Acacia,War with the Mein

CHAPTER

Corinn began to believe that she could recover joy. It was not easy. There would always be memories to weigh her down during quiet moments. The specter of death would ever lurk in the dark regions of her thoughts, but the ache of loss did dull with passing years. Old sorrows lost their urgency, especially in the shadow of new affection, which could be so delightful. It was possible to live with some measure of joy, to forget anything but happiness for short periods of time. Her father had always wanted her to be happy. He would welcome her contentment, no matter what vessel bore it to her.

Hanish Mein, of course, was responsible for spurring these thoughts. Corinn’s submission to him was not first and foremost a sexual matter. It was not about the lovemaking that night at Manil or the physical intimacies they had shared since. It was something more frightening. It was the act of allowing herself to want him to see her, admitting to him that she wanted him to know her, to understand her, to care for her. She had been so long bottled up in defense against the world that allowing her barriers down was the greatest act of faith in a person she’d made since childhood. She had to remind herself of the many secrets Hanish had confided in her. They were both giving, both trusting. They were both vulnerable. She would not have let down her defenses in any other circumstance.

But she was pleased that she had. Nine years after the tragedies of the war, she had found an order to life, a position that made sense, and a partner to share it with. Their liaison was fresh and newly created, and yet it was so much a part of her that she could not imagine any other way of being. They were together as much as the circumstances of Hanish’s office would allow. They shared the same bed each night. She was so absolutely hungry for him, insatiably and embarrassingly so.

One evening she made him wait for her in bed. When she entered the room she did so from the far side. She wore only a diaphanous shift, so short it was really just a shirt. Walking toward him, feeling his eyes on her, knowing the candlelight would highlight the contours of her hips and abdomen and breasts, she hummed with nervous excitement. It was the strangest of feelings. She felt tawdry and jaded, her lips moistened with oil, eyes shadowed like a courtesan’s. But she also tingled with innocence, as if she were a child again, girlish, walking in the glow of an appraising eye that seemed somehow fatherly. Very strange, she thought, but also decidedly to her liking.

She continued to accompany Hanish on state trips, and in the space of just a few weeks she made herself indispensable in social matters. She stood at his side when Hanish met Candovian tribal leaders at a summit near Elos. At Alyth she tutored the taciturn leagueman Sire Dagon in archery. She won compliments from him by the end of the day, both on her skill with a bow and on her entrancing character. She served as hostess on a pleasure barge that embarked from Alecia and traced a large circle back to port hours later. She was perfectly suited, it seemed, to serve as an intermediary between the rich merchants-many of whom were Acacian-and the ruling Meinish aristocracy.

All of this was much to the chagrin of the ambitious hangers-on that made up the chieftain’s court. They had been happy enough to have Corinn around when she was a pincushion to receive Hanish’s barbed witticisms, but now that she was elevated it was another matter. She never heard any of them speak a word against her, but she could imagine their thoughts well enough. They hated her. She knew it. She could feel it. Sometimes she even thought she could see physical manifestations of their loathing wriggling beneath their skin. She was, after all, a lowly Acacian, of a conquered race. Her beauty was of a rich-toned ideal that was not supposed to win Meinish men. In their minds she should never be anything more than an entertaining mascot. Even Rhrenna, who had once seemed the truest friend she was likely to make, spoke to her no more than she had to, with no particular kindness when she did.

There were more somber moments in their relationship as well, as when she and Hanish stood side by side on the viewing platforms of the Kidnaban mines. They looked down on a crater whose scale denied plausibility. Hanish pointed out the Akaran flags that still flew from the platforms. “Akarans created this,” he’d said. “How did your people ever conceive of such things? Where did they get the gall to imagine they could harness the labor of millions?”

She had felt just enough insult in these questions to consider one or two sarcastic responses, but she said nothing. They would not have been true on her tongue. He was right. The scale of the injustice was incredible. He might be the driving force behind it now, but he had not been the one to conceive of it in the first place. She wondered how she had lived so many years at the heart of an empire without knowing by whose labor her prosperity had been assured.

At the mines she decided she would never be so ignorant again. It was a simple enough thought, but thinking it changed something in her. From that day on she seemed to more readily remember specific details of things. It felt like she learned more each day, more of history and lore and political wrangling, more about the dispersion of power and the strings that hummed and shifted behind the visible workings of the world. She even felt an increasing capacity to tap records held in remote portions of her consciousness. She could recall things she could not remember that she had ever learned. She felt the gears of her understanding interlocking and an order to the workings of the world settling into place. This, too, buoyed her spirits and fed her feeling of well-being.

