Shadow of the West

[Firefoot]

“Usually when two countries have an alliance, they agree to support each other in war, and protect each other’s interests. They are usually trading partners,” answered Siamak. “Which is why the Emissary’s proposal of alliance seems to make little sense - the distance between the two countries are so great that none of these things are practical.” His calm expression belied his inner confusion over the issue. Gjeelea appeared to pass over this issue as trivial, though it could be she simply did not want to acknowledge the point. Siamak could never really tell with her.

“So, why else might the foreign lord look for alliance?” prompted his mother. It was a fairly familiar pattern, for this was the way his mother had always taught them: not giving them direct answers, but making them think for themselves. The situation now was rather altered than in the past, since she was not teaching them per se, but the queen’s manner was the same.

As this was the same question that had been stumping Siamak for the past day, and so he let Gjeelea answer. She was fairly forthcoming, saying, “Yesterday the Emissary said that a country can never have too many allies.”

“But why so far away?” countered Siamak softly. “Would not most rulers look to their neighboring countries first? And if he already has his the alliance of those countries nearer by, why does he want our alliance?” Though he was sharing his doubts, Siamak was careful not to show his opinions one way or the other, mostly because he wanted to get a better feel for his sister’s inclinations first.

Gjeelea seemed not to have an answer (For once, thought Siamak), but his mother encouraged them on, shifting the discussion slightly. “So why might we want an alliance with them?” This gave Siamak pause, and he realized that this was probably the better question to consider while deciding whether to accept. Certainly, it was food for thought, but right now he did not have a clear answer - he would keep it in mind while meeting with the Emissary later on.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Gjeelea held back a sigh, and wondered why her mother had summoned her and Siamak to this questioning. The princess wondered why Bekah felt like making certain that her children remembered her lessons before speaking to the Emissary. Siamak asked questions, but none of them prompted the discussion further. Gjeelea squinted at his lack of opinion, or distaste for showing whatever opinion he might have.

"You do not ask the right question, mother," Gjeelea murmured, avoiding her brother's gaze but meeting Bekah's glance straight on. "What bothers me is what might happen if we were to refuse such an alliance. We know very little about his country, now that I think of it. What kind of impact might a refusal to the Emissary have on Pashtia? I highly doubt that the Emissary would travel all this way if he thought that our trust could not be won - or should not be won."

For a moment, none of the family members spoke. Gjeelea did not want to speak again, leaving her question unanswered. Yet, she hoped Bekah did not speak next, knowing it would only be another question that did not solve anything. Instead the princess looked to her brother.

"What are you saying, then?" Siamak asked, breaking the long, awkward silence. He stroked his miniscule beard in a thoughtful manner, and his eyes never met Gjeelea's as he spoke. "Do you mean to say that the Emissary is humouring us while we debate over trust that he knows we will give?"

"It is a possibility," Gjeelea shrugged as she cocked one eyebrow at her brother. His own brows furrowed at his sister's retort and nestled deeper into his seat. "I do not think either of us are in such a good position that we can rule out any possibilities, Siamak..." Gjeelea's voice trailed off as she remembered something that Siamak had said earlier.

...If he already has his the alliance of those countries nearer by, why does he want our alliance?

"Something is happening that we do not know of," the princess whispered, her voice so light and airy that even she could barely hear it. Siamak and the Queen must have heard the whistle on the wind, for they both looked to Gjeelea with a question in their eyes. Still the princess mused to herself. "Something big."

"What did you say?" Siamak prompted politely. Gjeelea blinked, snapping out of her thoughts for a moment, then smirked at her brother.

"Oh, nothing, Siamak my dear," Gjeelea replied loftily, returning to her regal, impatient manner. "Just thinking to myself. Now, where were we? Do you have another question for us to answer, mother?" Gjeelea waited for one of her companions to speak.

Something is happening to the west that we know nothing of...

