Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 5: Whispers of Treason: Medoc

 And what had that great price purchased? The looting had filled the Royal coffers and those of the highest Nobles with zirc and gems. The armory bristled with looted weapons. The stock caverns were overrun; and the more daring of the Nobles feasted on charred fish that had washed up on the shores of the cold lake. Everyone who wanted a Semija had one, though the new ones were so ill trained as to be useless. Beyond the material gain, there was increased morale, the joy of victory, and glory-medals for the heroes of the fight. But the King himself had not seemed pleased at the great victory, had not thrown a feast of rejoicing or given the folk a holiday or any of the normal things a King did at even a minor victory in a raid. Instead, Dynat fixated on questioning the princesses. He was like a man driven, and he did not seem to have the control a King should have. Medoc had asked Bolv, on their way to the baths, what she thought of her King's obsession. She was closed mouthed, but she did not seem pleased, and she seemed even less happy to be, as she put it, “dismissed to the baths like a Semija given a free-day.”

 It was the first criticism Medoc had ever seen her offer Dynat. The man was more attached to his Kinyara than was appropriate, though Medoc would never tell Dynat that to his face. Kinyara was an ancient and sacred role. Ever since King Khanten and his cousin Zedya had come from the Lava Lake and founded Chraun, it had become tradition for the King to take his closest female cousin as lover and advisor. If a man did not have a female cousin, he did not become King. Often the Kinyara bore the King children, and their children were not considered royalty but sacred; at a young age they joined the Acolytes of the Fire Spirit on the other side of the Lava River. This sacred relationship was never intended to be a marriage, but Dynat lived with Bolv, treated her like his wife, and did not take a Queen to beget true heirs. At least the King did not lie with Semija, like the King before him had. Medoc had watched five Kings rule and fall in his fifty-one years. Five kings, five decades.

 Once again, numbers rolled through Medoc's mind. Only about five hundred Icers had been captured, but nearly fifty thousand new Semija were being housed in the outskirts of the mines. They were no replacement for the twenty thousand warriors he had lost; it would take years to train them, and some would never be truly loyal. The crowded conditions were ripe for a riot. Medoc wondered how many he would have to order thrown into the river simply to avoid an eruption of violence. And would they go meekly into the lava? Of course not. It would be another battle just to herd them to their deaths.

 The more Medoc thought about it, the less the numbers added up. The price had not been worth the gain. Medoc had studied the scout’s reports from the past several years. The Icers were cowards. They had never posed a real threat to Chraun. They would not have attacked, and even if they had, they wouldn't have been able to fight in the heat. Their ice-armor was nothing compared to Fireblood. Twenty-five hundred good Flames, for what? The King's entertainment? And how many more would Medoc risk so that the King could have every last Icer in the Outer Tunnels?

 Medoc pushed away the thoughts. They were not the sort of thoughts a General should be thinking about a King. Dynat was chosen by the Fire Spirit to rule Chraun. What he wanted was right. No matter what the numbers said.

 Medoc leaned back and accepted another morsel, cababar liver pickled in rocksalt brine. It was sour and juicy and made his mouth pucker. He gestured to a younger Lady, the tops of her bare breasts gleaming in the torchlight, and she swam over eagerly. Perhaps her soft hands could relax his muscles and help him forget the numbers for a time.

 “General Medoc, I bring orders from the King.” A Cadet stood in the doorway. Cadet Tejusi, if Medoc remembered correctly. Young still, with much promise. Five new valor-medals decorated his scale armor. He would be promoted to Officer soon, replacing one of those lost in the war. His words registered suddenly—orders from the King?