Book 7, Chapter 6: The Double Slit Realization
Perhaps it was my helplessness. Trapped in a place designed to force subservience upon me. Both were highly frustrating, but the trapped part was the worst. The anger in me was growing and I wanted nothing more than to give over to it. Break furniture, tear apart the walls, throw down the doors. I’d let the invading nun army in to crush this city, these people, this empire!
It wasn’t just that I needed to be elsewhere – taking Talaren to shore up the Trap, leading my own kingdom and armies, building roads, to name a few – and it wasn’t just that I was here, it was that I had no solutions for the Others. Perhaps I’d find some in the books at the Temple. Yet here, I could do nothing but rage, rage, rage internally.
And anyways, I didn’t really want to destroy the city. Still, it took some effort to unclench my fists after my highly annoying cousins left.
It was a mess, politics here. Lots of nobles, vying for power, but only a few such lineages held militaries, and so only they were the ones to worry about. Except, for some reason, that wasn’t entirely true. The idiot twins, as I was thinking of them, explained that houses without militaries held power over other houses through different means: espionage, blackmail, control over assassins, and more than I probably couldn’t imagine.
It reminded me of history, of feudal Japan, where those outside of the social hierarchy relied on assassins, sometimes, to influence power. Perhaps the Laemacian assassins were like Japanese ninja, living hidden in the mountains, learning the secrets of subterfuge, poison, and murder. I decided then and there, at the breakfast table, to ask the next assassin who came for me. Probably, given what Serce has publicly decreed for me, I wouldn’t have to wait long.
None of this politicking mattered! None of it would make a bit of difference if I couldn’t get to the Temple. And still, when I got there, I had no idea what to do. Nothing fed rage like helplessness.
“If I might have a word, dear?” asked an older lady as she sat down beside me at the breakfast table. It was more or less empty, with a few girls still eating, some sneaking glances at me, maybe building up the courage to say something.
Scowling at her for interrupting my angry thoughts, she was middle-aged, or a bit older, her body could only be described as regal. Wide shoulders and waist, silk dress draped off, red muffler around her neck. Not exactly what everyone else was wearing. Somehow, the anger slipped away. Maybe, maybe she could offer a way out. “Ah, please. By all means. I was just sitting here in thought.”
Brushing away salt and pepper hair, she said, “Your cousins appraised you on the power structure here at the palace.”
“I suppose they did. And which house do you represent?”
“Let’s say a consortium.”
“Alright.” Blinking my eyes a few times, I waited for her to expand on that statement. She did not, forcing me to ask, “And?”
“We would like to know what you want.”
“To influence the prince – sorry, you know him as emperor – you want to curry favor with me?”
She smiled, nodding a little, “Of course we do. But,” after pushing away my cousin’s empty plates, she reached over to take my hand in hers, making me flinch and pull my hand away, “many of us lost out when Otholos . . . rose to power. Sorry, I didn’t mean to encroach upon your person.”
Looking down, I was rubbing my hand. “Oh.” It took real effort, but I stopped and laid my hands palm first onto the table, carefully. “Forget it. Listen, can we get straight to it, to what you want? Do you want me to get rid of Serce or speak with him on your behalf? And what are you offering here?”
“Oh my!” she brought her hand up to her mouth. “We merely sought to gain your favor. We’d like to arrange your wedding ceremony. How lavish it will be! We will spare no expense, an entire day of celebration and pomp. Flowers lining the streets, the best orchestras, lavish dinners even for the peasantry, and-”
“Oh for fu . . .” I nearly bit my lip. “Fudge. For fudge’s sake is what I was going to say. So far, lady,” I stood up, “yours is the least-”
She squeezed my hand, pulling me downward, “I suggest you sit, Your Highness. At least until Lace is gone.”
“What?”
A faint sewage smell filled the air then, but my nose soon sorted it into an old cheese smell, which wasn’t much better, and a short man with a mop of hair placed what can only be described as an aged cheese plate, with crackers, onto the table, despite the absence of women and girls to enjoy it. The few remaining were looking at him in disgust and no one reached for the dish. Those clearing the table gave this Lace fellow a wide berth.
With her head, she gestured backwards, “Him. He is, shall we say, not all there.”
Perhaps noticing us talking about him, Lace looked over at me, smiled with crooked teeth, some missing, and his eyes weren’t quite working together. Probably would leave me alone. He seemed fine in my books. “Mentally handicapped?”
“That expression suits him kindly.”
“Ok, and? Is he dangerous?” I didn’t get what this woman was trying to say and I didn’t really care. She’d just outed herself as, at best, a weak stakeholder, and one uninterested in helping me escape or overthrow the established government.
“He’s here because he, uhm, had his way with the barn animals.”
“Jesus!”
“And tried with girls. That’s when the village turned him over to the palace.” She leaned in, raised an eyebrow even, “Despite the pleas of the parents. Don’t worry, he’s been properly gelded.”
“I guess that’s why he’s working here?”
“Such a simple operation and it calms men down more than anything else. If women were physicians, it’d be prescribed more frequently, I’d imagine.” She laughed happily, as if inviting me to join in.
