During the hour of sunrise, Aralim and Miresh walked to the Iron Palace together. The metal construction blocked out the light as they drew near. They walked with the crowd through the open gates and past the Emperor’s Blade. As all sorts of merchants and warriors and craftspeople continued through the crowded entryway, Miresh and Aralim said a few words of parting. The young magician went to study her visions. She patted the knife buckled at her waist. She had grown an inch or two since they met a year earlier, but still the small knife fit her stature like a normal dagger.
Aralim had his own business to attend now, for it was the fourth day of the week and the Three Courts of Rema were being held. He descended the steps in the side of the Third Court’s amphitheatre where the crowd would soon converge. He lantern staff clacked off each step and many of the Selected watched him.
A man stepped forward from the corner of the stage. He was the one who had asked the questions and guided the interviews when the Court had searched for Mistress Athanu’s replacement. He bobbed his head to Aralim, his long, wiry beard folding against his chest. “My name is Lyo, Master Aralim. Might I discuss some of our rules and policies before showing you to your seat?”
“I suppose,” Aralim said, though he wouldn’t let any such silly rules stand in the way of his real goals.
“If it’s a matter requiring application of laws or a solution to a problem, you may put forward a suggestion from your interpretation of the law, which will require another Selected to back the motion; other motions may out-vote your own if Selected choose to assign votes, but it’s not a vote of all twenty Selected, only those who deign to,” Lyo explained.
“So five beats three, even though twelve didn’t vote,” Aralim said.
“Just so.” Lyo nodded and continued, “If it’s an issue you believe should be brought before the Second Court or higher, you may sponsor them. You may only sponsor one matter a day, unless another Selected second’s your choice of sponsorship. Furthermore, when it comes to the other Selected, no fighting or throwing things. Speak respectfully and professionally, always.”
Aralim pursed his lips and nodded.
“Lastly, you may get involved in other ways however you choose, outside of the Court,” the administrator said. “For example, Miss Athanu offering you a place to stay whether or not she was going to sponsor you. Keep interaction with said audience people minimal during Court hours. This opportunity stands open so that if you see a way to help someone that would not be part of the Three Courts governance, you are encouraged to do so at your own discretion.”
“Very good,” Aralim said, impatiently.
Lyo ushered him into the third row of stone steps. “Here. This is your seat now.”
It was little more than a nook in the stone row. Where his feet would rest, another man’s back would rest. Aralim sat down and leaned his lantern staff beside him. He nodded to the woman another seat over. She was dark skinned, like many of the politicians were, and probably close to Aralim’s age, but her skin was smooth and not weathered and her eyes attractive. “Oh,” she said. “You’re not nearly as good looking as the last person who sat there.”
“Wasn’t that Miss Athanu?” Aralim asked.
“It was,” the woman said with a laugh. After a moment she said, “And I’m Dullah.”
“Aralim,” he replied. He watched as more of the Selected were seated.
“Expect a busy day, Aralim. The Third Court has been closed for its last two sessions waiting for a new Selected.” Dullah took a sip of a corked canteen she held.
The row he had been given slowly filled in until another man sat down on his right. This man had the bronze skin of a Raderan and a shaved head with a bad shaving scar behind one ear. He dropped a large yellow pillow onto the stone seat and then sank into it. When he caught Aralim looking he gave him a dry look and said, “You’ll do the same in about a week, at most.” Aralim glanced at Dullah; she also rested on a cushion. Aralim had to be certain to not become too accustomed to the lifestyle the Emperor offered him. He was just fine on the stone step.
Lyo clapped his hands and sat down in the corner. A gradual procession of citizens began to cross the stage. They only paused for a moment at a time for about half of those seeking audience. These were people looking for handouts or lovers or work. The only time these people were given what they sought, they were stopped when leaving the stage by one of the dozen servants who stood waiting there on behalf of their masters. The Selected didn’t waste one another’s time with issues of such a personal matter. Dullah had her servant stop a particular muscular labourer, “for my lumber yards,” she told Aralim.
Some merchants struck deals with the lords, the first occurrence of stopping the procession that Aralim noticed. And once, a man fell to his knees and said, “My lords and ladies of the Court, I come from the village of Bakora. Bandits have killed the guards and many of the men. We beg for the Emperor’s protection!”
“I have mercenaries!” called one of the Selected.
“To the Second Court,” said another. The man on Aralim’s right spoke up too: “I second that!”
Aralim hadn’t even had a chance to speak. The man was ushered to the Second Court with haste—he would likely speak with a military captain or even the First Court before the day was done.
