Meet the Character: JURA

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."