KATEL

[Harmonious_Echos]

Chapter one:

 

Sara Katel

 

“Sara KATEL! You come here this instant!!”

The corridor rang with Lady Laelri’s call as Sara picked up her skirts and ran. Sara knew that if she didn’t do exactly as her mistress, Lady Nurandar Laelri, wished, she could lose her position—and that meant losing her family’s only honor. That was a disaster she could not risk, even now…

She entered the grand study in a rush, hair flying, hastily smoothing the wrinkles from her apron. She stopped in the center of the room and curtsied deeply, frozen in submission until the Lady sighed a release.

“Yes, my Lady…?”

The Lady Lealri was perched precociously on the corner of her high wooden desk—a position which did both the somber desk and the bone-thin Lady a disservice. The Lady’s cold, pale face turned, her ice-blue eyes flashing a contempt which her voice did not show. The voice which spoke was soft, melodious, and almost kind, even though her words were sharp.

“Now, then—Stop cowering like an imbecile! My ladies’ maids must walk with grace! Come, look up. I understand that even a…er, person of your sort has feelings. I have heard that you have a relative at the battle-front. I release you from your afternoon duties, for today only…Now you may go. Gently!” Sara made as if to rush out, and earned another reprimand. “I do not wish to disgrace myself before my household by allowing one of my own ladies’ maids to race about the castle like a hunted deer!!”

Sara curtsied and was out the door before the Lady had finished her sentence, but slower this time—making sure to tuck her skirts back into their usual tidy shape. Her heart raced ahead of her feet as she made her way to the servant’s quarters of Castle Laelri.

 

Once she reached the lady’s maidservants’ rooms, Sara gathered up her copper coins, hoping to pay the gardener for a lift. She was going to see her Ma, and she didn’t care how much trouble it caused her. Her Farsense was telling her that her father was terribly hurt, possibly even dying.

The Herald had said that the third gate at the capitol, Tesian’Fara, had fallen—but though they had won the gate, they had lost the battle. Sara knew that Pa was dying out there, he must be, somewhere on that awful marsh—the pain of her Farsense was too intense, and when she reached out to her father, she received only a blurred darkness. Ma had to know something had happened to Pa, too. Perhaps she would know even more than Sara did…

 

Several hours later, Sara’s mind was filled with confusion as she drew herself up, gathering her breath outside her parents’ cottage. She had not been successful in bribing the gardener, and had had to walk more than half the fifteen Lamp-Lengths to her mother's cabin. The sun was setting by the time she arrived. She heard her mother singing softly over the baby’s sleepy wails. She shook her head at the sound and entered, closing the door gently. Sara sternly told herself to be calm—but at the sight of her mother sitting there so serenely, she could not control herself any longer.

“MA! Pa’s hurt! I can feel him out there, somebody’s hurting him! I feel him dying…Oh, Ma, we have to do something!!”

Ma Kirett turned her head in her gentle way, tucking an errant strand of hair aside.

“Hush, child! You’ll wake your sister!” Sara closed her mouth, but her eyes burned hot with unshed tears. She lashed her anger into her mother’s mind to spare the baby’s ears.

“Ma, you’re so quiet. Don’t you even feel him? How can you be so cold?” “Now then, stop right there, dear one. I can feel him too. But what would you suggest we do? We cannot project our bodies to him, as we do our minds; all we can do is support what we can feel of him, and hope it will be enough.”

Sara just couldn’t stand it. That awful Lady Laelri, to give her this ‘honorable job’ and then send her Pa away to pay for it! Try as she might, a rebellious scrap of thought broke free. Laelri should be paying me, for having me wait on her all the time! Why do we have to pay to work, anyway? Ma’s eyes widened, and she frowned as Sara snatched back the thought. "Sara! Even here at the cottage, it is dangerous to think of such things."

