Chapter 3. "Family Affairs"

Aikerim’s manor was as impressive as ever. Tall walls enclosed the compound, shielding the luxurious buildings and pavilions away from covetous eyes and thieving hands. Only the wide open entrance gate allowed a rare glimpse of the inside as the manor inhaled carts of produce and disgorged frantic servants, hurrying to fulfil their numerous tasks.

A triumphant Lady of the House was back from her campaign and a proper feast was in order.

Well, proper by wermage standards, that was. The feasting would likely last for ten days or even longer, both as a show of wealth and to give Aikerim plenty of time to brag about her daughter to anyone important enough to receive an invitation. Others weren’t left behind either — preparations were underway to provide celebratory meals to any passer-by willing to congratulate Aikerim, further solidifying her reputation as a rich, just, and generous Domina.

Was that excessive? Perhaps. But gestures like that were one of the reasons why people trusted my Domina’s name. It was something that I would be obligated to do often from now on. Just heading to our future manor would require two major ceremonies — one before the departure and one on arrival — both to ascertain that the date was auspicious for such an enormous undertaking, and thus rely on Divines to reassure people, and to flaunt the wealth committed to the task and confirm that this wasn’t just a fleeting fancy of a bored noble. All in all, a better price to pay than being stuck in an inhospitable place with more than a thousand people without a shred of trust in me and my plans.

In the meantime, servants and guards deftly ushered our procession toward the main winter pavilion, thwarting my desires to see my family as soon as possible. Resistance was futile — Domina willed it and Yeva was surprisingly in agreement.

“Amanzhan will receive the city,” Aikerim proclaimed, once we were done with our greetings and Anaise received full congratulations from her fathers and brothers.

I inwardly grimaced as I took my spot at the table. Of course, she would snatch this opportunity by any means possible. Amanzhan Irada was the eldest daughter of the Kiymetl Matriarch and while the Matriarch was expected to pass the position to the most capable Domina, it was just as expected that the eldest daughter was that Domina to begin with. A primogeniture succession with just enough wiggle room to avoid absolute disasters… and promote the exceptionally good talents. With Aikerim rising in power so quickly, Amanzhan knew she could not remain idle and the opportunity to ‘tame’ an entire city in Hilak while her upstart younger sister was occupied by other matters was a grace from the sky. Literally, in our case. Although, judging by the looks I was getting from Anaise’s younger elder brother Amalric — it was obviously my fault that his mother wasn’t chosen.

Aikerim watched me like an amber-eyed hawk. “Should I expect any changes from you?”

I glanced at her tail, slightly patting her couch in a leisurely, relaxed manner. “My apologies — it will take a couple of days for Chirp to fully survey the land so that I can inform you of our precise destination.”

She nodded. “Good. The last thing I wanted to hear right now is you begging Kosenya to reconsider their previous offer.”

Amalric sighed.

“You wish to speak, my son?”

“No, mother. I merely lament our loss. An opportunity like that comes once in a few generations and to watch it pass us by is… aggravating.”

Implicating, but ambiguous. He was definitely growing wiser in not overextending his verbal jabs. And I was hoping that Tarhunna would focus on teaching him reason and humility first. But then again, a noble wermage father knew much better what skills his noble son would need in the future. A future where he was likely to become one of many husbands to some influential wife at that. Emanai extolled virtuous husbands that dutifully aided their Dominas, but I would eat my shoes if that alone was sufficient to climb up to the top of their sadaq-at and assume the cherished place of the first husband. Even Aikerim had a strict schedule of her pregnancies — with the next being a daughter from Ramad Qasam — just to keep her husbands in line and amenable to each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ramad wasn’t too opposed to my union with Anaise precisely because it removed me as the third husband candidate.

“How desperate was she?” Tarhunna pushed the discussion forward.

