Long Live The King!
208 Years Ago, Kwa'Antineni (modern Salandport)
'Father, mother, Thude Meke, Weke Sani⊠I must get to them. I must get to themâŠ' the mantra rang inside Ista Ina's head in tandem with the pounding of her heart as she galloped down the streets of Kwa'Antineni.
She had seen conscripted townsfolk carting out corpses near the gate but there was no such operation here. The cobbled streets became so clogged with the dead that her black courser slowed from a canter, to a trot, then a walk, and lastly to a complete stop.
Ista Ina hopped off her horse and hurried along on foot. Her maid Nika Isa did likewise and fell in beside her.
"Lady Ghenna!" her guards called.
She ignored them and jogged on. She heard them cursing as they dismounted and sprinted after her.
For all her eagerness, Ista Ina was unaccustomed to physical exertion. It wasn't long before her heart was thudding in her ears and her lungs were burning. Her legs cramped and she felt like she would collapse in the very next moment, but she put one foot in front of the other and kept going. 'Father, mother, Thude Meke, Weke Sani⊠I must get to them. I must get to themâŠ'
The pain came as a sudden stab in her big toe. Ista Ina became airborne and instinctively stretched out her arms in front of her. They landed on the chest of a dead man, her face inches from his. Her limbs and torso came crashing down onto the corpse in another jolt of pain a heartbeat later.
The still-warm body belonged to a young man of twenty years or thereabouts. He wore no uniform, but the dark brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin, squat body, and hooked nose were stereotypically Salandrian features. One of Ista Ina's people. One of the thousands that had died today alone.
The youth's eyes were wide open, his face contorted in pain. A bloody gash adorned the base of his neck and his right forearm was gone, severed just below the elbow.
"Sorry," Ista Ina apologized as she rolled off her fallen countryman and knelt beside him. His forearm lay a couple of feet away, still clutching a bloody kitchen knife. The man had been no soldier. Just a civilian who had chosen to die defending his home rather than bend over for Baenar.
Ista Ina placed the severed right arm on the youth's chest and then repositioned his left hand to clasp the hilt of the 10-inch blade as well. The blade itself pointed towards his hips. She rearranged the man's body into a dignified pose instead of the splayed-out one she had found him in.
Ista Ina brushed one hand over the youth's face, closing his eyes and transforming his tortured expression into a tranquil one. He was even younger than she had presumed. His face was unmarred by age with full cheeks almost as chubby as a child's. Besides a few faint whiskers on his upper lip, the rest of his features were smooth.
"Dance with the mermaids, son of Naesaenon," Ista Ina whispered as she rose. She turned to find her Rhexian guards staring at her as if she had just sprouted a pair of horns. Ista Ina glared at them. "What?"
"Nothing, my lady," Roland answered and averted his eyes. Marlon followed suit. Nika Isa favored with her a small smile and squeezed her hand.
Ista Ina squeezed back and took off as fast as the corpse-congested streets could allow. Roland and Marlon fell in behind her while Nika Isa stayed even. 'Father, mother, Thude Meke, Weke Sani⊠I must get to them. I must get to themâŠ'
Ista Ina had to stop about a block from the palace. Ranks and ranks of Rhexian soldiers blocked the street. Her guards came in handy this time.
"Make way!" Roland shouted, taking the lead. The other soldiers instantly parted ranks when they saw Roland's cloak. Crimson and gold stripes. Colors of the Sixers, Baenar's elite household guard.
Ista Ina pushed through the narrow path Roland carved within the Rhexian ranks. Nika Isa followed just behind her while Marlon rounded up the rear. The going was slow and Ista ina felt a burning in her legs. She wanted to sprint and tear through the endless press of soldiers. The mantra grew frantic in her head. 'Father, mother, Thude Meke, Weke Sani, Mako Kani, Sifu Nani, Alla Ina, Little Masi Ndeni⊠I must get to them. I must get to themâŠ'
Just as Ista Ina was about to scream in frustration, they emerged in front of the palace gates. More Sixers guarded these, keeping the rest of the soldiers back. Another group of soldiers had toppled the statue of Anti Neni The Unifier, the first king of Salandria and the Isles, and were hacking at it with axes.