And Sara already knew why they paid; it was the Great Peace-Pact, the agreement of all the Katel to be the slaves of the Al'dhi, in exchange for thier honor--and a place to live, an allowance of land and goods on Al'dhi lands. They must die, or pay and pay again, until a prophesied 'Golden One' would break the Pact's magical seal. Then all Katel would be free to rise up and refuse the Al'dhi High King their homage, and restart the ancient war beteen their races.

Sara sniffled, made an extreme effort, clenched her fists, blinked, and stopped crying. The cottage wavered back into focus, and she spoke aloud—quietly this time.

“Ma, Laelri let me off of work this afternoon. May I stay here tonight? I’ll go up to the castle early tomorrow, and be there when she calls…”

“Of course you may, dear—and it is Lady Laelri. Do not forget, she is our Honor! I’ll wake you early tomorrow so you won’t be late. Would you mind sleeping under the table? The fire is closer there, and it will keep you warm. Besides which, I’m afraid your old nook is quite occupied.”

Ma gave a smile and nod at the deep wicker cradle, which looked huge in the one-room cottage. As she did so, the still-mewling baby gave a huge sneeze, and began to cry again. Ma sighed and picked her up. “Sara, your old mattress bag is next to the butter-churn. You will have to refill it—there’s fresh hay in the mow. Will you do me a favor and feed the goats while you’re out? I must get your sister back to sleep.” Ma settled herself comfortably on a three-legged stool by the hearth, the now-screaming baby tucked into the crook of one arm.

Sara’s feet ached horribly from the long walk, but at least she was home. She slung the goat’s feed-sack and her mattress-sack over her shoulder with a tired smile. The sun’s last rays poured themselves over the pasture grass and gilded it with purple and gold as she poured the feed into the goats’ trough. She stood for a moment, enjoying the sweet scent of hay and grass, and the warmth of the sun on her face. The baby had hushed again, and over the bleating of the animals the words of her mother’s cradle-song came soft and sweet on the evening breeze—

Candle-light

Bringing with it shadows dark and dim…

Memories

Of a time when we were free…

Silent now

For our troubles only time can right…

Candle-light

Bring us now a way to live…

[Quincunx]

I liked all of this, but what I liked more than most was the waterfall of detail at the home scene. The noblewoman's description was the same rush of details, but a tad more than was necessary. Maybe the later details were better because they were applied to the place, about which I didn't know much, instead of to the person, whose overbearing nature is not a novelty.

 

I hope that the later chapters are about as long as this one. It's a rich diet of detail and meant to be taken in doses of a few paragraphs at a time, like this post was.

[Harmonious_Echos]

Lady Nurandor Laelri sighed as she leaned back on the edge of the fine Roan-made desk, thinking of Sara, her third-maid.

The touch of unfamiliar compassion jarred her calm thoughts, and a flash of anger marred her pale, delicate face. She hated to feel sorry for thing, especially the Katel. Why would a species so given to intelligence and magical sensitivity become willing slaves? It didn’t make sense. Even dumb animals needed a trainer to learn how to obey, and these little people obeyed all, anything, everything without question! A race who could do, could be so much more…it thoroughly irritated her, to have slaves who had the ability to be more proficient at the Arts than she, even if they never used them. It made her feel that she stood on shaky ground.

It was hard, knowing as she did what everyone really thought of her. The Laelri Family's mind-sense ran strong in her blood, and any emotion connected to her in thier thoughts was an emotion (and a thought) that she could read. She knew more about her slaves’ thoughts of her than they would ever know—and it helped her keep them in their places. Still, it was often hard to keep herself from striking them, for the slaves let their thoughts of her flash freely, and their thoughts were not as calmly submissive as their outward appearances!

Still, she did not want them to guess her secret—they were, after all, intelligent little beasts, and would wonder if she punished them for the unspoken—so she tried to treat them with kindness. She hoped that in time, their thoughts of her would be more tolerable to her inner ear.

Tonight she wished more strongly than ever that she could hear more from them, more than just the thoughts they had about her. If only she could read all of their minds, perhaps then she would know why so many of them were disturbingly restless of late!

