PART THIRTY-TWO:
Married to the mission and the mob:
Ethia watched the two go at each other and wondered if they should not have been married themselves. They were all about strife, blame and pointing their equally stained fingers at the next person. The topic of their quarrel was not even the reason she had called this meeting. She must be getting too lenient for her own good, she thought. To have allowed this argument to go longer than it already had. They were both free to gore their respective throats, if they so wished. But that would have to be after she was finished getting the information she needed at the moment.
“Since when are you concerned about how or when she feeds her child? Have you run out of your magistrate duties, or better still are you done with the assignment that pertains to this mission?” The queen mother asked a seething Dezen, with mock incredulity registered on her face. All the while, eliciting a nod of consent and gratitude from Tufad’s wife.
“It will probably be since that uppity and confused husband of hers, waylaid me just before the magistrate session last week. I mean it was so embarrassing and disconcerting to the say the least. Imagine I Dezen, the son of a magistrate and a magistrate himself. Being harassed because of this.” He finished as he waved his hand dismissively towards the younger woman. His disparaged expression starkly obvious.
Ethia nodded what seemed to be her acceptance of his explanation. Then turned towards Tufad’s wife with a raised brow, to keep the ball of contention rolling. That one did not need further prompting, before plunging defensively into her narration.
“My daughter was fed in the afternoon, before I came with her to the large garden to meet with him as instructed. She snuck away and back to the house. And then went to sleep. She probably woke up hungry.” She rolled her eyes at Dezen and then turned back to face the queen mother. Silently pleading with the same eyes, as she faced the matriarch.
“This brings me again, to one of the major problems that I have with you.” The queen mother supplied sternly. “You are very careless and you lack discipline. You crave to belong and yearn to be a part of ….” She trailed off into a paused moment. As if she were looking for the exact words, that she meant to use. Shaking her head, she continued anyhow. “….I can only say now, that every little assignment that you are given. Turns up a foiled and failed fiasco.”
“But your highness, my child was….”
“Let me finish! You see, right there is my point exactly. You are fired up over the wrong things and then overlook the more important ones.”
Ethia held the younger woman’s gaze angrily, before proceeding. “An issue like that, should never have been introduced in this meeting. How much more, allowed to take up all the time it has consumed so far. With the two of you, bickering like foolish children.” Dezen snorted his agreement and smirked in triumph. “And you Mr. Magistrate.” She shot at Dezen, who listened without looking up at the royal. Tapping his foot gently, to a beat in his head. “Should have known to keep the situation under control. You are supposed to keep everyone and issue, that does not belong to this mission at bay. And completely make sure they are oblivious of its existence and operation. I have had it with your lax judgement. Now let us get to the business at hand.”
“Before we do that, your highness. There is a situation I think you should know about.” Suggested Dezen flatly.
“What now?” The queen mother looked irate.
“Tufad has insisted on knowing what my dealings with his wife was or is all about. He threatens to bring a report, before the judicial panel. If I don’t reveal what he requests.”
“Hmmm…. Interesting.” Ethia chuckled. “And what does he suppose his report would be about?” Dezen simply looked at her, without responding. He had absolutely no respect for this woman and did not think that he should. He was not his father. And the elder’s secret tryst many years ago, had no bearing on him. However, he would always have to suppress these loathsome feelings he had towards her. At least he thought, until their agenda and mission was over. There was nothing he could not get himself to endure, for the purposes of monetary gain and power.
“I will handle Tufad, if and when I have to.” The royal stated, just as flatly. “Now, let us get back to the real reason I summoned you here. Without wasting any more time, like the two of you already have. A replacement has to be found for the intended personal maid to the queen.” She started right away without preamble. “That vital slot for the mission, cannot be left vacant.”
The magistrate turned his face away. He had already learned, that the previously arranged candidate was dead. He personally did not think any of the two would have lived through that inferno he saw, to tell the tale. But it appeared the sorceress did and he wished it was her counterpart instead.
