Iron & Rock, page 1
part #1 of Starfire Trilogy Series
IRON & ROCK
STARFIRE TRILOGY
PATTY JANSEN
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CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About the Author
More By This Author
CHAPTER 1
There were two types of people in Arania who were bestowed the dubious honour of meeting the Mother: prisoners and royalty.
The prisoners were sent out on the ocean, locked in cages on the deck of a crowded vessel. They would be barely clothed, and would not be fed on board, because why bother?
After the ship had crossed into the zone where the Mother loomed as a giant striped ball in the sky, where the prisoners would become ill, when their skin blistered and their insides turned to water, after they bled out and died in their cages while the ship’s crew sat in a cabin wearing protective clothing, their bodies would be wrapped up in cloth and taken to the south coast to be burned.
By contrast, royalty only met the Mother when they were already dead.
A specially constructed and decked out royal ship would carry just the body and nothing else. The ship had no anchor and only limited means to control its course. It would travel in the company of a second ship, and once they were at the destination where living people could no longer travel, not even when wearing protective suits, the crew would hoist the sails and fix them in a position that would take the ship further over the horizon, and then they would board the longboat to make their way back to the second ship and farewell the king’s vessel as it disappeared over the horizon.
That was the process about to take place in the Aranian capital.
On this day, after his recent passing, all citizens of Kadrish, from the highborn to the most lowly workers, had gathered in the harbour to pay their final respects to King Orik, who had passed away from old age two days ago, and to farewell him on his final journey.
Workers and children had been given the day off. Nobles and merchants wore their finery. Shops were closed. The stalls had been taken from the marketplace. All soldiers stationed in the capital and those who could travel there had been summoned to attend, to line the route the king’s bier would take through the city, to fire the salute, to fly the flags, to sing the hymns with their solemn voices that echoed over the market, in the streets, over the harbour and all the way to the Citadel that overlooked the city, where the king’s empty chair by the window in his private room witnessed the spectacle.
Lana had known for a long time that this day would come. Even when she formally married Orik, he was both much older than she was, and much older than the age of the average citizen of Kadrish. The royal funeral vessel had lain in the harbour for years, picked out and decorated by King Orik himself.
For years, she had planned and prepared for this day, and now it was here, she felt more unprepared than ever.
Take her daughter Loriane, for example.
She sat alone in the middle of the platform, a small distance in front of the row that held Lana’s seat. Her face was pale and emotionless, as if made of stone.
Loriane had not shed a tear for her father in public, while men and women alike in the audience cried and wailed.
She endured this all without emotion.
Lana wondered what went on in her head. She had to comprehend how her father’s death was going to change her life. Make it less fun and more dangerous. Much more dangerous.
She had not yet been declared queen, because of the person on the other side of the row where Lana sat: the young man in an astrologer’s robe, the man who wasn’t Kotori and wasn’t the official court astrologer, but simply a student she had plucked out of one of Kotori’s classes—wide-eyed and terrified—to perform the job while no one could locate the official astrologer.
Kotori going missing had just been one of the events that had upset all of Lana’s plans.
There was supposed to be a list of preferred candidates to replace the astrologer in case of his death, but Lana hadn’t been able to find that list, and no one who could possibly have the list wanted to give it to her, because no one was sure if the astrologer was dead, anyway.
The young man’s name was Renito, and he was a young fellow from a progressive family in Kadrish, one that Lana could live with, were her choice to become permanent.
Which was all up in the air.
Did the young man have the authority to declare a successor to the throne after the king’s death? It was the court astrologer’s job. And for any regular astrologer to ascend to the position of court astrologer was an elaborate process in itself.
Some of the older astrologers, those men who were perhaps closer to Kotori, strongly disagreed with the young man being in the position and had spent the previous two days occupying her time listing their protests about it, right up until the moment Lana needed to join her family on the platform in fact. Some of those men now stood to the side of the platform, behind the row of guards whom Lana had told to keep an eye on the young astrologer.
She didn’t think the old men were a danger, but then again, this was Kadrish and Arania, where brothers would turn on each other in competition for a richly-rewarded prize.
Given the stress and attention on him, the young man had performed admirably.
He’d read the king’s glory, the term used for his official biography, without stumbling. He’d given his interpretation of the star signs at the time of the king’s death in a speech that was considerate, to the point and didn’t ramble about unrelated matters, something Kotori might do on important occasions.