Was this something Gjeelea would want to share with her sibling? She wondered this over and over as she revived the conversation in her mind. It certainly was not a huge discovery, just a tidbit that Gjeelea thought rather interesting and curious. Something to bring up with the Emissary this afternoon? Gjeelea mused, a light smile playing on her lips.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Because the Person I love lives
Inside of you,

I lean as close to your body with my words
As I can –

And I think of you all the time, dear pilgrim.

Because the One I love goes with you
Wherever you go,
Faroz will always be near.

If you sat before me, wayfarer,
With your aura bright from your many
Charms,

My lips could resist rushing to you and needing
To befriend your blushed cheek,

But my eyes can no longer hide
The wondrous fact of who
You Really are.

The Beautiful One whom I adore
Has pitched His royal tent inside of you,

So I will always lean my heart
As close to your soul
As I can.

Faroz spoke the words just beneath his breath and tapped out the rhythm of the music upon the pillow beside him. With his other hand he stroked the Ring unconsciously. He had been working on the poem for a long time and it was almost finished. He ran through it again to fix in his memory the shape of the words, for like all of his compositions he dared not write it down for fear that someone might stumble across it and know that he indulged in poetry. Once, long ago, he had smuggled a young singer into his apartments, late at night and recited to him the few poems he had written, and then ordered the youth to sing them aloud. The King had sat upon his cushions, closed his eyes, and listened to the low melodies of the boy as they breathed Faroz’s words into existence. It was the only time he had ever heard his songs aloud. In wild moments of fantasy, he dreamed of finding that boy once more and bringing him back to Kanak to give a performance of Faroz’s songs to the Court, but such fleeting moments had grown fewer, and now hardly came to him at all.

He was shaken from his reverie by the entrance of the Lady Arshalous and, strangely, the Lady Hababa. He rose from his cushions and approached them, waving away the guards who had brought them in. “My Ladies, welcome. I am glad that you could attend upon me upon such short notice. But where is the Lord Korak?” The women curtsied low, casting their eyes upon the royal feet. Faroz endured this with the good grace acquired through thousands of the same kind of performance. How he longed, suddenly, for the slight inclination of the head given him by Ashnaz, whose eyes never left his own to seek the ground but remained fixed upon him.

“My son is taking the airs, my King,” the older woman was saying. “On his horse.”

The King did not allow this to ruffle him. He knew the general opinion of his preference for divans over horses, and how this had been received by the nobility. It irked him that what was, for him, simply a preference of how to travel had become a fad for some, and a political statement for others. What if I were to suddenly decide to go about naked? he wondered, a sardonic smile crossing his face. Would the nobility feel compelled to undress as well? And would those who insisted upon wearing their clothes suddenly be regarded as dangerous rebels? The Lady Arshalous was now speaking. “We have dispatched a servant for him, your Majesty, and he should be with us soon. Should we wait for his arrival before speaking of…whatever it is you have sent us for?”

The King shook his head impatiently. “No, he can be informed of our topic when he arrives. In the meantime, I assume, Lady Hababa, that you are here in his stead?” The older woman inclined her head by way of assent. The King wondered if she were capable of holding rational conversation, for he had heard that she was becoming absent of mind. Be that as it may, she was here now, and the King had to admit that he preferred her company to that of her son. He invited the women to join him upon the cushions that had been laid out on the balcony. The sun was now well into the sky and the canopy of silk cast a pleasing shadow on where they sat. There was a large kettle of tea steaming upon a low brazier and the King as host, according to the custom of his land, served them all. So it was in every Pashtian home, from the meanest cot of the poorest peasant to the Palace; it was one of the few social graces that the King both fully understood and appreciated in its purity and simplicity. As they were sipping their scalding drink, the King began. “I wanted to speak with you and the Lord Korak about the proposal to build a new High Temple to Rae.” Faroz saw the look of alarm and distaste which marred the otherwise fine features of the younger lady. The elder seemed more circumspect in her response. “I have not yet decided whether to build it, but it seems prudent for me to look into the matter of financing it. I believe that your son is in favour of the project?”