Well, the time to think on that was later. At the moment, she had more important matters to attend to. She glanced down at her desk; there lay the parchment notice from the capitol. News of Duke Lex’s victory at Tesian’Fara had arrived with startling quickness; she would have to send Flutterbys with the necessary orders to her agents in the third and fourth districts of the city—not to mention arranging another shipment of her Katel sword-fodder, to send to that colossal idiot, Duke Lexian himself. She shook her head at the memory of the tall, strange young man with the green-tint hair and skin.

As if the King would ever allow a Verrutt, a mixed-blood, to enter the High Court! The very thought made her grimace. True Ald’hi stayed within the strict familial blood and status lines, as set out by the Blood Law; no mixing between the Ruling families was allowed, and only Al’dhi with pure familial lines were allowed to enter in the inner courts of the High King. Those who obeyed the Blood Law always had the pure metallic coloration, and were ranked by the values of the metals themselves. Gold, Silver, Platinum, Bronze, Steel, Copper, or Iron. The Al’dhi colorations, their blood, their genetic heritage was their status. Al’dhi with pink, brown, blue-tint or green-tint hair and skin were considered unnatural--an unhappy mutation caused by the mixing of certain familial lines, and regarded from birth as those of the lowest caste, even if they were born to the High Queen-Mate herself.

Verrutt were bastards, mistakes sprung from the passions of a pure-blooded aristocrat and some lower-caste lover. They were part of the Low Al’dhi, banished to live in the general population of Katel and other low-caste slaves. They did not belong in the presence of the rulers of Porain!

Laelri sighed. Her Katel First-Maid, Marcella, slipped quietly in with a tray of fresh linens, closely followed by her assistants. Laelri watched without interest as they silently made her bed, replaced her towels and approached her. Their thoughts floated between them, muted murmers back and forth. Laelri closed her eyes, stretched her mind out to touch thiers, gently, as only one of Laelri Blood could.

“Is she falling asleep?”

“Marcella, what’s she doing? Is she writing the Capitol?”

“Oh, I wish she’d tell us what‘s going on.”

“Child, I don’t know what the Lady does. She is my Honor. We are Katel. That is the way things are.”

Laelri shook her head, opening her eyes. Try as she might, she could only read the thoughts they had about her. All the rest were silent to her, lost in a fog; not open, free for the taking, as they were with the Al'dhi.

 

She opened her eyes, and allowed herself a scowl, aimed at a large stack of parchment standing ready for her messengers’ carry-capsules. Flutterbys carried their messages only to the recipient’s place of residence, not to the person in particular, so she could not be entirely certain the messages would not be read by enemy spies. It annoyed her to have to rely on such an untenable message service—but her agents in the capital were valuable enough to risk even the danger of exposure in order to warn them.

There were very few high-born Al’dhi, much less Katel, who would inform to her of the goings-on in Aunas Keep. It was even difficult to keep reliable informants in the rest of the capitol. Lady Laelri treated the few she had with as much honor as she could stomach to give a spy. She would, and did, pay much for the privilege to ‘see’ what the King did outside of the public eye.

Reaching for the stack, she rose from her desk and headed out the door towards the aviary. Her letters to the spies for the other keeps could wait—her networks in the lesser keeps were well established and extensive. And, for the most part, expendable. All they had to do was keep her informed on the latest plotting in their courts, and the plots were simple enough, with the exception of Lord Oerl--she had been completely unable to penetrate the Iron Courts. She shook her head, folding a letter into its correct capsule. Why is it so hard to reach him? Iron-bloods. Always so hard-headed…they’re even harder to read than Katel...

The other ruling families were nit-picking cowards. Constantly nipping at the outer fringes of her power in order to annoy—and nothing else. They knew nothing they did could shake the Laelri Court. The Silver-Bloods had had thier place in court as second to the High King for three hundred Turns. They had their own places, their own purposes; each knew that they could not get along without the others. Or, at least, they had...No Steel-blood had ever competed for a Copper’s throne, and no Bronze had ever threatened a Silver--much less a Gold, since the establishment of Ald‘hi Empire. They all had their places, and all were equal in their own right, united under the Aunae High Court. Until the last few Turns...