His job was done for the time being, until he’d have to declare the final farewell, and he hadn’t yet been murdered or hadn’t collapsed from the stress. That was a good thing, right?
Harek sat in between Lana and the astrologer. Like his older sister, he had not said a single word or shown any emotion since the ceremony had started. He looked ahead, his eyes scouring the crowd.
Did he even care?
He’d never been close to his father, who had already been unwell when he was little, and too tired to show much interest in yet another baby prince. Orik had seen many of those be born and die in his lifetime.
How was she going to keep this dysfunctional family together in the face of pressure from old-fashioned men who wanted to treat the brief period of freedom for women as a blip in the history books and return them to mothers’ houses? In a city where many people still let the quackery of astrology rule their lives?
And where old-fashioned hawks like Colonel Betaro—who stood in front of the platform—and his good mate Pertak—whom Lana didn’t trust at all—tried to bribe the men of the royal guard? Or those like Major Izak, who stood on the other side of the platform, who sat on the King’s Council and voted against anything that smelled like reform.
Those men cast occasional disdainful glances at Lana and Loriane as they sat on the platform like birds in a gilded cage.
They kept their motives hidden but were oh so transparent at the same time.
They didn’t talk to women, they fucked them. They spoke to women as pretend-equals only under extreme duress.
Out of all the people Lana had won over, the military was not part of that group.
Look at them all standing proud, with their shiny uniforms and tassels being ruffled by the breeze as they watched the procession of sombrely dressed soldiers and dignitaries crawl along the quay. Look at them all pretending to care about the death of their king, who would have been king for all of these young men’s lives.
Look at their noble faces barely hiding their naked ambition, or ambition to get naked. To dominate, to go back to the old ways, to put all these nasty, complaining women in their proper place.
Loriane was very popular with the people in town. Her performances filled halls many times over.
But these men didn’t care about that. They were never in the audience. They joked to each other about putting her in her place and about private parts of her body.
The procession came to a halt in front of the royal ship’s gangplank, and set down the bier. Under the beating of steady drums, Renito rose and walked the few steps down the platform.
He carried a star map, which he spread out on the stone table that stood in the harbour for this purpose.
He lifted the satchel from his belt and cast the stones and coins over the fabric. His hands moved with a confidence that Lana had never noticed in Kotori.
Ultimately, Kotori had been uneasy with his position and had probably started to doubt his authority after being challenged about it. Maybe that came with age. Lana had only known Kotori when he was cynical and ol d.
Renito declared, in a loud and clear voice, that the omens were good and that, with the royal family’s permission, he made the path ready for the king’s final voyage.
Formulaic words.
He didn’t elaborate on the star signs. He didn’t ramble.
Lana rather liked this style.
She nodded. Loriane nodded. Harek nodded. That despicable Colonel Betaro, also a brother of Orik’s, like Kotori, also nodded.
It filled Lana with rage that he had manoeuvred himself into this position. Whatever did he care about Orik’s safe passage? He’d spent the last ten or more years undermining Orik’s position.
The soldiers picked up the bier again and carried it up the gangplank to the slow beating of the drums. They set it on the deck. The crew of the ship already stood there, dressed in magnificent gowns. They were young men and women both, picked out of the eligible sailor union by Lana and Orik.
The second ship that would travel with the funeral ship waited at the harbour mouth. The tide was favourable and there was no time to waste.
The crew watched the podium, and Loriane raised her hand.
Time to let go.
Let go of all the pretence that she controlled what happened next.
Under increased drumbeats, a burly man with an axe walked past the bollards and clean cut through every one of the ropes tying the vessel to the quay. This beautiful, colourful ship would not be coming back.
Had things been different, had the succession been settled and had Loriane’s hold on the throne been secure, Lana might have cried. It had been her choice to stay in Kadrish and marry Orik. Because he’d been a decent man, willing to let go of a violent past.
Especially in the beginning, she had genuinely liked him. They used to have long dinners in his private dining room. She remembered those with fondness.
But he was a king who had risen to his position through extreme violence, and who had ruled a violent country that had not yet shed its expectation that extreme violence would settle the next step in history.
The vessel drifted away from the quay, and the crew hoisted the sails. The breeze made them flap at first and then billowed out the yellow fabric. Then, very slowly, it sailed out of the harbour.
An era was past.
Loriane got up from her seat and Lana, Harek, and Renito, in the row behind her, followed.
