Minister For A Day

~ Taylor ~

After witnessing Chowgami sealing their bargain, Yaonoch left as soon as he could without appearing to run away. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't that. Personally, Taylor thought he was overreacting. The fact that a child could kill a giant tree monster older than the Empire was a lot scarier than a divine figure that did its job. Maybe Yaonoch had planned to take the offering for himself and not tell anyone, and wanted to put distance between himself and the scene of his thwarted crime.

Governor Syndony Edgcomb, when Taylor was finally brought in to see her, had enthroned herself in a room in a side wing. The ever-present Enzo, her beastkin magician, waited beside her. Captain Bennet, who had once ravaged a plate of sandwiches meant for Taylor, was posted on her other side. More guards and officials flanked them. The room was partly filled with ministers and other officials, some in their formal best and others in their everyday office wear.

Taylor was obliged to bow before the stately governor, whom some called the Iron Lady of Estfold due to the color of her eyes and hair. To those who had met her, the name came from her firm will. Taylor didn't know if he should congratulate her on the impending nuptials of her niece or not, and so opted for a simple, "Your Excellency." It would be pointless to add anything else, like "I have come as ordered" or "What is the Iron Lady's will?" She was his superior in the Imperial hierarchy, and this was her meeting. Nothing more needed to be said.

"This is the second time you have done something extraordinary, my young legate. You are to be congratulated once again."

"Your Excellency is too kind. It's bad luck that puts me in those situations to begin with."

"Indeed. Though I have a question for you. How did you escape Prater's mind-altering abilities?"

"I didn't eat the fruit."

"You didn't eat the fruit?"

"I did not eat the fruit." He wanted to add something about her inspectors not accepting gifts from people they were supposed to be regulating.

"Did you hear that, Barnard? Where are you? Come forward!" She sounded less like the Iron Lady and more like someone's overbearing aunt.

An administrator Taylor recognized approached the line beside him and bowed. They had been introduced at the Winter Ball, but he didn't look half so well now. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed the long hours he had put in recently, working his normal job while also cleaning up the Prater mess.

"There you are. Did you hear that, Barnard? He didn't eat the fruit."

"Your Excellency, how could my inspectors know the fruit was tampered with?"

"A child of ten knows better. Please, tell us more, Legate of Mourne. What prompted your refusal of such a gift? Barnard is most eager to know!"

"The conditions I observed were very poor. The apprentices were badly overworked, underfed, and their so-called housing was disgusting. It made me suspicious of the man. Then he tried to make inappropriate demands. When he offered me a highly valuable item, I didn't trust him enough to take it. It seemed suspicious."

"Barnard, did you get that? He looked around and became suspicious. His suspicion extended to the gift Prater tried to give him. Such extraordinary steps. All of my inspectors should display similar skills and judgement, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, Your Excellency."

Taylor felt a stab of pity for Barnard, unable to do anything except answer 'yes' or 'no' appended with 'Your Excellency' while being unfavorably compared to a child. But the man had earned every inch of it. The one consolation was that he was likely to keep his job. If the governor wanted to fire the beleaguered administrator, she probably wouldn't take the time to verbally cane him in public.

"As for you, young d'Mourne, I have no higher station suitable for a child. Even an immensely talented one. If you were hoping for a quick rise to power, you will be disappointed."

"I don't wish for higher office, Your Excellency. I'm still learning from the job I have. Any more would interfere with my studies."

"If it's an education you desire, I'll make you minister for a day. Come up to the platform and take a place. You can stand there, next to Enzo." There was an empty spot next to the old catkin wizard, waiting for him. "This is only honorary, do you understand? You may use your water illusion. We'll never get any work done if a fight breaks out."

By 'honorary' Taylor understood she meant 'not a speaking role', which was fine with him because it meant nobody would be calling for his opinion. Taylor ascended the few steps and took the empty space next to Enzo.

"Good. Barnard, since you're already here, let's hear your report."

What followed was a rather shocking history of the orchardist's crimes. In spite of the ancient treaty between Prater and Bostkirk, he and his poisoned fruit had bent dozens of current provincial officials to his whims. Ministers funneled lucrative contracts and grants in his direction. Not only did the estate pay little in taxes, but it received payment for "special projects" that were inadequately specified and never delivered. In recent decades, most of his apprentices had been reported missing by their hometowns. Yet, the wardens sent to look for them always accepted Prater's claim that they had left his employ safe and sound, and were no longer his responsibility.

After Barnard's reports, one official after another was called to account for their misdeeds. A few had known what Prater was doing, but instead of calling him to account, they profited directly from his schemes. They were hauled away in chains. The rest were mere dupes punished with fines, demotions, and then referred to healers for examination in case any effects still lingered.

Every single one of them, when they looked up at the governor, saw the water-clad form of Legate d'Mourne nearby, a reminder that a ten-year-old child had been smart enough not to eat the suspicious fruit.

