AMNAR
THE EXECUTION
I J BLACK
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 I J Black
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Author’s Note
Dramatis Personae
Capillites in Position, 4765
Higher Capillites
Capillite Guardian of Amnar……….The High Ashad Isha
Capillite Guardian of the Law……....The High Ashad Alix
Capillite Guardian Sifra……………..Ashad Isaka
Capillite Guardian Seer……………...Ashad Irica
Lesser Capillites
Capillite Guardian Defender…………(Arist to Inherit the position)
Capillite Guardian of the Dragon Realm – Icaan
Capillite Guardian Watcher………….Apsilar
Capillite Guardian of the Higher Mortals – Dai Inaar
Capillite Guardian of the Lesser Mortals – Anarya
Lesser Servants in Position, 4765
Senior Servant of the Guardian Defender……………….Arandes Nashima
Second Servant of the Guardian Defender………………Daar
Senior Servant of the Guardian of the Dragon Realm…...Sjaadan
Second Servant of the Guardian of the Dragon Realm…..Maali
Senior Servant of the Guardian Watcher…………………Solija
Second Servant of the Guardian Watcher………………...Cosai
Senior Servant of the Guardian of the Higher Mortals……Tascha
Second Servant of the Guardian of the Higher Mortals……Leto
Senior Servant of the Guardian of the Lesser Mortals…….Matya
Second Servant of the Guardian of the Lesser Mortals……Calir
“Ta Dasi” refers to any member of Amnari society who has graduated from one of the academies and holds the title of warrior, watcher, dragonmaster, and auxiliary posts.
“Watchers” are the Amnari equivalent of doctors.
Ashmuta 11, 4765
Clinging to the side of a particularly gigantic mountain in the long range known as the Tis Nafir, the Nas Ashca is a collection of halls, towers, galleries, domes and gantries that has grown organically over the centuries out of the ruins of an ancient, abandoned civilisation. One of Amnar’s few built cities, its mystique is almost entirely embedded in the fact that it is virtually impossible to reach. The city it replaced, legendary in its own right, belonged to another time, when people were prepared to cross long mountain passes in bitter weather half the year and to spend the rest entirely cut off from everybody else for the other. Those were harder times, when taking a break from civilisation was probably the best way to prevent war. However, in this enlightened days, the Nas Ashca, symbol of reason and peace, was primarily reached by dragon.
It was still early in the morning when Icaan climbed up one of the lower towers in the muddle of buildings that made up what was known as the Lower Complex. He had been feeling uneasy, enough to miss breakfast, and had decided that a brief tour of the Flight Telepaths’ tower would put his mind at least temporarily at ease. The long, winding trip down to the Lower Complex from his rooms in the Higher Complex had done nothing to settle either his mind or his stomach, especially as even after two thousand years of life, he could remember an awkward adolescence when he repeatedly found himself lost in the huge, echoing chambers of the Nas Ashca and had once embarrassed himself by walking into the female warriors’ shower room by mistake, thinking it was something else entirely. The memory still gave him a slight twinge.
The decision to visit the Flight Telepaths’ tower had other motivations, however. He spent more time here than any of the other Capillites, for in his capacity as Guardian of the Dragon Realm, he was required to muster at least a passing interest in the training of young students, both of the disciplines of flight and flight management. His home at Nas Isca, which was also peacefully mountainous, was where he spent most of his time, but now he had been dragged from the grey mountains into the much higher and more forbidding black ones, he might as well keep some semblance of his normal routine.
That was an excuse, he told himself. For this morning, all flights were cancelled and everybody was entirely preoccupied with preparations for tomorrow. It was tomorrow’s ceremony that had his stomach in knots, even though all he had to do as a participant was stand and nod at the right moment, say a line that even he would struggle to mangle, but mostly provide his silent, solemn presence at the Inheritance of a new Capillite Guardian Defender.
