Arc 2: The Case of the Belladonna Poisoned Palace Maid
Ch. 6
Good fortune and smart spending allowed Gesi Ajai to own a home on a quiet street near the palace. It was a neighborhood where most palace officials lived, allowing wives to form groups and children to keep the right company.
Gesi appreciated the pretentiousness of Crystal Lane. It came in handy now, with his daughter’s marriage ceremony in preparation. Officials from various ministries sent gifts and stopped to talk, offering congratulations and seeking deeper connections.
Gesi seized this goodwill to promote his thoughts on the finance ministry and seek support for his nomination by the Prime Minister’s men. So far, he had met fifteen palace court officials and felt confident about his nomination. But he intended to continue until no question would be the next minister of finance.
Gesi smiled at the thought and settled into an armchair in his great room. He watched his wife talking to three ladies-in-waiting who would move into Draeya Commandery Prince’s manor with his daughter. A young woman with dark hair turned and glanced at him, giving a short nod. Gesi held her gaze and smiled when she focused back on his wife’s words.
He had placed one of his assets in his daughter’s staff. The girl, Rassa, was tasked with spying on the Maenaer house and reporting back to him. If she managed to get any intel, it would be beneficial; if not, she would act as a protector for Naeri.
He hated to admit it, but his daughter refused to understand his ambition. She held on to the ideals she learned in her schoolroom, clinging to the idea of love and recoiling at any mention of treason or murder. She was a noblewoman. Gesi chuckled. He probably deserved this retribution after years of plotting and deeds he dared not speak of.
Shaking his head, he picked up the teacup from the stool on his right. Gesi sipped the warm tea and smiled. He watched his wife admonish the three young women.
Sazama entered the great hall, walking at a hurried pace. He greeted Gesi’s wife before navigating the many chairs to reach Gesi.
“How is it going?” Gesi asked as Sazama sat on a stool near his armchair.
“I’ve been cleaning up our traces in the forged silver case. The magistrate at Naga Port claims the Draeya General received an order to capture the thieves stealing the Sura Clan Ore. We can’t find Hulan, who we placed at the port to track the Sura. Draeya General may have caught him.”
Gesi Ajai frowned.
“It doesn’t matter,” Gesi said, shaking his head. “The deal I made with Basileus Dio to get Naeri married into the Maenaer house gives us some protection. Basileus Dio will suppress any evidence brought to him by the Draeya General. Still, we should find Hulan. In case he has turned on us.”
“I’ll keep looking for him,” Sazama said. “The Sura workshop leases have all reverted to the finance office. I have one of our men working to take them over with the magistrate’s help.”
“That’s good news,” Gesi said with a satisfied nod. He sipped his tea again and smiled at the thought of the revenue the workshops would bring him. “The Sura?”
“The Sura Chieftain is dead,” Sazama said. “His subordinates held a funeral in the Sura Manor before they left. We found burned pyres in the backyard. Most of the Sura have left the city. Should we let them be? What if they return? What if they discover what we did?”
“Send a few mercenaries after them,” Gesi said. “Scare them from returning as they flee to the port. If possible, take care of any Sura Clan members who try to stay on the mainland.”
“I’ll make sure,” Sazama nodded. His gaze strayed to Gesi’s wife and the three ladies-in-waiting who were now sipping tea. “Congratulations on Naeri’s wedding.”
“It’s a good result,” Gesi said. “I had hoped she would become the Basilinna, but a Commandery Princess is also useful.”
“Don’t you find it strange how Basileus Dio is marrying Soriel?” Sazama asked. “We managed to get the Dowager Basilinna to approve Naeri. Days after, Basileus Dio is engaged to Soriel Maenaer, and Naeri is entering the Maenaer house.”
“It is suspect,” Gesi said. “But we all have our schemes. The Basileus would be an idiot not to have his own. I’m sure there are reasons he didn’t want to marry Naeri. What matters now is to grow Naeri’s power and gain a foothold in court. A Basilinna can always change. She must also follow her husband’s edicts. I’ll take it as my good fortune that Naeri fell in with the Draeya General. After all, a Commandery Princess has more freedom.”
“Hm,” Sazama said, his tone quiet, though he did not voice more thoughts on the matter.
“What’s next?” Sazama asked.
“We need to solidify our business in the Sura workshops. Get people to forget that the Sura Clan ever existed in this capital. I need profit flowing,” Gesi said. “The next part of our plan requires a considerable amount of money. Get started.”
“I’ll see to it,” Sazama said as he got up from the stool and headed out of the great room.
Gesi watched him leave and smiled at the thought of having someone so energetic working for him. Things were flowing quite well.
*****
The Sura carriage stopped at two rest stops on its way to the Naga State Port.
The first time it stopped, Alise, Azula’s big sister, was ill. A healer saw her at the inn and prescribed calming herbs to help her get through the journey.
The second time, Azula exited the carriage and entered a busy inn. He stayed for an hour. Three passenger carriages followed him out when he exited the inn.
Raithion could only assume the passengers in the carriages were Sura Clan members struggling to get to the port. He watched the carriages form a convoy, moving steadily to the port. His heart ached with guilt and pity. He grew angry with his father and hoped to change the case’s outcome in the capital, but there was no way now.