“Oh, yes, I think he is,” Hababa replied. “At least, he has spoken of it to me from time to time as something he should like to see. He believes that it is wrong to have one High Temple but two deities.”

“And do you think he would be willing to pay for part of such a temple?”

Hababa looked less certain about this and made a non-committal noise deep in her throat. “I cannot speak for my son on matters of money, Majesty.”

“Of course not, but if he is as keen upon the idea as you say, it is reasonable to assume that he would be willing to see it brought about? I am sure that his…piety…would demand nothing less of him.” Hababa merely hemmed, smiled and buried her face in her cup. The King, having scored this much at least, turned his attention to the Lady Arshalous. “You, I understand, are not so keen as your cousin to see the High Temple built.” It was not a question. “You are then undoubtedly wondering why I have asked to see you as well? For two reasons, really. First, your cousin, as rich as he is, cannot pay for the construction of the Temple alone. Second, I would be interested in hearing your opinion of the matter before I make my decision. Why do you resist the idea of a second High Temple? Are you so opposed to the idea that you would refuse any request for funds to see it built?”

[Imladris]

Arshalous frowned into her cup and cleared her throat, shifting her gaze ever so slightly to see what her aunt thought about it. She had a perfectly calm...almost amused expression on her face.

"The High Temple would be showing unnecessary favour to an inferior," said Arshalous. "And yes, I do believe that Rae is inferior to Rhais, who is the earth mother. I do not pretend to understand how, exactly, she is the earth mother yet she is while Rae is merely the Sky God."

She darted a glance at the king, wondering how frank and blunt she should be. "If I had my way," she said tartly, "there wouldn't be another temple. The current High Temple has been enough...the gods are content with that. Why stir them to anger by giving a temple to Rae? Why curry their ill will with flattery?"

The King nodded, and asked again, "So you will refuse to give funds to it? You're cousin cannot pay for it himself."

She tipped her head slightly in assent. She was almost nettled by the question. How could he expect her to fund something that she disagreed with? It was unheard of it. She wouldn't actively oppose it, but she wasn't going to actively support it either. It reeked of weakness to pay for something merely because others wished you to do so. "It is not my problem," she added as an after thought, "if Lork Korak cannot pay for this Temple himself."

She sank back into the scarlet cushions, her eyes closed. "There is too much fuss about this temple," she said, almost to herself. "I do not understand why there is a need for it, why there is a need to change that which does not need to be changed. Unless, of course --" she opened her eyes at this -- "they want something more than a temple and that is only a mask for it. But I am likely being paranoid."

[Novnarwen]

The two men hurried down the narrow street. It was rather empty. Only the outlines of a few figures could be spotted; the figures moved quickly, casting long shadows as they went. Not a sound could be heard, except the sound of the two men’s pairs of feet against the stone floor, echoing slightly as they trotted on. The Priest went first, having Pelin just behind.

"Come now," Tarkan said suddenly, realising that the younger man probably kept his distance due to the difference between their social statuses; Pelin was only being respectful by walking behind his superior. Nevertheless, Tarkan stopped and turned, waved his hand and laid it at the man's shoulder. "Please, Pelin, why do you think I arrived at your apartments this morning?" he asked gently with a faint smile. He could see that the young man was rather surprised by being asked such a question, as it was not usual to question such things. In fact, it would have been rude if Pelin had questioned Tarkan's intentions by his coming. Tarkan watched the young man being silenced by the hesitation and insecurity that arose inside of him. Pelin gave the priest an odd look, which reflected both. By this, the Priest spoke again:" Is it that unusual for friends to have breakfast together?!"

Without letting the man answer, if he could answer, as Pelin seemed to be quite taken by this comment, the Priest hurried his pace, urging Pelin to walk faster as well. Shortly, they arrived the Temple of Rhais.