"Minister for a day," apparently included watching the governor manage the wedding. He kept his spot next to Enzo as the governor's entourage went from room to room in the temple complex, checking the groom's dressing chambers where men, nearly dressed, lounged about and flung jokes at the young groom. She spent considerably more time in the bride's ready chambers, leaving the men outside to wait, then made sure the flowers, seating arrangements, hymnbooks (apparently there would be singing), and priest were all in their proper places.

The entire entourage then entered carriages to ride a few blocks to the mansion where the reception would take place. Its spacious interior and extensive grounds were perfect for hosting large parties. Governor Edgcomb saw the organized flurry in the kitchen, the small orchestra arriving, the tables and seating chart, reviewed the decorations, and observed the hall of gifts.

"Is the bride an especially favored niece?" Taylor asked the old catkin.

"She's blessed with natural ability and has a leadership class. Her Excellency has high hopes for the young woman."

"How much of this," Taylor waved at the train of guards and officials following her around as she checked on the preparations, "is normal management, and how much is to show her personal interest?"

Enzo looked curiously down at him. "You ask some odd questions."

"There's nothing odd about that question."

"Not if you grow up watching rulers and their ways." Enzo gazed suspiciously into Riverstone's shielding waters. "Given she's the bride's guardian, it's normal for her to organize the wedding. But checking every station instead of receiving reports asserts her investment in the new couple. Some people should interpret that as a warning not to interfere with them."

"Ambitious people. Like the Augbergs."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Among others. But the Augbergs, especially."

They reached the hall of gifts, a wide corridor lined with large windows on one side and murals along most of the other. Tables were set up to display gifts to the new couple from relatives, allied families, nearby townships, and various political supplicants. Attendees gave expensive bedding, barrels of wine, seed stock, and samples of construction material they were donating for the couple's new house. A few visitors were there setting up displays, and stopped what they were doing to bow to the governor.

While Her Excellency reviewed the gifts that had arrived so far, Taylor found the narrow section for Mourne and unloaded his own: the statue of Chowgami he had used with Yaonoch. It was only nine inches tall, fit for a household shrine or a legate's office. He carefully centered the god on a velvet cloth, with no other backdrop or decoration like some of the other gifts. Jane had checked already, and the new legate promised to pray to him every day, and not just use him for approving contracts.

Enzo started purring, and his tail twitched back and forth. He could sense exactly what the figure was. "One day, I want to watch you make one of those." The two of them acknowledged the god together, with Taylor praying silently for the gods to leave him alone for the moment. He didn't need another complication.

From his "minister's" seat near the front, Taylor had a good view of the ceremony, which he considered uninteresting. The groom was dressed in his finest outfit, while the bride wore a dress of bright yellow. Scriptures were read, the congregants sang a few hymns, and the bride and groom's ceremonial belts were tied together to symbolize their bond. Instead of vows, they signed a thick contract in triplicate: one copy for each family and a third for the church.

After the signing, the new couple led a procession down the aisle, sheltered under a shared cloak of sky blue held aloft by the men and women in the wedding party. The wedding went out the door and down the cordoned-off street (specially cleaned for the day) and paraded to the reception area, with random citizens stopping to cheer them on, bang pots and pans, honk carriage horns, and make whatever celebratory noise they fancied. Taylor didn't get to see much of the parade. He was in the governor's exquisite coach, taking the quick way.

"What did you think of the ceremony?"

Not knowing what she wanted, Taylor told her the truth. "The venue was impressive, the crowd was large, the bride was beautiful, and there were no errors in the ceremony that I could see. But this is the first time I've been to a wedding. I'm not the best person to ask, Your Excellency."

"Tell me. What would happen if the church's copy of the marriage contract were to be offered to the divine figure you made for them?"

"As long as the offering is sufficient, he'll accept it. And, the church would miss out on their filing fee." Such a predatory gleam shone from the governor's iron-colored eyes that Taylor wondered if all was well between church and state in Estfold.

On arrival at the mansion, she released him from his honorary duties, and Taylor was free to mingle with the other guests. He started the nine-minute countdown on his pocketwatch, dropped his illusion, and went looking for people he knew. There was a large contingent of beastkin attending the wedding, probably because the bride's new township was next to Rossignol's border. Taylor saw a couple of rare minxkin, some ratkin, and plenty of dogkin and catkin.

Midway's legate was there, the man named BlueMarco on the communication tablet. They shook hands and talked about their mutual concerns, especially the bandits they had fought in spring. The investigation into them never went far because their chief died while in custody. If the bandits were hired to draw Taylor out and kill him, they'd never get the name of their employer now.

At the nine-minute mark, Taylor ducked behind the screened-off area set aside for him and activated Riverstone. After ten minutes with only a mask to dull his curse, the crowd could turn hostile. When he returned, he went in search of some children he knew from the west side of the county, but didn't see them anywhere.

"Hey! You're that cursed legate that killed the old tree guy, right? Wanna fight?"

Some random catkin girl, more a juvenile panther than a housecat, accosted him out of nowhere. She blocked his path, wearing the thigh-length tunic favored by most beastkin. Hers was made from silk, embroidered along the seams, and belted with rare leather. It was the beastkin version of formal dress. A few of the beastkin women had opted for dresses, but not this one.