The only thing he could do was quietly escort Azula’s people to the port and make sure nothing happened to Azula. He could not trust his father or Basileus Dio.
The Sura Clan was inconvenient. The Forged Silver Case would only end when Azula’s people stayed quiet.
Shaking his head, Raithion adjusted his hold on his horse’s reins. He led his horse through the thick trees, forging his path parallel to the main road. Behind him, fifteen legion officers followed. He had left Haedor in the capital to keep up appearances. He was supposed to be preparing for his wedding, not out here protecting a criminal clan.
“Your Highness,” the acting lieutenant said, using his new title. “We have movement on the other side.”
“Let the carriages pass and intercept,” Raithion ordered.
Raithion stopped his horse, dismounted, and focused on beating back the mercenaries he had been sure would be sent to clean up the Sura Clan. He pulled out the daggers Azula had given him from the sheaths the Maenaer blacksmith had given him before he left. He looked at the carriage carrying Azula and his sister before he turned back to join his officers as they engaged the approaching fierce mercenaries.
The fight was fast and bloody. Raithion cut down three of the men, all dressed in black. They could not keep any of them alive. They chased down anyone who tried to return to the capital. He could not have them report back to their master until Azula and his people were safe.
The journey to the port was slow. The carriages following Azula were filled with women and children. Azula’s carriage led the way to the Sura Clan’s shipping dock when they reached the port city.
Raithion made sure his soldiers remained hidden. It was difficult to forget Azula’s anger when they last met, and he was not sure Azula would like to see him now.
****
Azula helped two children out of the carriage and watched them run up the gangplank, boarding the last Sura Clan ship headed to the island. The port city was eerily quiet beyond the docks. News had reached the merchants and the port city dwellers of the Sura Clan’s misfortunes.
There was no easy way to discuss the matter.
Azula had no idea where to begin to understand what had happened to his father.
Why did his father die? Who dragged his father to the magistrate’s compound? Why did his family have to leave the capital?
Alise was not talking. She could not provide the answers.
The Sura Clan’s main council was already on the island. The only person who could provide answers was Juya or his mother, but they had no time to discuss. Between getting the women and children into the last ship and ensuring their warehouse was emptied and no Sura Clan member was left behind, there was no time for a good conversation.
“What about the carriage?” Sennin asked Azula when everyone was onboard.
“Um,” Azula stared at the carriage he had hoped to give to Alise for her wedding. It had carried his father’s ashes instead of a bride. “Let my father finish his journey on it. I’ll disassemble it when we reach the island.”
“Alright,” Sennin called out to the men who had journeyed with them, and they worked on getting the carriage into the cargo hold.
Azula stood on a path he had stood at days ago and stared at the Sura Clan’s warehouse. He remembered the happier days, arriving on this dock to deliver Magnus’s mangoes to the many merchants in the port city or delivering ore to the warehouse for transport to the capital. To meet Alise when she returned to the island after weeks of being away. Now, the warehouse doors were closed. The port city dwellers watched them warily; no one dared approach them to escape trouble.
Shaking his head, Azula started to turn to board the ship, only to stop when a commanding shout rang out.
“Halt! Azula Doriel, the port’s magistrate, wants us to confiscate your ship. Get everything off. That ship is not going anywhere.”
Azula turned to find four lieutenants from the magistrate’s compound with dozens of port officers. They held big sticks, ready to beat Azula and his people into submission at the first sign of resistance.
Azula chuckled and sneered as he turned to look at the lieutenants.
“Catching thieves is too difficult, but stepping on those who have fallen is easy,” Azula said. “Let me see you try to get my people out.”
“Don’t think we won’t beat you to death to get through,” one of the lieutenants said.
“Try it,” Azula shouted, his fingers in tight fists. Rage built up so deep inside him he worried he would explode into tiny pieces. “Beat me to death if you can.”
“Azula.”
A scared voice called his name and pulled him out of the rage. He turned to find Alise hurrying down the gangplank, still dressed in the white mourning dress she had worn at their family’s manor in the capital city.
“Be careful,” Alise said, gripping his left arm. “Nothing can happen to you. I’ll try talking to them.”
Azula started to protest her gentle approach, but she never got a chance to speak. An arrow sunk into her left shoulder, dragging a scream from Azula. He wrapped his arm around Alise tight to keep her standing and turned to see one of the magistrate’s officers holding a bow. How dare they! How dare they!
“Return…to the ship,” Alise managed, gripping the front of Azula’s shirt.
Azula could not look away from the arrow lodged into her shoulder, holding Alise tight, frozen in place. Blood soaked Alise’s white dress, and he let out another cry as she gasped.
“Azula,” Alise pulled on the front of his shirt with her free hand.
Azula stared at the wound on his sister’s left shoulder with growing despair and anger. Alise tugged on his shirt another second, then pushed away from him. He reached for her, but she slapped his left cheek with unprecedented strength.
“Azula Doriel, our Sura ship is strong enough to withstand the rigors of the sea. A few arrows will not bring it down. Let’s go, or we will die here,” Alise ordered. “Let’s go.”
Azula ignored the magistrate’s officers behind them and lifted Alise into his arms. He raced up the gangplank.
“Raise the gangplank. Cast off port bow line,” Azula yelled, carrying his sister to sit on a crate.
