, and it has only been ten hours. Was Cousin Csethiro like this when you married? I hope for thy sake, she was.
Celehar and the Dein are doing some sort of quieting rituals beginning tomorrow, but the Dein has said that in a week, the hauntings will be lessened enough to make it safe to begin deconstructing all but the outer walls as the treaty states.
Morthu and I are in agreement that there are better places to build a series of watchtowers throughout the land to protect both the NMV and Ethuv'z from the dangers of the badlands and steppes. Thou art not our grandfather (in sooth, thou art like no emperor in many hundreds of years, but I shall not give thee honors thou hatest).
But, in another week, too, the airship will collect Morthu and me to bring us to meet thee. I hope thou wilt like her, as I've told her thou wilt.
Apologies, Cousin Emperor, but we must stop our husband from his endless platitudes. We know you will like us, because we have heard your marriage to Csethiro Zhasan is a happy one and you are a man who sees women as we are. Oh, but now we are making stupidly nice words at you as he does. Well, as we have read our husband's journal now, we think you will have a not entirely inaccurate understanding of us, as we have of you from how he writes to you.
-
Idra had his journal for Maia delivered as soon as they touched down at the mooring mast of the Untheileneise Court. Morthu would be formally introduced to the emperor the following afternoon, and then there would be a court ball to honor their marriage and the formal end of the war since it had occurred so far away from what the empire understood to be important.
He did not expect to receive a note in Maia's hand early the next morning inviting them both to one of their family breakfasts.
They dressed simply, Morthu in only the third dress he had seen her in, a light blue and yellow brocade with her hair in a simple braid held in place with a few of his own combs, he in a matching yellow coat with the usual amber in his braid.
Morthu's court manners were still somewhat of a work in progress, but she had as much grace and poise walking through the halls of the court as she had had on the back of the donkey going down the switchbacks of the badlands. She still looked more nervous than he had ever seen before, which he could not help, though he did put her hand into the crook of his arm.
"Thou art good and kind and smart, and Edrehasivar values those things more than any other, theilu," he whispered to her, and she smiled at the endearment.
Theilu, no longer "newly", simply beloved, simply home.
When they were admitted to the dining room of the Alcethmeret, and they had bowed and curtsied, Maia came over to Idra, holding him roughly by the shoulders in his own version of the goblin embrace.
Maia's eyes shone as he smiled. He said, in the formula of Goëlar Idra had used in his journal, "Joy to you both, Cousin!"
And Idra knew it for the personal blessing it was, from his dearest cousin.