“I am, my lord. Did anything happen while I was gone that requires our attention?” she queried him.
“A faerie post arrived late last night from Hetar,” Taj said as he sat up in his bed. “I said I would review it in the morning.”
“To whom was it addressed?” Lara wanted to know.
“To me,” the boy told her.
“Excellent!” his mother approved. “Trust the Lord High Ruler to follow proper protocol. Jonah is taking no chances at offending us, and because he does not know who the regent is he is being careful.” Lara smiled.
“But he knows who my mother is,” Taj replied ingenuously.
Lara laughed lightly. “Aye, he knows,” she responded. Then she gave him another quick kiss, ruffling his dark gold hair. “I must go and have my breakfast, my lord Dominus. Come to me when you have had yours, and we will see what Hetar wants.”
Her energy was high, and Lara could not believe how well she felt. Scarcely more than a week had passed since Magnus Hauk had been killed. While there was an underlying sadness within her, that sorrow no longer absorbed her. She wondered if death affected everyone this way, or was it just her cold faerie heart that allowed her to put the past behind her, and move on? Whatever the answer she was glad, for weighed down with grief over Magnus Hauk, she could not have managed to do what she must do, and her husband had entrusted her with the fate of their son, and of Terah. She would not fail him, but then she never had failed him.
She ate her meal, and shortly afterward her son joined her carrying the message from Hetar. Taj handed the rolled parchment to his mother. “You open it,” he said.
“Nay,” she told him. “You are the Dominus. You will open it, and you will read it first. Then you will hand it to me for my perusal.”
He was still a boy. He knew he was much too young for the responsibility that had been thrust upon him, and he was afraid. But his natural-born Terahn male pride appreciated the fact that his mother would defer to him in this manner. Women in general might be inferior, but not his mother. His father had told him that. Taj knew Lara was seeking to teach him, and so he opened the message from Hetar, his eyes swiftly scanning its contents. Then he handed it to her.
“What does it say?” she asked him without looking at the scroll in her hand.
“The usual diplomatic language of regret on the death of my father,” Taj said.
Lara now looked at the message.
“It seems a harmless message,” Taj said.
Lara smiled. “It is. Yet there is menace behind it, my son. You will reply, of course. Hetar may be a dangerous world, but they do value manners above all. How one is perceived is most important to Hetarians. Remember that, my son. Now, have you chosen a secretary, Taj?”
“I thought to raise the chief scribe, Ampyx, to that position,” he answered her. “What think you, Mother?”
“I believe him capable, and loyal,” Lara said. “Will you allow me to appoint him to his new post? Ampyx is no fool, and it will tell him without telling him what your father wanted. He is an old-fashioned Terahn, but he is also intelligent and intuitive.”
“Let us go to the throne room,” Taj said. “And you will stand next to my throne.”
They went to the throne room, and Taj sent a servant for Ampyx. The boy sat himself upon the throne of Terah, which was fashioned of gold with a high pointed back, and studded with gemstones. It had a wide seat with a purple silk cushion upon it. He looked so young and vulnerable sitting upon his seat of office. Lara stood half in the shadows to his left. She briefly let her eyes wander to the tall arched windows that looked out over the green cliffs, the fjord and the sea beyond. She had loved this land from the moment she first saw it.
The door to the throne room opened, and the chief scribe entered. Seeing Taj, Ampyx hurried forward and bowed. He did not notice the Domina until she spoke.
“Master Ampyx,” Lara said in a strong and authoritative voice, “my son has expressed a desire that you become his First Secretary. I have approved his wish. You will begin your duties immediately.”
“I am honored by your trust, my lady Domina,” Ampyx said, bowing to her.
“You will be privy to many secrets, and you will have to keep them,” Lara told him. “Can you do this? Answer honestly, for if you fail the Dominus,
“My late uncle served the Dominus Enjar, our young Dominus’s grandfather, in the capacity of First Secretary,” Ampyx said. “And before him several of my antecedents served in the Dominus’s household. Service to this family is in my blood, Domina. I know how to keep secrets.” He paused. “May I have your permission to speak freely to you, and to the Dominus?”
“You may,” Lara said, wondering what it was Ampyx needed to say to her.
“It is said that the late Dominus put the Kingdom of Terah in your charge alone,” Ampyx responded slowly. He was a tall man of undetermined age with a large hooked nose, and a completely bald pate. His dark gray eyes showed nothing at all.
“Is it?” Lara replied softly. “And yet it was the Dominus who dictated to you the announcement of his father’s death to be published throughout the kingdom, was it not? And I speak to you today only at the Dominus’s request. It is Dominus Taj Hauk who rules in Terah, Ampyx, and you will certainly tell any who ask you that, will you not?”
Ampyx bowed to Lara again. “Indeed, Domina, I will tell any who ask that such is truth.” And his fathomless eyes shone briefly with his admiration.
“You will help your master to compose a reply to the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. This will be your first duty.”
“Will the Domina wish to see a copy of this missive before it is sent off?” Ampyx asked politely even though he knew the answer she would give.
Lara nodded. “Thank you. That is most courteous of you.” She stepped down from the dais. “See to your duties, then. The Dominus must now return to his lessons.”
The letter to the Lord High Ruler Jonah was composed, and, reading it over, Lara had to admit she could not have done any better herself.
A faerie post messenger was sent for, and carried off the rolled parchment to be delivered to the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. Scanning it, Lord Jonah’s coal-black eyes narrowed as he attempted to read between the lines, but there was nothing upon which he could fasten. Thank you. We don’t want your help. Our trade continues. Nothing! He walked to his wife’s bedchamber. Vilia had been ill for several months with some kind of wasting sickness, but her mind was still sharp. He handed her the parchment. “Can you make anything of this?” he asked her.
“There is nothing,” she said, reading it.
“Does he really rule Terah, I wonder?” Jonah said.
“Not unless he is some sort of genius, but with Lara for a mother who knows. He is, after all, our Egon’s age. Be glad of that, Jonah, my love. The Terahns won’t let a woman rule them, and so there is certainly some sort of regent’s council overseeing the boy. We need to know who these men are. Then we may set about to subvert them. Terah will be a rich prize, my love, and it is you who will gain it for Hetar.” Then she fell into a fit of coughing that left her breathless and weak. Her beautiful amber eyes were faded, and her dark brown hair had thinned and was lackluster in color.
“Terah is a rich prize,” Jonah agreed with his wife. “Perhaps if we could gain some kind of serious alliance with the Terahns we could stop the talk of the imminent coming of the Hierarch. The rumors have even reached the High Council, Vilia.”
“The Hierarch is nothing more than a fable,” Vilia said. “A tale to make people feel better in the bad times. He doesn’t exist, Jonah.” She grimaced. “Give me some of that Razi, my love. The pain has returned, and is
