Chapter 11: Unraveling Secrets

“I can’t believe she burned down Begonia House!” Rowan ranted in between bites of strawberry crepe.  “And the worst thing is that her brother will make sure the fire brigade doesn’t rule it an arson, since they are managed by the Korkudai.  Nobody will ever know!”  

“We know,” Zara murmured as she unwrapped the bandage on Xaz’s forearm.  He hadn’t even told them that he’d gotten burnt until they made it to Wisteria House. “We know what they did.”

“Shh,” Madame Marie admonished Rowan as she swung through the solarium carrying a towering pile of pancakes to deposit on the breakfast table.  “You are the noisiest rude beast.  If you wake Lady Kessandra, I will sew your mouth closed.”

“Yes, Madame Marie,” Rowan replied in a sing-song tone.  Zara had the feeling that Rowan enjoyed the housekeeper’s surly nature.  “But, can I get more strawberry sauce?”

“Hmph!  Lousy pest!”  Nonetheless, the portly woman scuttled out of the room, likely to go retrieve the sauce in question.

A frowning Xaz, sitting on the floor beside Zara’s chair, winced as she put antiseptic on the wound.  “Xaz kill Lady Pinkpuss?”  

Trisla made a face and signed, “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good name for Lady Astrid, Xaz,” in between nibbles of her breakfast.  She rarely ate anything in the morning besides half a piece of buttered toast.  

“Too late,” Xaz replied.

“No, you definitely should not commit murder, Xaz.  Goodness gracious.  We can’t go around killing our enemies like we’re some sort of Galactic Empire Kill Squad.”  Zara turned to grab the fresh gauze Madame Marie had given her, and started to re-wrap Xaz’s wound.  It wasn’t bad enough to necessitate a doctor, but she still wanted to make sure to tend to it properly.  “Though, I am glad you had the forethought to hide the journal here at Wisteria House, Trisla.  I would have never expected Astrid to do such a dastardly thing.  Sure, I knew she liked causing trouble, but…”

But, they could have been killed.  It was the second time in as many weeks that Zara had almost died.  Being a Hostage Concubine was indeed as dangerous as the rumors said.  And she didn’t even live in the Forbidden City.

“What are you going to do?  Do you think getting the Adjudicants involved would help?”  Trisla asked, her meager toast now abandoned so she could use her hands to participate in the conversation.  

Zara shook her head as Xaz stood up and moseyed over to stab a pancake with a long claw.  He consumed the entire thing in one bite.  “No.  We’ve no proof of anything.  Anyway, we still need the medication for Ankali.  We can’t let Astrid know that we know what she did.  I’ll just…  I’ll just have to speak with her and see if there is something else she will accept as payment.”

“You need to get some dirt on Lady Astrid.”  This voice was a new one entirely.  Lady Kessandra slowly made her way into the solarium, her ornate cane supporting some of her weight.  She wore elegant silk tea robes with a golden sash and high ruffled collar over her nightgown, somehow causing her to look regal despite technically not being dressed for company.  It put some cheer into Zara’s heart, however, that Lady Kessandra was so comfortable with her guests she dressed as if they were simply family.  Xaz assisted Lady Kessandra into her chair and then she continued.  “In the world of the Concubine, information can be worth more than gold.  Knowing a person’s secrets gives you power over them.”

“I…”  Zara hesitated. “I don’t know.”  She didn’t like to play dirty.  And her one attempt at manipulation and intrigue had backfired terribly, endangering those she cared about.  What if the next time she bungled it badly enough that someone got really hurt?  On the other hand, Astrid had done something she couldn’t just allow to go unanswered.  Zara’s upbringing hadn’t prepared her for this.  She’d learned ladylike behavior, etiquette and charity.  Nobody had taught her how to navigate a social battlefield.  