Ista Ina spared only a moment of sadness for her revered ancestor. She was more concerned with the welfare of her living relatives. 'Father, mother, Thude Meke, Weke Sani, Mako Kani, Sifu Nani, Alla Ina, Little Masi Ndeni⊠I must get to them. I must get to them. I must get to themâŠ'
Ista Ina and her party pushed through the final throng of soldiers but the Sixers at the gate wouldn't let them in.
"Do you know who she is?" Roland asked the lead guardsman.
"Yes, Roland Petronus. She is Lady Ghenna. She's Prince Baenar'sâŠum⊠lady friend."
"I'm his lover," Ista Ina stated the truth they were too afraid to mention. Rhexians were so repressed. "I command you to let me in or Baenar will know why."
"I cannot, my lady," the soldier said with a shake of his head, bowing even as he disobeyed her. "Orders. His Highness said not to let anyone in. Not even the Subaephyr himself."
"Who is your superior?" Ista Ina demanded.
"Sir Waltyr The Dragonslayer, my lady."
"Go fetch him!" At least she knew Walt. He will be more sensible than these mindless grunts. 'Father, Mother, Thude Meke, Weke Sani⊠I must get to them. I must get to themâŠ'
After conferring with his compatriots, the Sixer left. He returned a short while later with Walt. His face still bore evidence of the burns from the dragon's breath that had nearly baked him alive three months ago.
"Walt, what's going on?" Ista Ina demanded. "These men won't let me in"
"My apologies for how you have been treated, Princess Ista Ina. His Highness is expecting you," Walt said with a mocking bow.
Ista Ina froze. Sweat broke out under her arms and all down her back, but her mouth was as dry as a dusty broom. She tasted her lunch at the back of her throat. Nika Isa let out a small strangled sound.
"Is there a problem?" Walt asked.
"What did you call me?" Ista Ina tried to inject as much indignation into her voice as she could. It had to be a mistake. They couldn't have discovered her secret. Not yet. She had been so careful.
"Ista Ina Antinen," Walt repeated. "Is that not your name?"
A woman appeared behind Walt. She was Ista Ina's age. Same height. Same build. Same raven-black hair and emerald green eyes. The braided crown in which the woman wore her hair hadn't been fashionable in three years and she could use a new gown but the smug satisfaction on her face was unmistakable. That was the last person Ista Ina expected to see. The real Ghenna Sylarus Sebhurg, the Rhexian woman Ista Ina had been impersonating. Mako Kani had advised killing her. Ista Ina had opposed the action, suggesting they keep her captive instead. NowâŠ
The sun was shining, but Ista Ina started to shiver. Goosebumps as large as pimples sprouted on her skin.
Twenty soldiers moved to surround her. Roland and Marlon were the first to draw their swords, but not in her defense as they had before. They leveled them at her throat. Ista Ina's protectors had become her captors.
Baenar appeared on the palace balcony above, gleaming in his crimson and gold armor. His sword Sunsliver shone even brighter in his hand. Rhexians said it was a tiny piece of the sun itself. Ista Ina hadn't found any evidence to the contrary, but she was facing bigger problems than the provenance of a flaming sword.
Sixers dragged out her father, then her brothers, uncles, and cousins. Fourteen men from House Antinen had survived the fighting. There had been twenty-six when the war started five years ago. The war had been even more devastating to the Ufalmids, her mother's family. Her uncle Manimar had lost 12 dragons and thousands of soldiers to Baenar. His half-brother had deposed and murdered him alongside all his sons, full brothers, and nephews, then made peace with Baenar, leaving the Salandrians to stand on their own against the full might of Rhexia. They hadn't stood for long.
Baenar stood over them. With his free hand, he held aloft the Emerald Crown of Anti Neni the Unifier. Carved out of a single flawless jewel, it granted its wearer unparalleled wisdom and allowed him to speak with the gods. The Emerald Crown was worshiped as a holy relic in its own right, and not just anyone could touch it.
Today, the crown of the kings of Salandria lay in the hands of a bloodstained butcher who showed neither the respect nor the reverence the sacred artifact deserved. Ista Ina prayed for the gods to smite him where he stood.