Aikerim twirled her braid on her finger. “I wouldn’t call my eldest sister desperate, that wouldn’t be polite of me. She is driven. As my son correctly called it, it is an opportunity that appears once every few centuries and every Kiymetl Domina recognised that in a heartbeat, including Amanzhan. Old favours were claimed, new lands were promised. Truly, if I were to battle for it in earnest, I would have ended up giving all of the land away,” her eyes darted to Anaise and Irje for a second, “and possibly more. So I chose a different prey to hunt. The city won’t be given to our House for free and there are obligations attached to it that my sister must fulfil if she does not wish to let our Goddess down and bring shame to our House with mediocre governance. Those obligations increase further if she seeks not to avoid shame but bring glory and have us triumph over other Pillars in Hilak.”

“Ha!” Ramad slapped his thigh. “You challenged her for the Kiymetl Speakership!”

Domina nodded. “Indeed. Amanzhan’s position in the House is too secure for me to challenge it directly but not secure enough that she can leisurely split her attention, and presence, between two cities multiple tendays apart in good weather. Truly a one of a kind opportunity.”

Tarhunna rubbed his chin. “How many years does that give us?”

“No less than five — Amanzhan would need to properly grasp her new domain before she can turn her eyes back to Samat, but it might be as much as ten if our Manor continues to prosper. Merely returning won’t give her the sash back, thus she would seek to acquire plenty of achievements first and come back triumphant so that she can sweep me aside with little effort.” Aikerim turned back to me and I felt a shiver crawling up my back. “Erf, you wished I would speak more on what you called ‘failure metrics’, yes? You now have a ruler that you will be measured against. Keep my sister in Hilak for fifty years with your achievements and I will consider your venture successful.”

I rubbed my neck. At the very least, I wasn’t asked to match her in population, size, or tribute within five to ten years — targets either impossible or severely crippling for our future growth. Still. “You don’t ask for little. What if she chooses not to wait?”

“Is it I, who is asking? You were led toward a colony of your own just as the Houses of Emanai are given cities of Hilak. There are no such things as coincidences when Divine Heurisk moves. To that comparison, my demands are indeed very little. Neither are they unjust — force my sister to act rashly and I might consider that a success as well. All of it depends on how much effort I would need to retain the Speaker sash once Amanzhan returns.”

“Then allow me to invite Isra Haleh, Wrena Khayrat, and Shahin Esca into the new Manor. I am not asking for much — two of them swore oaths to me already and the necessity of expanding beyond your Samat manor had been discussed for a while. All I wish for is a morsel of certainty as I cannot dally even by a single year to form a new group of masters directly under my command.”

“Is it certainty you seek or something else?” Tarhunna asked, casting a deliberate glance at my three wives. “I heard that you grew close to the Kausar twins during this campaign. How close?”

“Worry not, honourable father-in-law, I seek no concubines nor other wives. Ask your daughter — Anaise was present when I asked the twins to swear an oath of fealty to her — not to me. She was also there when they swore a full oath of loyalty to my Manor. While I am certain that Zamindar Enoch Azrin, the wise Matriarch of Enoch, sent them on this campaign with a different purpose in mind, I sought them out as earth mages to aid us with our future manor. As that dream of a manor became a reality of a colony, that desire now became a necessity. As such, they are my retinue, for I would be stupid to allow such an offer to pass by. As for my heart — it is illuminated on all sides by three full moons.”

Aikerim frowned. “What did you promise them for such an oath? Yeva’s aid?”

“They chose to follow me on their own volition. It is likely that they made a decision after observing me in battle and seeing how I put an entire tribe of barbarians to flight.”

The males of the household stirred from my words but no one made any loud noises of disbelief this time, not even Amalric. Aidar, the eldest son of Aikerim, gave his father a meaningful look but Ramad was already talking. “Truly? Well, I would love to hear that tale from them.”

