Terry Simpson: Ashes and Blood

Directly ahead of her, on a seat positioned higher than the others, sat High Jin Quintess, leader of the Raijin. Wiry and imperious, auburn hair cut short, she regarded Irmina with cold, golden eyes. To Quintess’ right sat High Shin Hardan, the Pathfinder overseer, silver robes matching his hair. While he studied her, he stroked the corner of his mouth with his thumb. A habit she still found as disconcerting as his piercing eyes. As usual, his expression reflected little to no emotion.

In positions sloping down from the center, according to importance, were High Shin Neftana, sniffing at a perfumed cloth, mouth upturned as if something reeked; High Shin Cantor, black skin shiny against his whiter robe; and High Shin Berenil, his complexion the opposite of Cantor’s. Each led the factions pertaining to an element of Mater-the Streams being foremost, followed by the Forms, and finally the Flows.

Nine other Tribunal members, including High Shin belonging to various divisions, were seated according to the essences they represented. Sigils and colors on display, their expressions were serene though some had revealed pride at Irmina’s success in Castere. The victory had gained them another foothold in Ostania. Quintess and Hardan however, showed no such pride. Quintess’ line of questioning had been particularly scathing.

She grimaced as she regarded the one High Shin in the inky black robes of shade. Though Streamean worship taught equality among the religions, the same way the Tenets governing the elements spoke of harmony, she believed any representation of the shade was blasphemy, even if the color was required. The world suffered enough by those who worshipped its chaos. There were those who would argue that light was to shade as order was to chaos-one could not exist without the other; the world required balance-but she did not care. When questioned, Shins made it seem as if the shade’s representation was of no consequence, a mere symbol in respect to teachings passed down through time immemorial.

Irmina knew better.

Some within the Iluminus worshipped Amuni and his shade. As weak as they were, the Shadow Council existed, as did the Gray who claimed to remain neutral. The White Council opposed them with its dedication to Ilumni, Bragni, and Rituni, the three most pious gods. And yet, not even their subservience to the light was allowed to appear as if it dominated. Unless of course, one wanted to forget that almost everyone within the Iluminus gave their praises to Ilumni. Irmina smiled at the thought. Such a fine distinction to show whom the Ashishin really served.

Irmina wondered who belonged to which sect. Jerem had made it clear that of the three, the Grays might be trustworthy, and then only to a certain degree. She shook her head. The man found conspiracies in seemingly inconsequential acts.

In her simple blue tunic and trousers, the situation reminded her of a senjin player in Ishtar’s renowned arenas before an announcer prepared to declare the sport’s results. In her case, the High Shin represented the judges who determined the subsequent reward for the victor and punishment for the vanquished. Depending on the circumstances, the sentence could be death.

“So,” High Jin Quintess said, “you believe killing a king was the right thing to do?”

“I was under orders from High Shin Jerem,” Irmina answered.

Murmurs spread through the gathered elders. Qunintess raised a hand and the whispers died.

“As much as High Shin Jerem is a senior member of the Tribunal, he overstepped his bounds in this case,” Quintess said, voice calm, but her eyes burning with anger. “We were not prepared, nor do we condone his actions.”

“But-”

“Think, Shin Irmina.” Quintess cut her off, using her title as a reminder of her proper place. “You have been on enough missions now to realize you have placed us in an almost untenable situation. Already, many of the other kingdoms have fled not only Castere, but Astoca as a whole, retreating to their own countries and consolidating their positions not only against the remnants of the shade’s armies, but against us also.”

“I was under the impression the Tribunal always wanted to gain a stronger hold in Ostania, Jin Quintess.”

“Ashishin Irmina,” Quintess paused, “it is Ashishin Irmina Nagel, isn’t it?”

As tempted as she was to say she knew her name only too well, she bit her tongue and nodded.

“Do not forget to whom you speak. Last I checked, you are not on this Assembly, and therefore would not begin to know what our intentions might be.”

Irmina nodded again. “Yes, High Jin. Please accept my humblest apologies.” She said the words with as straight a face as she could mange.

“Good. Now, let us play along with your scenario, shall we? For over a thousand years, we have subtly influenced the Ostanians with our Devout priests.” The strain of trying to remain neutral echoed in Quintess’ voice. “On the other hand, when conflicts arise, Ashishin such as yourself act as mediator for some. For any other … shall we say … more direct deeds, we call on our Raijin. Now, at a time when we have influence among ranking nobility, despite the resistance and whisperings of some concerning what our intentions may be, we lead an attack on the most prominent Ostanian city for all to see. A city, I might add, whose rulers have resisted almost every overture from us. That is, until recently, when they finally requested our help against a common foe.”

“Exactly,” Irmina protested, “a common foe. We saved not only them but a few other Ostanian cities from armies of Amuni’s Children and shadelings.”

Quintess tapped a finger on the desktop in front of her. “In truth, that is what happened, but sometimes events are not portrayed truthfully, but are painted with a delicate brush by those who would benefit.”

Irmina frowned. What in Ilumni’s name was the High Jin referring to? No one who witnessed what occurred in Castere could deny the wickedness they’d defeated, the devastation they’d prevented. Or could they?

“By your expression, you begin to understand. From what we gathered, a certain Lieutenant Rosival, once King Voliny’s right hand, was quite a bit more … shall we say adept … at taking advantage of the situation we created. In fact, what he did was no less short of genius. He employed the same tactics we have for years, using rumors spread throughout Ostania and fear that dates back to even before the War of Remnants.”

Irmina squinted, trying harder to understand how Rosival could turn the slaughter by the shade and its invasion into an advantage.

Quintess continued, her tone sober, as if she spoke to a child, “You see, Shin Irmina, the local Ostanian populace are as much affected by myth as anyone else. For years, the impression that we lay with the shade and employ shadelings has spread among them. Can we rightfully deny it?”

For a moment, Irmina considered answering with a yes, despite knowing the contrary. She glanced toward the High Shin representing the Streams’ essences. Light, heat, cold … and shade. She thought of the Devout priests’ jobs, spreading Steamean worship and its values of equality and balance even among the religions and their individual gods. A smart enough man could easily spin that into something more sinister.

She understood clearly now. Rosival had whispered the right words to the right ears to paint a picture that the Tribunal’s own minions had attacked Astoca. The Tribunal’s reason? To gain control of another swath of land similar to the one they held in Felan. For those who witnessed the battle at Castere, he’d kill the ones unwilling to be a part of his conspiracy. As far as the others? Men will betray much for the promise of titles and riches. With the Tribunal preferring to be tentative, even secretive about their true intentions, and with an impending revolt from Astoca coupled with a chance of war against the Cardians, the Harnan, the Banai, as well as the imminent threat of Amuni’s Children and their armies, that left the Tribunal no choice but to relinquish their hold on the city.