The Diviner

Excellency with all good will and friendship, in the Name of the Mother and the Son.”

Alessid replied, “Al-Ma’aliq recognizes the emissary of King Orturro of Qaysh, and welcomes him to Tza’ab Rih in the Name of Acuyib of the Great Tent, may the brilliance of His Glory be made known to all those pitiable souls currently living in darkness.”

When this was translated, Don Pederro’s thick brows quirked in faint annoyance at the implication, but his voice was smooth as he expressed his wishes for the continued health and happiness of Alessid and his family. Alessid answered in kind. There were more pleasantries, indicating that the barbarian had at least a modicum of manners, but Alessid was amused to note that the ambassador’s cheeks were redder than ever, and sweat had appeared on his brow. At length, Alessid did the correct thing and told Raffiq to ask Don Pederro the purpose of his visit.

There followed a protracted tale of insulted pride and outraged honor. Many times Raffiq had to beg the man to slow down. Alessid easily picked the ripest bits: if Nadaline do’Joharra was pregnant, and it was by no means certain that she was, it was none of King Orturro’s doing; Orturro’s own daughter was inconsolably insulted by Count Garza’s repudiation and abandonment of her mere days before their wedding; the crimes against Qaysh were obvious and required immediate redress.

“The King of Qaysh is confident that his friend the King of Tza’ab Rih—I must add for myself, al-Ma’aliq, that the insult to the Sheyqa be forgiven, for this man comes from a place that cannot work its collective mind around the notion of a woman as head of state.”

“No matter. Go on.”

“The King of Qaysh knows that Your Highness will readily understand that an insult to one royal master is a challenge to all and must not be allowed to stand,” Raffiq concluded, stifling a sigh of sheer gratitude as the ambassador at last fell silent. Alessid traded amused glances with Jefar. “Finally—again, I ask forgiveness on my own behalf, al-Ma’aliq, this man has the manners of a goat—he says that the King of Qaysh is certain that his request will be given a favorable reply.”

“Oh, he is, is he?” Alessid kept his face and voice as bland as milk. “And what do you think?”

“I believe he has been told to return with a favorable reply or not to return at all.”

“I agree.” Alessid reclined on his pillows. “Ayia, his story is most entertaining, but he’s lying when he says the girl might not be pregnant. She is, and by the king. Don’t tell him that!” he added quickly as Raffiq opened his mouth. “Tell him that I am—ayia, what am I, Jefar?”

“Stunned, al-Ma’aliq. And perhaps sympathetic, as the father of daughters?”

“Oh, absolutely. I am stunned and sympathetic, and I will consider seriously the King’s request. Now get him out of here. He looks as if he’ll collapse any moment. Leather, in this heat!”

That afternoon the scene was repeated with the emissary from Count Garza do’Joharra. Baron do’Gortova was introduced, sweating even more profusely than Don Pederro, for his clothes were entirely of yellow wool, lushly embroidered in silver, and he wore a large black felt hat with two purple plumes that sagged limply in the heat. The pleasantries exchanged were the same; the tale of insulted pride and outraged honor was the same (though from the opposite perspective, and Nadaline was definitely pregnant); the request that ended the recital and Alessid’s promise to consider the matter were also the same.

When the Baron had departed, Alessid lay back on his pillows and laughed himself silly. “Two furious women wanting vengeance on their lovers, two furious fathers wanting the other’s balls on a stick, and two armies preparing for a war neither can win! Acuyib is more than good to us, Jefar!”

Two mornings later, to Don Pederro of Qaysh, Alessid said: “I am shocked and appalled by the tale you have told me. After much thought, I have decided to honor your request. In twelve days’ time, my men will cross the border. I shall expect your master’s troops to leave whatever strongholds they now occupy and proceed to a suitable place for battle. Be assured that I will send enough men to make certain of a great victory.”