For a moment they stood silently watching it, raising their heads, gazing upwards. The huge cedar doors stood ajar, letting some of the dim light out on the street. Even though it was a Temple, raised to honour the earth goddess, Rhais, it was seemed as if it was a magical moment for Pelin, as the young man favoured Rae over Rhais, or so Tarkan chose to interpret this odd form of quiet ritual. Tarkan too though, felt something strange come over him, something which touched him and made him feel important. It didn’t after all matter that the Temple he served in was devoted to Rhais, as long as he himself was a truly devoted servant of the male God, he reminded himself of.

Suddenly, he shook his head, as if having been told to do so by some higher power. What were they standing here for, wasting time? A sudden urge to nudge the man next to him hard in his ribs, swelled up inside the Priest. He managed to restrain himself, thinking of his great accomplishment thus far. Pelin seemed to be captured in the illusion of being the Priest’s best friend. Tarkan frowned, watching Pelin standing motionless. “Tell me. Does your soul fully belong to the earth goddess, Rhais?” Pelin’s face expression changed. His eyes shifted, became dark and thoughtful, as if not knowing the answer. How can that be possible? Either you favour Rhais over Rae or the other way around! The Priest thought, feeling both annoyed and anxious. What if Pelin didn’t after all favour Rae? Whom could he turn to? Did anyone else in the Temple truly favour the sky god over the earth goddess? If he was left alone with his strong belief that Rae brought more and better to the people of Pasthia than Rhais, no new Temple would ever be built, certainly not in the honour of Rae, his God. Pelin was maybe useless after all. Tarkan alone would not be able to convince the King to build a new Temple, even if it was his half brother. Who else can I turn to? He asked himself over and over, almost forgetting, or ignoring, Pelin being present.

“Father, is it for me to answer?"

The priest's first reaction was the sudden need to slap him. Is it for me to answer...? he mimicked and repeated inside of his head.

"Dear, Son. Pelin if I may . . . I only ask because you seemed hesitant to enter, as if you didn't want to go in. What is keeping you? Is your lack of faith hindering you?" By this, Pelin opened his mouth to protest, but the Priest had his way with words and continued silently:" Pelin, Pelin, Pelin. Through my years as a Priest and a servant of the Temple, I have seen many devoted men and women leave; all of a sudden they have left and never come back. Not because they necessarily wanted to, but because their faith lessened instead of increasing! It is a pity every time to see such; souls being filled with longings to do something else. The saddest thing however about men and women like these, is that they do not realise that serving in the Temple would have been the best path to follow," he paused for a second to catch his breath. "I, not wanting to see you choose, what I call, the wrong path, merely imagined myself that you were favouring Rae over Rhais, and that this caused your hesitation for entering the Temple of Rhais. It is all right to favour one of the Gods of the other, though I do not recommend it. It will get you ill places. I know many who do though, and thus I really hope it was only this that kept you as I would not want to see you leave, as devoted as you are, and as believing in none and nothing will certainly have its effect on the human soul..”

He turned his back to him, raising an eyebrow, leaving him. Had he managed to scare him? He wondered. An evil smile appeared in the pale feminine face of his.

“Dear Father, if you let me . . .” Pelin started, tears in his eyes, as he caught up with the Priest who was about to enter the Temple. “Please know that I do not want to leave! I will never, I promise! It is true; I favour the one over the other, and that is only why I hesitated. But please, tell no one of this. People will think me crazy to serve and so spend many hours in a Temple where the honour goes solely to the earth goddess.”

The sound of Pelin’s words made Tarkan tremble. Not of fright, but of pure joy. Either, the young man truly favoured the male God, or he had been stricken with panic when Tarkan had supposedly been under the impression that he was leaving and never to serve in the Temple again. Tarkan’s mutterings about going to ill places if he believed in neither of them had probably also had a great effect on the poor man. Getting a grip of himself, as he had difficulties restraining himself for laughing out loud, he patted the man on the back. The Priest gave him an approving nod, and muttered a few comforting words under his breath. “I understand . . I understand . .”

