Six Heirs (5 page)

Once he finished with his packing, he gathered his courage, the bodies, and their belongings. He showered the pile with oil and lit it on fire.

At that moment, Mir reappeared. He had found four ponies tied up to a tree not far from there. Bowbaq followed the lion while brooding on dark thoughts about the number four, but once they reached the spot, it turned out that one of the animals was only a pack pony.

The search through the saddlebags and other belongings he found there turned up dry. There was nothing but the clothing and equipment needed for a ride in a cold countryside. Bowbaq untied the ponies and led them to his pen, speaking soothing words to them the whole way to calm the nervousness they felt at being so close to the big lion. Then he freed them of their loads, which he quickly sorted through. The better half of it went into the fire; he kept the other half, which lacked any distinguishing markings.

Once he had put a harness on Wos, he went over to the wildcat and gave him these instructions:
“My companion and my little ones are in danger. I need to protect them. But I cannot reach them. Does Mir understand?”

“Understand. The pride in danger.”

“That’s it. Mir can protect them. Will he?”

“Humans with female and cubs of Man frighten by me. Want to kill me. Ipsen say come here. Not safe to leave.”

“Mir is wise, but if he doesn’t go, the family—the pride is dead. Mir must go.”

The lion spun around a couple of times, obviously confused. Bowbaq knew how disconcerting the situation was for him. Animals don’t understand the concept of choice, or rather, that of the future. Then Mir let out a brief roar and spoke. He had made his decision.

“I leave. Protect the pride because Man says.”

He set off immediately. Relieved, Bowbaq saddled up and, with the four ponies behind him, headed off toward the south, hoping he was wrong about the gravity of the situation.

But the fire that burned until morning confirmed that he was not.

The Council meeting was shaping up to be a very long one indeed. As was custom, they dealt first with the simple daily affairs. And today it seemed that each of the twenty-eight Mothers, representing as many villages, had her share of proposals, claims, and questions to bring forward. Even the three Mothers responsible for the welfare of the capital, Kaul, who under normal circumstances monopolized this stage of the debates, appeared overwhelmed.

Corenn sunk into her chair in resignation. During the nineteen years that she had sat on the Council, she had learned patience. Fifteen years ago, she herself had ardently defended the local interests of a small town in the Matriarchy; now she worked on behalf of the entire State.

She was the Mother charged with Tradition; in other words, the guardian of institutions. For a few years now, since the death of her predecessor, Corenn’s duty had been to uphold the State’s integrity and to ensure respect from its citizens. Despite help from her subordinates, she herself was often on the road to soothe angered citizens in some village, to organize elections in another, or to ensure the proper use of power elsewhere still.

Her authority in the Matriarchy was so great that even at this very moment, right here at the Council, she could, for example, command silence from any of the elected Mothers for failure to comply with the right of seniority.

Her nomination by the Ancestress had prompted numerous protests at that time, especially on behalf of older women who believed they were the ones who rightfully deserved this permanent
seat. But Corenn proved her effectiveness and her unfailing wisdom in exercising the judicial powers she commanded, managing the majority of the matters the Mothers brought to her by means of diplomacy alone. It was in this way, little by little, that she had earned the trust and often the friendship of her peers, especially after the Ancestress had placed each of the older Mothers in other important positions, such as the Mothers charged with Justice, the Treasury, and Resources. After a while, everyone admitted that the Ancestress had made the right choice.

Corenn was also entrusted with a secondary duty, which was unofficial and known only to the permanent members of the Council.

She was responsible for spotting, among the countless Kauliens she met during her travels, those who seemed to demonstrate an aptitude for using magic. She herself was a mage, though she rarely called on her powers, which she deemed rather weak.

Each time something extraordinary was reported in one province or another, each time something seemingly impossible occurred, Corenn arrived on the scene. She made inquiries, observed, and, far too rarely for her liking, found an individual who might possess the talent.

Without revealing anything, she would then ask the individual his, or more often her, opinion on magic, the Matriarchy, and the idea of starting a new life. When the answers were satisfactory, which was generally the case, Corenn offered a trial, requesting the utmost discretion. Among the twenty individuals she had seen, only twice were the trials crowned with success.

In both of these cases, Corenn had passed on her knowledge to her recruits, both women. The Mother of Global
Relations now employed them, needless to say, as spies. The Permanent Council’s intention had been to bring together enough mages to restore the legendary grandeur of former Mothers; the objective still seemed far from being realized.

The debates followed one after another. The Tradition Corenn guarded required her to attend all of the meetings. But her intervention was rarely necessary; the majority of the matters brought forth during the Councils of Villages mainly had to do with food, trade, security, or other domestic themes. For fifteen years, it was always the same problems.

So she waited patiently, voting when a consultation was asked of her, and casting a stern look when a young Representative raised her voice a little too much in the presence of her elders, which was usually enough to restore a more respectful attitude from the tactless individual. Finally, the Mother of Recollection reread the decisions made that particular day, and reminded the Council of the matters they still needed to debate. The village representatives then left the enormous meeting room.

Only sixteen people stayed in the room: the Permanent Council, which now had to debate the important matters previously brought forth, in addition to matters concerning the whole of the country as well as its neighbors.