Afternoon sunlight caught the emerald, sparking a fire in its depths, but it wasn't the fire of the gods' fury. Why would they answer her prayers? She had ignored them, abandoned them, rejected them. This was the first time she had spoken to them in years.
Up on the balcony, Baenar made Masi Ndeni II and his family kneel. Ista Ina's father looked defeated. Her brothers maintained defiant demeanors, but she knew they were not as fearless as they wanted the world to believe.
At the sight of the humiliated royals, the Rhexians broke into a battle hymn. Ista Ina had heard it hundreds of times before but it stung worse this time. They wiggled their shoulders, stamped their feet, shook their heads, and clanged their spears and swords against their shields as they sang:
Masi Ndeni omusinde (Masi Ndeni's an uncircumcised boy)
Bhasani bhewe bhasinde (His sons are uncircumcised boys)
Bharana bhoosi bhasinde (His soldiers are uncircumcised boys too)
Sakhuliriaa bhari bhasinde (We'll never fear uncircumcised cowards)
Aah! Masi Ndeni omusinde (Aah! Masi Ndeni's an uncircumcised boy)
Omukhasi kabheela khumusinde (His wife married an uncircumcised boy)
Keenya efwe bhasecha khumupe (She wants us real men to beat him bloody)
Khumwire (To kill him)
Khumusikhe (To bury him)
Khumubheye (To marry her)
Aah! Masi Ndeni omusinde (Aah! Masi Ndeni's an uncircumcised boy)
The soldiers fell silent as Baenar raised the hand with the Emerald Crown. Ista Ina sighed with relief.
Baenar placed the Emerald Crown on Masi Ndeni II's head. For a moment, Ista Ina's father looked like a king again. Regal. Proud. Powerful. Wise.
Then Sunsliver came, zipping through the air in a flash of light. Baenar grabbed the Emerald Crown in his left hand as King Masi Ndeni's head rolled onto the decking, slipped between two marble balustrades, and tumbled off the balcony. Ista Ina got a glimpse of the expression on her father's face as his head fell: confusion.
Ista Ina screamed like she never had before, a deep primal sound that rattled her entrails. Gasps came from everyone around. Ista Ina kept screaming until a rough palm closed over her mouth and muffled her.
Up on the balcony, Ista Ina's brothers, uncles, and cousins started sputtering, swiveling their heads about with eyes wide open. Her brothers' defiance disappeared faster than dew at sunrise.
"The king is dead!" Baenar proclaimed. Then he placed the Emerald Crown on the head of Weke Sani, the Crown Prince. "Long live the king!"
The crowd quieted. Rhexians clapped politely but Salandrians were too stunned to do anything but remain open-mouthed as if that would help them see better. Weke Sani moved his head from side to side, trying to get accustomed to the weight of the Emerald Crown. His bewildered terror was plain for all his subjects to see.
Sunsliver swung again, slicing through the flesh and bone of Weke Sani's neck like it was mere air. His head rolled off the balcony and landed a few feet from his father's.
"The king is dead!" Baenar proclaimed again. He placed the crown on the head of Mako Kani, Ista Ina's second brother. "Long live the king!"
Baenar beheaded Mako Kani too. Then it was Thude Meke's turn. Aged only sixteen, Thude Meke was the youngest of her brothers. The gentlest. Her favorite. He had grown a foot in the three years since she had last seen him but he was still the same awkward boy who preferred cataloging butterflies and frogs in the gardens to swinging a sword in the yard. The only thing missing today was his perpetual smile. If terror had a face, it would be Thude Meke's. Baenar put the crown on the boy's head. Then he cut off that head. Ista Ina passed out.
A pail of water emptied onto her face brought her back moments later. Another head had rolled. Ista Ina didn't need to look to know whose it was. Baenar was following the order of succession. Another Antinen was being crowned, her cousin Sifu Nani. Their eyes met. Instead of the terror she had seen in the rest of her relatives, in Sifu Nani's eyes, Ista Ina only met rage. His face was bruised and blood stained his clothes. He had fought today.