"Now let us go inside and eat . . ."

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The Lady Arshalous was indeed an odd mixture of cunning and naivete. She was able to perceive that there were motives other than piety at work in the nobles’ desire for a new High Temple, and yet at the same moment she brazenly denied her King’s request. It had not been a command – it could not have been. Pashtian law expressly forbade any form of indirect taxation, but everyone knew that a royal request was something not lightly to be ignored. The Lady was well within her rights to deny the King, but it was a dangerous game for her to be playing. Faroz was neither vindictive nor vengeful, and from time to time it came about that one of the nobility would defy him. Had such a thing happened in his father’s day the one foolish enough to deny his or her king would usually end up charged with treason for an offense that had hitherto been unknown. Occasionally, such niceties as this would be skipped entirely and the offending nobleman found dead in his bed within a year. In the time of Faroz’s rule, such incidents had ceased, and for a time there had been those among the nobility who had seen this as a sign of the son’s weakness. But Faroz was somewhat more imaginative than his father, and his tactics, while more subtle, were just as effective in the end. Those who denied him found themselves suddenly faced with any number of difficulties. Petitions to the Court would be delayed, sometimes for years, before being heard. Certain privileges would be curtailed, and royal appointments for the offender would not be renewed. If the noble who had denied the King had trading interests, that same noble would find new permits and trading rights hard to obtain. In this way the King was able to bring home to his people the disadvantages of not co-operating, and sooner or later, he would get his way.

It had been a long time since he had been forced to make an example of anyone, and he found the prospect of having to do so now…distasteful. For years he had ruled unquestioned and unopposed, and he did not relish the prospect of an open display of disloyalty from someone as relatively unimportant as the Lady Arshalous. It would be better if she could be convinced today. Appearing unconcerned by her refusal, the King offered the Lady more tea. She accepted and as he poured it out he said, almost conversationally, “Are you very sure you wish to make such a quick decision in this matter? You do not appear to have considered it deeply, and yet you are willing to reject my request,” he allowed an emphasis to rest on this word, “almost immediately.”

The Lady seemed to catch at least part of his meaning and asked, “What more should I consider, Majesty? Are there other factors I have not taken into account?”

“None that pertain to the Temple, Lady. I merely ask that you reconsider your answer. I do not make such a request lightly.” He paused for a second and sipped his tea, then continued. “You are quite young, Lady, and I realise not much used to an active role in the Kingdom. If you would not mind a bit of free advice, it might do you good to become more involved. It is your choice, of course, but I would think that contributing to this Temple might be just the opportunity you need to make a place for yourself – to distinguish yourself amongst the other nobility. I can understand your reservations about the project, I myself share them. Like you, I believe that there may very well be – other factors behind certain people’s support of it. But that cannot be our concern, can it? Mustn’t we make our decisions based on what we believe and want, rather than from fear of what others might be planning? Besides, Lady, we are only speaking of what might be, today. As I said, I have not decided whether or not to build it – so what harm is there in lending your support to it now?” He eyed her above the rim of his cup, and wondered if she understood the choice he was offering her…and that it would only be offered this one time.

[Imladris]

Arshalous sat up straighter, a vague feeling of fear tingling in her stomach. Too late she realized that she had blundered in giving such a straight answer to the King; that was not how the game of politics was played. She had much to learn...she had spent far too much time away from court...far more to learn that she had realized.

She knew that the King's request was almost equivalent to a command. She remembered stories of nobles who had spurned a King's decrees -- they had not come to a good end, and the King's wish had ultimately been done. But the unfortunate noble had definitely come out of the ordeal with robes splattered with mud, and cowed like an insolent puppy. The image did not appeal to her.

She set down her cup on the low table, to better hide the trembling in her hands. The fear had given way to anger. Why should she have to give her word to pay for the building of a temple she did not think was right because a King ordered her to? Why did a King command her conscience...demand of her to do what he thought was right?

