Dragonfly (3 page)

Tashi approached her fellow rulers with a carefully measured step. Marisa of Phonilara, the First Crown Princess, was already sitting on her throne--the Throne of State, which was carved like a ship in full sail--her white robe spread around her so she looked like an old wrinkled figurehead. The Second Crown Princess,

21

Safilen of Lir-Salu, a fine-looking woman in her fifties, was just taking her seat on the Throne of Plenty--a magnificent piece decorated with images of the harvest of land and sea. She swept the folds of her green robe, embroidered with golden sheaves, so that they rippled gracefully to rest on the floor. The Third Crown Princess, Korbin of Rama, followed her, sitting down swiftly on the Throne of Justice. Her face was set in a frown, fingers stroking the blue sash in her lap in a subtle sign of irritation. Her chair was cast from bronze, its back shaped like the blade of a sword. Korbin was the closest to Tashi in age, being only twenty-nine. The last place, the Throne of Nature, was built of plain wood. It was no better than many a chair in a matriarch's hall but its simplicity was to remind the four rulers that the riches of the land and sea, the civilization their ancestors had built here and the ocean they had come to dominate, were all founded on the natural gifts of the Islands. Without the blessings of the Creator Goddess, none of this would exist.

So why,
wondered Tashi for the hundredth time as she approached the seat of unyielding wood,
does the most junior Crown Princess get to sit on it?

Tashi bowed to her sister rulers and took her place, spreading her dragonfly robes in an elegant arc around her feet to mirror Safilen's gesture.

A bell rang in the roof, signalling that the government was in session.

Marisa rose to her feet. "Sisters, the first matter for our consideration are the preparations for our defense

22

against our enemy, Emperor Fergox Spearthrower. Our messenger birds from the embassy in Gerfal have brought a reply to our proposal of alliance.

King Lagan agrees."

Tashi joined in the round of polite applause from all in the room. She had known that the First Crown Princess, responsible for foreign affairs, had spent months conducting these delicate negotiations. Tashi remembered the rough-looking ambassadors she had practiced bowing to only the month before. Their tunics and trousers had seemed very out of place amongst the robes of the Blue Crescent court, their loose long hair almost wild compared to the modest veils customarily worn in the palace. And the Gerfalians had all been men.

"King Lagan agrees that our alliance must be cemented by ties that cannot be easily broken. He proposes a royal marriage with his only son and heir but has rejected my suggestion that this should be with a daughter from one of our leading matriarchal families. His Majesty is clear that only a Crown Princess will do. Though it is against our practice, I reluctantly agree with him. Extraordinary times demand extraordinary measures. Prince Ramil must marry an equal to show that the two nations join as equals."

Tashi did not at first understand what Marisa was saying--it was so unexpected. Crown Princesses were allowed to marry, but only as a private matter, kept away from the court. The Second Princess was well

23

known to have been married happily for twenty-five years, but few had seen her husband, rumored to be a priest in one of the lesser temples. But a public--a state--marriage was unheard of, a major break with tradition. Tashi was not the only one to be surprised; all the councillors gathered on the benches around the thrones looked perplexed, a very extreme show of emotion for the notoriously controlled court of the Blue Crescent.

Safilen rose to speak.

"Sister, I understand the wisdom of alliance, but marriage to one of the four, that will have results none of us can predict, change the entire balance of power in this court."

The First Princess acknowledged the justice of the remark with a nod. "Of course, I know this, but we can also predict that this court will not exist in a few years' time if we do not forge alliances now. What will Fergox Spearthrower make of our customs and our laws? Nothing. He will

desecrate the temples of the Mother and put us all to the sword, Crown Princesses and commoners alike, if his behavior in other countries is anything to go by. I propose a change, yes, but nothing as radical as he would force upon us."

Korbin rose.

"If what you say is correct, sister, then the only matter that remains is which one of us shall be chosen to represent our country in this alliance?"

Tashi raised her fan to hide a smile. The Third Princess

24

made it sound as if marriage was a sporting competition. In importance and age, Korbin was clearly the front runner for the task.