Sifu Nani was the best warrior in the family. He had racked up more victories against Rhexian forces than any other commander on their side. Even her maternal uncles, with dragons, couldn't match his win record. But those had all been in vain. Baenar had won the war. As Ista Ina looked into her cousin's eyes across the divide, she realized Sifu Nani was angry at her.
She remembered his last words to her, "That's what a soldier does, Ista Ina. He dies for his country. You wanted to help. You wanted to be a soldier. This is how you do it. Why should the sons of farmers and fishermen fight and die for your father if you won't? Kill the Rhexian demon. That's the only way you can help us."
But Ista Ina hadn't killed Baenar. She couldn't kill him and leave the Rhexian camp alive. Ista Ina hadn't wanted to die. She had been working on another plan. She had found an assassin stupid enough to undertake the suicidal mission. She had wanted deniability in case he failed. Ista Ina's assassin got himself sliced into pieces by Baenar's guards mid-swing.
As Ista Ina watched Sifu Nani's angry face fall to the ground, tears came unbidden. Her turn was coming. Somehow, the prospect of dealing with Sifu Nani's rage in the afterlife terrified her more than death itself.
Baenar kept going. He crowned and killed every Antinen man on the balcony in turn. Without fail, after every beheading, he intoned, "The king is dead! Long live the king!" Then he killed the new king.
The crowd watched in stunned silence. Even Ista Ina had stopped screaming. Her voice was hoarse. Everything hurt. Her eyes, her heart, her stomach, her arms, her feet⊠Even her hair hurt when the wind touched it. All she felt was a deep, paralyzing pain. It was a kind of pain she had never felt before. Pain she doubted could be compared with anything else.
Ista Ina had always wanted to make history. She had never thought experiencing it would be so torturous. The Antinen dynasty, the first to ever unify Salandria and all the many islands of the Chumbian Archipelago into a single kingdom, was gone. After over a century on the throne, the dynasty had been decapitated.
Baenar motioned for his Sixers to clear away the headless corpses. Nobody else dared to move. As soon as the Antinens were gone, a second flock of men was herded onto the balcony. They were an eclectic bunch, ranging from boys of ten to bent greybeards leaning on walking sticks. All were well dressed, except for one, who wore tatters.
A whine of terror tore through Ista Ina as she recognized the men. They were Nephews of The Unifier, men descended from the 11 brothers of Anti Neni I. They bragged about having royal blood but had no claim to the throne. Ista Ina's father had financially supported the struggling among the organization's ranks. When her mother had complained of the waste, Masi Ndeni II had told his wife that it was embarrassing to allow their kinsmen, however distantly related, to live in poverty while they called themselves kings.
The crowd held its collective breath as Baenar inspected the men.
"You!" Baenar pointed with his flaming sword, unstained by blood despite all the lives it had ended. He had picked out the most pathetic of them, the young man with trousers cut off at the knee and a tattered shirt with more holes in it than fabric. A slave's garb.
The man stepped forward, scratching his scruffy beard. Ista Ina hadn't seen him in years, but she recognized the moderately attractive face even under its grime.
Smani Dani. He was the son of Dali Zani, her mother's favorite jeweler, and hers as well. Smani Dani had always called her Princess Cousin, a term Ista Ina found endearing even though the man was only a sixth or seventh cousin, not in any way a close relation. He had been among the first of the Nephews of The Unifier to take up arms when the war started, and had vanished years ago, long before Ista Ina went to infiltrate the Rhexian camp. Everyone assumed he had died.
The young man dropped to his knees before Baenar, his head bowed.
"What's your name?" Baenar asked.
"Smani Dani, Your Highness. Smani Dani Maliten, son of Dali Zani."
Baenar scrunched up his face. "Smarmy donkey?"
The Rhexians chuckled.
"Smani. Dani," Smani Dani corrected.
"Why don't we just call you Smandan?" Baenar suggested. "It sounds more civilized than that Salandrian rattle of yours."
"Your wish is my command, Your Highness." Smani Dani bowed even lower. He tried to put on a brave front, but the man was clearly terrified out of his mind.
"What do you do Smandan?" Baenar asked.