The nobility of Ankali wasn’t a cut-throat society, as their culture and religion emphasized service to one’s family, one’s people, and one’s planet.  Their trio of gods, the Sisters, each manifested one of these aspects.  Valia, a housewife, protected and uplifted the family.  Hethete a paladin, defended and healed the people of Ankali.  And Lyra guarded the plants, animals, seas and sky.  Nobles were charged with embodying these aspects, and those who proved too ambitious, cruel, or greedy could lose their noble title through a process of official censure by popular vote or religious trial.  It kept the nobles focused on Ankali rather than amassing power for themselves.  

“I feel under-equipped for this kind of battle,” Zara admitted quietly.  In her months on Viverides, she’d come to understand that in some ways Astrid was right.  Ankali was indeed a backwater planet lacking the sophistication of the core systems.  She might as well be a milkmaid from a farm living in a city for the first time.  “I’m not even sure where to begin.”  

“We know she’s close with her brother,” Rowan suggested.  “I could poke around and see what I find out about him.”  

“I have an idea as well,” Trisla signed.  “And since Madame Marie doesn’t like anyone else cooking in her kitchen, I should have some extra time.”

As much as she didn’t want them to put themselves in any more danger for her sake, Zara knew they needed to figure this out, both to obtain the medicine for Ankali, and for their own safety.  She nodded slightly, agreeing to the plan.  “At least we still have Lady Noralina’s journal.  It was a good idea to keep it here.  Thank you for allowing it, Lady Kessandra.”  

“Of course, my dear.  I agreed with Trisla that they might try to steal it, but arson…”  She clicked her tongue and quietly thanked Madame Marie as the woman brought her coffee.  The housekeeper also set the extra strawberry sauce in front of Rowan with a silent scowl before heading back to her kitchen.  

“She loves me,” Rowan said whilst dumping globs of strawberry sauce onto another crepe.  “I may have to elope with your housekeeper, Lady Kessandra.”

Lady Kessandra laughed and shook her head.  “You can certainly try.”

 

-*-*-*-*-

 

Zara frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror.  All of the clothing she’d sewn since coming to Viverides had been destroyed in the fire.  The only things left for any of them to wear were clothes from Ankali they’d packed away in a shed behind Begonia House.  The simple gray dress contrasted with the more elaborate hairstyles she’d been wearing since coming to Viverides, so she’d only put her long brown hair in a ponytail.  In such an outfit, she’d look completely out of place in Ebonrue.  Even the house staff of Ebonrue merchants dressed nicer.  

A knock on the door startled Zara.  She turned, just as Madame Marie entered, the sour woman not even waiting for Zara to respond.  Zara didn’t mind, however.  As far as she could tell, Madame Marie ran Wisteria House with ruthless efficiency but also doted upon her Lady.  

“Madame Marie, I must apologize for earlier…” Zara began, bowing to the woman in the hopes that she’d not taken too much offense.  She assumed that must be the reason for the sudden visit.  “I’ll have Rowan clean the floors and windows as punishment.”

A brief wave of Madame Marie’s hand to dismiss the subject was followed by the woman moving back into the hallway and then entering again, pushing a wheeled rack with more than a dozen dresses on old-fashioned hangers.  “You can’t wear that,” she said bluntly, peering at Zara’s dress over the top of her glasses.  “Not whilst associated with Lady Kessandra.”

Carefully, Zara approached the rack.  Even from a distance, she could tell that the dresses were several tiers above what she’d ever worn before.  Some displayed motion-fabric, the designs on them moving and shifting subtly over programmed holothread.  Others shimmered with gold and silver thread or inlaid jewels, or had hand-stitched lace and complicated embroidered draping.  “These are Court dresses,” Zara murmured in awe, recognizing some of the styles from old images in picture books.  

“Out of fashion,” Madame Marie pronounced.  “No longer restricted.”  

Zara nodded.  A lowly Hostage Concubine would not be permitted to wear an official Court dress.  But these were likely considered so old and unfashionable that the Adjudicants had taken them off of the registry.  She carefully looked at a few of them until she found a simpler one than the rest, a navy blue dress with embroidery only on the cuffs and collar.  “May I wear this one?” 

