To help with the large cast of characters,
I have put together a spoiler-free Dramatis Personae
Balo Sonen entered the king’s residence just as the moon slipped behind a silver veil of clouds. The blue shadows of the Palace grounds were plunged suddenly into inky blackness dotted in spots by the golden light of lanterns and torches. Winter nights were thicker, it seemed, and the Palace and all the world was too dark for the light to overcome.
Balo, a man of sixty, was not particularly tall and was conscious of this shortcoming especially in the presence of King Mŭ So who towered over him. Some years ago, he had had bits of wood fashioned to place in the heels of his leather shoes. These lent him an inch or two, and he made a point of standing as straight and tall as he could. Often he would practice in front of the polished brass mirror in his estate.
His hair was white and gray and cut short around his ears. A thin beard covered his chin and jaw, giving him a strangely sagacious appearance. He was aware of this, of course. Just as he was aware that certain fabrics made him seem taller and certain styles of golts made him seem shorter. Every aspect of his person and his appearance was carefully calculated.
This evening, for instance, he had changed into a golt of dark silvery-gray. It could not be black, as that was the color used by the royal servants of the Palace House and even by the king himself, and he did not want to appear to be putting on airs. But the dark shimmery silk made him look slender and striking, but not too ostentatious. For this reason he had also had the embroidery along the collar and sleeves done in a muted brown, lest it appear too fine. He did not wear a hat, but his cloak of brown velvet was heavy enough and thick enough to keep him warm on this cold evening. Though, as always, he still felt a chill in the corridors of the king’s residence.
He had entered the Palace without an attendant. Balo didn’t trust attendants, nor did he trust bodyswords. He preferred to carry out important tasks himself and despised the other ministers’ habit of trailing a train of attendants and swords in an effort to inflate their prestige. And anyway, for the first half of his life he had been unable to afford such luxuries, and so he had become accustomed to doing without them.
In truth, he despised the ministers and he trusted no one. For this reason, he also refused to associate with other members of his House. To him, the Sonen House was a distant relation of no importance. His life and his plans were his own.
An aged servant led him through the dimly-lit corridors of the king’s residence. Clasping his hands behind his back, Balo pursed his lips and puffed his chest a bit in an effort to straighten his spine still more. The journey to the king’s bedchamber was a long one, but a familiar one. He was familiar with the night-black shadows of the king’s residence, familiar with his mute army of hollow-eyed maids and bent servants. Balo Sonen was familiar enough with the king’s residence to no longer feel that thrill of importance he had once known when this had all begun. More and more these trips to the Palace and the king’s residence had become tiresome.
And besides, he knew also that it wasn’t the king he was here to see, not precisely. Though the message had said that the king had summoned him, he knew who had written it. Éna Lí had her own plans and schemes and navigating those had begun to take up most of his time. He would need to find a way to remind her that she was not his master.
At last the aged servant brought Balo as far as the tall embroidered screen at the door to the king’s bedchamber. He shuffled alone into the room and announced Balo’s arrival. Then, without waiting for the old fool to hobble back and escort him, Balo brushed past him and into the king’s presence.
King Mŭ So was sitting at a little table against the wall opposite his large wooden bed. A single lantern lighted the tabletop which was set with tea for two. The king was pale and thin, but even when he was sitting in this casual way he still exuded dignity and grace.
While Balo knelt and bowed, the king adjusted a black velvet cloak around his shoulders. He told him to stand and then motioned to the seat opposite his own at the table. Without hesitating, Balo sat. As he did so, he glanced across the room to a spot in the shadows between pillars of flickering yellow lanterns. She stood there in her black silk, her long brown hair shining like spun silk. When Balo looked at her, she smiled and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
The king poured Balo tea. He accepted it with both hands and his head bowed, but the king seemed distracted.
“Your Majesty,” he ventured carefully, after the king’s silence had continued for some time. “Your Majesty, you have summoned me tonight because…?”
The king looked at him. His tired eyes were bright and sharp and Balo felt his heart leap.
“Have I?” the king asked. Then he glanced across the room at Éna Lí. After sipping his tea, he asked, “I have heard that you are looking for him.”
Balo bowed his head. “Your Majesty, I don’t know—”
“I am tired, Balo. I haven’t the time nor the interest to play court games about who knows what. I understand you are looking for the missing prince.”
Balo set his tea upon the table and put his hands on his knees. With another glance at Éna Lí, he sighed and struggled to contain his irritation.
How Éna Lí had found out that he was looking for the missing little prince was irrelevant. She had eyes — and hands — everywhere in this accursed city. When all of this had begun Balo had hoped he could use Éna Lí, rely on her even, as an ally of sorts. After all, having a friend in a high position in the Palace House would be good for him. He had helped her achieve that and so now she was in a position to help him. And yet here she was, once again working against him.
“I see, Your Majesty,” he murmured.
“What was that?”