"I am a slave, Your Highness."
"What kind of slave?"
"A galley slave, Your Highness. I pull an oar on Aemlilon's Rammer. It is one of your warships."
"How long?"
"Four years, Your Highness," Smani Dani answered with some feeling. It wasn't a job he liked but he wasn't going to say that out loud.
"And what did you do before that?"
Smani Dani went silent. His entire body shook and his lips quivered. A Sixer smacked Smani Dani across the face. "When a son of Aemlilon asks you a question, you answer, slave!" the Sixer barked.
"I was a soldier, Your Highness. Please forgive me. I was only 19. I did not know any better. I got captured and I have served you loyally as an oarsman ever since. Please don't kill me. Please. I will pull your oars until my last day, Your Highness. Please," Smani Dani begged with a quivering voice. Tears streamed down his face.
"Tell me, Smandan," Baenar prompted. "Do you have royal blood?"
"Yes, Your Highness." Smani Dani nodded, and the stream of tears turned into a river.
"Explain," an unbothered Baenar pressed.
"My grandfather's grandfather's father was a younger brother of Anti Neni The Unifier. He was nobody, Your Highness. A nobody. A loser. They called him Mali Teni The Drunkard. Please don't kill me. Please, Your Highness. I have been a loyal slave all these years. PleaseâŠ" Smani Dani sobbed. Ista Ina found herself sobbing with him.
"In the name of my royal brother, the Subaephyr Pharas the Tenth, I, Baenar, son of Aemlilon, proclaim you, Smandan, son whatever savage Salandrian name your father calls himself, King of Salandria and all the islands of the Chumbian Archipelago." Baenar then placed the Emerald Crown on Smani Dani's head.
Shaking like an epileptic, Smani Dani peed himself and nearly dropped the sacred crown as terrified tremors seized him.
"Bridle your bladder, you bloody barbarian!" Baenar cursed.
Smani Dani steadied himself. While he stood there in tatters stained by urine, a Rhexian priest anointed him with five oils and led him through the oath of vassalage to Pharas X, the so-called earthly deputy of Aephyr, king of the Rhexian gods.
Like his ancestors before, Pharas X styled himself as King of Rhexia, King of Kings, Lord of All Men, Master of All Beasts Under the Eternal Blue Sky, and Ruler of the Hundred Realms of Bhai Andium. There were only 25 realmsânow 26 with Salandriaâbut the Rhexians had always called them a hundred for some reason.
Smani Dani was bequeathed the surname Salandbhurg and Salandria became the 25th kingdom whose ruler knelt at the feet of the Rhexian King of Kings. Baenar motioned the still-stunned man to his feet, raised his hand, and proclaimed, "Long live the king!" Smani Dani flinched at the shout, eliciting laughter from nearby Rhexian soldiers.
"Now," Baenar announced. "A king needs a queen. His Majesty King Smandan shall wed his royal cousin, the princess Ista Ina, at noon tomorrow."
Ista Ina only had a moment to process her surprise before she was seized, prodded forward, marched onto the balcony, and made to hold the callused and still trembling hand of Smani Dani. The newly-crowned king was still terrified despite his best efforts to hide it. Ista Ina couldn't fault him.
Surely Baenar was playing some cruel prank on them. Ista Ina expected a death sentence for what she had done, not a crown. She hadn't just made a fool of him, she had tried killing him, but her assassin had failed and gotten himself killed instead. Baenar hadn't suspected her at the time, but now that he knew who she was, there was no way he didn't know she was behind that attempt on his life. The same tremors seized her, vibrating her heart and rattling her teeth.
Smani Dani was something else up close. He smelled of day-old sweat and salt and piss. His hand felt like a block of wood in Ista Ina's palm. He had aged twenty years in the last five. His face was angular and hard. A combination of hard labor and malnutrition had left no trace of softness anywhere on the body of the once chubby and jovial youth. He was both strong and frighteningly skinny, with muscles as hard as the bone they so thinly covered.
When Ista Ina tried to squeeze his arm, her hand hurt. She began dreading what caresses from him would feel like. Ista Ina tried to hide her own fear as she looked into the crowd.