In the last twenty Turns the Platinum family line, the Gilund, had grown weak and poor, decadent and philandering. The current Head of the Iron Line, Lord Oerl Ferrastis, had surprised them all, attacking the Gilund Court in the dead of night, and slaughtering every male of the Platinum line, before claiming it for his own. His was the statement which had shook the High Court, a proclamation of his Line’s strength, his impatience with the status of his familial line, and his intention to claim the throne of Tesian’Fara itself. His attempts to breed his blood into the Platinum Line resulted in the strangely-colored Duke Lexian--who was one of many ‘unsuitable’ babes thrown out to the Verrutt, before one of the hundreds of forced unions produced a suitable ‘heir’-- a girl-child born with pure Iron coloration, and the blood-gifts of both races; the Unbending Eye of the Iron line, and the Chill Touch of the Platinum. She would be able to force obedience with a glance, and cause sickness or even death from her icy touch.

Lady Laelri shuddered. Verrut were common enough, but to forcibly, intentionally try to create a mutation, and then to claim the child, creating a new bloodline…It went beyond belief! Farrastis meant to force the Aunas High-prince to take this mutated monstrosity as his Queen-mate. It would raise the status of the Iron clan to that of the Aunas themselves. It would also break the Blood Law forever, blending three bloodlines together and placing a Verrutt on the throne, which was unheard of.

Nurandor smiled to herself, glancing down at the large, clear gemstone ring on her right hand. It wasn’t the first time a mixed-blood sat in the High throne, though only one person remained who knew of it. King Velmenth was indeed her cousin by blood, and the leverage this secret had given her in Tesian’Fara had enabled her tenuous sources of information in the High Court.

She glanced at the sun on her way down the stair from the Aviary, stopping on her way to ring the half-day bell. It was late to send the Katel for their midday meal, almost halfway through the afternoon, but today she had wanted them to keep working. It gave her the privacy she needed, to send her Flutterbies. She lifted the latch to her study and paused, her eyes wandering as she caught the scraps of thoughts from Katel passing her door; “she’s sending us late. Wonder why?” “It’s about time she rang, I’m starving…”“She’s so thin, probably doesn’t eat a thing…no wonder she forgets we need to!” “I think she just received a flutter from the Front…I wonder if she’s heard anything from my brother?”

The scrap about the Front snapped her back to reality. She had to concentrate on the present, not the past. The Front. For Lord Ferra’s arrogance, the High King had stripped him of his status, casting his bloodline out of the Blood Records, as one might a Verrutt. But Lord Ferra was strong; he had proclaimed war on the High Court, and sent but one message to the High King, an offer of reconciliation which would be carried out only after his daughter, Faliet, was wed to the High Prince, and they produced an accepted Heir. If he won the war, that might actually happen--and if the Blood Law was broken like that, all of the courts would fall. The claim of all the ruling families was at stake.

Lady Laelri had ruled over Laelri Keep for fourty years--she had no intention of allowing a Verrut rule of her! Especially when she had her own ideas for the throne…

Among the lower pure-caste members of the Aunae line, a few had Mate-Bonded in secret with Laelri. Their golden-skinned children were Blended dominantly towards the Aunae line, their blood rejecting any trace of the Laelri traits and colorations. All were accepted as lesser-caste Aunae, much to the Lady Laelri’s delight. This kind of Blending was acceptable, even condoned, in Tesian’Fara‘s outer courts--as long as the children displayed only one bloodline, they were adopted into that line. But even if they showed only one bloodline, no-one would dream of trying to bring a mixed child into the High court. That was forbidden.

Lady Laelri smiled. Yes, it was best that not even the Katel know of her messeges. The last thing she wanted was for a Flutterby to be intercepted…She didn’t finish the thought. If even one of the Flutterbys gave her away, she’d lose a great deal more than her position in battle.