He was glad when the ship’s crew got to work, calling out orders and scrambling to get the ship sailing.
“Casting off port bow line,” One of the crew called out.
“Women and children below deck,” Azula called. “Arrows inbound, prepare to defend. Standby to raise the main. Find Torak. I need his help.”
“Bowline all clear!”
Sennin led strong men to the rails, each holding arrows and bows. A wave of arrows lined the side of their ship, and Sennin’s men retaliated by releasing arrows to the line of attackers.
Juya, one of the council members, hurried to Azula and Alise.
“Torak is no longer with us,” Juya said when Azula gave him a confused glance. “He was with Chief Marius at the magistrate.”
Torak was his father’s most trusted aide. He lived in the Doriel Manor in the capital and knew everything about their family. He was practically an uncle.
Azula sighed as another loss hit him.
“Help my sister to her quarters. Get a healer to remove the arrow. Tell the healer to ensure the arrow was not poisoned,” Azula said. “I have to get us away from this port.”
“Don’t worry,” Juya said, lifting Alise with care. “Your mother and mine are with us. They will help. Don’t worry about anything below deck. I’ll handle it.”
“Thank you,” Azula said, watching Juya hurry away as fast as he could with the chaos on deck.
“Bow clear!”
The confirmation pulled Azula out of his thoughts, and he decided to worry about Alise once they were in the middle of the sea.
“Raise the main,” Azula called and hurried to join Sennin on the rail. He was surprised to find the magistrate’s legion officers fighting off men dressed in black.
“What’s going on? Who are they?” Sennin asked as he watched the fiercest man in black fighting with two blades.
The unknown fighter slashed at the magistrate’s officers down without mercy, turning the dock into a bloody scene. Then, the majestic fighter joined the daggers he held in a fast, efficient move and turned the daggers into a long blade.
Azula breathed in as he recognized the blades he had crafted and gifted to Raithion Maenaer in a show of naïve trust. He remembered enjoying Raithion’s smile as they rode the carriage to the capital. Raithion thanked him for the blades.
Azula closed his eyes when the image of his father lying on a palette in the city’s morgue filled his brain. Raithion’s promises were so easily defeated.
“Why is he here?” Azula murmured and frowned when Raithion finished dealing with the magistrate’s legion officers and hurried to the end of the dock, watching him.
“Should we stop our departure?” Sennin asked. “Whoever he is, he helped us. We should thank him.”
“Alise is injured,” Azula said. “Our clan is hunted. We can’t stop. Whoever he is doesn’t matter anymore. Our Sura Clan has nothing to do with a master of ashes.”
“Azula,” Sennin started, but Azula gave Raithion one last glance and turned away.
“Azula hands over to the shipmaster,” he called out and nodded when their Ship’s Captain took command.
Azula headed below deck in search of Alise and his mother.
As for his crush on Raithion Maenaer, he would consider it a period of bad judgment.
****
Raithion watched the last Sura Clan ship sail away with a heavy heart. He gripped the joined dagger handle tight and wished he could change the outcome of the Forged Silver Coins case. Shaking his head, he wished he and Azula had met under better circumstances.
“What are your orders, Your Highness?” his lieutenant asked.
“Clean up the magistrate’s office,” Raithion said. “Send a message to the Naga State King. Tell him the port’s magistrate has succumbed to injuries incurred in a training exercise. Appoint the number one scholar from our Draeya County to the magistrate’s position. Replace the legion officers with the forces from Draeya.”
“You’re taking control of the port,” the lieutenant said.
“Quietly,” Raithion said with a sigh. “Do it quietly. Don’t alert my father or Gesi Ajai. Use secret soldiers to get any Sura Clan stragglers to the Sura Island. No harm should come to them. Those are my orders.”
“I will relay them. Do you think the young Chieftain’s son will ever return?” the lieutenant asked.
Raithion felt his heart clench with disappointment.
“I hope he returns,” Raithion said. “I hope I’m strong enough to protect him when he returns.”
*****
Azula sat on a chair beside his mother. They watched the healers work on Alise on her bed. Alise was pale. Her strawberry-blonde hair was scattered on the pillows, clean and free of the dark charcoal they had used to hide its color. Azula’s gaze lingered on the bloody bandages on a tray next to one of the healers.
She ensured they did not fall on the floor, even as the second healer added more.
“The wound is clean,” the healer said. “Lena, pass me the yarrow powder.”
Lena stopped arranging the bloody bandages and handed over a bottle from a clean tray.
“How is it, Evie?” Lasma asked, a frown creasing her brow as she gripped Azula’s right hand tight. Her worry for Alise was palpable.
“She’s going to be in pain for a while,” Evie said as she worked. “The wound is deep. We’ll need to worry about the use of her shoulder later. For now, I’ve stopped the bleeding and cleaned out any debris left by the arrow. We’ll work to keep her comfortable and the wound clean until we arrive home.”
“Thank goodness,” Lasma said with a nod.
“There is something else you should know, Chief Lasma,” Evie said, pausing to look at Lasma and Azula.
“Out with it, Evie,” Lasma said when she hesitated. “Is my daughter in danger?”
“She is with child,” Evie said.