Aikerim swished her tail. “I am certain that they wouldn’t mind sharing their tales either, but that will wait until they return from Enoch Manor. Erf, you can have Isra Haleh and Shahin Esca but your estate, furnaces, and workshops will remain as parts of my Manor. Craft what you need with the tools that you have and the silver I will lend you, but I will not permit you to butcher what is already thriving here. You will leave behind a group of servants, trained in operating and maintaining your machines so that my Manor will continue producing cloth, steel, and glass. Make sure your future plans reflect that. Now, tell me why you seek Wrena Khayrat specifically. I can find you another carpenter — Kiymetl has if not the most but definitely the best masters.”

I couldn’t help but shrug. “Wrena knows of my antics. She knows when she has to listen and act without rebuke and when she needs to slap some sense into me because I truly do not know better. Give me someone subservient and they wouldn’t dare to correct my wrongs, give me someone headstrong and I would end up spending more time convincing them to do something in a certain way than them actually doing it. At least allow her to come with us for a time. The early years would be critical while your Manor isn’t constrained by the lack of machinery anymore and she can expand her knowledge as we work on securing a steady supply of wool for you.”

Domina hid a chuckle. “At least you are honest. Very well, I will loan her expertise to you as I’ve done so in the past. Honour Yeva’s promise as a Manor.”

I bowed. “No House or Manor will receive daimonically enhanced seed without your direct permission, Aikerim Kiymetl Adal, and only the Goddess may stand ahead of you in our trades and offerings…”

Aikerim was domineering as usual but, apart from Hilak news and her unexpected promotion, little of what she said had truly caught me unawares. In fact, considering that the most surprised party were Aikerim’s husbands and sons, this meeting wasn’t about Aikerim and I finalising our venture agreement but Domina informing the rest of her family about her future plans in a roundabout manner. Perhaps to avoid the Shahin disaster of last summer when Amalric said a little bit too much to our resident lamura because he didn’t know or didn’t appreciate his mother’s plans. Perhaps it was a way to sound out any issues in advance so that her family did not feel left out from our gambit. Perhaps it was just one of the unspoken Emanai traditions, akin to me ‘asking’ for Isra and Shahin — the outcome was known already but I still had to ask so that Domina was able to permit. A tiny pirouette in a never-ending social dance that was Emanai society.

Aikerim picked up a cup of wine and drank deeply from it, signalling a shift in the conversation tone. “There was another discussion in the Pillar that pertained to my Manor. Your name, Erf.”

“They don’t appreciate my perfectly fine single-glyph name? Too pedestrian for their tastes? Jealous that I don’t need a slave to remind me how it is written and then ten elbows of parchment to write it all down?”

“Keep that wormtongue wiggling and I will give you a second name long enough that you will need ten scrolls to recite it. I am talking about your other name.”

Anaise quietly swore under her breath.

I blinked. “How can they be this obstinate? And now, of all times? I came back with a Shattered Carapace on my sash — your House can slap your name on me and not even a stray mutt on a street will look twice.”

“The House name isn’t just a piece of gold to be given away to any promising warrior,” Amalric mused. “It commands respect. It demands respect.”

“I gave plenty of respect to the House. Not the lip service but real respect. Even if they forgot everything I’ve done before my departure and never heard about my feats on the campaign, the city is still breaking their necks in awe looking at the skyship with Kiymetl and Enoch banners on it. The rest isn’t respect but obedience and they are envious I offer mine to your mother and my sadaq.”

Aikerim swirled her wine. “The ‘concern’ is that a Kiymetl name would be recorded in a general census. But that is a public reason — remember when I mentioned that Amanzhan’s position is still too secure? This was her way of showing it to me and to the rest of the House. Despite your achievements, and boons given to our House, plenty of Dominas continue to dislike your existence only because they put their oars and banners behind my eldest sister and do not wish to empower you, and me, in turn. Especially when their benefactor is about to be occupied elsewhere. Others believe your current benefits will have a future cost to our House and thus worry about your growing influence. And lastly, some have already begun to whisper that the offer you were given is nothing but a plot by the Pillars of War to prevent Kiymetl from claiming our city.”