“Mm.  Very well.”  Madame Marie stepped further inside, closing the door behind her.  “One of Lady Kessandra’s old traveling dresses.  I will help you put it on.”  

Zara found herself thankful for the assistance.  The dress looked simple but required a corset and complicated padding on the backside to make the bustle more pronounced.  As Madame Marie began to lace the corset, Zara asked, “Madame Marie…  I have a question and I value my friendship with Lady Kessandra too much to ask her directly.  Perhaps you might…?”

“Ask.”  

“She was the Emperor’s favorite, was she not?  How did she end up here?  And why does she look so much older than the Emperor?  Weren’t they the same age?”

“Mm,” Madame Marie intoned again.  She kept her silence for a long while, perhaps debating whether or not it would be appropriate to answer the question.  “As you likely know, the Royal Family and Consorts of the Forbidden City utilize a secret technology to extend their lifespans indefinitely.  I don’t know much about it, as I only came to Lady Kessandra after she moved to Ebonrue.  From what I understand, some tragedy occurred and because of it, Lady Kessandra’s body no longer accepted the life-extending technology.  She didn’t want the Emperor to have to watch her grow old and die, slowly losing her beauty and vitality.  So, she requested to be moved here, and made the Emperor promise to never visit.”

“That’s awful.”  

“Yes.  And you did not hear it from me.  Nor will you repeat it.”  To punctuate those words, Madame Marie pulled the lacing on the corset swiftly, cinching Zara into the garment.  It took her several moments to catch her breath and nod in agreement.  

Zara wondered what kind of man would allow the love of their life to go into seclusion just because the challenges and indignities of getting older might be distressing or inconvenient.  Madame Marie had said that the choice was Lady Kessandra’s, but still, the Emperor surely could have disallowed it if he wanted.  “I don’t think I can respect such a man.  He’s letting his true love waste away far from his care.”

“He is the Emperor,” Madame Marie admonished curtly as she stepped back, motioning to the mirror so that Zara could take a look.  “But think also of Lady Kessandra.  She may love the Emperor, but growing old in the Forbidden City whilst every other Concubine and Consort retains their beauty would be difficult.  Is it wrong for her to want some peace in her final days?”

The candor with which Madame Marie suddenly spoke took Zara by surprise.  She hadn’t considered that aspect.  Lady Kessandra could have stayed in the Forbidden City, but her position would have been more and more vulnerable.  By leaving, she remained forever fixed in the Emperor’s mind, and would be out of the reach of most of the scheming of the court.  Although Zara didn’t like that the Emperor allowed it, in the end, it was a choice Lady Kessandra had made for herself.  Zara knew it should be respected.

Eventually, Zara nodded, letting the difficult subject drop as she turned to Madame Marie and bowed.  The woman had already retreated to the door, unwilling to spend more time than necessary on any one task.  “Thank you, Madame Marie.  For the dresses and for…everything else you’ve done for us.”

“Hmph,” was the only reply Zara heard before the door shut.

 

-*-*-*-*-

 

Lady Vivienne’s book club had long since adjourned for the morning.  Their discussion of “The Peacocks of Arikan” had been lively, but upon learning that the book was a favorite of Princess Aiya, they had wandered into theories about the mysterious Supreme Imperial Consort, the highest ranking of all the Concubines.  According to rumors, despite Princess Aiya’s beauty and high station, the Emperor shunned her.  She lived an almost monastic life in the Imperial Temple of Ossra within the Forbidden City.  Ossra was the goddess of widows and widowers, those unable to bear children, and people of lost honor.  One of the few ways out of the life of a Concubine was for the Emperor to give one leave to become a nun or monk in the Temple of Ossra.  Apparently, Princess Aiya had been petitioning for years, but the Emperor rejected her pleas.

“She is beautiful, though.  Her dance at the Night Blossom Festival moved me almost to tears,” Madame Lizette said, nibbling another biscuit.  “It reminded me of Lady Noralina’s dancing.  She was so graceful, remember?  I recall her saying she’d been a famous dancer on her planet before coming to Viverides.”

