The Forgotten Dream of Tana 3: Imago (Chapter 1: "The mirage of choice")

Roxanna Kosenya Inayat

“Albin Shebet Chasya, the Speaker of the House of Records!”

Keeping her babe close, Matriarch dismissed the attendant with a flick of her tail. As if that Spark outside needed an introduction. As if there weren’t less males in Samat than fingers on one hand who were allowed to witness her yet unnamed son. As if this was the first time one of the Matriarchs of War invited him for a visit soon after giving birth.

It was known that the scent of a newborn could wake the fatherly urges and if someone needed to have his urges awakened it was Albin Chasya. Not that Roxanna was truly desperate to claim him as one of her husbands — she was already blessed with good daughters, ready and willing to pick up her reigns if she were to step down — but these invitations had become a tradition more than a few decades ago and stopping it now would be admitting defeat in this petty game of theirs. Roxanna hasn’t reached her winter days yet. She could still play.

The announced guest stepped in with customary greetings and the attendant girl vanished with but a single poorly-hidden glance. Roxanna would need to commend her daughter at managing her Manor — last time, the lady in waiting walked into a door frame.

Albin Chasya was a pleasant sight on an average day and a neck twister when he was actually trying to look impressive. Today, he was. Albin was well aware of their tradition and ‘fought back’ with his own tricks. A silken khalat hugged his body, revealing the usually hidden outlines, while slitted sleeves and an intentionally short tunic underneath offered occasional glimpses of his well-sculpted forearms and calves, making something mundane titillating, without looking desperate or obscene.

“Please receive my congratulations on yet another victory for Emanai,” Roxanna offered her greetings as she watched him recline on a nearby divan. Gone were the days when she would feel frustrated at his antics, futilely trying to discern a speck of want in his displays of comedy, now she just enjoyed the view. Whether their discussion would yield results that she wanted or not, her eyes would have a feast. “And to your sister — the whole Samat is getting ready to witness her triumph.”

“Once she and her arms are allowed to enter the capital,” Albin rested his head on his tail, “that is.”

“That was no mere border scuffle but a battle culminated in a Divine intervention.” Roxanna picked up a wine cup, sighed, and put it aside. “A battle that your sister won. If it was important enough to draw the attention of our Goddess, it is important enough to make certain that Sophia Chasya’s triumph will happen on the most auspicious day. If priestesses and the Censor lack in anything to perform their rituals — the House of Kosenya is always ready to assist. In the meantime, I seek your assistance, Albin Chasya. As the Speaker of Shebet.”

Albin grinned. “You wish to conclude the daimon affair before my sister finishes singing praises to the children of our Goddess.”

“Just so.” Roxanna nodded and gestured at the piles of scrolls on a nearby table. “Despite the appearance of Divines and Sophia Chasya holding barbarians by their necks, the arms were ordered to withdraw with lacklustre spoils. That is not the way of Emanai. We claimed fewer captives than we lost warriors, and while the continuous safety of Bayan Gol is worth more than a handful of slaves and ransoms of gold and seed, my heart tells me that the true reward is still to come. Not only mine — all three Houses of War are in agreement on this matter.”

“And so you will make Erf an offer that Aikerim Adal won’t refuse, before his arm crosses the gates of Samat. Before he walks the triumph as a Creature slayer. Before his Domina braids his hair and names him free,” Albin summarised with a nod. “Prudent. What aid do you seek from me, honourable Matriarch?”

“The daimon and his Domina made their desires known. It isn’t hard for us to fulfil them as long as there is a sufficient will to do so.” Roxanna inspected the dishes laid out in front of her divan and summoned a different table. Her child’s Spark still remembered his mother’s will and eagerly fed Roxanna with power. Power that had to be used, lest the babe start wielding it without reason. “I’ve done my part to ensure Roshanak Gulnaz has that will. It is no longer just the Kamshad House yielding land to him for uncovering the artefact-wielding spies in their midst… Erf will be presented with three choices — one from each House of War — for his past deeds and for returning our lost honour. A gesture of goodwill, not submission. My cousin will keep her pride, the daimon will have his pick, and Aikerim Adal will see her daughter acquire a respectable Manor.