“Well, you do not look concerned to me, so I assume it won’t affect our future trading opportunities and alliances?”

“My daughter stands by you, so no. Amanzhan did not call for a complete rejection either — you are still in favour to be attacked directly and significant enough not to be swept aside as an afterthought — she asked for more deliberation before the final decision is made. Moreover, my mother was steadfast about the fate of your sadaq. No matter what our House settles on, your Manor will be a Kiymetl one. Yeva and Irje have nothing to fear.”

“Nor do my family or our future children.”

“Just so.”

I tried my wine. “‘You will get what every husband desires but know your place, male’. It almost feels like a compliment. Where did Amanzhan get a horde of Kiymetl Dominas to agree with her so quickly?”

“Every Pillar stirred once the news about the Sky Castle reached Samat. And while they couldn’t rush to the field of battle like the resident Dominas of Bayan Gol, they knew that if anything were to happen, it would happen here once the victorious General would reach the First City. They weren’t wrong.”

I let her words settle in my mind. To my side, my sadaq engaged in a quiet strategy meeting, with Anaise and Yeva telling Irje why sticking it to the Big Boss Lady and not accepting the name until it would be offered to me was a bad idea. While I appreciated her solidarity, the other two were right — we were far too committed to bicker about trivial things and with our lifeline for that matter. Moreover, if my inheritance remains ‘uncertain’, the Kiymetl Matriarch might be forced to abandon the carrot of naming my Manor a Kiymetl one and pick up a more drastic stick. The male part of Aikerim’s inner family mostly kept to themselves. The husbands occasionally spoke to each other under a silence spell throughout the entire conversation but the sons remained mostly silent and attentive to their mother as it was traditionally expected of them.

Aikerim was watching me.

I met her gaze. “They do not know, do they?

“Your sisters, cousins, aunts. Your mother, perhaps. They do not know about the divination. I just can’t see why they would be this obstinate otherwise, not while they are flocking to Sophia Chasya because she recently conversed with the Goddess.”

Domina took a comb from a servant nearby and passed it over to Tarhunna, along with her tail. “They are eager to meet her because she is the Voice of the Goddess and the Censor of Emanai, apart from being a triumphant General of this campaign season. Not only can she speak but she can also interpret what was spoken…

“Yes, they do not know. Knowing means listening not with one’s ears but with one’s heart and many still refuse to open theirs to you. Nor do I feel the need to busy myself convincing them otherwise.”

“You are waiting until the time is right?”

“The time would never be right. Before the Matriarchs of War brought forth their offers, even I wasn’t wholly convinced of your story. And I know of you, Erf, more than any other Kiymetl Domina. Now, once the divination has borne its fruits before our eyes, it is once again nothing but words. Anyone can ‘divine’ past events. I will inform the Matriarch — my mother would not condone me withholding this matter from her — and in time it will undoubtedly find its way around our House but that alone won’t have that much of an effect. Nanaya Kiymetl Ayda might offer you a personal boon but she will not side with me over Amanzhan. Likewise, the rest of my relatives would observe and wait until one of us acts first before making moves of their own.”

Another servant approached Domina and offered her a small intricately carved box. Aikerim flicked her finger, removing the lid with her magic, and I saw another comb, a gilded string of red, and a well-polished torus. Fiery amber, just like Aikerim’s eyes, inlaid with gold filigree of the Kiymetl weighing scales and my Domina’s name. The symbol of my freedom and my enduring connection to my former mistress. “I will act if you ask me to — I gave you my word and I do not intend to break it. My House expects me to defend my daimon too. To divulge a secret of mine, to call a favour, or to concede something in turn. Or else, they expect the early fractures in our bond that they might seek to exploit. Because, once again, they do not know. They do not know that the only name my daimon truly cares about, for better or for worse, is the name he already has.”