"King Lagan requires the wife to be of child-bearing years so that narrows our choice," continued the First Princess with the merest glint of amusement in her eyes. "Our ambassadors describe Prince Ramil as (forgive the undiplomatic language; I asked them to be frank) 'an uncouth boy of eighteen.' We must vote as to which of our two younger sisters should take up this burden."

Two
younger sisters. Tashi suddenly woke up to the fact that she was being seriously considered for the marriage.

"The one chosen should be prepared to spend much of her time away from court. Her role will become that of a roving ambassador between us and Gerfal."

Marisa did not have to spell it out, but Tashi knew what that meant. If the Crown Princess was away from the Islands, she would lose much of her power, miss the government sessions, reduce her influence with the people.

Tashi glanced at Korbin's severe face: she too was quickly counting the cost.

But I can't do it!
Tashi thought in a panic.
I'm barely accepted as it is. A
strange marriage would just about be the end of me, demote Kai further in
importance, signal the end to my training and education. Added to that the
fact that I don't want an "uncouth boy."

"We wil vote in the usual way," announced Marisa.

25

Each princess picked up the four voting sticks that sat on an arm of each throne--white, green, blue, and orange.

"Blue or orange?" intoned the First Princess. "Begin."

As described in the Law of Voting, second scroll, paragraph one, each ruler chose her stick. A bell sounded. One by one, four sticks were cast onto the tiled floor between the thrones, falling on the lily mosaic designed to be a reflection of the dome above.

"The decision is taken," Marisa declared.

Tashi stared at the floor in disbelief. Three orange sticks and one blue lay at her feet. The three older princesses had all voted for her.

"But I can't--" she began.

Her three co-rulers looked at her in astonishment. No princess ever raised a personal objection in open court.

Tashi stood and bowed. "Forgive me, sisters. What I meant to say was 'As the Goddess wills.'"

She walked out quickly, knowing she was breaking precedent by leaving before her elders, but she couldn't stay there after what they had just done to her. Once in the corridor she broke into a run, gathering up the heavy brocades of her robes in clenched fists. Little Kai, unimportant island of the union, sacrificed to please some distant king and to keep the other three safe. She could scream. It should've been Korbin: she was older, fully trained as a diplomat, more than ready for marriage, representative of the largest island, Rama, so less

26

likely to lose her influence. So many reasons pointed to her.

But they had all voted for the youngest, least important, most dispensable princess at court. An insult to the Gerfalians if they realized it.

And an insult to me too,
Tashi realized. They probably thought a goat herder would be a good match for the "uncouth" barbarian prince.

Tashi stormed into her bedroom, shut the door in the Etiquette Mistress's face, and threw the bronze fin-gerbowl out of the window. It made a satisfying clang as it hit the pavement below.

She flung herself on her bed. She'd do her duty but Goddess help Prince Ramil if he expected any more from her than that. If he did, she would make his life very unpleasant.

The point when Ramil completely lost his temper was when he was refused entry to the stables. He had intended to fulfill his promise and take his little sister riding, but a guard stopped them both at the entrance.

"I'm very sorry, Your Highness, but the King has ordered that you are not to be allowed in here." The guard, a jovial man for whom Ramil had often bought a drink in the inn by the castle gate, was now looking very sober and very serious.

Inside their loose boxes, the horses neighed, sensing the presence of their favorite rider at the door.

27

"Ram, where is the pony?" whispered Briony, clutching her brother's hand nervously.

"The pony is in the stable, but apparently I'm not able to fetch it for you."

Ramil could feel his temper getting the better of him. "The Princess--is she allowed in?" he snapped.

"Of course, Your Highness." The man lowered his spear.

"And if I order a groom to bring the pony here, will I be allowed to take my sister into the park?" Ramil asked acidly.

"No, Your Highness, I am ordered to keep you in the castle."

Ramil turned to his sister. "Sorry, Briony, lesson cancelled. Run back to your nurse."