“But that will is wavering. In part, because the House of Records was involved in this affair from the start. For it was the advice of Sophia Chasya that encouraged my cousin to offer her son to Anaise Hilal.” Roxanna leaned back and opened the staves on a nearby window, allowing her and her guest to witness the winter sky over Samat and the most recent Enoch skyship. Gone were the simple baskets of yesterday, now there was a true sky-galley with multiple spheres, to keep the hull above the rooftops, and brightly coloured oar-sails, to propel it forward. The latest venture between the Enoch and the Kiymetl that resulted in three inter-House marriages already. It was unlikely that many non-Pillar Manors would have enough wermages to make one fly, let alone afford to keep one, but that would only make the skyships more prestigious to have. For they were not barges to haul grain but sky chariots for Matriarchs and Generals alike. “In part, because some are beginning to whisper about the daimon having too much influence in matters where he does not belong. A compromise must be struck to keep both sides content — the daimon will receive land to satisfy his wants and more, but he will need to govern it directly.”

“A good plot of land, a distance away from Samat and the Summit of Speakers,” Albin rumbled with that teasing voice of his. “An exile.”

“If you wanted to settle him closer to the capital, your sister should have ‘advised’ the House of Samat instead.” Roxanna rolled her eyes. “What is an ‘exile’ for someone not allowed to enter the Summit in the first place? The daimon will pursue his daimonic crafts in the safety of his domain, something his Manor and Aikerim Adal showed as their priority over any Summit aspirations by decidedly refusing Muramat Nishad — a direct son of the current Kamshad Matriarch would’ve been an ideal Speaker material for the nascent Manor — while the local Dominas will cease their clucking, mollified by his absence and occupied by other, more mundane matters. None of us wish for someone else to trace the steps of a bewitched Muramat and cause a blood feud in the heart of Emanai. Especially right now, with two arms standing at the gates.”

She moved the babe to suckle on her other breast as her magic picked up a fragile wine jar of Nuurian Amber and poured just enough to fill a goblet. Every wermage mother could flaunt their strength but very few were able to show effortless control.

The full goblet reached Albin without a single ripple on its surface. “It is the belief of the Houses of War that the House of Records shares the desire to maintain the Emanai Peace and keep our arms fighting foes… elsewhere. After all, the whole marriage affair was just a trick to uncover Barsashahr spies, was it not?”

Albin covered his horns in a fake display of submission as his magic effortlessly received the goblet. “Peace, mighty Matriarch! The Divination given to your cousin was done in good will yet corrupted by the meddling of barbarian Divines. Neither Shebet, my sister, nor I will stand in the way of this affair. For that is not only your will but also the will of the Goddess. Our House would receive the new Manor as we were ordained by her. No more and no less.”

Roxanna stilled her shiver as she leaned back to ponder his reply. His Flow was akin to the hands of a gentle giant — large and warm, strong and delicate. If not for her body, tired and dull after bringing new Spark into the world, she might’ve been the one to walk into walls and sigh the nights away after that. Her heart was right about the daimon, however — there was some Divine interest in him — not without reason, considering the thoroughly vetted reports about his strength and cunning — but nowhere enough to put him above the Houses of Emanai. A useful piece but not a coveted child. More than Roshanak wished him to be but less than Lita’af feared him being.

“I will send the word to my cousins. Aikerim Adal will hear from us before the sun sets.” She said with a small nod. “I thank you, Speaker of Shebet, for your understanding. But tell me, Albin Chasya, does he understand what lies ahead of him?”

“Whether he does or not matters little for he has thinking pants.”

Roxanna blinked. “Thinking… pants?”

“Indeed!” Albin nodded, most vigorously. “His words, not mine. I am convinced that the rest of his clothing is thinking too and not just the seat of his pants or the small of his neck but that is quite another matter.”

“Or maybe he was politely telling you that he was just farting along.”

Albin waved his tail in the direction of the open window. “Yet here we are.”

She glanced once again at the skyship. “Indeed.”