I chuckled. “And all this time, inside my head, I was begrudgingly praising Amanzhan Irada for uncovering the general census concession so quickly… You are a very jealous Domina, Aikerim Adal.”

“And you are a perceptive son-in-law, fit to be by my daughter’s side, Spark or not… You are my daimon, Erf. The others did not find you. They did not nurture you. They did not shower you with grace, nor did they risk the future of their firstborn daughters for you. I have the right to all the spoils. Swear an oath that you will seek no other House and will accept the name of Kiymetl when I offer it to you and I will make sure that you will receive it with the respect you deserve.”

“Well, Albin-”

A grape flew into my mouth at a speed that would choke a less prepared man.

XXX

My armour clinked and creaked as I walked a familiar path, drawing servant gazes and quickly scaring them away. Most of them had never met me before, for they were brought into the manor long after I departed to the north but the word had spread already.

The master of the estate was back.

Slaves were largely ignorant of Emanai heraldry and couldn’t read the accolades embroidered on my sash with a single glance, moreso the recent additions to our estate that came all the way from Yusuf, but they weren’t blind to miss the other tell-tale signs of my status. Bereft of my conical helm, my new braid with the ‘doughnut of freedom’ was visible to all. My expensive brigandine, snow-white woollen trousers, and solidly crafted leather shoes pushed me to the rank of Aikerim’s personal guards. My yellow silken khalat and bejewelled kattar screamed at anyone that I was much, much more. And, of course, the bows and greetings from those I passed by, including lamura glassmakers.

Unsurprisingly, the anxiety was palpable. While I could rely on Yeva’s memories and assign a name to every new face I saw; to them, I was an unknown master with a bone chilling level of power in my hands. I wasn’t the all-seeing, enigmatic, but just medicine woman — she was my wife and only oversaw the estate in my stead. I wasn’t the domineering lamura with a sharp tongue and a tail that could cow a raging bull — she was my wermage Servant. They did not know me but they knew of me. And so they bowed. Bowed and looked away, lest my eyes would catch them back. Lest they discover me as a vicious and cruel master by the very skin on their backs.

All of that could wait another day.

Clutching a torus box in my hands, I slipped past loud smithies and roaring furnaces, spurred by Yeva’s reminder and guided by the noosphere she had built across the estate. Integrating into which and easing its burden on my wife was yet another task on my ever growing agenda. An important task, but not the first one either.

As soon as I passed the last corner, my eyes landed on a wer tiger idling beside a kitchen door. “Hello, Viter. Thank you for your diligent service.”

“Welcome back, ma-” My former bodyguard coughed loudly and moved to stand by my side. “Erf. Congratulations on your safe return.”

I stopped him in his tracks. “Stay as you were. I will likely end up with a dozen kids to stand behind me like statues in armour and make me look important anyway, while you will be needed in a more important position once the spring comes. She is inside?”

“She’s… ah-”

A voice behind the door interrupted his stammering. “Viter, tell Aziz to stuff it, I want you to-”

Viter coughed again. “He’s here.”

“And Yeva gave me full-”

“Not the cook. ‘He’ is here.”

Something crashed loudly in the kitchen, followed by muffled huffs and shuffling. I held my body still and willed my hearts to calm for it did not sound as if she was in danger and I did not wish to rush her in any way.

The door creaked open. “Yeva sent you.”

I inclined my head. “She told me where to find you. I came here as soon as I was able.”

“Fairy majik that. Talking to plants, appearing from shadows, speaking in tongues. Snatching children…” The door opened a bit more and my mother stuck her head out, her face dusted with smudges of flour. She looked at me all over but just as quickly turned her eyes away. That stung. Nevertheless, she stepped outside, holding a freshly-baked loaf and a pail of salt. “Said there’s tradition…”

“There is.” I stepped forward and broke off a piece, feeling the warmth and softness that no other baker could ever match. “I have returned home. Victorious.”