Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

“I’ll go and grab you a bunk next to mine,” Seijon offered. The boy’s whole body quivered with excitement, reminding Ashinji of Jena and Mariso. He sighed and nodded in assent. Seijon’s face broke into an ecstatic grin and he dashed off toward the barracks.

“The boy has attached himself to you, I see,” Aruk-cho commented.

“So it would seem,” Ashinji replied dryly. “Do the Soldarans often sacrifice their children to their blood sports?”

“Seijon will not be participating in any lethal matches. The mistress purchased him as a house slave some months ago, but he kept pestering her to let him learn to fight. Just yesterday, she gave in and sent him to me.”

“What is it you want of me, Aruk-cho?”

“There is someone here that you should meet. Come with me.”

Intrigued, Ashinji followed the akuta to the far end of the yard where another barracks stood.

“This is where the veteran females bunk,” Aruk-cho explained. He paused before the curtained entrance. “Gran!” he called out. “Gran…There is someone here to see you!” The curtain twitched aside and an old woman poked her head out, squinting in the sunlight.

“What do you want, you big ugly beast!” the woman scolded. “Can’t you see I’m trying to take my nap…Oh!”

Ashinji’s eyes widened in shock.

The old woman was an elf.

Silence and the musty smell of places long shut away from the sun surrounded Prince Raidan. As he strode along, the lantern in the prince’s hand cast crazy shadows on the frost-rimed stone walls; his breath rose in thin puffs of steam from his lips and nostrils.

The prince had chosen the location for his secret conferences with care. This part of Sendai Castle had been closed up and abandoned years ago during his father’s childhood. As a boy, Raidan had stumbled upon a hidden doorway into the block of rooms by accident, during an expedition of discovery. He had revealed his secret to no one, not even his brothers.

Raidan reached the end of the corridor and paused at what appeared to be a blank wall. Raising the lantern to eye level, he located and twisted aside a round metal disk covering a spy hole. He placed one eye to the hole and looked into an adjacent corridor. A group of people stood in a nervous clutch opposite Raidan’s position.

Good. They’re all here , he thought.

He fitted his fingers into a set of depressions in the stone and triggered the releasing mechanism, then pulled the hidden door open. He stepped through and motioned for the others to enter. Silently, they obeyed, and followed the prince as he led them to their meeting room.

Raidan had already prepared the room beforehand. Several lanterns dangled from wall hooks, their flames flickering in the drafts from the ventilation shafts set high in the walls; braziers burned in each corner, providing some small respite from the biting cold.

After everyone had taken their seats, Raidan sat for several moments, silently studying the faces of his supporters. He thought about the underlying motives that had driven each of them to endanger all they had to stand behind him and against their king.

Morio of Ayame and Coronji of Tohru, brothers-in-law and unrepentant racists, would both rather see Alasiri plunged into civil war than accept a hikui as their queen. Saizura of Kinat, the oldest of Alasiri’s great lords, worried more about propriety than purity. She objected to Keizo’s daughter because the girl had been born outside of a legal marriage.

Seitan of Ograi owes his position to me, thought Raidan. He had convinced the king to name Seitan as Lord over an older sister who had proved herself unfit to run the fiefdom after the death of their mother. Seitan will support me unquestioningly.

Odata of Tono worried most about the reaction of the hikui populace to the naming of a hikui Heir. She feared the impetus it would give to the hikui movement for social equality.

Ebo of Suiren had agreed to back Raidan for one reason only. Recently widowed and without an Heir, her price for her support had been simple-a child sired by an Onjara. Raidan had accepted, and his middle son, Kaisik, would perform the service upon his next birthday, when he would officially come of age. The boy was handsome, cheerful, and above all, obedient-a stark contrast to his brooding older brother, Raidu. Ebo would, no doubt, find him more than acceptable.

“Let me begin by thanking you all once more for your support,” Raidan said. “I pray each day that there will be no need to call upon it. I, more than anyone else in this room, wish to avoid open confrontation with my brother, especially during this time of extreme danger to our nation. Civil conflict right now would only aid our enemies and hasten the demise of the elves as a free people.”

“Yet, you clearly are willing to take the risk, if necessary. Why else bring us all here?” Morio responded with a voice roughened by years of pipe smoking.

“None of us wants war among ourselves, but neither do we wish to see one of impure blood ascend the throne of Alasiri. There must be a better solution,” Ebo added.

“She’s a bastard, plain and simple! How could Keizo have elevated her to such a high station?” Saizura fretted. “He should have just dealt with the girl quietly, provided her with a settlement and sent her packing back to Kerala.” The elderly Lady of Kinat sliced the air scornfully with her bird’s claw of a hand.

“My brother, so far, has given no indication that he intends to name my niece Heir over me. However, she and Keizo have become very close, and before she lost her husband, she was demonstrating a keen interest in statecraft. Even I have to admit she showed great promise. Now, she is too wrapped up in her grief to do much more than get through each day. And, of course, there is her child to consider.”

“Perhaps…an accident could be arranged,” Coronji suggested. “It would certainly take care of things. I volunteer to do the job.” His lips curled in a tiny smile, and Raidan thought of a snake anticipating the feast of a mouse.

The prince’s eyes flashed. “Whatever else she is, she is an Onjara and not some common by-blow that can be disposed of in a back alley!” His anger, he knew, arose from the fact that Coronji had dared speak openly of the very thing the prince himself had already considered.

“I apologize if I have given any offense, Highness,” Coronji said, but his tone indicated he believed Raidan’s outrage to be little more than pretense.

“Tell us your plan, Highness. Just what do you intend to do if the king should decide to elevate his bastard over you?” Odata queried.

“My plan is simple,” Raidan replied. “If Keizo decides to name Jelena his Heir, he will tell me first. He owes me that courtesy. I will then inform him, without naming any of you, that I have the support of over half the council, standing in opposition to his decision. I will also point out that the elven people won’t accept a hikui as queen, no matter that she is the daughter of their beloved Silverlock.

“My brother has ruled Alasiri wisely and well. He always takes into consideration the will of the people when making any decision that affects them, and this decision would have a profound effect. I believe he will understand this, and reconsider.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Odata pressed. “You said yourself that Silverlock and the girl have forged a very deep bond. Is there a possibility that he may not listen to reason?”

“Yes, there is,” Raidan answered slowly, “and if he won’t, then I’ll threaten him. Faced with the defection of half his lords and their levies, he’ll have to see the folly of his course. The loss of so many troops will be devastating to the army. The Soldarans already outnumber us. Sen Sakehera is an excellent commander, but even he couldn’t mount a defense with so few bodies. Keizo will realize he is risking the defeat and conquest of all of Alasiri. He won’t allow that.”