There was a reason why rituals, sacrifices, and offerings were done to appease the Divines, never to ask for boons directly. For very few could withstand Divine attention, let alone meet their exacting demands. Her House was safe in this matter — they had a lasting purpose to fulfil, but Roxanna found herself hoping that the daimon wouldn’t stumble either. After all, she still had an obligation to collect for mediating this offer at the peak of her pregnancy.

Aikerim Kiymetl Adal

Anaise reclined in silence for a handful of heartbeats once the scribe finished reading the scroll, only the twitch of her tail betraying her astonishment. “Those are… impressive offers, mother. All three of them.”

“Indeed.” Aikerim observed the reunited sadaq in front of her. Now that the arms were stationed on the Samat mustering grounds and waiting for the permission to enter the city, those with the means to do so adjusted their temporary quarters accordingly. Her Manor alone brought out tents and carpets not only to house the sadaq and their unexpectedly early retinue but also to host guests with the pomp appropriate for their status. Their new status — both Anaise and Erf received quite an earful from Aikerim for rushing with the Manor proclamation without her assent. Nevertheless, the decision was a matter of when not if and rather than chasing a bird in the sky, Domina rushed to ensure the new Manor wouldn’t squander this opportunity due to the lack of experience.

For that reason, she requested this meeting to look not as a private conversation within the family but as a Manor hosting an important guest and the arrangement they chose was quite telling. Irje reclined on the right couch, as the First wife. Anaise took the central position, as a singular Domina otherwise would have. Yeva lied on the left… in the arms of their husband. When pressed, Erf argued that Anaise was the most versed among them in the ‘geopolitical lay of the land’ so she should ‘lead’ the meeting on their side. Irje got her place based on rank and Yeva’s priorities lied elsewhere, specifically underneath her. Not very traditional but very much Erf-like. “Roxanna Kosenya Inayat is a woman of honour and influence. Nevertheless, she managed to surprise even me with the Kishava participation — I expected Parusatis Aminah to present a token proposal at best and otherwise remain a silent witness but her offer is as loud as the other two. No, any other Domina-to-be would pick hers amongst the three and never look back.”

Irje leaned closer.

Recognising the movement with a tilt of her ear, Anaise leaned back and floated a map of Emanai. A flame flower quickly blossomed as her magical aide. “There, westward from Samat, four days on ship then three on horse. Don’t let the size or the hills fool you — I’ve been there a few times when I was a child and the whole hillside is covered in olives and grapes of good quality. With two tied villages…”

Irje nodded in understanding. “Then the lack of farmhands would not be an issue. This land will provide great wealth from the very first day and will not stop doing so for generations to come. Do you think…”

“Most likely. When we were children, Mushaf rarely missed an opportunity to flaunt her possessions, future and present.” Anaise waved her tail. “And her mother wouldn’t take her inheritance and offer it to someone else without reason. The offer is a statement itself.”

Aikerim smiled with approval — her daughter didn’t let the recent accolades muddle her mind. “Parusatis Aminah isn’t trying to court you with her offer — she is ‘returning’ the favour for the private meeting between Mushaf Davlat and ‘Azhar Mesud’. For that reason, if Mushaf Davlat becomes pregnant with a daimonic child in the future, Erf would be unable to demand any additional favours from Kishava. And if he chooses to be belligerent — the traditional value of her offer will sway the public opinion to her side.”

“And if we were to accept this offer?” Irje rubbed her palms.

Anaise shook her head. “We would find ourselves between two Manors — that of Mushaf Davlat and her second cousin, both of whom are young, childless, and without husbands. Before you let your eyes twinkle, know that their lands would overshadow ours many times over — rather than being welcomed into our Manor’s retinue like the Kausar twins, they will demand our status at the very least or aim for the role of a sole Domina at worst. Whether or not they will succeed is irrelevant — life there would not be peaceful.”

Aikerim chuckled. “They aren’t after Erf but the company he attracts. I am certain that either of the two Ladies are eager to see the likes of ‘Azhar Mesud’ frequenting their corner of the countryside.”

“For now. Goddess only knows how long that would last.” Anaise sighed and shifted her flame spell to the central region of Emanai. “The Kamshad seem to be quite sensible this time — I would need to thank Lita’af for her efforts. This plot of land isn’t renowned for its fertility but it can easily sustain the four villages they are giving us and more. There are firewood and game forests and while mining rights belong to Gabal, Amul is only ten days downriver. Samat — twenty.