Lasma gasped and stood up to hurry to the bed. Lena picked up the tray of dirty bandages and took it away. Lasma sat on the clean covers and reached for Alise’s left wrist.
Azula froze in his chair and prayed Evie was wrong.
Lasma was a healer’s daughter and had grown up learning to read pulses. Now, as the wife of a chieftain, she had spent most of her time helping women through their pregnancies. It took her no time to read her own daughter’s pulse. Her wide eyes filled with tears, and Azula nodded.
“Do you know the father?” Evie asked, her voice soft and kind.
“Yes,” Lasma said, shaking her head. “Yemin.”
Evie let out a sad sigh, and they all stared at Alise.
“Did father acknowledge him?” Azula asked.
“He did,” Lasma said. “Alise invited him for a meal at home. Yemin came over and promised to protect Alise for the rest of his life. We waited for her to braid Yemin’s hair for the first time when you arrived. We should not have waited.”
“Then,” Azula swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Let’s take it that she did. Yemin is my brother-in-law. We shall give him this honor from now on. I’ll help him raise his son or daughter as a second father.”
“It is the right thing, Azula,” Lasma said, holding Alise’s hand tight.
“Well, then I’ll let everyone know. It is good to have something to celebrate after all the tragedy,” Evie said. “We’ll work to make sure Alise is in good health. She’s now two people.”
“Thank you, Evie,” Lasma said and nodded when Evie started to right Alise’s clothes.
Evie and Lena had helped her change into a fresh white dress. The color made Alise look too pale, but it was one they would all have to wear for the next three months as they mourned the dead.
“Mom,” Azula said. “What happened in the capital? Why did Pa end up in the city morgue?”
Lasma shook her head and shifted to help Evie arrange the covers around Alise. When Alise was comfortable, Evie left to brew medicinal herbs with Lena.
“Someone set your father up,” Lasma sighed heavily.
She wore a long white dress, and white strands stained her strawberry-blonde hair. A white band controlled her hair, keeping the braids she wore as the Chieftain’s wife down her back.
Azula did not rush her, watching as Lasma rubbed Alise’s left hand to infuse her energy into Alise, who had passed out from the pain of removing the arrow earlier. She had not woken up since.
“Your father worried the scarcity of ore in our workshops would anger our customers. Which was why he asked you to deliver the ore in person,” Lasma said. “Tensions in the capital were rising. Forged silver coins were flowing in the markets. Everyone suffered a deficit in the exchange bureaus. Losing too much and not making enough,” Lasma shook her head. “Thinking about it now, we had no chance.”
“Why?”
“Someone analyzed the forged silver and said the ore at the core of the forged coins was ours,” Lasma said. “The imperial court took over the matter, and the finance minister started an investigation. Worried there would be trouble, your father asked Yemin to make sure our workshops had no molds that could make coins in the workshops. He also asked the old General Maenaer for help. Something went wrong in between. The magistrate’s officers caught Yemin destroying molds in one of the workshops. They arrested him and everyone in the workshop.”
Lasma started crying, and Azula closed his eyes.
“The Inspector General in charge of the forged silver coin case dragged your father away to his offices,” Lasma said. “They said it was an inquiry, but he was worried. He asked Alise to move our assets and start clearing out our Doriel Manor in the city. I helped her where I could, getting the old clan matriarchs out of the city. We rushed everyone out, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough, and we could not save Marius.”
Azula opened his eyes and stood. He hurried to hug his mother as she cried hard.
“Marius did nothing wrong,” Lasma said, sobbing into his shoulder. “He cared for the clan and ensured our workshops were running well. He never stepped foot into the political world of the capital. Never. As we left the city, I was shocked to hear strangers accusing him of collaborating with the finance minister to forge silver coins. The rumors escalated. People started throwing stones at our clan members. Our hair is too distinct. It was so easy for them to turn against us. They lynched the Remming boy outside one of the exchange bureaus. That’s when we knew we had to get everyone out.”
Azula swallowed down his anger and held his mother tight.
“What are we going to do now?” Lasma asked, sobbing. “What will we do now.”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” Azula soothed. “I’m here, and so is Alise. We still have Magnus on the island. Mom, don’t worry. We’ll get through it. I’ll see to it.”
Azula held his mother tight as she cried for a while, then when she was stable, she took a deep breath and leaned on him.
“When we get to the island, you’ll have to lead the funeral ceremony,” Lasma said. “So many of our people are dead. Complete the funeral ceremony well.”
“I will arrange it,” Azula said.
“Juya is reliable. He knows the procedures and does not mind helping,” Lasma said. “Alvas won’t mind managing the meals. You can also lean on Kalas and Sennin. Do you remember how to blow the mourning horn?”
“I won’t forget how,” Azula said, staring at Alise’s pale face in the bed. “Our family has faced such a catastrophe at the hands of someone. The least I can do is send them to rest well and find a way to get our family justice.”
“Don’t be vengeful,” Lasma said, gripping Azula’s right wrist tight. “Look at me, Azula Doriel.”
Azula tried not to, but she tugged on his wrist.
“Now!”
Azula swallowed his anger down and met her green gaze.
“You have your father’s eyes,” she said. “Marius was kind and took care of his clansmen first. He lived for his people. You are his son. Your priority is the clan and your sister’s well-being. You have already promised to be a father to her child. Do you know vengeance will destroy everything you hope to protect?”