"No. I do not want to fight." She scowled at his words and left, with her tail twitching angrily.

It wasn't long before a second one, a bovakin boy, challenged him. "If you won't fight Laurette, will you fight me? I bet I'm stronger than you!"

"Please go away."

"You don't have to be rude about it." The bovakin retreated.

Beastkin. Were they all as insane as that one-armed Tenuit?

He joined one of the dances, in the hope that beastkin wouldn't bother him if he were busy, but no sooner had he finished a song than a tall foxkin boy accosted him.

"Can this really be the fighter who took out a wyvern and an ancient ent?" He made a rude noise. "They must have been very small." His mocking laughter sputtered and died as nobody else laughed with him. "Whatever," he said before he went away. "You suck."

A clawed hand of gray fur grasped Taylor's shoulder. "A word, young Bilius." When people started calling him by name, he knew he was in trouble. Enzo guided him firmly behind the screen.

"You must think we're all brutes."

Taylor raised his illusion to hide the full extent of his feelings and reset his curse. "That thought had occurred to me."

"Considering what Reginar has put you through, I wouldn't blame you. When the other races meet each other, what's the first thing they notice?"

"I have no idea. You should ask someone normal."

"Faces, boy. They look at faces. Everything bends toward beauty, but it is most elegantly expressed in one's face. People are obsessed with faces. Think about it this way. If you could tone down your curse with a pair of gloves instead of a mask, what would your life be like?"

Taylor tried to imagine, but it was difficult. Everything about his life would be different. "I see your point, but what does that have to do with anything right now?"

"Beastkin like beauty just as much as anyone. But for us, strength is more compelling than a face. And you," he stepped back to get a better view, "are a very handsome young man. Even through your little illusion, the way you move betrays your training. Who wouldn't want to try you?"

Enzo's speech was giving Taylor head spins, the kind he got when he learned something world-altering. "Wait. You don't mean to tell me that …" But the idea was ridiculous. "I'm popular?"

Enzo nodded emphatically. "There's hardly a soul in this room that isn't curious about you, but most people won't approach because of the mask. Beastkin don't mind so much."

"I was very rude to them, wasn't I?"

"I know you didn't mean it the way they took it, but maybe you should introduce yourself and explain it to them. You might even make some friends. You don't even have to fight them. Just let them rub up against you or give them a little shove. I doubt the merchant who owns this mansion wants it damaged in a beastkin battle holiday."

The idea that Taylor could make actual friends was a powerful draw. Maybe the reason Kasper could tolerate him for hours at a time had something to do with beastkin senses and aesthetics. Of course, it only took a minute for the obvious problem to occur to him.

"How do you people govern yourselves? If you follow people like Reginar …"

"Good heavens, boy!" Enzo laughed. "You don't think we let the likes of Reginar around anything important, do you? Rossignol Court is just a circle of magicians. Reginar advises the Elder Council on magical matters once in a while, but we don't let him run anything."

"I didn't even know you had a council. I assumed there was a huge tiger-kin at the top, or something."

"Gods, you really know nothing about us, do you? You seemed so smart, too. I'll have to revise my estimates for the governor." He was pretty sure Enzo was poking fun at him.

"Hey! I only learned to read a couple of years ago. I haven't had centuries and centuries and centuries to study."

The catkin reached through the illusion to flick one clawed finger against his mask with a dull tink. "I hear you: I'm so old my back is going bald, and I have one foot in the grave. There's no need to rub it in. You should read Myths of Strength, by Albertine Leavitt. She explains how following people like Reginar nearly destroyed us. Entire clans went extinct, and we ended up a client state of the Empire. She explains modern beastkin society as a reaction to those times, an attempt to avoid the mistakes of the past. There's no getting around our love of strength any more than humans can ignore a pretty face. But we don't let it rule us like it used to."

"I think I've seen this book on the mythological shelves. It's in Orlut, right? I passed it by because I thought it was beastkin myths retold by a human."

Enzo growled a low, impatient sound. "She wrote it in Orlut because she wanted to reach human audiences. Between the title and the first chapter, which is a retelling of one of our oldest myths, it was bound to be mis-categorized. I tried to tell her that, but she's as stubborn as she is smart."

"Thanks, Enzo. When I find a copy, I'll tell them they have it in the wrong place."

Making amends with the beastkin was easy. Taylor stood in front of their group with his feet wide apart, arms akimbo, and loudly announced his intention to fight them all — after he fully recovered from the week's challenges. One thing led to another, and he found himself in a line dance.

Most of Estfold society performed dances in two lines facing each other. The steps were easy, but they required the dancers to swap partners and change their places in line. It was easy to fall out of place if you didn't keep careful track.

The beastkin idea of a line dance was to put everyone in a grid spaced equally apart, and they all did the same thing at the same time. The steps were far more vigorous, and considerable hip movement was involved. His new acquaintances generously put Taylor in the middle of the formation so he could follow along no matter which direction he was facing.

By day's end, he had to admit it was a passingly good time, and he didn't have to fight anybody.

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