“The Kosenya offer is…” The dancing petal flew to the northernmost parts of Emanai, barren from common landmarks, “open grasslands on the far outskirts of Uureg. The wolves of the north use those fields as pastures for chariot horses but they aren’t offering any of their breeds. Likewise, the lease of mining rights is more than welcome, even if it only extends to the black ores, but there was no mention of mines in their offer and I do not expect any, since Uureg brings their metal from elsewhere. The few and paltry rivers flow north into the Bay of Tir, and ships would need to sail across it to Uureg first and only then sail upriver to Amul, drag the boats across, and sail down to Samat. Three, four, maybe even five tendays away from the capital. While it is not as far as Bayan Gol — a dubious argument by itself — it is just as expensive. The land they are offering is bigger than the other two combined and that alone sends shivers down my back but just as Kishava offered exactly what a Domina would want, it seems as if the Kosenya are trying to make their offer as unpalatable as possible.” Anaise hugged her tail in thought, a childish act but Aikerim would let it slide — her daughter’s thoughts were flowing well. “But that would not be the Roxanna Inayat I know. Tell me why we would want this more than the Kamshad offer, especially when all of us wish to end the Muramat affair post-haste and never look back at it again.”

Domina swished her tail. “You remember your maps. Well done. What is not known to you is that the Kamshad offer is smothered by that ‘tenday downriver to Amul’. It is not the best route — it is likely the only one. And on it lies the villa of Roshanak Gulnaz. It is a simple retreat, but she can expand it to exert greater oversight over your shipping. Control, even. On the contrary, the Kosenya offer is constrained by distance and terrain that have no will of their own. The water route through Uureg is lengthy but this is the only offer bordering a Kiymetl Manor and my dear aunt will be happy to establish a land route with you and have your trade travel over her domain. Knowing Erf as much as I do, it would not surprise me if you end up supplying entire Uureg with your route in a not so distant future.”

“Erf did say that his steel bulls can travel land and cart great burdens on firewood alone,” Irje mused.

“And each one requires enough good steel to fully clad a handful of maniples, head to tail.” Anaise sighed and glanced at Aikerim. “We will need silver, a lot of silver. Meanwhile, you are assembling dowry for my brother. I have no desire to hurt Aidar’s prospects in marriage by being too greedy with my fortunes.”

Domina inspected arksite beads woven into her sleeve. “I didn’t let you throw away the norms and enter the sadaq of Isra Haleh, the smith, I let you join the sadaq of Erf, the daimon. Your brother’s prospects are assured by Yeva’s staking her name, title, and possibly life on it, and I won't send my firstborn daughter to scrape for sustenance either. You will have a Manor house, servants, and animals to sustain your sadaq and your retinue. Meanwhile, alchemical concoctions will make your sheep breed faster than rabbits, filling the empty fields in a matter of seasons. Supply me with their wool and you won't need for silver.”

“So we have three offers and three opinions.” Anaise turned toward the silent duo. “But since our Manor isn’t a traditional one, the traditional choice might not be the wisest. What say you, Erf? Which offer speaks to your heart and mind and why?”

“Let me say this first — all three offers are beyond impressive. I mean, the areas are large enough for you not to measure them in paces of a walking adult or furlongs of a working ox but in villages they sustain.” Erf didn’t startle from the sudden address — as Aikerim previously assumed, he didn’t simply lose himself in the embrace of his missed wife and listened to the conversation in earnest. “Impressive enough that discussing their differences feels like choosing the colour of my kaftan for a daily walk. The words of our Goddess are far more concerning.”

Aikerim rubbed her temple. “You are not meant to fully understand the Divinations, Erf. Simply rejoice that you weren’t promised certain bloodshed and death as long as you follow her commands and pick the burden most palatable to you.”

Erf chuckled. “But that is exactly what I meant by the colour of a kaftan — none of their differences are burdensome. Not to us, that I promise you. While true burdens are shared among them all in equal measure.”

