Chez.
Goz's soldiers chatted away in the dark of the night. They were sat with five of Dimir's guards outside the castle, jesting and eating. Inside the enormous temple, handmaidens worked the cellars and kitchen, cooking and skinning meat at their mistress's command.
In the boudoir, Psem dressed Esheth, according to culture, in a veil adorned with coloured crystals and a silk gown. Psem pinned a great feather to Esheth's veils and smiled widely. Esheth had immediately being delivered to Psem upon their arrival that morning, and she had treated Esheth to the royal boudoir.
Though Psem had had to attend to some affairs in the castle, she had later returned that evening to dress Esheth.
Esheth had been sitting alone in the boudoir, thinking, enjoying the bliss of her fantasy. Twelve months more, twelve months and she'd be free, free from this life, free from misery. She would give Goz all he wanted, every virtue till twelve months we're passed. She had been smiling when Psem walked in and Psem had made the first wild guess that Esheth was pregnant.
"Well, yes," Esheth had said, her grin growing wider but her mind taken away. Psem had screamed in delight, clasped her palms to her chest then hold Esheth in a warm embrace. She had then assumed Goz was elated. Had they come to break the news to them?
"Oh!" Esheth said, "he doesn't know yet."
"Tell him!" Psem chided and Esheth laughed.
"I would."
"Tonight," Psem added.
Esheth nodded, and then her smile disappeared, she became distant, distracted that she did not notice when Psem unwrapped the veil.
"It's been- years," Psem said in thought, staring at the veil. "I thought you'd never come, I waited. I would but Dimir..."
"I am here now," Esheth said.
When the woman pinned the veil and a feather upon Esheth, she whispered;
"You're beautiful."
"Thank you," Esheth said, running a hand over the veil.
"Tonight," Psem repeated. This time, Esheth nodded absently.
Goz paraded the hall of the castle. It would be easier for him if he had seen his uncle Dimir on arrival. Their journey had been rough, dangerous infact. When they arrived Chez, Psem had received them warmly and drawn Esheth away. The Baron was not in town, he had journeyed and only returned this evening, which bothered Goz. He hadn't rested at all, his lids dropped heavily and his head ached. The realization that he would face his uncle after so many years had hit him again like wind. Would Dimir mock him? Or look at him with pity and sacarsm? What would he say? He hadn't thought of it. He took neither water or food but turned once and again on the bed of the chamber Psem had offered him.
She had promised to return Esheth by noon but hadn't. When he didn't set eyes on his wife, he bothered because of the inquiry he wanted to make on her pregnancy.
He went back and forth in the hall, left and right till he feared that he would faint. He stopped for a moment.
"Goz?" The voice came, then he heard the footsteps from behind him. He had almost forgotten what Dimir sounded like, royalty?
He turned slowly, then stood stiff. Dimir's presence filled the hall to overflowing. Goz couldn't tell if the man had changed, it had been long enough. But he looked great, grey in the hair and in expression. He was a little bent by age and built by skill, swift though, he covered the distance in a blink. Goz was sure he must have changed in some way.
"Uncle..." Goz whispered.
"What are you doing," he thought, " you're a King, act like a Long."
He heard his father's voice say in his head. He shouldn't, for the fact that he is standing before Dimir. Goz shut his eyes rapt, then tore them open. The man came to him.
"You have come," Dimir said. In the blink of an eye, he drew Goz and covered him in a warm embrace, holding him for a moment. "Son."
Goz exhaled. He revered his uncle's arms for a moment, then the man let go. He held Goz in his gaze before finally leading him to the garland.
"Come," Dimir said.
Goz obeyed.
"I could not face Yateph, not after all these years," Dimir said pensively.
He offered Goz wine and Goz received the goblet. He did not remember a lot about Dimir, but he wasn't sure the man had ever been a talkative. Father had said whenever Dimir spoke, he spoke for a reason; himself.
Settling on the garland, Goz nodded, he had no words. Should he say father would have been delightful to see him? No, Merek wouldn't have, not even for an army deployment or even for Goz.
"I don't miss him," Dimir stated, which did not surprise Goz. "What I miss is Yateph's glory." He said and shook the goblet.
Blatant. Goz reminded himself. Dimir sipped his wine.