He knew that there might well be a plot behind this building of a temple...why would he want her to support that? Did he think that the building of the temple was for the good of the realm? She caught her breath at the thought, remembering, from the stories that she had read, that sometimes what you wanted must be given up for the good of others...she reluctantly realized that what the king said was true...foolish fears must not hinder them...

And was she not a noble of the realm who had sworn allegiance to her King? But when did that allegiance become willful blindness?

She weighed the two problems in her minds: compromising with evil (if the building of the temple could be considered evil) or if she was merely concerned with her own preference. She did not want to suffer for a preference...that would be a waste. And her vow to serve her king must be taken into acount as well...

She clenched her silken robes in her fingers. Inclining her head in a short bow, she said thickly, "Yes...my King...I will help pay for the temple."

[Bêthberry]

And so the morning passed between the Queen and the Royal Children. Each was warily supplying ideas, half afraid the other would take the idea and make more of it than the first had initially planned. Yet at least slowly they were gaining some sense of the wide range of issues the alliance implied. The sun rose higher in the sky, its beams shining hotly into the Queen's balcony and the white heat making their heads dizzy with its brightness. Through the open window came the unmistakable sounds of the market, shrill voices of vendors and sellers, counter-offers from buyers and customers, screeches and calls and cries of caged animals, birds squawking, half-wild dogs fighting for the offal thrown out by the butchers, children shrieking with the exuberance of childhood. This was the centre of the Pashtian economy, for even the large trading ventures and the private arrangements depended upon the wealth of the open market.

Homay brought in lunch, cucumbers and yoghurt, wilted greens, shaved, roasted meat layered over bread, figs and pomegranates and apricots, hot, sweet tea. The three ate in silence, for once letting the sharp prongs of words fall by the wayside.

Finally, after the three had eaten, Bekah returned to the question of the Emissary.

"We have not considered how such an alliance might affect the alliance with Alanzia." It was a simple statement, but something about saying it brought a tenseness to the conversation.

"Would your brother-monarch object?" Siamak inquired. He had always been curious about this uncle of his who he had never seen.

"He might. He might question if it would bring him into an alliance with this Annatar, without the benefit of choice," replied Bekah.

"Are we not free to make our own alliances?" asked Gjeela

"We are. Your father is," replied Bekah, "but, still, alliances can turn a country's interests in different dirctions. Siamak, has Morgôs mentioned if we have any scouts who can report to us about the western lands beyond the desert?"

"Not yet, but I can ask," the Prince replied.

"Surely that would take too long," objected the Princess. "Do we know how long the Emissary will stay?"

"A good question, Gjeela. I have not been told."

"What does he offer us?" Siamak asked.

"That I do not know either," Bekah replied, "although, it is said he did offer a gift, a magnificent gift. Have either of you seen it?"

"I saw a black pouch, a velvet bag, I think, and a flash of gold," replied the Prince.

"But it has not been displayed, has it? It has not been publically acknowledged and placed on display in the court?" Bekah tried to mask her interest in this, but her children could tell she was intrigued by this.

"Should it have been?" inquired Gjeela.

"It depends upon the terms of the offer of the alliance. Was the gift offerred to Pashtia in the person of her King? Or to the King personally?" Bekah became lost in thought and her children began to fidget. Their complaints over some of the food brought back her attention. "Well, I have kept you long enough, my children. I'm sure you have business of your own to conclude. My thanks for your patience and your attention."

Each child rose, offering Bekah a kiss on her cheek, a ritual each observed in private as well as in public. She remained seated as Homay showed the children out. Faroz has not shown me the gift. He has not displayed it to the court. Is it offered to him alone? Does this Annatar wish Faroz's alliance and not Pashtia's? She sat a long time wondering if she should ask the King about the gift privately, or challenge the Emissary publically about it. Then she roused herself, knowing she had other matters to discuss later with the High Priestess.