“Erf,” Anaise murmured, “You said it yourself that the Goddess demanded from us to step away from Samat for the next fifty years. The Houses of War are following the flow of Fate without knowing and so should we, lest we offend the Divine Heurisk for refusing the Fate she Saw for us.”

“It is not the distance to the capital that burdens me but the laws that are coming from the Summit.”

Domina frowned. “Are you doubting my ability to protect you from the capital?”

“No, but there are laws that I don’t want you to fight for me. Laws that I can’t let you fight for me so as not to anger the Goddess. Laws that will nevertheless bind us and smother our growth.” Erf sighed as his fingers continued to comb Yeva’s hair. His lash held her body close to him but otherwise they were still. “Emanai laws were designed by Manors and for Manors. Agrarian, slave-owning Manors. They are robust and well-polished by centuries of case laws and amendments. But just as much they are a boon for a traditional Manor, they can be a hindrance for other ventures. More than a hindrance.”

“The Divine Heurisk did not say that the Houses of War will burden you, but that they will make you pick a burden.” Yeva suddenly spoke up from his lap, startling a nearby wine servant. “She also said nothing about the number of choices available to you.”

“Indeed.” Erf reached out and touched Anaise’s hand. “I know the missives were worded as ‘take it or leave it’, but do you think we could ask for some amendments?”

“More than could.” Anaise nodded. “They are being unreasonable with their demand to hear our answer within a single day, so we ought to be a bit unreasonable ourselves so as not to appear meek. They are likely to try and lessen their offers with every request you make, so make sure they are worth it.”

“Then I have just one. Full charter of rights for our land.”

Aikerim snorted.

Anaise palmed her face.

Erf rubbed his neck. “Well, something like Bayan Gol, at the very least. A small summit, akin to a younger sister to the Summit of Speakers. Deferential in large decisions yet independent otherwise. I cannot meet the expectations of our Goddess within fifty years while carrying a legal quern-stone on my neck.”

Aikerim shook her head. “You will not have it. That is not an offer the Houses of War can give you — even if they wanted to — as they would need the House of Records or a majority of Pillars for it. Both of which they were adamant to keep away from this affair. Seek another path but know that I will not let you squander this opportunity. Not when the future of my first-born daughter will be shaped by it. At worst, you can relinquish the offered land to your wives and seek a personal quest to appease the Goddess.”

“I would rather keep my Erf around,” Irje grumbled to herself. Her hand slid down and patted the now slumbering living sword. “Land can be acquired, daimonas — not so much.”

“Maybe you are misunderstanding the words of the Goddess,” Anaise offered. “After all, even you don’t assume she meant some burdensome sack on your back. It could also mean an oath or duty… What?”

Turning as one, Erf and Yeva stared at her for a few heartbeats. If not for Yeva’s usual sash on her face, Aikerim would’ve seen four silver eyes blinking at her daughter.

Erf chuckled. “I was also trying to align the words of the Goddess with a choice that would favour all of us, Aikerim included, and your focus on the word ‘burden’ summoned a memory of another word that once carried similar connotations. Provincia.”

Aikerim frowned in thought. That was not the word she was familiar with.

“Prowinkia?” And neither was Anaise.

“Remember my musings about Latin when we were setting off on this campaign? Well, I did not ask whether the Divine Heurisk can speak it but she surely knows about it. The word once meant ‘burden’ and ‘charge’ then ‘office’ and ‘duty’, similar to the word ‘burden’ you know in the celestial language of Tana. And then…”

“You will ask for land from the Houses of War.” Yeva murmured in his arms. “They will make you pick a province.”

Domina closed her eyes. Province, district. Separation. “Erf. Are you absolutely certain or this is just your heart speaking?”

“I played a game of chatrang with her.” Erf shuddered. “I can almost feel her amusement as the seemingly irrelevant moves she made a long time ago suddenly come into play all at once to my resigned chagrin. She called me a silver piece, distinct from her ‘golden set’. Not just other Manors, Houses, or Pillars but Emanai at large. While the Houses of War are content with me gone from the political heart of Emanai, The Divine Sovereign wants…” He paused, reached out, and stroked down Anaise’s puffed tail. “The Divine Sovereign expects me to go farther. And now that I know what she told me, now that I've won the Divine protection for ‘my square’ where I can spread my wings in full, I agree.”