Under the eyes of the dignitaries, Loriane made her way down the platform, followed by Harek. The people on the quay called out and wanted to touch her hands. Women had red eyes and men held out flowers. The line of guards kept the citizens away.
Those hard faces again.
Most of them were princes who thought they had some sort of claim on the throne. Violence could break out at any moment.
An open coach waited on the quay with five guards, one of whom helped Loriane and Lana in. Lana did not enjoy wearing ceremonial dresses. They were heavy and awkward. But Loriane sat as a true princess, looking comfortable in the role that was oh so fragile.
When everyone was seated, the four horses jumped into motion.
They travelled slowly, surrounded by marching guards, through the snaking streets up to the Citadel, past the crowds of largely silent people. They left most of the guards at the gate as the vehicle went through into the courtyard. Here, they left the vehicle and walked up the steps to the royal quarters. The guards took up the positions by the door.
Lana walked with her two children into the hall to the private residence.
Renito stopped at the door.
“Yes, did you want to say something?” Lana asked.
“I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity.”
“Someone had to do it. You came recommended by Kotori.”
“You could have chosen anyone from any other older and more established family.”
“But I didn’t.”
She met his eyes, and he looked at her. She could see the hesitation, the desire to ask what she meant by that statement.
But he maintained his polite attitude, and bowed.
“Thank you.”
He turned and left the hall.
“What was that about?” Harek asked.
“Well, I could have chosen any of the established astrologers, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to make them too comfortable.”
“Everyone knows that you hate Kotori,” Loriane said.
“I didn’t mind this young man. I still think astrology is rubbish, but I can live with him.”
“That’s when people are dangerous,” Harek said. “When you think you like them.”
“You got that from Father. He always said that,” Loriane said.
“Yeah.”
A silence passed between them, in which Lana hoped to see a tear in either of their eyes, but didn’t. Then she thought she might say something, but also didn’t.
The moment passed when Harek declared that he was going down to the training courtyard and spar with a swing sack of sand.
Loriane said she had study to do, although Lana had no idea what kind of study was this important.
But they were all exhausted and the discussion over how to proceed without Kotori would have to wait until tomorrow.
When Lana went to the king’s work room that she had used as her office since Orik had stopped using it, a man from the mail office stood in front of the door. Lana expected him to mention a flood of mail from the citizens, but he handed her a letter with a gilded edge. She recognised the writing on the front: it was that of King Isandor of Peria. She thanked the young man.
He added, “There are four boxes of mail from the citizens. Shall I bring them here?”
“Yes.” And then, because she was curious, she added, “Nothing from Tiverius?”
“Not that I have heard, your highness.”
Really? She could understand that the short time in between the king’s death and the funeral had precluded foreign officials visiting, but had no one in her city of birth mustered the decency to even send her a message about her husband’s death?
No one? Not her old friends, some of whom had positions of influence or even sat in the doga? Not her cousins, like Gerinius, who also sat in the doga and was the proctor’s advisor. He was about ten years older than she was, but he would have heard about Orik’s passing. Not even the proctor himself?
That casual meeting with her Chevakian spy, Major Ralek, came back to her mind. He’d said there was trouble in Chevakia. She’d dismissed his concerns as being overly alarmist.
She felt cold.
“Thank you,” she said again to the young man from the mailroom. “You may bring the mail up here. Tell the guards I’ve asked for it to be delivered.”
“Yes.” But he did not move.
“Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
“Well…” He hesitated. “I would normally never talk about things like this, but I know that the royal guards were looking for the court astrologer…” He hesitated again, fiddling with something inside the pocket of his jacket.
“Yes?” Lana prompted him. Her heart was hammering. News about Kotori. Finally?
“My brother is a merchant who sells fruit and often takes deliveries by rail. He swears he saw the astrologer get on the train early in the morning about a week ago.”
“How did he know? Was he wearing his robe?” Because in that case, the man had to be mistaken. Kotori’s robe hung in the tower room.
“No, he wasn’t. He was wearing casual clothes and carrying a satchel. My brother knows him, because the astrologer really likes dried prunes, which my brother sells.”
“And what was Kotori doing?”
“He got on a train to Wellak.”
“Wellak?” She knew that Kotori had family on the coast. Not in the highlands. Wellak was at the border with Chevakia. It was wild and inhospitable country. Unless…
The man shrugged, his face red. “The train was going to Wellak. I don’t know where he got off or what he was doing. I’m only telling you what my brother saw.”