How she hated it, then, when she began to hear sour notes. It was a small thing, barely consequential, but it really quite annoyed her to learn that Hanish had received a serious proposal of marriage. The woman was a third cousin of Hanish’s, of the familial line that claimed ownership of Hauchmeinish’s relics. Whatever those were, Corinn thought. A bag of bones and rags, undoubtedly. But this woman-barely more than a girl, really-had the type of pedigree the Meins favored. She was reported to be the ideal of Meinish beauty, pale and thin, straw haired, with features sharpened to crystalline points. She had never been down from the plateau and thus had not felt strong sun on her skin. Corinn never saw her likeness except in her own mind, where the girl lived, breathed, and threatened.

As the summer heated up, she sensed a murmuring tension growing in the palace, something being discussed just out of earshot. She tried to believe that it was only excitement at the approach of the Tunishnevre, but she could not help wondering if she was not somehow at the center of the talk. What if Hanish did marry somebody else? What if it was all being planned behind her back? What if she was thrust once again into the role of mascot? That was what all of the Meinish aristocracy hoped and prayed for. Her only comfort came from the fact that Hanish himself had told her about the marriage offer. He had laughed at it. He had no need for marriage as long as he had her, he said. He did not take such proposals-and this was far from the first-seriously. Why, he asked, should she? If he was aware of the insult buried in his declaration, he did not betray it in the slightest. Why, Corinn almost asked, did it not occur to him to consider her as a bride? But she could not bear to hear the answer.

One morning she rose late from bed. It was her second rising that morning. Earlier, Hanish had crept over to her in the predawn light and whispered in her ear, blown the hair from her face, and nibbled at her jawline. She had felt the firmness of his body. She loved his body, so lean and smooth. It did not take much for him to convince her to make love, even though she feared her breath was not fresh. If he noticed this, Hanish did not seem to mind.

Afterward she had fallen asleep in his arms. By the time she roused again, Hanish was gone. The sun cast golden geometries of light through the windows. She did not like rising late, hated that the servants might think her indolent. She spoke to her maids with a crispness that suggested they were somehow responsible for her tardy start. She could not help it. She felt uneasy at her center, off balance and queasy in a way that reminded her of being at sea on a small vessel.

She got up and dressed. Once this was complete, however, she was not sure just what to do. She had nothing planned. Before long she found herself wandering the palace. There was a hush about the place, corridors and courtyards empty, doors to occupied rooms shut, while those that were ajar opened onto hollow spaces. It was unnerving, both because such stillness was unusual and because she was quite sure there was a bustling motion occurring just out of view. It seemed that something was going on, but whatever it was happened in places where Corinn was not.

Whether she intended to arrive at Hanish’s council room she would not have been able to say. At some point it was just there before her. A servant had entered recently bearing a tray of lime water. He left the door open behind him and was working his way around the table, refilling glasses. Corinn moved forward slowly, watching Hanish lecture the others, all of whom sat around a massive table. She could not see the ends of it or everyone in the room, but she recognized several senior generals by the backs of their heads and profiles. Whatever was happening it was an unusually large gathering of officers.

A guard stood to one side of the council room door. He was burly, Meinish, wrapped in bands of stained leather, with a battle-ax propped on the floor, his hands atop the curved blades of it. His gaze was set on a point directly in front of him, but he let his eyes slip over to Corinn long enough to express his disdain. She should not be here, he was indicating, although he did not have the power to say as much. Corinn ignored him.

She did not walk through the doorway, but she stood where she could see Hanish. She was not sure what she wanted, but if she caught his eye she would motion to him in the hopes that he would smile at her or blush or look away to hide his memories of their recent passion from the roomful of officers. As she watched him, she began to make out what he was saying.

“…he should get no farther than that. If we face him, it must be far from here.” He leaned over the chart spread on the table and pinned a spot with his finger. “We must keep this contained within Talay. Your generals can handle the repositioning of the troops. Have them see to it until Maeander returns. When he does I’ll-” He broke off for a moment. As he raised his head, his eyes touched on Corinn’s. He chewed a thought a moment and then began to round the table toward the door. He moved slowly and resumed speaking. “When Maeander returns he’ll oversee the entire operation. You and your officers can all report to him directly.”

“Will you eventually join us?” one of the men asked.

Hanish had cleared the table now and moved away from it. Several of the generals’ heads turned to follow him. He said, “I don’t foresee doing so. Maeander can handle it. I have the Tunishnevre to resettle.”

He reached the door. As he set his fingers on the handle, Corinn took a step into the corridor. She smiled, head to the side in a gesture meant as a playful apology for disturbing him. He stared right into her eyes and, without a word, swung the door shut in her face.

Corinn, standing there in shock, heard his voice on the other side. She could not make out his words anymore, but he carried on with his sonorous discourse. It took considerable effort for her to turn beneath the guard’s nose and move away with dignity.