“And how do you envision yourself ‘picking a province’?”

Erf pondered once more. “A trading colony. Somewhere on the shores of the Southern Sea with the focus on being logistically close to your Manor. With the new ships equipped with stronger, lighter sails, compasses, and looking-glasses, it would be easy to find a spot that is no farther by sea than the offers of Kamshad and Kosenya, yet outside of Emanai proper and thus can be another Bayan Gol without raising too many eyebrows. As ships mature, the distances would shorten even further, but by that point we would have a well-established claim.”

Aikerim snapped her fingers. “Sulla.”

Her attendant stepped in and unravelled a second map of Emanai that focused more on sea routes rather than rivers and roads within.

“I assume you are not thinking of crossing the waters?” She saw Erf shake his head and nodded. “Good. At least you have some scraps of sensibility not to cosy too close to the lamurian dens. Northern shores, then. Forget about the west direction — until the Goddess appeared in the north, that was the main campaign and most of our arms and galleys are currently there and they will stay in the region until their complete victory. A handful more campaign seasons and the land would be ours from here to the Western Gates. Unless the Great Creature Slayer is planning on sailing past and around the Sefid Mountains so that he can impress our Goddess by slaying a thousand Creatures this time? No? How unexpected. Now, on the eastern shoreline, past the Babr Mountains, there are cities of Hilak then the Eastern Gate with the Sirgan tribes on the northern side and the Geuse fire-fortresses watching the sea route from the south. Those three are the major powers in that region. I could name you a hundred lands past the Gate and then another hundred more but sailing through it would place you under bigger scrutiny than the Kamshad offer and longer travel than the Kosenya one. So tell me Erf, whose lands do you wish to invade? Empty land or not, there is always someone with a claim. Or there will be someone, once you made it profitable.”

“That is where the Houses of War come in. None of us made any direct demands to the Kamshad Matriarch, we merely ‘reminded’ Lita’af Hikmat that our nascent Manor is still landless. The proper etiquette and whatnot, but that also gives us a bigger manoeuvre window. After all, I would never dare to ask for personal land from such esteemed women! No, I was merely seeking the aid of the Matriarch of Offence in helping us claim some land for ourselves. A handful of maniples, no more — just enough to help us make a landfall in a remote area, far away from major players and of little import, and then dig in. No sieges, no major campaigns. March in, build a fort, stay until the next summer or longer. The campaign season is over and arms need to train new recruits in marching and fort-building anyway.”

She glanced at her attendant. “What do you think of his attempts?”

Sulla bowed, “He is quite shrewd at not calling the place he wishes to settle by its name. Few consider living in the Spilt Entrails and those that do, don’t do so from an easy life.”

Erf scrunched his nose. “That is exactly why I didn’t. Who comes up with such names anyway?”

“There is an old tale of a barbarian God baring his fangs at the fertile lands of Emanai. He was bold and fierce and quick to strike, yet the son of our Goddess was quicker. He tricked the beast and cleft him in half. His fallen body became the Babr Mountains.” Aikerim rapped her knuckles on the drawing of a slain tiger separating Emanai and the barbarian steppes. Curved in its viscera. “The wounds ooze to this day, seeping their rot into the rivers… Why do you think badlands are called badlands, Erf? The name is a warning for the young and eager. And you wish to forgo the offers that would make another Domina wet at her mouth and drag my firstborn daughter to live in a no wer’s land. You may put some distance from the Houses of War, and likely look cowardly for doing so, but the innards of the Babr Mountains are not desolate wastelands either — there are barbarian tribes skulking in the highlands-”

“Pirates,” Sulla murmured.

“-and pirate settlements, festering on the shoreline,” Aikerim continued. “You will be forced to defend your claim far past the ‘next summer’ and either grow completely dependent on the protection by the Houses of War and thus subservient to their whims, or smother your growth far more than any laws of Emanai would. Make it sound wise.”

“The nuance is in the details.” Erf rose up from the couch as if he wasn’t pinned down by Yeva all this time and swiped a knife from a nearby table. “The increased focus on defence and safety will slow down our growth but the laws of Emanai will put an upper limit on it instead. The difference between this,” His finger drew a small circle on the map, right where the Kosenya offer ought to be, “and something like this.”

