Her robes were on
backwards. Jura wondered if anyone would notice, the gold and purple
stitching on the formal black court robe was only slightly different
in the front than the back. She
didn't have time to sneak away and change before the council session
started. Dwarfed by the massive walls towering around her, she
inhaled sharply, letting her breath slowly leak out between clenched
teeth. Had the justice
dome always been so tall? She lifted her thick maiden's braid as
a trail of sweat escaped from the nape of her neck to drip down the
stiff collar of her robe. She sidled to a pillar on the least
populated side of the dome, and pressed her back against the cool
marble.
The members of the
Thirteen milled the concave room, flitting in and out of conversation
and tossing distrustful glances at one another. No one else was
wearing the traditional court robes and Jura suddenly remembered that
they were only used on voting day or when foreign diplomats were
present. She bit her bottom lip and her blood rushed into her cheeks.
Wearing them now proved her
inexperience, wearing them backwards showed she was an idiot. Her
spectacles slid down the bridge of her nose and she sighed as she
shoved them back up. Why had she even worn the damn things? The
glasses, not the robes. Although they were both giving her trouble.
She scanned the room and noticed that almost all of the Thirteen had
arrived, the council meeting would start in a matter of minutes.
If
the council didn't accept her, her house would lose everything.
Kader,
Eighth of the Thirteen, was making his rounds with refreshments. The
members of the Thirteen took turns serving one another, and Jura was
grateful that she didn't have to add the duties of serving girl to
her growing list of anxiety. Kader stopped in front of her to offer
water from his silver serving tray. She reached for a glass and was
about to bring it to her lips when she became aware of the Eighth's
beady black eyes following her movement. She paused, her hand
faltering in mid air. Water was the standard beverage during council
meetings. Not only was pure water a nod to the Thirteen's stature, it
was also the most difficult liquid to poison without detection.
Jura
rolled the glass in a slow circle, watchful for any residue that
might have stuck to the clear glass as it tilted. Was he watching to
see if she would drink it or just curious because she didn't belong?
She raised her eyebrows and
forced the corner of her lips to tilt upward. Kader inclined his head
politely before turning to offer water to another council member. She
deliberately set the glass down on the floor beside her. She wouldn't
drink from it, just in case.
Denir,
Fifth of the Thirteen wore a low cut golden gown that clung to her
figure. She flirted prettily with Jabir, the Seventh, a tall narrow
man in neutral shades of gray with dark curly hair and a devilish
gleam in his eye. He leered down at the Fifth. Jura seemed to
remember that he was married but she couldn't say for sure. She
struggled to place a name for a few of the others but couldn't
remember any except that of Ahmar, the Third, and father of her
closest friend. He was in deep conversation with a man who seemed
impossibly wide for his short stature. The fat man's jowls quivered
as he spoke and he leaned back from the Third nervously, his hand
hovered just above his sheathed dagger. No one, aside from
Kader, had even acknowledged her presence. If she had acted when she
first had the thought she might have been able to sneak away before--
"Daughter of
the First, good evening. I almost didn't see you there, skulking away
in the corner as it were.” Velder, Second of the Thirteen lifted a
hand in greeting as he walked toward her.
“Making a new
fashion statement, I see?" He raised his eyebrows.
Jura
muffled a groan. Of course he noticed her fashion faux pas.
She grimaced and bobbed a quick curtsy, "Councilman Velder. How
good to see you.”
"Indeed. And
how very odd it is to see you. Where is the First? It's nearly time
to start the session.” The councilman's long, tapered fingers
stroked his thin gray mustache.
This was the moment
she'd been dreading. Council meetings were closed to all except the
voting members of the Thirteen families, she knew that. Jura was not
the voting member, her father was, had been for the last twenty
years, and now they were stuck with her.
"Yes. I mean,
no. That is, the First is...indisposed." Not for the first time,
Jura resented the fact that she belonged to the first house of the
Thirteen.
Velder frowned at
her. "Is that so? His presence is needed to preside over the
council meeting."
"I
understand," she mumbled. Father hated when she mumbled. Her
fingers flew up to her throat, as if scratching at her tender skin
would send the words pouring out. She just had to spit something
out, anything.
Anything but the
truth.
"Councilman
Velder the First is--"
"Absent for
the second day in a row.” Velder's eyes narrowed. “The people of
the Republic can not rule themselves. The First--"
"The First is
indisposed." It came out as a shout and she lowered her eyes,
frowning at her shoes. People would stare.
"He is
unwell," she said softer. Her tongue darted out to moisten lips
gone impossibly dry. She wished she'd drank Kader's offered water,
even poison was better than this.
"I will judge
in his stead." There, the words were strangled, but she'd said
it.
Velder hid his
chuckle beneath a gloved hand. "With all due respect the
Thirteen would never approve."
“The Thirteen? Or
you?” Velder had never liked her. He didn't seem to like anyone.
Jura bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Her hands
were shaking, so she squeezed them into fists by her sides. She was
seventeen years old, hardly a child. She could do this, she had
to do this. More than anything she wished she was back in her
rooms, buried in her books and far away from the vultures of the
court. But things were different now, had been for the last three
days. There was no turning back.