“Mom.”
“Promise me now,” Lasma said. “You will not avenge your father.”
Azula cursed inside and held his mother’s gaze, wondering if he could lie to her, but she narrowed her gaze at him.
“You,” Lasma said. “The only vow I want to hear is that you will focus on protecting your people.”
Azula sighed.
“I vow to protect the Sura, my family, and the generations to come,” Azula said.
“No vengeance,” Lasma said.
“I will not seek vengeance,” Azula said, but he would discover the truth of his father’s death. Draw it out to the open and let others take vengeance.
“You’re a good man,” Lasma said with a nod. “I’ll hold you to your promise.”
Azula kissed his mother’s left cheek, then her right, and hugged her tight.
*****
The sun rose bright, and the Sura Clan’s wild forests were awash in vibrant greens, cheerful birds, and wild animals living their lives. Harmony filled the wild, but sorrow ruled the descendants of the Sura Clan.
Azula Doriel, the second child of the fallen Chieftain, stepped down the steps outside the grand hall found in the village center. His feet were in flat sandals adorned with gold satin straps.
White ash covered Azula’s feet. He wore a long white sarong with shorts underneath. The white sarong was tied fast around his hips with a thin gold belt. He also wore a wider gold belt embedded with carnelian stones, large and small, to protect the bearer of the dead. On his wrists were gold cuffs, also adorned with carnelian stones. His long strawberry blonde hair was combed out today, with no braids in sight. His hair was left to fall free down his back to symbolize profound loss.
Azula wore nothing else. His bare chest was clean and free of jewelry or clothing. Azula looked up at the bright sky and wondered when some of the light would penetrate his grieving soul. Shaking his head, he walked down the stone path with deliberate steps. Ahead of him was a tight circle made by the people who had lost a relative in the capital’s massacre.
The grieving made a path for him to enter the circle, and he held out his hands and closed his eyes. Each approached Azula and marked his bare chest with wood ash mixed with carnelian stone dust. He waited with patience as they marked his body.
When they stopped, Magnus walked up to him with a torch drenched with sulfur and had a long gold handle to protect the bearer. The sulfur would keep the fire burning for an hour. The torch symbolized an eternal fire burning to light the way for the departed.
“Azula Doriel, son of Chieftain Marius Doriel, we task you with leading the departed to the afterlife,” Magnus said, his voice booming as everyone stood quiet, listening. “Lead them so they may find their way to peace and forget the woes of this life. May your steps be steady so they may find the courage to follow. May your loss be eased when you reach your destination so that you may return to find us, the living, waiting for you.”
“The message is heard,” Azula said, his voice laced with unshed tears. “I will lead the way.”
Magnus took the torch from him with his left hand and held out his right to indicate the way to the mourning horn. Azula looked around the crowd of his people, giving each one a nod of reassurance, before he took the necessary steps to the massive coiled horn forged with bronze. It sat on a stone pedestal, its surface carved with the Sura clan tribal designs. An ancestor had forged it long before Azula was born.
Azula climbed the broad steps to the blowing end of the horn and took several breaths to control his breathing. He made the first blow. It was thunderous, signaling the start of the final journey. He was to blow the horn three times to indicate the clan’s chief had died and left his seat vacant. Otherwise, one blow of the horn was enough for the clan members.
Azula blew the second one, and tears filled his eyes when he spotted Alise coming out of the large hall with Juya helping to steady her steps. She was still in pain; her wound had not healed yet. Alise gripped Juya’s hand tight when Azula started blowing the last one, long and hard to share the brevity of the loss.
Azula stopped and stepped down, tears streaming down his face. He took the torch from Magnus and would have started walking to the path leading to the mountain’s caves, but Alise shouted his name.
“Wait,” Alise said. “Wait for me, Azu.”
Azula stopped and turned to see Juya carrying and hurrying to his side. When she stood before him, she held out a thick gold necklace with a large carnelian stone hanging on the end. Azula bent his head and let her place the necklace around his neck. She ensured his hair was free and reached up to wipe his tears with her palms.
“May your steps be steady so that they are not afraid. When you finish your task, return home, and I’ll make sure a bowl of soup waits for you,” Alise said.
“Mm,” Azula said, not touching her. He did not want to make her white dress dirty with all the ashes on his body. He took in a deep breath and stepped away from Alise. He gave Juya a grateful glance, then headed out to lead the procession to the mountain caves.
The stone path leading to the mountains was wide enough for a carriage. Four men led the way, hitting the drums to make way. The sound was more symbolic than practical, as everyone on the island was attending the procession.
Azula followed the four men, his steps steady and deliberate. He carried the gold torch high, lighting the way for the carriage with four horses behind him. The carriage he forged for Alise now carried the ashes of his people to their final resting place.
The walk took an hour. Everyone Azula met sprinkled him with carnelian stone dust, hoping to add to the stones he already carried on his jewelry. The path turned uneven at the mountain, and thirty-six volunteers retrieved the ash bags from the carriage.
Azula was not surprised to see his mother carrying her husband’s ashes as she stopped right behind him. If Alise could, she would stand next to Lasma, holding Yemin’s ashes. Instead, Alvas stood next to Lasma in Alise’s stead.
