Utopia Falling, page 24
She was like no other. A brilliant tactician, a consummate observer, and a skilled conversational inquisitor. What she gleaned from watching, listening, and extracting from others was unmatched, unless one considered Druin Derr. But Derr lacked the natural assets of Lady Kaythlin.
Kaythlin overheard the ambassador of the Temple of Life from Kantos tell another, “The couturier who designed that dress is exceptionally skilled.” With an imperceptible nudge, she brought the exchange to Tomelai’s attention.
However, it was the man standing next to the ambassador whose observation gave rise to Chancellor Tomelai’s knowing smile aimed at Kaythlin, when the man said, “Yeah. Maybe. But you gotta believe in the One God, because who else had the power to create such a woman? It is perhaps the pinnacle of all His creations across all of time. If He saw her first, He might not have chased Mother Earth across the heavens. He would have given up on Mother Earth for her. I know I would.”
Finishing his admiration of Eurithian and of his handiwork, the man drew the sign of the Temple of Life, the Signum Circulus, tracing a circle around his heart with his thumb before resting his palm over his heart.
Tomelai beamed at Kaythlin. She hardly imagined anyone in the room looking in the pair’s direction even noticing he existed, let alone he was smiling. She squeezed his hand in a knowing gesture. Kaythlin appreciated her husband thought her beautiful, admired her for her grace, her charm, but above all, she saw he appreciated her even more for her mind.
Breaking away from the constant attention of would-be-anonymous onlookers, she said, “Listen to that, Madrotti.” She closed her eyes, rested her head on his shoulder, and melted into his arms. “Musicians playing an elegant classic of forest life. Orchestral instruments producing the sounds of chirps, calls, rustling leaves, croaks, and all in a captivating melody. And how they string it all together in harmony as one musical score of mathematical and natural elegance. It’s beautiful, Madrotti.”
He kissed her on her forehead. “Yes, my dear, it certainly is.”
Kaythlin was always so appreciative of the talents of musicians who could work in unison to make forest sounds into a full orchestral piece sounding so natural.
She listened as they played her favorite. “If for no other reason than to hear those exceptional musicians play ‘The Dance of The Morning Dew,’ I am happy to be here tonight. Even our own musicians can’t match the talents of this orchestra.”
Tomelai whispered in her ear, “I will acquire the Temple Palace Orchestra for you. Not sure how I will get the First Lord to release them. But, for you, I will make it happen.”
Pulling herself from the reverie of the orchestra, and Tomelai’s promise, Kaythlin glanced across the room to First Lord Jerithan, who continued to hold court. “Madrotti, look over there.” She nodded with her chin. “See how the First Lord soaks it up? He loves the fawning attention. The small little clutch of Prudents is attending to every word. Watch his face.”
“What is it saying to you?”
“It’s saying the leaders of the world and the Temple are all in one place. His place. At his invitation. He thinks himself the belle of the ball. He believes they’ve all come for him. Of course, the Temple is part of the reason we all attend. Temple followers across the continent expect their leaders to pay homage to the Goddess Teth on her appointed day. But the First Lord firmly believes it is his stature, more than anything else, that is the main attraction this night.”
“You get all that from the look on his face?”
“Not just the look. The way he smirks more than smiles when they respond to him. There are no lines around the eyes when he smiles. Real laughs and genuine smiles make lines. He is pleased with himself more so than he is with those he is holding court with.”
First Lady Kaythlin and Chancellor Tomelai followed the movements of the First Lord as he pranced around in his adorned, dark-green vestments. Green, the color of nature, the color of life, and the symbol of Jerithan’s power.
“You think you are getting a glimpse inside his mind? He thinks all this is about him? The magnificent First Lord. The power behind the rulers of Tartica. It is all about him. The center of society, the center of influence… Jerithan. That is what you read? That is what you are telling me he thinks of himself?”
“That is exactly what I am telling you, my love.”
“That is one delusional bastard.”
“I must leave you now, my love. It is time.” With a soft kiss to her husband’s cheek, Kaythlin set off in First Lord Jerithan’s direction.
Dance of the Maiden
Teth: 27th day of the Salmon Moon
Kaythlin | Jerithan
Kaythlin left her husband’s side, cut through a trove of banquet attendees, and aimed herself at the gathering around Jerithan. Holding her arm out as she approached her target, she said, “First Lord, will you do me the honor of escorting me through the maze of guests?”
She had one objective: determine if Jerithan had knowledge of who commissioned her husband’s death—or, worse, if the First Lord was involved in any way?
As Kaythlin intended, she expected Jerithan interpreted her approach as a self-deprecating act by another of his flock. Not that she believed either she or her husband were subservient to Jerithan’s position as First Lord, but if he believed it, so much the better. She had learned early in life how susceptible some men can be to manipulation by beauty spiced with flattery. Jerithan Cree was one such man.
Accepting her arm, Jerithan quipped, “If I may be so bold, together you and I embody the symbols of beauty and power.”
“You flatter me, First Lord,” she said coyly as the two continued walking through the crowd. “Funny, I don’t feel that powerful.”
Jerithan’s free hand rode down the side of his velvet robe like a peacock preening its feathers. “Then I am left to conclude it must be my beauty that holds their eyes in such captivity. Do you suppose it is my lovely vestments?”
Kathlyn looked back, with Jerithan on her arm, to spy Tomelai nodding his approval.
As the pair navigated the crowd, she extracted updates from Jerithan on each of the Prudents they encountered and who was fighting with whom, although none of the information covered new ground. Jerithan was being careful, but Kaythlin had a knack for extracting savory tidbits from even the most guarded. She considered her next move and thought back to the information Captain Druin Derr of the KCG outlined for her and Madrotti in preparation of their visit to Teth.