In the past, they had asked Corenn to report on her search for magicians. For a long time now, that no longer interested many members. And so they went straight to foreign affairs.

The discourse on trade, taxes, and international competition annoyed her even more than the village quarrels. Unfortunately, this part was the most time-consuming.

Then the Mother of Global Relations proudly announced the final ratification of a peace treaty with Romine. Everyone
applauded and congratulated her. Though for some time now Romine had no longer deserved its title of High Kingdom and only had a very weak military force, it was still best to ensure neighborly relations.

They then discussed an increase in port traffic, a problem that had just been brought before the Council of Villages and hadn’t been resolved. The Mothers attempted to draft a piece of legislation, but it quickly became clear that none of them were very knowledgeable on the subject. They decided to carry out a study and consult an expert, a task entrusted to the Memory committee. They would then revisit the matter.

Since they had already made significant progress in the day’s agenda and the principal matters had already been looked over, the Ancestress suggested that they take up the remaining business the following dékade. Everyone accepted with relief, as they were weary from the string of meetings, which had gone from the third to the sixth deciday.

Corenn was gathering her things when Wyrmandis, the Mother of Justice, approached her.

“Do you know a Xan? He’s a sculptor from Partacle, I believe.”

Yes, she knew him well. He was the one in charge of organizing the upcoming meeting of the heirs. He and Corenn corresponded regularly; she truly admired the gentle and thoughtful man, one of the few who didn’t consider the gift of magic a monstrous deformity, but rather a talent, a skill to be perfected.

“Yes, actually. How did you know?”

“I’m sorry to inform you, but he’s dead.”

Corenn was shaken. Wyrmandis waited a while, uncomfortably. She seemed to be waiting impatiently for the questions that Corenn was inevitably going to ask her.

“What happened to him?”

“He was killed in his own home, along with his wife and three children. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Ermeil too. Richa. Garolfo. And what was the youngest’s name again? She couldn’t remember anymore. Dead. All of them were dead.

“They didn’t suffer. I believe they were sleeping when it happened. According to the information I received from Goran, they were poisoned.”

Corenn swallowed painfully. Weakened by shock, her voice was merely a murmur.

“Poisoned? They were murdered?”

“Yes. In fact...”

Wyrmandis pulled her to the side and lowered her voice.

“It’s almost certain that it was the Züu. That’s why I received the information.”

Corenn understood. The Züu hadn’t set foot in Kaul for decades, and everyone wanted it to stay that way. The Justice committee was responsible for keeping a close watch on the murderers’ activities, the world over.

“But why? Why would the Züu have wanted to eliminate Xan and his family? Who would have wanted that?”

“I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me. The Goranese are also baffled. Recently the Züu have been going after a number of people who are nothing like their usual targets, which include nobility, priests, and bourgeois.”

A terrible suspicion suddenly came over Corenn, leaving her frozen in horror.

“Do you have the names of these people? Of the unusual victims, I mean.”

“Yes, of course I do, they’re included in my report. I can recite a few by memory: there was a Goranese soldier, a Lorelien nobleman, a Sailor from Lineh, or from Yiteh, I believe, and an herbalist from Pont...”

Corenn felt as if the ground had split open right under her feet. She knew all of them, personally or by name. Nort’, Kercyan, Ramur, Sofi...Almost all of them were her friends. And all of them were heirs of Ji.

Wyrmandis ended her morbid recital once she saw how pale her listener had gone. Corenn was swaying when she came to her senses and asked solemnly, “Please tell me, but only if you’re absolutely certain...was a Kaulienne killed by the Züu? A young woman named Léti?”

“No, fortunately not one Kaulien has been killed. Not as of last night, in any case. What is it?”

The mage let out a sigh of relief, ignoring the question. Her little Léti, her only family, the light of her life, was unharmed. Léti was her cousin’s daughter, but since her cousin’s disappearance, she treated the girl as her own.

“I must leave at once. My niece is in danger, and”—she realized as she spoke—“so am I. Wyrmandis, I need that list as soon as possible. Can you have it brought to me in my quarters?”

Wyrmandis frowned as she listened to Corenn, answering her plea with a stare. This all seemed grave.

“You think the Züu are after you? The Züu? I think it would be best if you told me everything. I will do what’s necessary to protect you.”

“I can’t,” she replied, as she hurried off. “I may not get there in time.”

She turned to Wyrmandis as she walked and said, “As for protecting us,”—she shot a glance around the huge room, staring pointedly at the few fat-bellied soldiers that guarded the exits, the deserving veterans of the Matriarchy’s small army—“you know that’s impossible.”

She practically ran through the long hallways leading to her personal quarters in the Grand House.

For the first time in a long time, the mage was afraid.

“By all the gods and their whores!”

Reyan was truly furious. He had deployed his entire seductive arsenal for this damsel. He had brought her to all of the fashionable places, he had bought her a meal, drinks, and, above all else, entry to the finest establishments in Lorelia. And the ungrateful wench had refused him hospitality and a little bit of tenderness for the night, flat out slamming the door in his face.