When everyone was ready, Azula led the procession deeper into the mountains to the sacred cave with the deepest tunnel. The tunnel led to a hot lava river in the depths of the Sura Clan. The lava river had long gone silent, but there were seasons when it turned active. The Sura ancestors believed the fire god would lead them to the afterlife, burning away their sins and bad luck, leaving only good fortune.
Azula stopped at the most prominent spot, holding the torch above his head. His mother stood on his right, and Alvas stood on his left. They waited as the others came and dropped the bags of ashes down the tunnel. Thirty-one bags of ashes were released down the tunnel. Then, it was Alva’s turn. Azula pulled off the chain around his neck and handed it to Alva. She tied it around Yemin’s ashes and let him go to the afterlife.
Then, there was Lasma.
Azula held his left hand to her, and she took off the wide gold cuff with carnelian stones. Holding the torch with his left hand, he moved his right hand to her. She took off the second gold cuff. Smiling at her, he extended his hands and nodded to the gold belt around his waist. It was heavy with carnelian stones. Alvas helped him unclip the belt. She was careful to leave the thin gold belt around his waist as it held the long white sarong in place. Azula watched his mother wrap his father’s ashes in the gold belt, clipping the cuffs to the belt.
Lasma held his gaze for a minute, and then she let out a soft breath as she let go of Marius’s ashes. As the ashes descended and left their sight, none of them cried, not wanting to burden him with their grief. Crying would be later.
Azula nodded to Alvas. Alvas wrapped strong arms around Lasma and led her out of the cave.
Looking at his fellow clan members, Azula lifted the torch and tossed it into the tunnel.
“The fallen have found their way,” Azula said, raising his voice for all to hear. “May they rest in eternal peace. Now and forever.”
“May they rest in peace,” the answer came.
Azula stared at the disappearing torch down the tunnel and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to seek vengeance. He would work at protecting his people for now, for his sister and her unborn child. As for the truth that had led to this tragedy, it would wait, but he would get it out.
Letting out a soft sigh, he turned when Kalas gripped his left elbow and pulled him away from the tunnel’s edge of the tunnel.
“Let’s go,” Kalas said. “You still have to walk back to the village hall for everyone to be at ease. Don’t linger here.”
Azula met Kalas’s gaze, nodded, and left the mountain cave.
Outside, he spotted the gorgeous carriage he had built with love. Azula had doused the carriage with igniting fuel before it started its journey up the mountain. Kalas set the horses free and sent them on the path back to the village.
Azula took the fire torch Kalas handed him and stood before the carriage. His thoughts filled with the memory of playing chess with Raithion, playing cards, and eating snacks as Raithion sat still on the bench. Then, the memory of Alise curled on one of the benches as she clutched Yemin’s ashes took precedence.
Shaking his head, Azula stepped forward and set the carriage on fire. It was good to burn away bad luck and hope for good fortune in the future. When he had time, he would make a new one.
“What about the ore hidden inside?” Sennin asked, coming to join them.
“Let it burn,” Azula said, his voice turning cold. “Let it serve as a reminder that someone dared use our ore to frame our clansmen. None of us should forget this painful lesson.”
Kalas sighed, and Sennin squeezed Azula’s right shoulder tight. They watched the carriage burn to ashes, and once it crumbled, Azula threw the torch he used to ignite it into the broken mess and headed down the path.
Someone sprayed him with cold water from a bottle, and he hissed but did not complain. There would be more as his clansmen worked to wash away the ashes from his body. He was drenched with water when he reached the village hall.
Kalas and Sennin pulled Azula into a white tent, where he found a bath filled with warm water and a set of fresh clothes waiting on a stool.
Azula bathed fast, washing away ash remnants from his hair and body. When he was clean, he dried himself and wore fresh clothes. They were white, too. White shorts, trousers, and a long white tunic adorned with gold embroidery on the hem. His hair was to stay unbraided for three months. He was unmarried and now without a father. The loss was his lot.
Azula wore white socks and sank his feet into comfortable white boots. He stepped out of the tent, and Kalas placed a long, heavy wool coat on his shoulders.
“Your sister worries you’ll catch a cold,” Kalas said.
Azula wore the coat and freed his hair as he walked up the steps and entered the large village hall. It was alive with activity. Long tables and benches filled the large hall. Attendants served food, and everyone was tending to bereaved families. They all greeted Azula when they saw him, stopping to give him comforting words, promises for a better future, and kind words about Marius.
It took him a long time to reach the bench at the dais where Alise, Lasma, and Magnus waited for him.
“Sit, child,” Magnus said, leading him to the chair between Alise and Lasma. “Eat first. You might fall at this rate. Kalas, get him hot spiced teas. His hair is not dry yet.”
Azula ate when they placed a bowl of vegetable soup before him. He drank the hot spiced tea when it came and listened when people walked up to the table to talk about Marius. He kept his thoughts carefully blank, dealing with only the immediate events in the hall. He was comfortable until Magnus’s voice broke in.
“We need to name the next chieftain,” Magnus said.
“There is no need to name the next chief,” Azula said. “Alise is the next one.”
“No,” Alise said, shocking Azula.