He would never
forgive her if she caused their house to lose Rank.
She pushed her
dangling spectacles up the length of her nose and glared at the
councilman. At least she thought she was glaring, it felt like she
was squinting up at him, and she hoped she appeared stern. She felt
ridiculous.
“I am the only
heir to house of the First.” He didn't respond and she took the
opportunity to raise her voice and
address the room. She flinched when her voice came out as a high
pitched squeak. “It is my duty to serve as First interim if my
father is incapable. His sickness--” She frowned, correcting
herself, “his minor illness has forced me to step forward and
fulfill my duty as his heir. Who will oppose this law?”
“Not I,” chimed
out Fatima. Jura rewarded her with her best smile. Fatima currently
held low Rank, she was from the House of the Eleventh or Twelfth.
Jura could never keep the Rankings of the lower houses straight, they
were never stagnant. The councilwoman probably thought her quick
approval would secure her Rank when the next vote occurred.
“I second it,”
Ahmar, the Third, boomed. Father of Amira, Jura's closest friend, and
her best bet at gaining quick acceptance from the Thirteen. The giant
of a man tossed a curious smile in her direction.
Jura hid her sigh
of relief behind her grin. His approval was all she needed, the
others would all follow.
Velder stepped
back, bowing low. His face was apologetic, but his tone dripped with
sarcasm as he straightened and said, “of course I, as a humble
servant to the laws of our great Republic, would not have a place to
question it. I will naturally accept your ruling. It's such a shame
his Greatness is too ill to issue the proclamation himself..."
he trailed off, raising a bushy brow.
She let out a sigh
and squared her shoulders, glaring up at Velder. This time she was
sure it was a glare. Good, if she didn't appear tough the
vultures would peck at her. It was only a matter of time before
someone discovered her secret.
"The council
has spoken.” Thank the Everflame.
She shot another smile in the direction of Fatima and Ahmar.
“Consider
this matter closed and call the council meeting to order." She
brushed past him and hurried up to the dais before he called her
bluff.
She tried to keep
her pace normal, the result was an awkward cross between a jog and a
shuffle, as she made her way across the dome to her father's chair.
She stumbled into the seat.
It was the duty of
the Second to call out the beginning of the session and Velder did so
as she straightened in the imposing glass throne meant for her
father. Like most of the palace, the massive throne was made entirely
out of glass. This late in the day, the setting sun shone through the
crystal clear domed ceiling, casting out prisms of pale pink and
dusty orange that shone down on her and created a natural spotlight.
Jura clasped the seat of the throne, squirming against the rigid
glass. She focused on the beauty of the curved glass room that
sparkled in the glow of the departing sun and tried to ignore the
fact that all eyes were on her. They probably all saw her as a little
girl playing dress up. Well, she had more important things to think
about. For instance, how was she to lead a meeting that she had never
attended?
As acting head of
council, she was granted three votes. The house in the number two
Rank held two votes, and the rest held one. The First also had final
say on any crimes worthy of a death sentence and in all matters of
war. Though they held weekly meetings, the council only voted on the
rankings of the council members once a month. Today was not a voting
day. At least something was going her way.
The Thirteen seated
themselves along the long stone row of benches ahead of her and the
first citizen was called for judgment. After a few minor issues were
judged, Jura began to relax. The session was going smoothly and there
were only two citizens left to place judgment.
The first was a
complaint between two merchants. One merchant argued that the other
was poaching on his district by setting up a stand not far from his
own and selling wares duplicate to his own. The other merchant argued
that his product differed. Jura granted the second merchant a stake
of property in a neighboring city but placated him by giving him more
property than he'd had before. Easy. Velder called in the final
citizen.
"This is
Tylak,"Velder sneered. "Citizen of Ish." His voice
dripped with condemnation.
Tylak was a slave
name and yet he had citizen status. Interesting. It was rare for a
slave to gain enough wages to purchase his freedom and even rarer for
a slave to be granted such freedom from his owner. Jura leaned
forward.
"Tylak is
charged with thievery," Velder paused, meeting her eye. "The
council suggests execution."
Jura squeezed her
father's chair so tightly she feared the glass would break off in her
hand. It was true that execution was the maximum punishment, but it
was seldom carried out. Especially not for a crime as petty as
thievery.
"I
see," she whispered.
Velder smiled.
She cleared her
throat. "What did the accused steal?"
"Fire. From an
empire torch no less."
Impossible.
"Is this
true?" Jura looked down at the young man, his appearance was
unkempt, but he appeared strong rather than haggard. His dark hair
was greasy and hung in lank locks over his face.
The man shrugged.
Velder's eyes
burned into her. She looked up at him. "What proof stands
against the accused?"
"He was seen
outside the palace gates carrying a torch and he is no Fire Dancer.
Where else would he have acquired it? He has stolen Fire from the
palace and as such has stolen from the Republic. This is unnatural
magic at work, this man is clearly dangerous. To not mandate an
immediate execution would make the Republic seem weak."
Jura understood his
implication. The Second was testing her. Pompous, manipulating worm.