Zara sat up straighter.  She hadn’t thought to ask the book club members about Lady Noralina.  “You knew Lady Noralina?  What was she like?”  

Lizette nodded, but before she could reply, Lady Vivienne said, “Strong-willed and sharp-witted.  She disliked injustice or cruelty.  There was a Lady Kendeira who mistreated her servants, and Lady Noralina found a way to get her removed as a Hostage Concubine and sent home.  You had an encounter with her too, didn’t you Adrian?”

Madsieur Adrian could barely be seen behind the ever-present veil, but nonetheless, Zara thought she noticed a change of expression to something awestruck when Vivenne asked the question.  “I did.  One of the male concubines liked to make sport of insulting and accosting me.  After Lady Noralina found out, that the male concubine was somehow exposed for visiting brothels in Ebonrue.  She told me later that she felt some people just didn’t deserve the honor of being concubines.”  

“I see,” Zara mused.  So, it wasn’t just Astrid, then.  Noralina spent her time contriving to rid Ebonrue of several undesirable concubines.  “Did she ever mention Lady Astrid?”

“Oh!  She and Lady Astrid fought constantly,” Madame Lizette exclaimed, quite excited to participate in gossip.  “Even actual physical fighting once or twice.  I remember seeing the scratches on Lady Noralina’s face from Lady Astrid’s nails.  But, she just laughed it off, saying that she didn’t care about scars obtained in the course of fighting righteously.”  

All of this just confirmed what Zara believed after reading Lady Noralina’s journal.  She was not, in fact, a friend of Lady Astrid’s.  They’d likely been at odds from the beginning.  And with the knowledge that Astrid had been behind the arson at Begonia House, it made complete sense that Astrid may have contrived to get rid of Lady Noralina.

“What ultimately happened to Lady Noralina?” Zara asked.

The room became eerily quiet, and none of the trio looked eager to speak about Noralina’s fate.  Eventually, Lady Vivienne spoke up, parting the awkward silence.  Her new augmented eye continued to look at Zara, whilst the natural one turned upwards as if searching the heavens for strength.  “A tragedy.  Lady Noralina went missing.  Everyone searched for her…  Weeks passed.  Eventually, the Korkudai pulled her out of the river.  They said she’d jumped.  Many forlorn Hostage Concubines do.”

A sudden slam of a palm against the coffee table startled Zara.  Madsieur Adrian’s voice became impassioned behind the veil.  “Lady Noralina would never do that.  She wasn’t melancholic, or the sort of person given to ennui and sorrow.  Lady Noralina was a fighter, a spirited force for good in the world.  When they said she’d drowned, I wouldn’t believe it.  I begged them to check her body, and do an autopsy.  But, the Korkudai declared it a drowning, and the coroner agreed with them.”

Zara could feel her nails sinking into the plush of Lady Vivienne’s velour chair.  The Korkudai.  If Astrid killed Noralina, her brother would have been able to cover it up.  “Damn,” Zara cursed.

Everyone in attendance blinked in shock.  They’d never heard Zara curse before.  She clasped both hands over her mouth, eyes widening in surprise.  

“Sorry.”

“Quite alright,” Madame Lizette replied in a comforting tone as she leaned toward Zara. “The saddest thing about it all is that because Lady Noralina committed suicide, the palace considers her…dishonored.  Harming oneself is harming the property of the Emperor, an unforgivable treason.  Her grave remains unmarked, and her family must bear the mark of shame.”

Zara pressed her lips together.  She thought back to the time Lady Kessandra had read her cards all those months ago.  What was it that Lady Kessandra had said?

“Ghostly presences press upon you to act on their behalf, but there is danger…  If you are not careful, this fire could consume all you hold dear.”

After a slow inhale to calm herself, Zara made a decision.  If Lady Noralina was requesting her help, then she must do everything in her power to restore the woman’s honor.