“I am sorry, Your Majesty. I had hoped to find him quickly and return him to the Palace at which time I—”
“At which time you would accept your reward?”
“Your Majesty, I only wish to serve you and help you.”
The king scoffed quietly, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers.
“And so?” he asked.
Balo leaned forward. “Your Majesty?”
“And so, have you found him or haven’t you?”
“I am sorry, Your Majesty.” Balo hung his head. “I have not.”
The king nodded, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. For a moment Balo thought perhaps he had fallen asleep. But then he drew out a folded page from the inner pocket of his golt. It was sealed with a large black square of wax stamped with the impression of the Sona House falcon and hemlock. This he handed to Balo.
As he took it with both hands and his head bowed, Balo was aware of movement out of the corner of his eye. Éna Lí had started at the sight of the sealed paper. The motion had caused a gleaming ripple over the buttery surface of her black golt. The mere fact that the page surprised her brought Balo certain satisfaction.
The king tapped the folded paper in Balo’s hand and said, “That should help you.”
Balo bowed and thanked him, tucking his hands — with the king’s message — into his sleeves.
“Now,” the king said, his eyes closed again. “If you don’t mind.” And he gestured vaguely.
Balo understood and got up immediately. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said bowing again. The king did not reply.
The old servant had been making his way from the screen by the door ever since the king had gestured. But as Balo stood up from his bow, he saw that Éna Lí had shooed him away and was coming to escort him herself.
With a smile she led him from the king’s bedchamber. And the smile did not leave her face even as they made their way through the chilly corridors of the king’s residence.
A few steps from the front door, she stopped suddenly and turned around.
Not for the first time, Balo was struck by her beauty. There was a strangeness to it, as always. In the same way a porcelain figure is strange compared to a living person. Her large eyes shone in the dimly lit hallway as she took a few steps closer to Balo. He was aware, of course, that Éna Lí was a shade taller than him.
Extending her hands, she reached for his, which were clasped together inside the sleeves of his golt. He attempted to remain still, but she was stronger that he would have expected and pulled his hands from where they were tucked, exposing them to the cold of the corridor. With her own fair hands, she grasped his. To anyone else looking upon them, this scene might have seemed affectionate, or at least familial. But Éna Lí’s fair fingers were as cold and smooth as marble, and they held Balo’s hands in an iron grip. Glancing at her wrists, he was surprised to see a small bandage on the back of one of her hands.
The sight of an imperfection on the porcelain surface of the beautiful servant was so distracting to him that he started when she slid one of her cold hands into his left sleeve. With a smile, she pulled out the king’s message.
“My lord Balo,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You seem to have dropped this.”
As she spoke, she cracked the king’s seal and unfolded the page. Her eyes left Balo’s face just long enough for her to read the contents of the king’s message.
Her smile grew as she refolded the page. It became a low, musical laugh as she reached again for Balo’s sleeve and tucked the paper back inside. Still laughing, she bowed to him and continued to escort him to the front door of the king’s residence.
The moon was still tucked behind a thin smear of cloud cover when Balo Sonen’s carriage arrived at the gates of his estate.
He had been tired and anxious when the king — or Éna Lí — had summoned him to the Palace, and neither condition had improved on the return journey. A decade of planning was about to be undone by the lunatic whims of one woman. He would have to find a way to speak to her, to understand her mad scheming. Or else everything he had done would be ruined by her. He needed to find a way to bend her to his will. With her fine silk shoe on the throat of the king himself, there was little he could do to threaten her.
If he could be the one to find the little prince, the king’s last heir, that would be enough. If he could have the crown prince in his hands, he could control the king far more effectively than Éna Lí ever could. Perhaps he could even remove Éna Lí. And once the king died and the crown prince took the throne…
The Sonen estate was one of the largest in Ŏna Soth. Balo and his wife occupied the primary residence, and his son and his wife had a separate residence on the other side of a broad courtyard filled with young maple trees. A small crowd of servants was tending to the trees as Balo came in. The fast-approaching winter was threatening their tender roots and so they had to be carefully protected. He paused for a moment watching them tent each tree in a wrapping of white cloth. The courtyard began to look like it was made of porcelain clouds.
“My lord,” spoke a timid voice.
Balo turned and saw his wife’s maid. A woman of about fifty, she had been serving Balo’s wife since the two had married some thirty years ago. A loyal woman, if a little dull.
“What is it?”
“My lady has had a difficult day, my lord, and has asked me to tell you that she would like to see you when you are able.”
Balo tucked his hands back into his sleeves and felt the king’s folded message.
He said, “I do not have time tonight.” And he dismissed her.
But she did not move.
“What now?”
“My lord,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “My lady cannot sleep unless you visit her. I fear—”
“Did you not hear me? I said I do not have time.” His voice had risen a little and so even the servants in the courtyard had paused their labor.
The aged maid gave a tremulous apology and then left. Were it not for his wife’s dependence on the creature, he would have her dismissed tonight. Few things irritated him more than when his orders were questioned.