An hour later she intercepted Rhrenna as she walked across one of the upper courtyards. The Meinish woman came on toward her without seeing her, her view obstructed by the wide, hanging rim of a hat meant to shade her from the sun. She did her best to maintain a winter pallor. Corinn did not think it particularly suited her. Her imperfect features and streaked blond hair would likely have been more attractive if her skin had some color to it, but such was not the Meinish ideal. Corinn had come to suspect that few Meins sincerely preferred their own ideal above the beauty of other races, but that was hardly what she had searched out Rhrenna to discuss.

The young woman resisted stopping for a chat, but Corinn convinced her to sit on a nearby bench. They were in the open air and plainly visible if anyone should take an interest in them, but they were out of earshot as well. The bench stood next to a stone balustrade that overhung a drop of a hundred feet down to the next terraced level. Rhrenna sat with her back to the view, preferring instead to flit her eyes around the courtyard. She was clearly anxious about being seen with the princess.

Corinn came straight to the point. “What is going on?” she asked. “There is something strange in the air. Something is happening. Do you know what it is?”

Rhrenna’s blue eyes looked everywhere but at Corinn. “You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Hanish didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

Rhrenna considered this for a moment. Her voice did not soften. “Why should I tell you, then?”

“Because I’ve asked you.” When this got no response, Corinn said, “Hanish doesn’t tell me everything. He keeps a great many secrets from me.” She did not like having to say this. She was not even sure if it was true, but she imagined hearing it might soften Rhrenna. It was what they all wished for, wasn’t it? To be reassured that Corinn had not truly won their beloved chieftain’s confidence. She was but a plaything for him, nothing more. Part of her wanted to slap Rhrenna across the face that very moment, to spit at her and declare at the top of her lungs that Hanish loved her above all else, more than he had ever love a weak-skinned, goat-faced Meinish girl. But that would get her nowhere.

“I know what the court thinks of me,” she said, her voice weighted with apparent umbrage. “I know you all hate me because you think Hanish favors me too much. You don’t really know, though, what it’s like between us. He doesn’t feel for me the way you think he does. Please, Rhrenna, tell me what you know. We were friends once, weren’t we?”

Something in Rhrenna gave. It happened on the inside and spread up through her features. “But if Hanish doesn’t want you to know…”

“Rhrenna, you know something that I do not. Perhaps everybody knows. I could find the answer a thousand different ways, but I am asking you. Whatever you tell me, nobody will know that I learned it from you.” Then she added, “I will be in your debt.”

Rhrenna lifted her blue eyes a moment, questioning what power Corinn had left with which to repay a debt. “It is not true that you could find the answer a thousand different ways. What is happening isn’t public knowledge yet. It will be soon, I suppose, but I only know because my father-who is on Hanish’s council-told my brother. And he never keeps secrets from me.” She looked around. Annoyance flashed across her face, although whether this was directed at Corinn or at herself was not clear. “It’s your brother.”

“What?”

“Your brother Aliver. They say he’s been living in Talay. He’s just come out of hiding and he’s gathering an army to attack us. He has no chance of winning, but-” Rhrenna paused, alarmed at the expression on Corinn’s face “-he is going to start a war.”

Corinn, who had stood throughout their conversation, now sat down. She touched her knee against Rhrenna’s and let the woman clasp her hands. Of all the things that Rhrenna might have said, she would never have imagined news of her brother to be a possibility. It hit her like a blow to the abdomen that thrust up toward her heart. She felt the oncoming rush of a great weight of thoughts, but she knew that she was not ready to confront them yet.

Throughout the hours leading up to the evening meal, through the meal, and on into the early evening, the weight of the news perched on the crown of her head like an inverted pyramid, the point touching her, the vastness of it stretching up from there. Her brother was alive! That much echoed in her ears. He was trying to start another war. That part of it was spelled out as well. But she did not take her thoughts the further step toward formulating what her response to this news was. She actually moved through the evening with the erect posture and slow bearing of a person balancing an object on her head. Hanish acted normal all evening, not discussing the earlier incident or even mentioning that he’d had a council meeting.

Later, she prepared to spend the evening with Hanish in the private baths. Steam baths had never been an Acacian custom, but the Meins had managed to channel heat from the subterranean ovens for the purpose. Corinn had been slow to enjoy lounging around naked, sweating and breathless in the heat, but she had come to accept it as part of the day, a time spent with Hanish in a manner no other woman did.

Alone in Hanish’s bedroom, they had both taken off their clothes and slipped on their robes before Corinn asked, “Why did you treat me so rudely?” She had not planned to call him on this. It just came out, perhaps because she had a whole host of other things to keep from him now. This thing seemed small by comparison.

Hanish spun to face her, incredulous. “What do you mean? When was I rude?”