This would be an occasion for great excitement. Amnar’s nine Capillites are long-lived and intended to provide a gentle, spiritual perspective and occasionally leadership to the sprawling civilisation that is Amnar itself. Very occasionally, events would lead to the death of one of the five “lesser” Capillites (of which he was one), and once a new incumbent had been found and brought to the ripe old age of twenty, he or she was considered eligible to Inherit their position. Recent years - or, rather, the last couple of centuries - had been particularly hard. The memory of the great and unassailably legendary Amin had left everybody with the sense that he couldn’t really be replaced. Ialla had been too intellectual; warriors, whilst intelligent, discovered that they didn’t especially wish to be represented by a man obsessed with the creation of his own library of rare books. And now… Now they had Arist.
Even the name sent a shudder down Icaan’s spine. He had managed to avoid her since arriving a few days ago, and her strange, hypnotic hold over his fellow Capillite, Dai Inaar, had given him a chance to stay out of her way. That wouldn’t hold out for much longer, he thought. He gritted his teeth at the mere prospect of spending time in her company.
He had reached the top of the tower by now and was standing behind the Senior Duty Flight Telepath, watching events unfold. There were five Telepaths on duty, despite the grounding, all sitting at a circular desk facing a massive, window that looked out over six great landing platforms and the domed reception hall. Beyond, the mountains stretched out like black teeth reaching into the sky. Each telepath had a map in front of him, and his ears plugged, while he muttered quietly. The Senior Duty paced up and down, hands clasped at the small of his back, occasionally leaning in to listen to a conversation. He paused in his routine to give Icaan a ceremonial bow, which the Capillite returned. Neither spoke to the other, but the Senior Duty was clearly aware of Icaan’s motivation for visiting. For the first time, Icaan confessed to himself that he was here to witness the arrival of Arandes.
Arandes would be Arist’s Senior Servant, and he had already borne the brunt of her temper tantrums. As was the Servant’s inimitable style, he had borne them with great aplomb, but Icaan’s unease, which had been growing for weeks, left him in no doubt that at some point, some dreadful moment, it was all going to fall apart. His great worry was that given Arandes’ reputation amongst Amnar’s devoted Ta Dasi (and just about everybody else), that if he and Arist came to blows, it would tear the whole of Amnar to pieces.
The Senior Duty made another pass of his three Duty Telepaths, and stopped. Somewhere out there in the clear, perfect morning sky, something had drawn his attention. He leaned down to listen to the mutterings of the nearest Telepath, then straightened, turning his attention to Icaan.
“He’s here, sir,” the Senior Duty said simply. Icaan nodded. His stomach twisted into an even tighter knot. So, he thought, it begins.
*****
“I can’t believe they’re doing this,” Maali muttered, picking at the skin of a cherry. She had curled into her chair at the table, her head bent over the fruit as she plucked at it intently. Breakfast in the grand banqueting chamber of the Servants’ Hall was grim; until Maali spoke, everybody else had been mired in deep and pensive silence. Up on the dais, the Servants’ table looked down on the wider room, where the students and trainers, dragonmasters and assembled Ta Dasi were also dining in very much the same mood. The clink and clatter of cutlery on crockery echoed around the chamber loudly, filling up the space left by the words. Anybody who did speak, did so in hushed tones.
Maali glanced up, long dark hair falling around her face. Almost all the other Servants were assembled, with two very obvious and notable exceptions. None of those who had already gathered here at the Nas Ashca, the very heart of Amnar, for the most important event in a generation, gave any sign that they were looking forward to it.
“It’s the law,” Solija offered from one end of the table, with his usual solemn adherence to law and tradition. Cosai, sitting cater-corner to him, exchanged looks with Maali. They could easily say everything they needed to each other without even opening their mouths. “She’s going to be Guardian Defender. The only person who could stop the Inheritance is Isha.”
“Then why doesn’t she?” Sjaadan asked. He sat opposite Maali, his blond, dreadlocked hair tied back and revealing a face like a brick wall. “Why doesn’t she do something?”
“Maybe she doesn’t know,” Cosai suggested.
“Isha not know? Of course she knows,” Sjaadan scoffed. “Arandes’ll have told her everything.”