Leaving Briony bewildered by this sudden change of plan, he strode out of the courtyard, heading for his father's chambers. King Lagan was closeted with the Prime Minister, Lord Taris, a map spread on the table in front of them, dotted with tiny figures of men and ships.

"So, I am to be a prisoner in the castle, am I, Father?" Ramil asked, not stopping for the courtesies of greeting.

Lagan pushed a division of soldiers towards the mountain passes crossing to Brigard.

"It is my wish to keep you close by until the marriage takes place," Lagan answered calmly.

"That is outrageous, Father! You are treating me like a criminal!"

Lagan sat back and regarded his son astutely.

28

"Would you give me your word that you will not desert us?"

"Of course, I--"

"Would you swear it on the good name of your mother?"

"I . . . " Ramil faltered.

"Exactly."

Ramil twisted his riding gloves in his fingers. "Do you think she would've approved of this, Father?"

Lagan picked up a model of a cavalry officer thoughtfully. "No, 1 know that she would not. She would've saddled your horse for you and bribed the guards to let you leave."

"So why are you doing this to me?" Ramil cried in despair.

"Because she would have been wrong. Sometimes the head, rather than the heart, has to rule."

Ramil could have screamed with fury. His particular heart had become a fiery ball of loathing.

"I hate you, Father."

"Do not say that," Lagan replied wearily. He had had just such a scene with his own father and his punishment for his choice then was to have to live through it again today. "I am trying to save Gerfal. I'm saving you from yourself. If you ran from your duty, believe me, you would never forgive yourself."

Ramil was burning to throw something, to hit his father even. "You talk about duty, Father, but you forget that I can show no duty if I cannot choose. How 29

will you know whether or not I would act as becomes a prince of Gerfal if you do not allow me the chance to make my own mistakes or even make my own right choices? How can I ever be fit to rule Gerfal like this?"

Lagan nodded his approval. "You argue well, my boy, but the time to give you that opportunity is not now. Later, I promise, you will have plenty of freedom to show you are fit to rule."

"But--"

"I cannot risk the nation's happiness on your experiments in rule."

"All right then. Shut me in the dungeon--show the people just what you think of me."

Anger flashed in Lagan's eyes. "You are being insolent, proof that I was right to confine you!"

Ramil gave a hollow laugh. "Unfair, Father; very good maneuvering, but unfair. Do not try to blame me for your injustice towards me!"

Lagan rose, assuming the full dignity of his position, his green robes sweeping the floor. "Consider, Prince Ramil, in your pride and your selfishness, that I could be wrong to you but right for our people. Tell me, in my place, would you put the happiness of your own child over your duty to your nation? Tell me, what would you do?"

Ramil glared at his father. "I would trust my son."

He left the chamber, slamming the door behind him.

30

The crown barge glided up to the palace mooring accompanied by the quavering pipes of the royal orchestra. Streamers fluttered gently from the prow--orange in honor of the passenger who was to take this journey to the sea. Tashi was bringing nothing with her. All her belongings and ceremonial robes had been packed by others and sent ahead. They didn't feel like hers in any case. She'd struggled for years to make herself into the Fourth Crown Princess, but the marriage decision had driven a breach between her two selves. The princess was an empty shell, a collection of words, actions, and drapery; Tashi was far away, hidden somewhere inside herself, watching it all with disdain.

The other three Crown Princesses stood beside her as the priests went through the ceremony of farewell.

"I have asked the Etiquette Mistress to write a new set of rituals suited to your life as a traveller, sister," said Korbin haughtily.

"As the Goddess wills," murmured Tashi.

"We would value frequent messages from you," said Marisa, "and will expect the nuptial visit of you and your consort in the spring."

Tashi nodded, not trusting herself to say anything on the subject of consorts.

"A word in private, sister," Safilen spoke gently, taking Tashi's arm. The other two rulers watched in surprise as she led Tashi aside. The courtiers tried to ignore this break with precedent, keeping their eyes to the barges gathering in a flotilla of orange ribbons. The sun glanced off the network of canals that