“What?” Azula turned to face her. “Alise—”
Alise glanced at him, then smiled as she looked at their mother.
“You should tell him,” Alise said. “It will be easier coming from you.”
“Tell me what?” Azula asked, frowning at Alise. “If you are worried about the baby, don’t. I’ll help you raise the child. Yemin is my brother-in-law. You don’t have to worry—”
“Her pregnancy is fragile,” Lasma said, cutting into Azula’s tirade. “Alise wants to keep Yemin’s baby. She needs to be taken care of with no stress and no chances of infection. Today was an exception. She could not miss her husband and her father’s funerals. But from now on…”
Lasma trailed off.
“Azula,” Alise said, reaching for Azula’s left hand. “Please help me find a way to save Yemin’s child. It is the last thing he left me. I can’t lose this baby. Please take over as Chieftain. We need someone who can help rebuild our strength. Everyone has lost so much. Our island is home, but we need supplies to keep going. We need commerce and education. Otherwise, we will stagnate and disappear.”
“I-I-,” Azula started to protest, but then he caught Magnus’s gaze. “You too?”
“There is no other choice,” Magnus said.
“You can be—
“Marius was Chieftain,” Magnus said. “His children shall take over the mantle. I’m too independent to care for a clan, Azu. You know that. You’ve been managing this island on my behalf for ages.”
“But—”
Azula stopped when Lasma slammed her fist on the table, upsetting her plate.
“Step up,” Lasma said. “The clan is looking to us for a way forward. If you’re hesitating and unsure, what do you think will happen to all of us?”
Azula gripped Alise’s hand tight and stared at the people talking and moving around the hall. They managed their grief and the loss of their livelihoods and lifestyles they had forged on the mainland. The island was going to change now, and it would take work.
Azula met Alise’s expectant gaze and let out a sigh. He wanted Alise to take care of her unborn baby. She was injured now, and her baby was too small and defenseless. Yemin was gone, and she could not get another from him. If she lost this child, he shook his head, unable to imagine the loss.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Azula said. “But, Alise, we must agree. I’m stepping in for now because we are in a fragile state. Much later, if I come to you—”
“I know,” Alise smiled and leaned in to kiss his right cheek. “I’ll listen when you come to me much later. I’ll take it on without protest by then.”
“Good,” Azula nodded and hugged her with care. “I love you, Sis.”
“I love you too. I’ll try to help out where I can, but it might not be much,” Alise said as she sat back, her hand over her stomach.
Azula stared at her protective hand on her stomach and nodded in understanding.
“Okay.” Azula nodded, meeting Magnus’s gaze. He gave him a decisive nod.
“Glad we have cleared that,” Magnus said with a relieved sigh. “I’ll call the council now, and we can announce it. Rebuilding will start tomorrow. I received a message from the port master at Rewa Port. The Nerasa Kingdom in the northeast has been interested in our ore for some time. We have been relying on Lyria to keep us safe, but now the island is abandoned. We need to find protection.”
“Nerasa has wanted to annex our island since they discovered we exist,” Lasma said. “Are you sure we can trust them now that Lyria Kingdom is against us?”
“We’ll have to,” Magnus said.
“Alternatively, we can also change our political structure,” Alise said, her tone thoughtful. She shook her head as she rubbed her stomach. “Our current standing makes us easy to discard. Sura Mountain is wanted when we provide goods the larger empire wants, but they discard us when they have no use for us. It is fracturing our people. We can’t go on like this.”
“We belong to the Lyria Kingdom,” Azula reminded her. “Some of our clan members have married partners from the kingdom.”
“And I don’t take it lightly, Azu,” Alise said. “Still, to be easily discarded, our people murdered like they are flies to swat away. No one should normalize it.”
“What is your thought?” Lasma asked, looking at Alise.
“We relied too hard on the kingdom for schooling, commerce, healers, and protection. The Sura Clan men are strong enough to make a good army. We should grow one. We can build our schools and forge products like your carriage to make a kingdom come looking for us. When they do, we shall trade by our rules and our circumstances. No one in the Sura Clan shall bow down to another kingdom again.”
Silence filled the hall, and Azula lifted his head to see their people listening to Alise. She remained a leader, even though she had fallen for the moment.
“Then,” Azula said with a nod. “Let’s build our Sura Island on our own.”
“Hm,” Alise said, then turned to Magnus. “Then let’s do it now so that he can rest.”
Azula watched Magnus hurry away, intent on convening the council. Azula gripped Alise’s right hand, afraid of never being able to let go of the yoke about to fall on his shoulders.
“I’ll hold you to your promise,” Azula said, meeting Alise’s green eyes. “When you are stronger in the future, you will take back the mantle. It will always be yours.”
“What are you afraid of?” Alise asked, reaching out to caress his right cheek. “I’m here with you. You’re not alone, Azula. Let’s get through this one. I’ll lean on you for now.”
Azula nodded, then got up when Magnus returned, followed by the council members, including Juya. Two spiritual monks from the Sura Mountain temple near the deep caves followed.
Azula let out a soft breath. It looked like he could not keep his clothes on today.
Lasma stood, too, and urged him to remove his white wool coat. She handed it to Alise, who remained seated. Azula removed his tunic and dumped it on his chair. Clenching his hands tight, he paused when Lasma took his right hand and led him around their table to meet the council. The clan could not celebrate a chieftain named on a day of mourning, nor did he get braids in his hair.