And the procession continued. A fish merchant that no one seemed to like, a business keeper who felt unfairly taxed, and a man who claimed his neighbour was a criminal. A few of these matters were attended by the Selected but none of them caught Aralim’s attention. The merchants were the only ones without some need to fill, and even then they were addicted on desire or greed, not ambition.
The next person across the stage had two guards with her, which was not uncommon for the merchants and nobles that sought audience. One of the guards was a massive man a cloth-dangling bronze sword and black and green tattoos across his shoulders and on his bare chest. The other was a lean man with a gold-hilted blade. But then Aralim noticed the woman in between them. She had more tattoos than either, barely hidden by the blue vest she wore. Her build was small, but her visible abdomen riddled with sharp muscles and… she was missing her right arm at the elbow. The stump was visible, but the twisted skin obscured by the black rings tattooed along that arm. She didn’t seem self-conscious about any of her appearance, and stepped ahead of her guards to face the Court. “I’m Vaenuth,” she said, loudly. “You’ve seen me before, and Ovoe has spoken of his respect for my determination. My caravan and I are planning a venture into the Expanse—a long one. I’m looking for investors, either coin or trade goods. Scholars are welcome to join this venture also.”
“I’ll contribute a sum,” one of the Selected said. “See my servant.”
“Mine too,” said another.
“I have a warehouse for just this type of venture,” said a bald man in the front row. Probably the man who had called Aralim on his use of a sound magnet, he recalled, saying it was not magic.
Another spoke up. “A colleague of mine at the College of Candles has been studying a Slither carcass brought back a year ago. It has almost outlived its usefulness.”
A few scowled; the man to Aralim’s right muttered, “Distasteful and immoral.” Aralim wondered if it was his unfortunate past involving corpses that gave him such a jaded reaction to the grim study.
“He may accompany too,” Vaenuth said. “Though I will not guarantee any particular return date. I intend to be north of the Yurna Mountains for at least two Moons.”
That brought on more murmurs, but no one backed out of their contributions. Vaenuth and her guards crossed the stage to discuss their bargains with the servants waiting there. She had caught Aralim’s eye, not just because of her strange appearance, but because of her attitude. She told the Selected what her plans were and offered them the chance to join her; she was not in need of their contributions. She wanted to go into the Expanse and she was going to. But most importantly, she’d spoken of Ovoe’s respect.
“Would you have your servant stop her for me?” Aralim asked.
Dullah blinked. “Just go now. You won’t miss much.”
Aralim was not sure what rules he was breaking, but he didn’t much care. He stood up and shuffled out of the aisle. He used the servant’s exit stairway to climb out of the amphitheatre and then sought out the young woman and her guards. When they were done speaking with one of the servants they turned to Aralim next.
The woman’s hair all hung to one side and Aralim tried to remember the last time he had seen bare scalp in that place on a woman. She certainly didn’t care about her cultural impact. She looked at him, his lantern staff, his beard, and then his eyes. “Master…?”
“Aralim,” he said.
“Did you want to help my caravan?” she asked. Up close, her stump looked more gruesome, and more fresh. She had rings under her eyes and a small twitch in the knuckles of her remaining hand.
Aralim shrugged. “I unfortunately lack the resources to do that, although I do know a man that might pay you well for a Slither. I was hoping to talk with you later about your work for Ovoe. I too have received some unfortunate chores from him.”
“Oh, I never received chores from him,” Vaenuth said. When Aralim nodded for her to go on, she realized how earnest he was about Ovoe and smiled. “I’ll be in Rema for a few weeks before we depart. If I decide I’d like to talk, where should I find you?”
“At the forth estate on West Corid Avenue,” Aralim said. “My schedule is quite flexible if you’d prefer to meet elsewhere.”
“Thank you,” she said. She turned away, but then paused. There was a glint in her eye when she turned back. “There’s something familiar about you. Did you serve on the Third Court before, when I was here the first time?”
Aralim smirked. “This is actually my first day of service, but we may have crossed ways. I am a Walker of the Path, and have traveled far. Perhaps you have seen me with my companion? A young girl.”
Enlightenment dawned on her. “Ah, yes! On the Ake’ma, when I was travelling south. You were on a boat heading here. I think I will come and see you after all. In a few days’ time.”
“I’m excited to hear that,” Aralim said. “I look forward to it.” She turned to speak to the next waiting servant, and Aralim rushed back to his seat on the Third Court.