Salandrians bowed reverently. She was the daughter of their old king, the now-dead Masi Ndeni II. Rhexians watched her with naked curiosity like she was some strange beast at a menagerie. That didn't surprise her. She had spent three years among them under a different name, two of those as their commander's mistress. 'Baenar's whore' was the less-than-polite label some of them had used in private.
As she watched the crowd, a chill traveled through Ista Ina's body. She could see it now. It was such an obvious conspiracy theory. She had been sleeping with the enemy. Now everyone ahead of her in the line of succession was dead and she was queen.
Her stomach sank as whispering started in the crowd. It spread from the Rhexians to the Salandrians, and the reverential looks turned hostile. Even the turncloaks from northern Salandria, men who had fought in Baenar's army against their king and their countrymen, hissed and spat at her. Baenar had made her the most hated woman in her own kingdom. A kingdom she had seduced in him in an attempt to save.
As the days went by, the rumors about her role in the war, the extermination of her male relatives, and her affair with Baenar would grow wilder and wilder. No matter her efforts, Ista Ina knew she could never make them disappear. The truth was damning enough without all the implications that could be inferred from it. Ista Ina wanted to weep but she maintained her poise.
Reprieve came when Baenar left the balcony, a smile on his face. The Sixers herded them back into the palace. Smani Dani leaned closer and whispered, "My condolences for your loss, Princess Cousin." The tremor hadn't quite gone from his voice. Poor man. Soon, he too would hear the rumors. And he would loathe her. Just like the others.
Ista Ina ran off to find some privacy. No one stopped her. Baenar had the palace surrounded, with guards on every door. There was no escape. Ista Ina found the small shrine she had always favored as a girl and sobbed her eyes out. She wept for her father, her brothers, her uncles, her cousins, the youth she had bumped into earlier, all the men who had fallen fighting. All the people she had failed. If onlyâŠ
Her mother found her an hour later. Queen Manimina's eyes were red too. She had lost her entire family in three months. Ista Ina was the only blood relative she had left. Her half-brother was emperor in Maevi'i, but Humihor had killed both of Manimina's full brothers and many of her other half-brothers and nephews. Mother and daughter embraced and wept, their tears intermingling and soaking them both. They shook and sobbed and consoled each other then sobbed some more.
Nika Isa found them just before dark. Ista Ina had given her up for dead when the soldiers dragged her away. Now she embraced the trusty maid who had gone with her on her infiltration of the Rhexians.
"Nika Isa, dear." Ista Ina pressed her cheek into her friend's shoulder. "They let you live?"
"Yes, Princess." The maid squeezed Ista Ina. "Baenar says he can't punish loyalty. He wants to see you. Both of you."
Ista Ina and her mother made themselves as presentable as they could and marched through the hallways of their home. Hallways that now belonged to the enemy.
Baenar sat in her father's solar, reclining on a couch and chatting with Eadwin IV Volschbhurg, King of Volscionu, and some Volscion noblemen. Eadwin IV was one of the 24 kings subordinate to the Rhexian crown. Twenty-five now, Ista Ina corrected herself. Salandria had been conquered. Baenar dismissed the old king and his party as they entered.
"Manimina, Ghenna." Baenar motioned for them to sit. They remained standing and glared at him.
"My name is Ista Ina," Ista Ina snapped.
"It took you, what, only three years to tell me?" Baenar scoffed. "I'm very sad, you know. I loved Ghenna. I miss Ghenna. I wish she was real. I woke up this morning embraced by Ghenna. Tonight, I will have to try and sleep knowing she was a lie. A fabrication."
"You're sad?" Manimina screamed. "You murdered my husband! You murdered my sons! Everyone I love is dead because of you! And you're sad that your little fantasy imploded?"
"Executions aren't murder, Your Majesty," Baenar said cooly. "I thought you would understand that better than anyone. Your husband started this entire war when he executed our priests."
"Those priests were traitors," Manimina contended. "They incited a rebellion."
"And yet when we asked Masi Ndeni to show us his evidence, he called his banners instead."