"How is your brother? Heard he became Chief deputy." He said.
"He is," Goz said. "Dorblan," he added thoughtfully.
"Dorblan," Dimir echoed. He stood and walked to a wide table, set his go let down and looked into the distance, "Dorblan," he repeated, shot Goz his eyes and nodded.
"How is he?"
Goz smiled wryly. "Reckless," he said.
The room became quiet and Goz stood.
"I have come because of Yateph. The wars are coming."
Goz could hear the desperation in his own voice. The plea and wavering gave him away. Dimir stood with his back to him, gave a grunt and picked his goblet again. Just then, Psem and Esheth appeared at the entrance. Goz turned, then Dimir.
"Ahh," Dimir said, "my Lady."
He went to Esheth, took her hand and kissed it. Esheth bowed.
Dimir turned to Goz. "Come to dinner with us," he said dubiously.
Goz nodded. Esheth came to him and offered her hand, looking at him with question. "Goz?" She said.
He took her hand and led her to the table walking behind Dimir and Psem. He looked down and gave a faint smile.
"The veil is elegant," she whispered.
"Yes. It suits you," Goz answered.
"Oh Goz," she said, "we must be alone after the dinner, I have something to tell you."
Washing their hands, they all sat and soon, the pantlers began to arrive bearing trays of stag, loins of vealams pigeons covered in saffron, followed by the butlers with wine. Dimir raised a goblet.
"For peace," he said and they each raised their goblets.
"For peace."
"And increase," Psem added and Goz caught a smile erupt from Esheth's lips.
They ate quietly, except occasionally, when Dimir would throw Esheth a question then keep his gaze on Goz as she spoke. But Esheth was careful not to speak on Yateph's state. When the last course of the meal came, Esheth excused herself with claims to not be Keen on sweet potatoes. She whispered to Goz that she'd be waiting in the chamber.
For the rest of the meal, Psem watched Goz closely. She asked him once how Yateph fared and he answered scantily. When the meal was over, she stood, whispered briefly to Dimir and kissed his forehead. She bowed slightly to Goz and left the hall. The Kitchen staff cleared the table while Goz watched Dimir.
The man was teasing Goz and Goz knew; he saw it in his calmness, in the lines that stroke his cheeks. When the men had left, Goz spoke.
"Now? Is now the right time?"
Dimir stood from the table, flapping his cloak. "I am afraid it isn't son," he said, "I must attend some important business. I'll send for you before dawn."
He tapped Goz's shoulder and headed outside the hall. When he was out of sight, Goz sent one of the seats slamming against the floor, hard enough to rip it. He groaned and buried his head in his palms.
In the Baron's bed chamber, Psem waited, a dubious smile on her lips, and her eyes bright with mischief. She was sprawled on the enormous bed and had taken off her robe, revealing her enticing legs. Dimir came in and she flashed him her widest grin, inviting him solemnly. He went to her and kissed her lips.
"It is time," Psem said with satisfaction.
"They came to us."
"Just as I told you Dimir."
She kissed him back, sending her pride down his throat. He teased her legs.
"It is time for your reign to be established in all Yateph," she whispered in his ear, "and Chez and in the whole region. It belongs to you Dimir."
"Yes," Dimir said, ravishing her body with his warmth. "Tell me Psem, what lies in wait. Tell me everything."
Psem raised his chin and locked eyes with him.
"She is with child," she said firmly.
"She is," Dimir said, smiling.
"Yes," Psem said, she touched his lips. "Call for him at midnight. He'll go to ZAGRA but we have nothing to fear, tell him to go to her."
It was an hour before Goz returned to the chamber. He had sat at the fireplace in the hall meditating, his heart drawn in grief. If Dimir did not help him, then Yateph is bound to loss, a great defeat. He thought again of Tez's words; ...you find wisdom but your heart is darkened.
Had he found wisdom? Was this wisdom? There had to be a right path and he couldn't think of anything else. Dimir was his last defense just as Garath had said. With Chez's troop of twenty four thousand trained Knights and Yateph's army, victory could be his. He could regain the power of the Sects from Pareth and overthrow the West too. This had to be the way.
When he entered the chamber, he found Esheth sitting, waiting, her eyes wide with patience.
"Esheth?" He said.