No, he got a prayer in the form of a tattoo on his back to give him strength and to protect him as he fought to protect the clan.
Azula glanced at Alise before he stepped down. She gave him a slight smile and nodded. She looked confident in his ability to lead the clan, but Azula worried. He had grown up carefree, free to roam the Sura Mountain to his heart’s content, never once thinking of taking over care of a clan.
Now, Lasma tugged on his right hand, and he looked away from Alise, thinking things were different.
The clan was sensitive to important ceremonies, and the moment they saw Lasma lead her son to meet the council and the spiritual leaders of the temple, they got up and started arranging the hall. Lasma led Azula to the middle of the hall. The spiritual leaders stood on each side of them while the Sura Clan council, including Magnus, made a circle around them. From there, the clan members made circles around the council, round and round, weaving an intricate web around Azula and his mother until an intricate wide circle filled the hall.
Lasma met Azula’s gaze, then spoke loud enough for all in the hall to hear.
“Marius Doriel has taken a journey to the afterlife. He has left behind Alise, wife to Yemin, sister to Azula, and Azula, brother to Alise and Yemin,” Lasma said.
“I, Marius Doriel’s wife, name Azula the next chieftain. He is the one to help the clan recover after a calamity. I ask the Sura Mountain temple leaders to bless this child, make him strong, and keep him safe as he faces the adversity that awaits him.”
“Azula is named,” Magnus’s voice boomed. “Is there any protest?”
Azula bit his bottom lip, sure there would be someone who would raise a concern, but the hall remained quiet. When no one protested, Magnus continued.
“The Sura Clan Council accepts Lasma Doriel’s decision,” Magnus said.
Azula breathed in as he turned to the temple leaders. The two men dressed in deep burgundy robes, their hair cut short, walked up to Azula Doriel.
“Everyone, please sit,” one of them said, and Azula sank to the floor, his legs crossed.
Azula was conscious of Magnus coming to sit on his left while Kalas took up position on Azula’s right. Azula let out a soft breath as Lasma gathered his hair and pulled it into a loose ponytail. She made sure the strands were falling over his shoulders before she moved away. The lead monk sat behind him, and Magnus handed him a triangle pillow to lean on.
“Azula, Sura Clan Chieftain, prince of the clan, are you ready to receive your blessing?”
“Yes,” Azula said, his voice sounding strong enough.
“Then we shall start,” the lead monk said and started a prayer. As he did so, his assisting monk wiped Azula’s back with a blessed spirit.
Magnus and Kalas gripped Azula’s arms tight as he leaned on the triangle cushion. The first sting of the monk’s long, sharp steel needle on his skin made him gasp.
The pain was so deep that Azula bit his bottom lip hard to keep from screaming out in agony. The monk continued his chant as he dipped the needle into a mix of ink, palm oil, and snake venom.
The monk continued tapping a protection tattoo on Azula’s back. He worked fast, and his hands were swift with the work.
Pain made Azula’s head muddled. He lost count of the time he sat on the floor with Magnus and Kalas gripping his arms. Each tap on his skin was more painful than the next. Somehow, amidst all the pain, his mind cleared as he realized he was now responsible for the people his father had protected all his life. The thought both scared him and inspired him.
Closing his eyes, he listened to the monk pray and inserted his quiet request for assistance from the almighty above. The jabs on his back could have been more than three thousand. Azula hoped the pain was enough to seek guidance from the one beyond.
“Azula, chieftain of the Sura, shall not commit evil deeds, must protect his fellow clansmen, will not get intoxicated and lose his mind, shall not lie to others, and will always do good deeds to farther the clan’s good fortune,” the lead monk said as he completed the tattoo.
“I have inked a prayer into your back, protecting you from evil deeds against you, filling you with protection, and asking the almighty to grant you strength to fight the battles you face. May good luck always find you and good health and courage embrace you. Guardian of the Sura Clan, may the path be wide and steady.”
Azula stilled as the monk sprayed blessed spirits on his back, adding to the sting of the tattoo. He was grateful for Magnus and Kalas, who helped him sit up and turn to thank the monks for their prayers.
Azula pressed his palms in prayer and bowed his head down. He waited for the monk to touch his head before he sat up with Magnus’s help. Fighting back the urge to give in to pain, he took a deep breath and stood with his strength.
“I vow to protect and to bring prosperity to all the Sura,” Azula said as he looked at the people sitting around the large hall. “Rise, my people. Let’s walk into the future together.”
Shouts of encouragement rose as everyone stood. Magnus gripped Azula’s right arm when he started to stagger from the pain in his back.
Juya stepped forward to greet Azula on behalf of the council. Azula fought a frown when Juya placed a gold collar on his neck and locked it with a round carnelian stone that rested between his collarbone.
Azula took Juya’s extended right arm in a warrior’s handshake, then looked around the room, taking in all the hopeful looks directed his way.
‘General Raith, look what your people have done to us. Are you happy in the capital? I hope my father’s death was worth it. Look, they now watch me with a burning hope. What should I do with it but make us stronger? What will you do when I come for answers, master of ashes?’
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Sui Writes 