“Today, when you slammed a door in my face. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

“Oh,” the chieftain said, nodding in a way that indicated he recalled the incident but somehow also conveyed that Corinn had misunderstood it. He came back to her and took her hands in his. “I meant no insult by that. None at all. You must understand, though, that what passes between my generals and me is for our ears only. I share everything with you, but that does not mean my officers should have to as well. They must hear me without distraction, and they must speak without censoring themselves. They would do that in front of you. Men of the Mein-”

“They hadn’t even noticed me.”

“Who can know what another sees? Men of the Mein don’t discuss serious matters in the company of women. This is just the way my people are. And there’s the issue of who this particular woman is.” He invited Corinn to smile. She did not. “Think of it this way: you did me a great favor. I am in your debt for it. You know, of course, that many say I’m too close to you. Many wish we weren’t so enamored of each other. With that small action of demonstrating where I draw the line, I have assured my generals’ confidence. They’ll happily wag their tongues to others. They’ll say, True enough, Hanish may dote on the princess, but he knows how to keep her in her place. Let them think that, Corinn. If they do, you and I can enjoy each other all the more.”

“What were you talking about, anyway? Something with Maeander…”

Hanish dismissed it with a flick of his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Unrest in Talay. It’s nothing, though. Rumors, grumblings. Honestly, Corinn, if it becomes anything of importance I’ll tell you all about it. But, now…” He stepped closer, changing the pitch of his voice in a way that suggested carnal intimacy. He slipped an arm down the small of her back and tugged her close. “Let’s make our way to the baths, yes? We’ll soak, and then we’ll lie side by side as the kneaders do their work, hot oil and all. And then, once they’re finished…we’ll send them all away and think of something more to do as we steam.”

As he walked away, Corinn had the uncomfortable sensation that he had slammed a door in her face again. Hanish paused at the far side of the room. He let his robe slip from his shoulders and crumple on the floor. Naked, he dipped his hands in the basin of oil and herb-scented water there, massaging the moisture onto his shoulders, rubbing the muscles of his neck. The lamp to his side highlighted the contours of his body. His back muscles reminded her of slender wings, folded and hidden beneath his skin. He glanced at her and said, “Come.”

He walked through the portal and out of view. Corinn-twisting and heaving on the inside, still expressionless on the outside-followed him, loosening the knot that held her robe as she progressed.

And so despite the things unsaid by her lover she might have allowed herself not to determine her allegiances based more on desire than on blood kinship. She did not think this through in so many words. She did not say, “No matter what is to come I choose Hanish. He is the one I love, need, want most in the world. He is the one I can believe in because he’s here beside me now. I hunger for him; he feeds me. Nothing else is as real.” But had she been forced to say this, she might have. And even if she wasn’t forced to, she might have lived by such a creed without ever having uttered it.

Might have, that is, up until the middle of that night, when she was pulled out of a dreamless sleep. She waited a moment in the stillness, sure that her name had just been spoken. She turned her head enough to see Hanish. He lay on his back beside her. He was awake. She almost lifted her head and asked if something was troubling him. His eyes were open. They stared straight up at the ceiling, but his expression was vague, unfocused, his cheeks flaccid and mouth gaping. He might have been asleep, except that his gray eyes were open, blinking every so often. And then she heard him say, Of course. I have not forgotten.

She heard him say this? No, she hadn’t heard anything. He did not actually speak. His lips had not moved. The room was dead quiet and had not been disturbed by anything louder than their breathing. But somehow he had formed that thought and sent it out and she had picked it up.

Again, she nearly sat up and spoke, but she was stopped by something issuing from another source. It was a force that she felt in the air, which she pinpointed as being beyond the foot of the bed. It was not a single person; it was a chorus of separate, intertwined entities. She could not actually hear their words. It was something more amorphous than that. She knew, somehow, that they were not even in the room. She simply understood the content of their message. She knew what they were saying. They were accusing Hanish of weakness. They were testing his devotion, prodding him with accusations that he was betraying them.

Ancestors, he answered, you are all that matters to me.

Corinn lay without moving a muscle, staring at Hanish’s open eyes, listening to it all, chilled to the center, breathing shallowly. She took in the back-and-forth between them, the accusations and denials. At first it just seemed a bizarre thing, an incredible curiosity. She was so perplexed by what was happening that it took her a while to realize that they were circling around and around one particular issue-herself. When they brought it up directly, she felt her breath catch in her throat. They asked Hanish if he would kill her. If it came to it and was necessary, would he drain the Akaran bitch’s blood?

Hanish did not hesitate in answering. She is nothing to me, he said. I hold her close only to make sure she’s safely here for you.

They did not believe him. They asked again. This time he answered directly, so clearly Corinn had no difficulty understanding him. Clearly enough that she would hear the words over and over again in her mind ever after.

I would kill her without remorse, ancestors, Hanish said, at the very moment you wish her dead…