"Goz- Goz I must tell you," she said standing up to draw him by the hand. She planted a kiss to his lips. "I am with child!"
"You- you're with child," he said, confirming her words.
She nodded with a wide grin. "Yes, yes Goz, your child."
He kissed her back. "My child." His eyes beamed.
"This," he said, "is Yateph's new beginning. Our new beginning."
Esheth's grin slowly disappeared. "Yes," she said pulling away. "You spoke with your uncle?"
Goz went to the bed and sat. "Not yet. He'd send for me."
"Dimir cannot help us. He cannot save Yateph," Esheth said, coldly.
"It is the last thing we have."
Esheth took his hand and kissed it. "Yateph will live again by your hand King Goz."
A knock came on the door. Goz went for it and the messenger informed him that the Baron would now see him in the hall. Goz turned back to Esheth, kissed her cheek and hurried away.
As he approached the hall, he made a decision to speak in clear terms, whatever it took. He needed Dimir's alliance as Chez was a part of Yateph after all, and he is King of Yateph.
Drawing near, a growing hesitation lingered within him. Chez did not directly report under him, Dimir had given Chez a mind of it own, with more trained Knights than Yateph, and a healthy troop of soldiers, Yateph could not make any reasonable advance against Chez.
Goz decided not to look like it, not to look like Chez was Yateph's last hope, or like he was desperate.
In the hall, Dimir sat waiting, stroking the fur of his cloak, watching the fire burn out. When Goz appeared, he adjusted in his seat. This was it, Dimir thought. He calculated Goz's desperation by his stride, and his determination by the swiftness at which he covered the distance between them. What Dimir wanted to know was Goz's tendency compromise, so he let him stand and look for words.
"Stay," Dimir offered, "one more night for dinner and we speak."
"We have plenty of food in Yateph," Goz said.
"That's what I heard." Dimir pointed to the place by him. "Sit."
"I reckon I might just tell you about the wars," Goz said with grudge.
Dimir smiled dryly. "No need," he said, "tell me why you have come. It's been years son."
"Yateph," Goz said.
"Ahh, great Yateph, how has it fared?"
Goz withdrew a little, he wasn't winning. Dimir had tactic, the kind that invades a fortress and lay seige around it. He must think of a better way.
"The wars have dealt us to bruise. As you know, Yateph always fight to finish, but these advances and the ones to come, they never stop-" Goz paused to catch Dimir's expression.
"You're right, I have heard of the wars but Chez has come clean of all of it."
Goz became tired of hesitating, he cleared his throat and declared;
"Yateph needs an alliance."
"An alliance," Dimir said, and to Goz's surprise, laughter threatened to erupt from his uncle's lips.
"And you come to me?" Dimir said.
"Chez's troop are in good condition to face battle. Your knights are numbered up to thousands. Would the Baron not do Yateph this favour?"
Dimir shook his head. "The Baron will not form alliance with any District. Have you not wondered how we have stayed clear of the wars for such a long time."
"Nonsense!" Goz erupted. Gushing anger pulled him to his feet. "I only wonder that even now, you'd not help Yateph."
Dimir sat still, eyes fixed on Goz.
"He is dead yet he lives in you," he said shaking his head. "Merek.. quick and crafty. You have his spirit, Goz."
Goz ignored him.
"Sit," Dimir said.
When he obliged, Dimir continued.
"You don't understand child. It is not a war of numbers. You must set yourself to search in the hidden places, you must search and find what other Kings despised."
"I have searched and this is the way."
"But it isn't."
"Then tell me."
"If I knew then I would have..."
"Why do you mock me?"
Dimir winced. "But you see, I don't," he said quietly, "I know of one who can show you the way."
"Why don't you tell me."
"Her name is ZAGRA, the great sorceress."
Goz withdrew from his seat. Shaking his head in disbelief.
"ZAGRA," he said solemnly. "Yet you say you don't mock me."
Goz walked to face Dimir who was now standing.
"Give me your troop or Yateph perish." He said then started away.
Dimir let him go, two paces, three and then five.
"You're just like him," Dimir finally said, "you shut your ears to truth and your heart to wisdom."
Goz got back to the chamber and Esheth was wide awake, waiting for him. She wrapped her arms around him when he sat.
"Tell me everything," she said.
"We leave tomorrow."