The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3) (29 page)

Guarding Bear lovingly exposed the head of his hated enemy. Even in death, the bandit general was proud and unafraid.

“Lord Father, Lord Emperor,” Flaming Arrow said, “I believe that this man was a loyal citizen of the Eastern Empire. I humbly request that we expiate the name of Scowling Tiger of all dishonor.”

An uproar greeted Flaming Arrow's request.

The Imperial Medacor's mild voice was inaudible over the noise. “Silence!” Flying Arrow said again through Soothing Spirit's mouth, but no one heard. Guards began to pour into the hall from all entrances.

Then the grizzly roared and reared, a towering mass of terrifying flesh.

In the quiet following the bear's bawl, the Emperor ordered, “Silence!”

No one spoke. The warriors retreated, no longer needed.

“Lord Flaming Arrow, placing such a request before me during this ceremony is an insult! Do you have so little respect for custom, for honor, for yourself, by the Infinite? I refuse, of course. Don't ask again.”

The Heir bowed, growing red with embarrassment. Reconsidering whether he should have made his request in private, he realized that that wouldn't have served his purpose. A public request for Scowling Tiger's expiation was a first overture toward reconciliation. The bandit solution lies not in armed confrontation, he thought, but in our gaining their peaceful cooperation and coexistence.

“Forgive me, Lord Father,” he said, feigning fear and befuddlement. “I, uh, got, uh, excited and arrogant. The ritual must have addled my brains for me to say such stupidities, eh? Perhaps I was among bandits for so long that their thinking infected me. I humbly ask your forgiveness, Lord Father.” Flaming Arrow bowed again, put his head to the stone floor and held it, hoping he had smoothed Flying Arrow's ruffled feathers.

“Well,” Flying Arrow said, more calm than before, “since you brought back his head without his body attached, their thinking can't be
too
contagious.

“Lord Assistant Colonel, you testified to witnessing the acquisition of these heads.”

“Yes, Lord Emperor Arrow, of all but one,” Probing Gaze replied.

“Lord Colonel, did or didn't the Lord Heir Flaming Arrow acquire all these heads but one himself, without undue help from yourself or other persons?”

“Lord Emperor Arrow, I watched the Lord Heir Flaming Arrow duel and defeat all these bandits but one, with liberal help from only the Lord Infinite.”

“Yes, and plenty of that, eh?” Flying Arrow said, chuckling. “I'm more than satisfied, my son, that you've met the requirements. I, Lord Emperor Flying Arrow, father of this boy the Lord Heir Flaming Arrow, declare him a man…”

Cheering erupted and drowned the Emperor's next words.

The bedlam continued while Flaming Arrow received the blessings and embraces of his friends. Guarding Bear said nothing while they embraced, but grinned madly the whole time, his face an open-mouthed grimace that would have been terrifying were he not so happy. The Heir found he didn't mind the General's silence, feeling grateful just for his presence.

Someone nudged Guarding Bear away. Behind him stood the Imperial Consort Flowering Pine. She embraced her son and said beneath the roar, “I'm proud of you, my son, more proud than I can tell you.”

Tears blurred his vision. He hadn't known she was capable of so much warmth. An empty place inside him shrank. “Thank you, Mother. I love you,” he said inaudibly, hugging her again and wiping the moisture off his face.

“I love you too, Flaming Arrow,” she said. Her burnished auburn hair flowed gently about her shoulders as she released him and retreated.

He smiled after his mother wistfully, wonderingly.

When the exultation had diminished to a quiet roar, Flying Arrow continued. “Congratulations, my son, I'm proud of you. According to custom, you may ask of me, as reward for achieving manhood, anything you wish, within reason.”

The last two words not part of the ritual, Flaming Arrow tried to suppress a grin. He wouldn't have requested expiation for Scowling Tiger a second time. He remembered his promise to Thinking Quick. “Lord Father, I request the implementation of mandatory eugenics.”

“Eh? My son, you should request something for yourself.”

“I don't want anything for myself, Lord Father,” he said, feeling complete and whole and knowing the feeling ephemeral. “Listen, Lord Emperor, right now only the affluent can afford genetic analysis in the first trimester, even though the procedure's simple. In poorer or outlying areas there's little if any prenatal care, and no screening at all for non-viability. Lady Matriarch Water, what's the percentage of non-viable births among your daughters?” He had asked her to research the data.

“One percent overall, Lord Heir. In the Caven Hills, though, it's as high as three percent,” Rippling Water replied.

“The Water Matriarchy, Lord Father, is famous for its beneficence. Not all matriarchies are as attentive.”

Soothing Spirit, still speaking the Emperor's words, leaned toward Flying Arrow with the concentration of psychic communion. “Who'd be responsible for arranging the analysis, Lord Heir?”

“The mother and her matriarch, Lord Father.”

“Not all can afford analysis, as you pointed out, Lord Heir. Who'd pay for analysis?”

“Eventually the matriarchies themselves, initially the Empire, Lord. I propose that for the first five years, the Empire should absorb the cost. Since eugenics is a preventive measure, however, the matriarchies will actually
save
money, not having the costs of miscarriage, or of the years of personal care and feeding for a child who cannot function well enough to be a productive citizen.”

“Interesting,” the Emperor said through the Medacor's mouth. “What does the Lady Matriarch Water say about this proposal?”

“Lord Emperor Arrow, I feel concerned that having only the matriarchies absorb the cost implies that only mothers' genes are defective,” Rippling Water said. “Fathers give their seed and are equally responsible for non-viable fetuses. Patriarchies should pay as well, eh?”

“Your concern has merit, Lady Water,” Flying Arrow said. “I hereby declare genetic analysis mandatory for every fetus before …” Soothing Spirit looked at the Emperor and gestured a few times as if telepathing something. “… before the tenth week of gestation. Matriarchy and patriarchy shall divide the cost of analysis evenly. I hereby grant your request, Lord Heir.”

“Thank you, Lord Emperor. What should I do with the heads?”

“I imagine the Lord Bear might like to have the head of Scowling Tiger. Have the others delivered to the southern entrance of the Tiger Fortress for the Bandit Seeking Sword's review.

“My son, I'm proud of you. The title of man fits you well.”

* * *

Scott Michael Decker, MSW, is an author by avocation and a social worker by trade. He is the author of twenty-plus novels, mostly in the Science Fiction genre and some in the Fantasy genre. His biggest fantasy is wishing he were published. His fifteen years of experience working with high-risk populations is relieved only by his incisive humor. Formerly interested in engineering, he's now tilting at the windmills he once aspired to build. Asked about the MSW after his name, the author is adamant it stands for Masters in Social Work, and not “Municipal Solid Waste,” which he spreads pretty thick as well. His favorite quote goes, “Scott is a social work novelist, who never had time for a life” (apologies to Billy Joel). He lives and dreams happily with his wife near Sacramento, California.

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