"And you killed him for that?" Manimina asked. "He tried to make peace with you. He offered to vassalize himself and you rebuffed him. You chased away his envoy like a dog."
"Your husband starts a war, keeps it going for five years, then begs for mercy the moment he realizes he is about to lose and you expect me to be forgiving? Do you think my men would stand for it, after they watched their friends get burned alive by your brothers' dragons? And let's not even get into what your husband did to the first envoys we sent him."
"Your envoys insulted the king."
"And you killed them?" Baenar's expression was curious.
"Yes," Manimina responded obstinately. "They had to be taught a lesson."
"Well," Baenar said. "Masi Ndeni insulted me too. As did your boys. They had to be taught a lesson as well."
Manimina grew quiet and just glared at Baenar. Rage and pain contorted her face into a mask Ista Ina had never seen before
"Don't be a sore loser, Manimina," Baenar advised. "If you and your family had won this war, you would have mounted my head on a pike and paraded it throughout all your cities."
"Is that what you're going to do to my husband? My sons? You're going to parade their heads around ?"
"I'm not as petty as that," Baenar said. "You can have their bodies. Give them one of your snake-worshiper funerals."
"And my grandsons? Little Masi Ndeni and Nami Lale? What have you done with them? Are you going to let me bury them or do you not want people to know you killed them?" Manimina pressed.
"Your grandsons are not dead."
"What do you plan to do with them?"
"Give them to good families, of course. There is no shortage of infertile old men desperate for sons to carry their names. "
"You are going to murder them!" Manimina accused.
"They're children. In two years, they will have no memory of this place or those heathen names you have saddled them with. They have done nothing to me. I do not need to kill them. But I know if I leave them here, you will fill their heads with treason and in ten years, I will be back here, chopping off heads all over again. This is for the best."
Manimina took a seat and glared at Baenar. Ista Ina joined her and hid her trembling hands inside the fold of her gown. "You're going to erase their identities?" Ista Ina asked.
"Precisely," Baenar agreed.
Manimina clenched her fists. "How do I know you won't murder them once they're out of sight in Rhexia?"
"I am not a Maevite! We don't kill in secret and we don't kill children. We worship real gods, not snakes, and they frown on that kind of thing. When your brother Humihor killed your other brothers and your nephews, he pretended that they drowned. I have more honor than that. If I kill your grandsons, you can rest assured that I will do you the courtesy of sending you their heads. I didn't hide when I killed your husband and your boys. I won't hide if I have to kill your grandsons."
Baenar's explanation shut Manimina up. Ista Ina had no doubt Baenar would do as he said. He wasn't the kind of butcher that distanced himself from his work.
"The wedding tomorrow," Baenar continued. "I don't want any problems. I didn't spare you because you're innocent. I spared you because you're women. Play your parts well and I will see to it that you remain alive and healthy."
"And if we don't?" Manimina's nostrils flared. "You will kill us? You will kill women? Isn't there some Rhexian law about that?"
"The prohibition on the killing of women isn't law. It's just custom. Our women are so gentle we never need to kill them. It's only here that I've found venomous snakes like you two," Baenar said. "But I don't need to kill you. I will just throw you out on the street. You should hear the things they're saying about your daughter. I wonder how long you will survive out there."
Ista Ina could only imagine. "I will play my part," she promised. Vengeance would have to wait. For now, she had to survive.
"Very good, Ghenna," Baenar said. "You can go."
"Why did you spare me, Baenar?" Ista Ina asked instead of leaving.
"You don't know?" Baenar asked.
"No."
"You don't know you're pregnant?"
"I'm not pregnant," Ista Ina insisted.
"You are," Baenar said. "One month."
"How can you know when even I don't know?"
"I'm descended from a god, Ghenna. Aemlilon. God of knowledge and learning. God of fire. God of the sun. God of war. Everyone knows that. The blood in my veins is gold, not the common red in yours. You have seen it. Mere mortals like you shouldn't think you can tangle with my ilk just because you used vile sorcery to acquire fire-breathing lizards that can fly."
Baenar dismissed them with a wave. While they were at the door, he spoke up, "Take good care of my daughter, Ghenna. If she dies, for any reason, so will you."