Or his plans ignored.
Turning from the courtyard, he crossed the porch of his residence and entered at a small side door that led to his study. This little door bypassed the rooms where his wife lay. The sickness that now occupied her frail body was likely to be her last, and he didn’t have the time to spend nursing her final days.
It wasn’t until he stepped out of his shoes and closed the little swinging door behind him that he realized that his study was not empty. Standing there near the roaring tile stove in the center of the room was Balo’s son.
“Father,” Ban Lo said, turning from the stove. He offered his father a deep bow.
Balo’s son had been a quiet child, so much so that for several years Balo had feared that the boy was slow. However, as he grew, he came to find that Ban Lo had merely inherited his mother’s timidity. His studies had been sufficient and he had managed to make himself likable to many among the sons of the other important ministers. But as he became a man, Ban Lo’s sense of careful timidity had never waned as Balo had hoped it would.
Though taller than his father, Ban Lo almost always stood with his back bent a little, as if afraid of towering over him. Balo had once had a servant beat the boy bloody across the shoulders in an effort to curtail this habit. To some degree it had worked, but he still tended always to bend a little in his father’s company. As he did so, the shadows hid his face, which was very like his mother’s, as was his short brown hair, which shone gold in the lantern light.
He stood up from his bow as Balo walked across the room to a tray on his desk where a steaming carafe of coffee had been placed next to a small porcelain cup.
“What are you doing here?” Balo asked as he poured himself coffee.
Ban Lo turned, but remained bent a little. “I had heard—”
“Stand up straight, damn you.”
Ban Lo flinched and straightened his back. He began again. “I had heard that you were summoned to the Palace. I thought—”
“Yes, Ban Lo. I was summoned to the Palace. If it had concerned you, you would have been included in the summons.”
“I just thought if I could help—”
“Help?” Balo scoffed. “If you wanted to help me perhaps you could explain to me why that pitiful wife of yours still hasn’t borne a child.”
Ban Lo said nothing, as his father had expected. Balo knew that his son was not fond of his wife. Nă Nen had not been Ban Lo’s desired choice. For years he had had eyes only for In Na Tolen, the prime minister’s daughter. But a marriage to Nă Nen had allowed Balo to absorb the wealth of her dying House. Indulging Ban Lo’s lovesick childishness would not help the boy become a man, he knew. But if Ban Lo didn’t produce an heir both he and his useless wife were of little value to Balo’s larger plans.
“You should go back,” Balo said, sitting at his desk. “We both have to go to the Palace tomorrow.”
“I want to help you, father,” Ban Lo said. “Let me help you look for the prince. If we spoke to the Sonen Housemaster—”
“Don’t waste your time with that old fool. The Sonen House will be no more in less than a decade.”
Ban Lo set his jaw. “Should we not bring the rest of the House into our plans? Perhaps we should be helping the rest of Sonen—”
“The Sonen House has nothing to do with me or with you. And you would do well to remember it. We are not our House, Ban Lo. It is little more than a name. No, my boy, you and I will forge our own path, free of the shackles of House.” He took out the king’s message and unfolded it. Ban Lo watched with shining eyes. “And anyway, I have no need of their help.” With a thin smile he added, “I have the king.”
Holding out the paper to Ban Lo, he said, “You know what to do with this.”
His son rushed eagerly to his father and took the paper from him. With a bow, he hurried from the room, closing the little door behind him.
As always, he was like a child, or a puppy. All he needed was a scrap and he would move mountains to please his father. In this respect, he was precisely the son Balo had hoped he would be: obedient, subservient, and eternally devoted. Withholding paternal affection was the only sure way to bring about such a result in a man.
Balo sipped his coffee and spent a moment imagining his success. He imagined ruling over the crown prince, the rest of the ministers bowing to him, the rest of the capital fearing him.
As his thoughts slowed and he began to consider going to bed, a servant emerged, bringing with him the night’s bitter cold. A shiver slid through Balo and he glanced up at the bowing man and the open door behind him.
“My lord,” the servant said, standing from his bow. “We watched Kío En Tolen the entire afternoon, but he did not move from the king’s stair. And when he left, his carriage went straight to his estate.”
Balo’s mind quickened again. He considered this report for a moment. The prime minister had not been there to see the king, that much was certain. Kío En would not allow himself to take such a humiliating blow when he knew it would not work. Balo turned to the servant and said, “Do whatever you must, but do it quietly. Find out what he was really doing in the Palace.”
The servant bowed and turned to leave, but Balo called him back. “My lord?” he asked.
“Whatever you do, make sure the Palace House does not find out.”
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I thought Éna Lí would be the most irritating character yet, however I do say Balo has to join the list.. is that how you treat your wife of 30 years of marriage ??
Wonderful narrative in this chapter. Rich, tactile, enticing. Beautifully crafted Hilary.