If she did not order this man's execution she would appear
weak and she would lose any footing she'd gained today. But how could
such a man, how could anyone besides a fire dancer, have accomplished
such a thing?
"Tylak, was
it? Tell us how you accomplished such a feat. Answer me truthfully
and you will be spared." She ignored Velder's glare.
The young man
lifted his face up to her and she resisted the urge to gasp. The man
had gray eyes that cut into his chiseled features and smoldered with
hate. He was beautiful. He was terrifying. Jura swallowed against the
massive lump in her throat.
"I didn't
steal anything. But kill me, I don't care." He spat at her feet.
Velder backhanded
the man and he fell to his knees, head bowed. He said nothing else.
"Greatness, his insolence must be punished."
Jura could not take
her eyes off the man. Could she really sentence this man to his
death? Did she even have a choice?
She nodded. "See
that it is done." The prisoner was escorted from their judgment
hall. Jura watched him leave.
“Was that all?”
She couldn't wait to get out of there.
Velder nodded.
Jura stood up,
wishing nothing more than to run to her chambers and tear off the
insufferable robes. “Velder, call the session to a close”.
She hurried from
the auditorium and was jerked to a stop so quickly her glasses flew
from her nose.
“Flames,” She
mumbled, stooping down to pick them up. She pulled her arm from the
stubborn grasp of her friend Amira.
If the
circumstances were different she would have been happy to see the
friendly face. Amira could have befriended any one in the court and
for some reason she'd chosen Jura. While Amira had a busy social
calender, Jura preferred to spend her time alone, and spent much of
her free time gardening or reading in her room. Amira was
opinionated, tall, and beautiful, a direct contrast to Jura's tiny
quiet frame.
“I thought I saw
you enter the judgment halls,” her friend squealed. It was a trait
that bothered Jura in most people but on her best friend it was
endearing. “Tell me everything! And how did—wait, are your robes
on backwards?”
Stalling for time,
Jura adjusted the delicate frames of her spectacles and once again
perched them on her nose, only to have them slide down the bridge and
dangle precariously. She should have left them in her room.
“What's going
on?” Amira pressed.
Immediately, Jura
wanted to tell her. Amira had just returned from a tour with her
father. It was the first time the Third had opted to take his
daughter instead of his younger son and the girls had yet to catch up
after a summer apart.
She wanted to fall
into Amira's arms and cry to her that she had just killed a man. That
she didn't want the position she was thrown into, that she was
worried for her father.
But she couldn't
tell her anything.
“My father is
ill,” she said slowly, working out what information was safe to
share. “It was my duty to attend council in his stead.”
Amira's eyes
widened. “I can't believe you did that,” she was squealing again.
“Well, tell me everything. How was it, what happened? Your father
must be on his deathbed to allow you to attend the session.”
“Nothing serious,
I'm sure he'll be back in no time at all. He'll definitely be back by
next week's meeting.” Jura forced a smile as years of conditioning
kicked in. She couldn't give away too much information, many houses
had fallen because they'd thought to confide in a friend. Her father
would want this kept a secret.
No one could be
trusted.
Her Quad stepped up
behind her and Jura started at their arrival, still not used to their
presence. Unable to attend the meeting, the four bodyguards had been
forced to wait outside the Justice Dome's imposing double doors. They
appeared now, a silent towering mass. Grateful for their intrusion,
Jura excused herself to flee to her rooms. Amira would have to wait.
She entered her
chambers and dismissed her house staff immediately, needing to be
alone. She ripped off the robes and they landed in a heap on the cool
stone floor. She sank down beside them and let the hot tears slice
down her cheeks.
She had just killed
a man.
He'd known that she
would and he'd hated her for it. And she'd given the orders to end
his life. The knowledge was crushing.
She drew in a shaky
breath and wiped at the tears, they served no purpose and even though
she never wanted for water she knew better than to waste it. Father
hated when she cried.
She had to figure out how the man had managed to steal Fire from the
palace. Perhaps his explanation would lead to his freedom. She
shouldn't have allowed Velder to bully her into the execution. If she
talked to the prisoner, convinced him to admit how he'd done it, she
might be able to reduce his sentence before his execution was carried
out. And although she didn't want the man's death on her conscience,
she had to admit that questioning him served another purpose. If the
man truly did know how to accomplish the impossible perhaps he held
other secrets. Maybe he held the key to helping her with her father.
It was unlikely
she could maintain control of the Thirteen for very long. She needed
to find a cure for her father's sickness and she didn't have much
time. It was only a matter of time before someone would demand to see
the First. What would she do then?
Jura had never been
good at keeping secrets.
She knew she was
alone in her salon but she thoroughly checked again to be sure. She
frowned down at the ornate floor rug before pulling it back to reveal
a heavy trap door. The door was large and imposing, it took all her
strength to pull it open. She descended the small ladder into the
darkness, blinking to adjust her eyes.
The man inside was
bound and gagged, he stared up at her with furious dark eyes. He
tried to speak, but the gag prevented it. Jura knelt down beside him,
careful not to get too close.
"Hello
Father."
