While Aralim was lacing up his sandals to attend the Third Court, someone knocked. It had been a few uneventful weeks for the Selected and Aralim was arriving slightly later some days. The most interesting matter in the last two months had been a criminal case that was eventually sent before the Second Court.
“Come in,” Aralim called, standing up straight. It was Ko’nagar, their household steward, who bowed and entered his quarters. “What’s the matter?”
Ko frowned and spoke uncomfortably. “Miresh has locked herself in her quarters, sir.”
“I’ll come at once!” Aralim blinked and followed the chief servant into the hall. The corridor crossed the balcony that overlooked the foyer—Narr gave him a concerned look from below. Ko hung back a few steps, and, by the time Aralim reached Miresh’s door, he was alone.
He knocked and waited.
“Ko,” Miresh called out, “I said I’m not feeling well.”
“It’s Aralim,” he replied. Her voice quieted for a moment. “Could you let me in?”
Miresh didn’t speak at first. When she replied, it was still muffled by the door. “I’m sick, I think, and I don’t want to make anyone else sick.”
“Now, Miresh, do you think I’m so old that a sickness could do me in?” he asked. “Either let me in, or come closer to the door and explain better.” He leaned his head against the door as he waited for her to make up her mind.
Her voice was louder now. “You were sick for a few weeks, weren’t you? Maybe that’s what I caught. Did you have a really bad headache?”
Aralim sighed. “More or less. It was nothing serious though. I mostly just felt tired and sore. Now what has you so worked up?” he whispered.
“There was… blood, when I woke up,” she said. “Aralim, am I going to be alright?”
Aralim smiled. “…between your legs?” he asked.
“Yes…” her voice drifted timidly out.
A small chuckle rose in Aralim’s throat, despite her unfortunate circumstances. Miresh must have heard his laugh, for her concerned voice asked, “What?”
Aralim scratched his beard. “It’s just the red tide. You’re going to be just fine,” Aralim said. “It happens to all young ladies. It had not even occurred to me that you wouldn’t know. You’re not sick, Miresh, you’re old.” He started to laugh more.
“I’m not sick?” Miresh asked. The door’s lock finally clicked, and she opened the door. She was wearing normal day clothes, but her eyes were irritated and red. She looked like she’d been balling for an hour.
Aralim smiled consolingly. “No, no, no,” he said. He took her shoulders and brought her in close. “You’re going to be fine. But let’s go find Meia, or one of the other ladies in this house. As I am definitely not qualified to explain this to you properly.” She smiled when she pulled away from his embrace, and followed him into the corridor.
Ko regarded Aralim in disbelief when he was informed of what was happening. “The red what?!” The servant was flushed and spoke quickly. “It’s a woman’s phase, in this household! …if it please you, sir.”
“Sorry,” Aralim told him. “I’ve never had time for that many words.” Ko sighed, while Miresh sat down in the living room off the foyer with Meia, one of Ko’nagar’s chief female staff. Aralim stepped up to the wide doorframe and their conversation paused. He smiled reassuringly and Miresh forced a similar expression. “I’ll tell Rattar you will be taking a personal day. You have learning outside of magic to do today.”
“Thank you, Aralim,” Miresh said, nodding.
It was raining again, but only a light drizzle while Aralim walked to the Iron Palace. In the courtyard, he ignored the usual banter of merchants and taunts of prostitutes. As he neared the stairs up into the enormous metal structure, he spotted Dullah standing along the railing overlooking the Third Court. The tall, elegant woman smiled to him as he started by, so Aralim paused and stepped closer to her.
“No Third Court today?” she asked him.
Aralim shrugged and looked down over the crowd of heads that sat in the amphitheatre. A merchant and his guards stood on the stage, speaking with the Selected. “I have a few personal matters to sort out, but I’ll be returning here for the rest of the day.”
Dullah smiled. “Personal matters up those stairs? But you still sit on a stone stair…”
“Like I told you,” Aralim said. “The Path is not paved with pillows.”
