The Lost Emperor, Chapter 4

Yarga was just reaching for the door when it opened, from the outside. It was the young page from earlier. Feraz, if the Minister remembered correctly. He was the ward of one of the Duchess’ servants. The Duchess preferred to hold court further West, ‘away from the barbarians’, as she put it. If Lord Tomaz had received the reports of this incursion from East Arkra any later, the Duchess and her household would have been caught on the open road. As it was, the Duke insisted she stay within the safe confines of Castle Juandar.

How safe those confines were, was now up for debate.

Feraz paused in the doorway, uncertain for a moment whether to let the Minister pass through first or deliver his message. In the end, expediency won over courtesy.

“Minister Yarga, the Duchess requests your counsel.” The page bowed respectfully as he delivered his message, and then stood aside to let the Minister pass.

“Of course, by all means. Please lead the way.” Yarga fell into step behind the page as he turned to lead the way down the hallways to the Duchess’ quarters. The page, walking in front of him, was quite tall considering his fifteen years. He had a steady gait, no doubt born of his many years of menial labour. His hair was well-kept, combed straight, and barely long enough to cover his neck.

Navigating their way through the hallways and climbing staircases, Yarga wondered what his life would have been like, if he had made different choices. Maybe he would have married, and had a son like Feraz. Maybe he would have taught at an academy, instead of serving as a Minister. Maybe he would have served closer to the interior, instead of so close to the troublesome border, where he was likely to fall to an invading army and be forgotten amongst the many dead.

Yarga shook his head to clear his mind of such morbid thoughts, just as they arrived at the entrance to the Duchess' chambers. There were no guards posted here; all the guards had been stationed to defend the entryways to the Castle.

Feraz halted, rapped sharply on the door, then carefully pushed it open. Spotting the Duchess inside nodding her assent, Feraz entered and held the door open for Minister Yarga. Once the Minister had crossed the threshold, Feraz silently shut the door and stood to one side of the entrance, waiting for further instructions.

The Duchess had been pacing back and forth in the centre of the room. Now she stopped, beckoned to Yarga and retreated to one corner. On the other side, near the windows overlooking the inner courtyard, sat her youngest daughter and a handmaiden. No one spoke.

“My Lady,” Yarga broke the silence with a bow, “how may I be of assistance?”

“Minister Yarga, thank you for coming so quickly. Am I correct in assuming that you are not occupied with the defence of Juandar?” The Duchess spoke quickly, as if for fear that she may not have time to finish any conversation. Every once in a while she would turn slightly to look out the windows, or at her daughter, sitting serenely enjoying the late morning sun.

Yarga smiled at the Duchess' implication. “My Lady, the defence of Juandar is, thankfully, left to more capable men.”

“I thought your intimate familiarity with Juandar would prove invaluable at a time such as this.” The Duchess had never been very interested in the Duke’s martial responsibilities, and so had little knowledge in those affairs.

As an orphan, Yarga had never known for certain where he was born; nevertheless, Juandar was the place he considered home. He had spent his childhood roaming the streets of Juandar, and later returned as a young Imperial administrator. After that he had spent years travelling BurJuandar, before returning to his home and joining the Duke’s Council. Only one other Minister now serving BurJuandar actually hailed from Juandar.

“My Lady, I am certain that the War Council has the necessary experience. Besides, the enemy is attacking not from the East, through the city, but from the South, directly at Castle Juandar’s walls. My familiarity with the streets of Juandar and its people are of no help.” What Yarga left unmentioned was that it made no difference, as Yarga no longer held an Imperial appointment, and no Minister except those with an Imperial appointment belonged on a War Council.

“Yes, I see.” The Duchess paused to consider the situation, wringing her hands and staring out the windows before turning back to Yarga and launching into her rapid speech. “Maybe your familiarity with Juandar could have other uses. It is not that I do not have faith in the capabilities of our fine soldiers, and the wise War Council. I know the situation is dire. My place is with my husband. I know this too.”

Yarga shifted under the intense gaze of the Duchess. She was staring straight into his eyes and he could sense her desperation. She was going to ask something great of him, and he would be forced to face up to his measure as a man. “My Lady, I -”

The Duchess cut him off, motioning for him to let her continue. “My daughter, Dayani – there must be some way for you to spirit her away from all this. She must move unnoticed, to the West, to her sister Dayaqi. You know where, yes?”

Her eyes never left his, and she pleaded as only a mother could. Yarga turned towards where her daughter sat by the windows. She was a slight girl – a young woman actually, already entertaining a fair number of suitors. She had her father's blond hair, falling in waves down her back, and his startlingly blue eyes, the colour of a clear summer sky. The rest of her features she had inherited from her mother, with the same small mouth that was versatile with smiles.

Yarga sighed as he turned back to the Duchess. She had an expectant look on her face. She had not put her request in the form of a question. “Yes, my Lady, I know where.”

“Good!” Her mouth widened into one of her more beatific smiles. “Thank you, Minister Yarga. I am indebted to you.”

“It is my honour to serve.” Yarga turned to look at the girl the Duchess had just placed under his care. She was known for a temperament that changed like the winds on the North Plains, and could be quite obstinate at times. Yarga wondered if she comprehended the danger facing them.

Perhaps sensing that her fate was the topic of conversation, Dayani stood up and faced her mother. From the corner of his vision, Yarga noticed Feraz straightening, as if to ensure the Duchess’ daughter noticed he stood as tall as her.

“If I am to escort your daughter out of Juandar, we must leave at once my Lady. And she will have to change into something –“ Yarga searched for the right words, “– plainer and more travel-hardy.”

“Yes, I understand. And what retinue shall I have accompany you?” The Duchess signalled for the handmaiden to approach as she queried the Minister. She understood the urgency of an early departure.

“I would advise against it, my Lady. The smaller the group, the safer we are.” Yarga was already considering what needed to be done to accomplish this flight to safety. They would have no time to plan as they had to leave immediately.

The Duchess gave instructions to the handmaiden to help prepare her daughter for a hasty departure, watched as she left the room, then turned back to Yarga. “I must at least send someone to assist you, and for your protection.”

“Maybe the boy,” Yarga gestured towards Feraz by the doorway. “He can help me. And a soldier from your guard, for protection. That is the most we should travel with.”

The Duchess looked worried, but she sensed she would have no time to argue the point. “Very well. It shall be done. Feraz is placed immediately under your care, to make what preparations are required for provisions and such. I will have a guard meet you in the north courtyard.”

The Duchess moved past Yarga to embrace her daughter, leaving the Minister to give instructions to Feraz. Dayani looked confused as her mother hugged her; she had not seen her mother this distraught since her sister’s wedding. This barbarian invasion might turn out to be more important than she had originally anticipated.

“Mother, whatever is the matter?” Dayani looked enquiringly as her mother held her at arm’s length.

“Hush, my dear. I just want to look at you.” Gazing at her youngest daughter, the Duchess felt she was looking at her younger self, but for the lighter hair. “You must go with Minister Yarga, my dear. He will take you to your sister. Please do as he says, so you will be safe.”

Her mother had only the faintest of smiles on her lips, and her eyes betrayed her worry. Dayani could only manage a small nod and a small smile of her own in answer. Then her mother embraced her, holding her tightly, as her mother had held her sister on her wedding day. They stayed that way for what seemed like a long time, before her mother released her and gestured for her to leave. As Dayani followed her handmaiden out, she turned to see her mother, standing at the windows, with her back to them. That image of her mother, half bathed in sunlight, would stay with her for a long time to come.