That same afternoon, to Baron do’Gortova of Joharra, Alessid said: “I am shocked and appalled by the tale you have told me. After much thought, I have decided to honor your request. In twelve days’ time, my men will cross the border. I shall expect your master’s troops to leave whatever strongholds they now occupy and proceed to a suitable place for battle. Be assured that I will send enough men to make certain of a great victory.”

It was only the literal truth.

In due course the mounted troops of Tza’ab Rih rode north to a river valley, a most suitable place for battle, whereon were assembled the opposing forces of the King of Qaysh and the Count do’Joharra. Messages were sent to both camps suggesting certain tactics—to which they readily agreed. Then battle was joined, each side expecting the Tza’ab to enter on its behalf. The Riders on the Golden Wind split into two sections. One, led by Alessid al- Ma’aliq, annihilated the Qayshi; the other, led by Jefar Shagara, massacred the Joharrans. It was indeed a great victory.

And thus was the conquest of the rich barbarians lands begun, and the Empire of Tza’ab Rih established.

Twenty days after the battle, King Orturro do’Ferro da’Qaysh was found in a fishing village, ludicrously attempting to blend in with the local folk by living in a cottage. Jefar remarked that he might have gotten away with it longer had he not been paying for food with coins bearing his own likeness. The king was brought before Alessid, where he blustered and raved for a brief but amusing time before being given a choice of prisons: up a tower or down a dungeon. He chose the former and was led away. Ra’abi was then declared Queen of Qaysh—the title was familiar to the populace, even if power vested in the hands of a woman was not. But none objected, for all understood that her mother’s land of Tza’ab Rih and her husband’s mother’s land of Rimmal Madar lurked behind her.

Sheyqa Sayyida was vastly pleased that Zaqir had become a king, but she was a little disappointed when Alessid gently corrected the mistake: Zaqir was the Queen’s husband. No matter what the local custom, both title and authority would reside in Ra’abi. He didn’t mention that after long consultation with Leyliah, he had decided that the people of Qaysh would simply have to get used to the idea that royal descent came through the female line. It was the female who produced Haddiyat sons—and no al-Ma’aliq ruler should be without one.

“People accustomed to kings will grumble,” Leyliah warned.

Alessid shrugged. “Their opinions do not concern me.”

“They should! You’re letting them keep their religion—”

“A ridiculous faith.”

“—their customs—”

“Including their incredibly impractical clothing.”

“Alessid, will you allow me to finish!” she snapped. “They’ll retain their lands and livelihoods as long as they’re loyal—but consider the shock all this must be to them. I think it would be best if you let it be put about that Ra’abi is merely a figurehead, and the real power rests with Zaqir.”

“That,” he said, “would be a lie. The real power rests with me.”

Thus at the age of twenty-three Ra’abi became a Queen, and took a new name: al-Qaysh al-Ma’aliq. She and Zaqir and their children traveled north to the palace at Ferro, which also received a new name. Ferro was too much like ferrha; Ra’abi declared herself unwilling to inhabit a bakery and so called her residence Il-Kadirat, honoring the name by which her grandfather Azzad was known among the people of Tza’ab Rih. It was an excellent and appropriate choice, for the palace rose in vine-covered stone in the midst of a lush valley, framed by forested hills and carpeted in wildflowers, and was green the year round.

That next spring Alessid took Mirzah with him on a ceremonial visit to Il-Kadirat. The people ought to see the great Sheyqa, who at forty-five was yet a handsome woman with great presence. She impressed them with her poise and dignity, but for warmth and charm they looked to Mairid. Ten years old, lively and quick and already bidding to be a spectacular beauty, Mairid was Alessid’s favorite of his children. It pleased him to see that she was Qaysh’s favorite as well.

The people, in truth, were genuinely welcoming. Alessid had given them the right to live their lives much as they had always done, including the practice of their Mother and Son religion. Their fear that Tza’ab Rih would bleed Qaysh dry was shown to be unfounded when Ra’abi canceled all of King Orturro’s taxes. She levied only one to replace them: a yearly payment assessed of every man, woman, and child who did not profess belief in Acuyib’s