Dullah giggled and Aralim began his ascent of the stairs into the Iron Palace. The line had already started to form for the Second Court, but he bypassed it and followed a member of the Aura behind the councillors.
Rattar was sitting cross-legged with his back to the internal structure of the Iron Palace. Led by a tall Raderan woman in orange robes, Aralim approached the Grand Magician through the forest of iron columns. The old man did not stand, but he did raise his eyes from a still bowl of water in front of him. “Hmm,” he said, glancing past Aralim. “Good morning. Where’s Miresh?”
A simple explanation sufficed, but Rattar raised his eyebrows. “Red what?” he smiled. “I forgot you spent so much time at sea until you use words like that. Poor girl, making it this far without knowing about that struggle.”
“I feel bad for the way she found out more than anything. She thought she was dying.” Aralim said. Rattar nodded, but the Walker carried on. “But I have something else to talk to you about, since you have some unexpected free time.”
“Have a seat then,” Rattar said. Aralim folded his legs and sat across the bowl of water from Rattar. There was only a finger’s width of free space between the rim of the bowl and the surface of the liquid. Aralim wondered how Rattar had brought the bowl to this spot; perhaps a member of the Aura had aided him. “How may I help?”
Aralim laughed nervously. “I’ve been pondering my uses here in the Palace… or lack thereof, really.”
Rattar started to chuckle. He paused his laughter, smiling with mirth, and said, “It’s not at your expense, trust me.”
“Well, I have stopped my Walking to be here,” Aralim said. Rattar frowned and considered his words. “So I feel a need to induce change of some sort. The spy games everyone plays aren’t of the Path, and I’m too old to become a military power. I’m just curious as to where my Path leads for now.”
“Half of the Selected are wealthy children placed in the Third Court by their parents. They play at politics, but aspire only to their festivities. You’re on the verge of so much more than they will ever attempt,” Rattar said. Aralim raised an eyebrow—the Grand Mage really believed in him. Rattar continued, “If you worry about being required to engage in the conflicts of the Higher Courts, consider this. Grandfather Athanu used to spend eleven hours a day keeping this city and the iron industry in perfect running order. He has friends in the Courts to keep him safe from the political games, and now he is living out his final days exactly how he wanted to.”
Aralim blinked. “I don’t follow.”
“You can lead a significant and impactful life here, without playing Ovoe’s spy game,” Rattar said, emphasizing each word. “But I will understand if that is still not the Path for you. You told us at the very beginning that you were not here to enlist.”
“I do have a few motives of my own now,” Aralim confessed. He noticed that the bowl of water seemed to hold less free air. “For instance, the Emperor serves this wonderful tea when we meet.”
Rattar smirked. “The reason I laughed earlier is because the Emperor spoke to me a week or two ago, after your conversation, and told me that he hopes you have a future here. Aralim, he considers you a friend.”
“Well, I must say. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend. Not counting the few I found on the way here.”
“I’m certain more tea will be in order,” Rattar suggested. “Were you asking me today for something else to do, to have a purpose in Rema? Or trying to suggest that you may seek such a purpose elsewhere?”
“I was curious on what your suggestions for Rema would be,” Aralim explained, nodding.
Rattar nodded. He glanced down at the bowl of water. “Well, I will keep that in mind,” he said, and regarded Aralim once more. He was not sitting on a cushion, but seemed at ease.
“Alas, I should probably meet with the Selected,” Aralim said, starting to stand. “I hope Miresh will be by tomorrow.” Rattar bowed his head and Aralim strode away.
The Walker of the Path did not follow a member of the Aura, for he knew his way quite well. He passed Grandfather Athanu, seated at a table with Muria. The newest member of the First Court was in charge of foreign affairs, but seemed to be spending her first few months learning what exactly the other rulers were concerned with. Aralim had not yet met her, but he did not interrupt them. Dullah winked at him when he finally sat down on his stone seat in the Third Court, halfway through a citizen’s presentation.