The blade bit into the map parchment, carving out the drawing of the tiger like an arm surgeon removing a festering arrowhead, and Aikerim felt the shudder travelling from her neck and into her tail. Erf did not set his sights on a certain piece of land within the Babr Mountains, he was eyeing them in entirety! Not a matter of villages but entire regions of Emanai in comparison. How large exactly? Some travellers said that the mountains were as large as Emanai itself but only Gods knew the true answer.

“The difference,” Erf waved the cut-out like a trophy braid, “between your daughter becoming a rich and powerful Domina in a matter of years and then patiently waiting for a century or two until it is her turn to tie the Matriarch sash around her waist… Or her becoming a Matriarch in her own might before you are ready to pass your title. Tell me, Aikerim Adal — how many in Emanai history had the honour to be called the Mother of Matriarchs?”

Aikerim hid her smirk as her daughter tried to sit still and look indifferent.

Irje coughed. “I know that your alchemistry can cleanse the land.” She shifted on her couch and cast a quick glance at Anaise. “But to tame the land we would need more than your knowledge, the Kiymetl silver, or the might of our sadaq. We would need people. A lot of people, and I do not speak of good servants that do as they are told. I speak about the likes of Isra Haleh and Wrena Khayrat to oversee steel and wood, your potter — Keiran, I think his name was — and even Shahin Esca. Our Manor would need about that much to be prosperous if we are to remain in Samat or pick the simple Kishava offer. Few dozens for the Kamshad or many for the Kosenya. Beyond Emanai? Hundreds. Not all of them could wait until we grow big — you might get the Houses of War to lend you their maniples but someone still needs to count how much tribute we owe, collect it, and then deliver it to Samat on time. Someone shrewd enough, so that we are not bled dry without being accused of not paying our dues and have the very same maniples protecting us to… procure them. Or worse. And that is just one, important example among many, many more. And each one will have their wants, needs, and demands before they swear their loyalty to us. How many can we take in? How many can we afford to? The Kausar twins were eager but they weren’t an accident — the Enoch Matriarch picked them to follow us on the campaign for that exact reason, without a doubt.”

“This is why Erf is pushing for the full charter,” Yeva found her voice. “A conventional Manor with its slow and deliberate nature, geared for the steady accumulation of agricultural wealth, will struggle to expand as fast as we need it to, just as it will be too inflexible for the unpredictable nature of the Babr region. Trade will be our lifeline and our biggest strength and we would be wise in choosing a system that prioritises that above all else. Something akin to the lamurian city-states, for they also struggle with a lack of fertile regions and rely heavily on trade to grow and prosper. Not a Domina with her immediate and distant family but a magistrate and his ministries. Each one with a power over hers or his domain, akin to the Pillars of Emanai, yet growing not by blood and marriage but by immediate demand. Or shrinking, if the times demand that too. We have other means of earning loyalty beyond the access to Erf, so why should we dilute our sadaq with the hordes of concubines for the sake of tradition? Why should we wait for the palatable candidates when what we need are the competent ones? Yes, this won’t stop others from trying, but the separation of sadaq and state means they can’t get both while demanding one. And they would have to be very, very persuasive to demand both. Know this, Irje, for you will be that people-choosing ‘Pillar’. Not because you are Erf’s wife or even his First, but because your success is our success and we need your ‘overseer’s eye’ that you sharpened over the years, working for Aikerim Adal. The very same eye that spotted the daimon in a barely-dressed murk slave.”

“Pillar. Matriarch,” Domina groused to herself. “Yeva, don’t you have any pride in all that effort you expended convincing the Kosenya Matriarch? A handful of words and you are singing to Erf’s tune.”

Yeva tilted her head. “I am his wife, after all. But it wasn’t Erf’s words that changed my mind — the Divination did. Deep in your heart, you also know that neither of the three offers will ultimately satisfy the Goddess. Too simple. Too mundane. Too much of what she already has in hundreds. You were biding your time, making sure that Erf’s solution wasn’t a harebrained one. And no — the effort isn’t wasted either. It is exactly because they made such an offer that our counter-offer would be seen as reasonable rather than outrageous.”