“Speaking of which, where is he?” Solija asked, glancing around. “I thought they were expected this morning, by breakfast.”
“Maybe he’s not coming,” somebody suggested. “Nobody would blame him, after what she’s put him through.”
“Arandes would never do that,” Solija said, waving a hand dismissively. “He’ll be here.”
“But what’s going to happen if she does Inherit?” Sjaadan said. He dropped his spoon into his bowl, breakfast forgotten. “What are we supposed to do? The woman’s intolerable, and that’s on a good day. If she’s supposed to be a spiritual leader for us, I don’t want to know where our spirituality is going. And I’ve heard she wants to negotiate with the Duum Cabinet…”
The argument was just getting into a gear, a hurricane whipping in off the coast of the conversation. Cosai slipped out of her chair and tapped Maali on the shoulder. Unfolding herself from her place, Maali followed Cosai out into the corridor behind their table. Only Sjaadan glanced at them as they left. The others were too busy being inflamed by the political significance of the day.
Pulling the door closed, Cosai watched as Maali leaned back on the wall. She was tired and drawn, exhausted after a long tour of duty at Nas Trinitar and in need of a break. Tradition said that this was a time of celebration. A new Guardian Defender would bring about the restoration of Amnar’s greatest state, and solve all their problems. Or, more likely, it would sink them deeper into a hole of deep and petty squabbling.
“Has he been in touch with you?” Cosai asked.
Maali shook her head. There was so much sadness in her eyes. “All I know is, he’s arranged to bring Daar over here at the last possible moment so she doesn’t even have to speak to Arist before the Inheritance,” she said. She looked up, and her eyes met Cosai, glinting shards of anger. “She hit Daar, you know.”
“What?” Cosai’s jaw dropped. “When?”
Maali took a breath. “Back in Nas Trinitar, last time we were there,” she said. She sagged back against the wall, all her energy spent on that one burst of fury.
“Didn’t Arandes tell anybody?” Cosai asked.
“Who is there to tell? Especially out there,” Maali said, raising her arms in frustration. “You know what Dai’s like. She’s got him wrapped round her little finger. We couldn’t tell him, so we couldn’t tell anybody.”
“But surely…”
Maali shook her head. “Arandes said to me that he’d speak to Talija as soon as he got here,” she said. “That’s why I’m so worried. Where is he? What’s he doing?”
Cosai gazed at her friend. “Well, you’ve known him longer than me, and we both know that he never goes anywhere or does anything without knowing exactly what it is he’s up to,” she said. “I just hope it’s something good.”
Maali managed a smile. “Perhaps he sneaked up to see Isha,” she said, and her eyes glittered. “Imagine that - Isha stops the Inheritance and everybody else who’s just ignored Arist has to do something about her at last.”
“We’re not the only ones suffering,” Cosai said. “Everybody in the Ta Dasi knows what she’s like. You only have to meet her once, after all.”
Maali suddenly looked pensive. “What if there is something we could do,” she said, taking Cosai by surprise.
“Like what?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Maali shrugged, looking about her as though the corridor might offer her some suggestions. It was narrow, quickly breaking off into steps that led down to the Servants’ bedrooms. Walls, floor and ceiling were all unadorned. “What if we went up to see Talija ourselves?”
Cosai stared at her in surprise. “Would she speak to us?” She imagined the woman who sat at the right hand of Isha herself sitting down with a pair of battle-hardened Servants to listen to their complaints about the next Guardian Defender. Hardly credible, she thought dismissively.
“Might be worth a shot,” Maali said. “We can’t do nothing, can we. As far as I can tell so far, it looks like all our brilliant spiritual leaders are planning to do is let Arist run riot through Amnar and let her destroy the whole place. Which is great, because she’s going to beat the Duum Cabinet to it—”
She broke off, distracted by a sudden riot of voices that burst through even the closed door at their side. They didn’t even have to open it to realise what had whipped up the sudden excitement flooding the room. Arandes Nashima had arrived.
*****