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Stories from Conclave: The Journal of Rishta Vallans, Volume One
Part Four: Corbasal, Nirhamsa.
'The Imperial Province of Nirhamsa stands athwart the fertile hills of Niranim, where tranquil forests of bamboo bring natural harmony to the land. Nirhamsa is a land touched by the hand of the Immortals, rich in fertile farmland and in the precious life-blood of the gods; jade in all its delightful colours. The traveller will find that the friendly folk of Nirhamsa will delight in showing hospitality, and are keen to display their allegiance to the Empire by obeying all her customs with great diligence. Nirhamsa is a land of extreme temperatures, where the cold of the winter contrasts with the swealtering heat of summer and the fiery local cuisine.'
- From 'The Noble Lands of the Eastern Empire' by Jaxius Zem. Published in the 23rd year of Radiant Enlightenment.
The Celestial Emperor, Guide of Heaven, Lord of the Four Suns and the Four Corners, was leaving behind the innocence of childhood for the next stage of his life as a young warrior and statesman, the same as he did every year when spring turned to summer. The same as we did every year, we mortals celebrated this turning of the seasons with the Laburnum Festival.
Call me biased towards my old hometown if you like, but in my opinion nowhere does the Laburnum Festival like Corbasal. Not a door lintel, window sill, eave or corner post of any building is left that does not have cascades of yellow blossoms hanging from it. Entertainers and pedlars by the hundreds ply the streets, business all but shuts down, parties spring up spontaneously like the summer growth that they celebrate. Ah yes, it was good to be back.
I'd managed to procure lodgings with my uncle and his family. Uncle Vashi is a factor for the Merchant's League, a middleman for local produce (including that from my parents' farm). He, my aunt and my cousins were there to greet our little trio when we arrived and scarcely had I salted the doorstep when we were swept inside for hugs and feeding. Mei-Juin was disturbed by such easy familiarity, to say the least, but my Aunt Anwa and cousin Anarja took her under their wing, promising to take her to the women's session at the bath-house tomorrow morning.
Uncle Vashi produced a bottle of my father's latest venture - a wine produced from the peppers that he grew. My father, apparently, was hoping Vashi would distribute it for him. Vashi's considered opinion was that it tasted like the shitty end of a tembu, but he wasn't going to offend his brother by telling him that and so was stuck with it for now. I took a sip. Uncle Vashi was right, all filial respect to my Honoured Father and all that Imperial nonsense. Poor dad. Like his attempts to move into jade mining, or vug-powered wagons, this one was another venture doomed to failure.
The next day, once Mei-Juin had washed off the travel dirt and polished herself up at the baths, me and Dhalooth delivered her to the Minister for the Interior, her purely political fiancé, called in at the local League House to collect payment for services rendered and then sought out an eating house that wasn't too full of drunken revellers. Salsham'ai are rare this far north, so Dhalooth got plenty of attention that he, for the most part, ignored (apart from referring to me as 'father' all the time. This then turned attention to me, with looks full of pity for me having such an ugly son).
'Another job well done, little guy.'
Dhalooth scratched his chin. 'There was something not quite right about that girl, though...' he mused.
'Aside from being uptight and obnoxious, you mean?'
'You needling her all the time didn't help, but no, not that. She knew things, did things that a well-bred upper class lady wouldn't know how. Things she'd have servants to do, things that would be beneath her.'
I bit back a sarcastic retort about Dhalooth being such an expert in human culture. The little guy is fourth generation of the Llazan Tree Folk. He's got more in common with the people of Llaza than of Thalsa, and one of his interests has always been humanity. So instead I took the advice of Manrupashnar and considered his words carefully before replying.
'Could be that her family aren't as well bred as they like to make out. It wouldn't be the first bunch of social climbers to try it. This political marriage could be as much to bolster their standing as it is to cement relations between Ashoyin and Nirhamsa.'
'I don't think she's quite who or what she says she is, at any rate.' At this moment a group of yellow-hatted festival attendees burst into the eatery, dancing around the room in a long line with cymbals clashing and flutes playing several different tunes at once. When they had finally taken their exuberance elsewhere I turned back to Dhalooth.
'You think we should mention something to the Minister?'
'The lucky husband? We could tell him to keep an eye on her, I suppose. I'm not sure it's our business though.' Dhalooth shrugged.
We reported our suspicions to the League House, where they mumbled something about being on a tight budget and where it was obvious that they weren't going to do a thing about it. In the end we mentioned the situation to one of Minister's clerks and left it up to him to keep a discreet eye on the new bride. If it was just a case of Mei-Juin and her family putting on airs then I wasn't too bothered, but Dhalooth had an itch that there was something more going on. We made it clear to the clerk that they were to take no action without consulting us. We wouldn't be too popular with the League if we somehow managed to break up a carefully arranged alliance.
'So, have you thought about that job your uncle mentioned?' My little prehensile-toed companion referred to a discussion that had taken place the previous night. A small task on semi-official business, set up by Uncle Vashi.
'Thellingerstan? Why not? I hear it's lovely this time of year.'
(c) 2006 The Creative Conclave.
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