“Yes, yes.” Domina waved her off. “I’ve heard plenty by now. Anaise?”

Anaise pulled her eyes away from her sadaq and faced Aikerim once more. Her tail settled in her lap.

“We head East.

“But we do not go meekly. For the Kamshad’s folly, the Houses of War will ‘aid’ our ‘exile’ with their maniples. For our other boons and favours, they will promise to back our future claims over the Babr region. Let them breathe a sigh of relief knowing that our eyes are set on a different prey. Let them know that we are not tucking our tails between our legs in their presence nor do we wave them to and fro as soon as they dangle a treat in front of us. They are useful and they will be used.

“Nor do we go foolishly. We will set our sails once the season of storms passes, giving us the rest of the winter to prepare. And prepare we will. I want this colony to start bringing in silver and gold as soon as possible so that no matter whether the maniples stay or leave, whether the land is cured or not, we can always rely on the Pillar of Kiymetl to keep our walls safe with hired guards and our granaries full with imported grain.”

Aikerim nodded and savoured another grape. Yeva was right — she was biding her time, but not to ascertain herself whether the plot was a harebrained one or not. It most definitely was, but that mattered little when he was involved. Erf could lay his golden eggs anywhere he wished. Her attention was on Anaise and so far she was satisfied with what she saw.

So far.

“Well said, my daughter — the success will be ours and no one else’s for we are the ones risking it all. Erf, I am not going to ask for you to sing me your convictions — eight million full cuts of silver-”

“Mother!”

Aikerim raised her palm, commanding silence. “-will be your price of failure. Come back with nothing but your shorn tail or leave the honour of my daughter in tatters and you might as well say farewell to your free life and possessions until you pay that debt in whatever manner I will tell you to. If you are not confident enough — this is your last chance to reconsider.”

Erf shook his head. “My Chirps were flying across the region throughout the campaign, specifically to avoid the large Forest outgrowths in the north. I chose the region because I know the land, not because I harboured naive thoughts about it.”

“All your debts will go through me, all your trade will go through me, and I expect the first delivery of wool by next autumn.”

“Agree on debts and wool. A preferential trade, not exclusive — we will trade with you first and deal with others only if your Manor is unable or unwilling.”

Aikerim twitched her ear.

“Your daughter will oversee the trade. All of it. She will make sure that neither side is slighted.”

“You have no one better. Still, it is not an easy task and she is young — I will appoint advisors.”

Erf shrugged. “The final decision would be up to her but I would gladly accept your help. Irje is right — we need people. But no slaves. Not even slave servants for your advisors. If they are important enough to demand a cadre of servants — they can afford to hire them.”

“You already turned a hundred thousand cut expense into something close to five hundred. Your hundreds of slaves — can you afford to free them now and make it nine? Are you risking everything for some misguided sense of righteousness?”

“More like I am turning that five hundred into four by freeing them. What do you think they will do with their newly acquired silver? They will buy food, shoes, and clothes. They will seek better shelter to store their possessions and shield them from elements. And there is only one vendor in town. Us. Unless you think they will seek pirates to buy bread or nomads to build houses. Silver will trickle back to us, exchanged for the very same goods I have to provide one way or another. Yes, some of that silver will settle down in their pockets and I won’t be able to satisfy them with rags and barley porridge but I also won’t be spending fortunes on maintaining a horde of overseers that do little work by themselves. On this, Aikerim, I will not bulge. Not because of my morals but because the… werpower is my version of land and slaves are my badlands. I will not waste resources on enforcers, slave catchers, and slave-specific laws so that the select few can bask in free servitude.”

“Eight million cuts, Erf.”

“Chains into circles, Aikerim. The gears of economy must spin.”

Aikerim’s eyes slowly slid down his figure and settled on the piece of parchment in his hands.

“Ah.” His stalwart image crumbled in a heartbeat. “Apologies for ruining your map.”

She scoffed. “Now you are worrying about a mere handful. A proper reply to Roxanna Inayat is necessary, and you,” Flow snatched the piece from his fingers and brought it over to her, “were holding the very parchment I will be writing it on.”