He did not tell the queen mother, because he knew she would demand more information. Wanting to know how and what happened. He also did not want to reveal, that the high priestess was his source for recruiting the dead candidate. He had found out about their encounter, connection and past dealings. So at some point later in the future. He intended to use ‘shiny-shoes’ quarrel with the queen mother, against the royal. Till then, he merely explained that the personal maid that had been arranged. Never showed up and that there was no way to trace or track her down.
“And also, we have to work on a plan for the Festival/Fair. You know quite well of the opportunity that such a gathering always produces. It is a day….” What appeared to be raised voices were suddenly heard. It was coming from the window that overlooked the section of the large garden, that was closest to the main palace gate. It sounded like a heated argument of sorts.
“Here we go again," grumbled the queen. Hissing as she tried to strain her neck, to hear more from where she sat. “This kingdom has been handed over to the dogs. They now come and go as they please. This would never have happened when I was queen.” Then with a careless wave of her hand and a likely permission to dismiss. She instructed the magistrate; “Can you go and find out, what has happened?”
Insecurity or infidelity?:
Thick black smoke, rose aggressively up to the ceiling of the small hut. Spreading out to the walls, after it hit the top. Apart from the whooshing sound made, when the witch fanned the offensive fog. The coven was considerably quiet. When she noticed, that most of the fume's concentration was starting to dissipate. She dropped the fan made of wooden fronds, on the floor. Glancing across the room and having to squint her eyes as she did. She saw the clay bowl full of cowrie and sea shells. She would do one more reading, before the sun went down. She reminded herself. She turned again to look at the once bloody sacrifice, that had raised the hazy ruckus in the first place. It appeared done and ready.
Now she would arrange and align the various shells, in preparation for a later reading. She was rising from her sitting position on the floor, when the first blow came. It caused her to land heavily on her left elbow. Reeling from shock and spasmic pain, she desperately scrambled to get back up. A second blow slapped her across the forehead, as she attempted to raise her body. The hit pushed her forward. Causing her to lurch face first. The badly shaken sorceress, gradually pulled herself up. She then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. There was no blood she noted satisfactorily. Howbeit, she could hear her heart beating and feel it racing.
Subsequently, the previously discarded sacrifice began to smoke again. Spewing out fiery balls that shot into the atmosphere rapidly like sprouting weeds. She coughed violently, as she rapidly blinked her teary eyes. Searching desperately to see a form in the densely smoky space, before she heard him.
“Are you for me? Or do you dare to be against me?” Came the bellowing and frightening charge.
“I am always at your service, my lord.” Was her rehearsed and calculated reply.
“Then why do you aid my enemies?” He barked on, his eerie presence filling the room.
“I would never do such a thing my lord. I know not of what you speak.” She lowered her face into the cloth around her waist. The cruel mist was blinding her.
Meanwhile, she scanned her memory for her latest transactions and meetings. Planning her next defense as she did. He did not know everything and definitely could not read her thoughts. But he was domineering enough, to intimidate his servants and victims alike. Into believing him to be capable of such an ability.
“You give her information to free my captives.” He bellowed further.
“It is HE that reveals your work to the sapling. It is HE Who torments you.” The sorceress supplied carefully.
“Do you now reveal to me my state and condition?” He barked loudly having flown into a rage instantly.
“No my lord. I do not.” She lowered her head even further as if in ultimate obeisance. The fumes were getting thicker, yet she continued. “I only submit to your knowledge, my lord. You alone govern the deeds of darkness. You indeed know the ways of torment and hold the bands of death.”
Deep and heavy darkness settled over the coven. A cold wind blew across. Whirling with the smoke, as if in a sinister dance. Yet menacingly saturating the air. And then suddenly, there was silence. The ‘fly-lord’ had departed. Leaving behind a sting of anguish. The witch coughed one more time. Groping in the pitch darkness for a path to light the fire.
As she struggled with the zero visibility, in the previously haunted hut. She wrestled with the invading thought. That she had to find the girl and quickly so.
.