“I’ll keep that in mind if I’m forced into matrimony.”
The poor man gently moved dishes out of the way of his platter, then began arranging blunt desert knives around the platter, each one touching it. He stumbled around the table picking up all the knives and bringing them over to his platter.
“Lace’s currently only dangerous because he doesn’t know his own strength and sudden movements might bother him. And he loves cheese. All kinds. Doesn’t understand when it’s bad. And doesn’t seem aware enough to serve it earlier in the meal.” Again, she reached out, resting her hand on mine.
Looking down at her hand, then up at her face, I said, “I fail to see why this warrants you touching me.”
She withdrew her hand, “Sudden movements. I was worried about you. I didn’t want you to be the focus of his attention.”
I gestured with my head behind me, “if it’s not obvious, I have a bodyguard. Let’s be honest with each other if you’re going to request my favor.” I stood, “You were simply buying yourself more time.”
“Any way I can.”
“I’m not staying. I’m not marrying Serce.” I gave her a smile, but it was entirely fake and devoid of mirth, “If you want me on your side, find me an exit.” Not waiting for a reply, and giving into my disappointment with her offer, I turned and left.
***
The bodyguard walking behind me was quiet, but her footsteps loud in my mind. My shadow. I didn’t really want her around but having her nearby probably didn’t hurt. Factions, so many damned factions. The twins explained that not everyone was on board with Otholos’ usurping the throne. Several powerful families, those with strong connections to the previous ruling family – my bloodlines – necessarily lost out. Otholos couldn’t trust them and seemed to have marshalled his own support base.
And he was dead. So, I had opportunity. Given who I was, that I had my own kingdom and this world’s most powerful military. The thought stopped me in my tracks. I was overfocused on getting out when there were solutions here.
I nearly turned around then, back to the table to the unarmed houses representative. I could arm them! If they would but send letters to my generals and dukes, I could bring my army here. No need to escape when I could conquer the place.
Not a foolproof plan by any means – the nun’s army was out there, pounding this city, trying to isolate, then take it. And Serce’s army would be returning soon, assuming he didn’t suffer total defeat. I briefly wondered, then, what I’d do if that happened. Would power fall to me, his chosen wife? Probably not. Some other idiot would usurp the throne – and probably toss me aside then, have me killed, depending on how they saw things.
It was probably better, ever so slightly better, that Serce return here victorious. Waiting for the prince was infuriating! This land of slow communication, horseback messengers, it was no wonder it took thousands of years for humanity to climb and claw its way into modern times.
Yet now I had something to offer the factions without armies. The next time they approached me, I’d ask, but I didn’t want to head straight back to the table right away. Let them worry a little.
Lost in thought, heading down the hallway, girls moving aside for me, some bowing, others making honorific statements I didn’t listen to, when we came upon the larger open space where the etiquette teacher had bothered me before.
Class had not been dismissed, and she stood before me in a new dress, with her little class of girls. Now a man stood by her, dressed as a guard in light armor, twisted smile on his face, and patting a baton on the side of his pants. No other weapons adorned his person, meaning he likely policed these girls.
I paused. Huh. Not because she invoked the threat of violence, but because my mind broke inwardly. This was a crossroads, there were two possibilities here.
She began talking and I paid no attention. The girls lined up.
My thoughts were stuck on the two possibilities. Either I accept her lessons or not, the latter escalating to violence. That wasn’t what concerned me, though, and I felt exhilarated, euphoric, and crazy. Utterly, fallen off the deep end, crazy.
“Ma’am?” asked the bodyguard, her body tensing.
“Shush.” No time to talk. I was thinking about quantum physics and the many-worlds hypothesis. Crazy, I know, but if this were quantum, both situations would occur: me, beating the crap out of the soldier and me taking up etiquette lessons. There’d be some percentage of overlap between the two, say a 70/30 split, and I’d be diminished in each case by the same percentage.
He drew his baton.
I held up my hand, palm toward him, and the room went silent.
Us deities are like that, like the quantum world. Living in so many dimensions of time puts us in multiple, overlapping places of existence. I could therefore weaken the Others by forcing them into superpositions – into multiple times and spaces – if I could force multiple exits on the trap.
Huh.
Snapping my fingers, the words came out of my mouth, “I need to talk to the mage!”
“Princess Cayce,” said the teacher, “as I just explained, again, you need to begin your training. And since you won’t commit voluntarily, this guard will help you see reason.”
The eunuch stepped forward, glee in his eyes. Probably, using force on women was the last bit of happiness he had left, since his manhood and all that were gone.
Hands up, at the ready, I took a step forward, but my mind wasn’t on the fight.
***
The bloody baton clattered to the floor as I dropped it in front of the collapsed soldier. He wheezed in air, twitching a little.
Several of the girls were covering their mouths, the etiquette teacher backing into the far wall, trying to find somewhere to disappear. I probably should have frightened or threatened her, maybe painted her face with the blood of the downed guard – he wasn’t too, too badly injured, just a bunch of bruises and a broken nose, broken ribs – but I turned on my heel, exited this space, heading for the gardens.
I’d rested enough in here. Time for planning. Time for purpose.
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