Derr had advised her that, although Jerithan had not married, he had sired three children before becoming First Lord. Unlike President Dimenk, his association with voluminous and anonymous lovers fit within Covenant norms. And while visits by a First Lord to a Celebratorium honoring the Gift of Flesh was part of his or her duties, this First Lord frequently took pleasure in sampling their offerings. He was also known for repeated inspections of the high-class, secular brothels owned by the Temple of Life. The regularity of both went beyond simple administrative visits.
It was all part of information Derr had provided in a dossier on Jerithan for the Tomelais. Kaythlin considered another approach to loosen Jerithan’s tongue—flattery alone hadn’t delivered. She reflected on Derr’s concluding assessment in the report:
First Lord Jerithan Cree can’t be seen as having a favorite amongst the Six Gifts. Not as First Lord. It has too many implications for the flock. His actions are examples for others to follow, and his actions speak for the entire Temple of Life leadership. The religious Order can’t afford to become known only for indulgence and fornication. His passion for flesh is one of this First Lord’s triggers. We classify it as “a weakness.” We can use this to our advantage. Prudents in the highest levels of the Temple hierarchy are aware of Jerithan’s proclivities and will, at some point use it against him if they have enough support to make a move. The major faction lining up against him, led by Prudent Serco, does not feel strong enough at this time. We developed more on Prudent Serco’s faction in part 2 of this report. We can use this weakness against him in specific scenarios to our advantage. Our conclusion: the First Lady would be best positioned to line up against the First Lord in a one-on-one negotiation.
In preparation for attending the banquet, Derr, Tomelai, and Kaythlin had all agreed she stood the best chance of finding out if Jerithan knew anything of the failed assassination—pairing her strength to his weakness. Set to her purpose, gifted with grace, beauty, and elegance, she moved through the room as though a prima ballerina performing a well-choreographed dance with her partner Jerithan, the premier danseur, at her side.
Kaythlin and Jerithan came to a sudden halt, pulling her from her thoughts. Standing before the duo, a Temple of Life novice bowed in a show of respect. “First Lord Jerithan, Prudent Serco said that it would be appropriate for me to let you know how grateful and honored I am to be invited here tonight.” The youthful novice, there as part of the service staff, continued, “By the grace of Teth, it is such an honor to meet you.”
“What is your name, young man?” the First Lord asked with a hint of annoyance in his tone.
Fumbling with his hands inside the crossed sleeves of his light green robes, obviously nervous, she felt sorry for him. He was beyond his station to interrupt a First Lady and First Lord engaged in conversation. Anyone else of high stature would have put him in his place. They made First Lady Kaythlin Tomelai of different stuff. Kaythlin saw it as an opportunity to take measure of the First Lord. How will he handle it? she wondered. She remained silent, looking down at the adoring eyes of the fawning novice, waiting for Jerithan’s reaction.
“Careful, my friend. She is studying you,” the Voice spoke to Jerithan as he prepared to reprimand the novice.
Jerithan replied in his own mind, Who is this peon? Who does he think he is, interrupting me, the First Lord? What balls.
With lips parting as a prelude to the First Lord’s expected rebuke, the Voice broke through Jerithan’s thoughts, “Now, now there, play nice. You do not want to distract the lovely lady on your arm. You have a more important game to play tonight.”
The suggestion stopped Jerithan in mid-thought. “Besides,” the Voice said, giving him another option, “we can always crush the boy tomorrow… away from the judgement of others. And let us not overlook that Serco sent him in to get a rise out of you.”
Jerithan liked the idea. Your point is well taken. I will admonish him tomorrow and blame it on Serco.
Heeding the Voice’s suggestion, Jerithan backed off. “Well, my young devotee, I thank you for your kind words and am pleased that our Temple has one such as you.” With his free hand, the First Lord thumbed the Circle of Life on the novice’s forehead, saying the words, “From the Gift of Life from Mother Earth, we give thanks by returning to Her that which is Hers and to be joined with Her in the community of everlasting life.”
Bowing with both hands still joined under the cuffs of his robe but now much more settled, the novice reverentially said to his leader, “Life from Life, we return our Gift.” Having concluded the sacred reply, he couldn’t help adding, “Thank you, First Lord. I will remember this meeting for the rest of my life.”
“However long that might be,” the Voice jumped in for Jerithan to consider.
“Your honor is more than I deserve,” Jerithan directed at the novice. “Go with the grace of Teth.”
“You lie with conviction and dignity. You make me proud.”
Jerithan quietly stepped away from those who stopped to watch.
The First Lord and the First Lady moved on. Placing her hand on Jerithan’s, Kaythlin nodded. “Very well handled. I can see why the Temple of Life chose such a magnanimous leader. Others might have been tempted to rebuke the social faux pas the young man made. But you were gracious instead.”
She looked into his eyes as though searching for something. It unnerved him as he wondered if her inspection found him lacking. Not letting on what she found in his visage, she said, “What a wise and caring man I have escorting me tonight.”
The surge of pleasure at his own handling of the novice’s offense was cut short by the Voice. It was one of those rare moments the First Lord wanted silence from the Voice. He hoped to enjoy the time he had with the First Lady of Adelle.
“She is playing with you.”
Let me have this, Jerithan rasped. Let me enjoy this evening. This is MY night.
He searched his thoughts for the Voice, who was his friend and silent confessor. The Voice that guided him through troubles was gone for now. Turning his thoughts to the striking woman on his arm, Jerithan said, “Now, what were you saying, something about me being wise, or words to that effect? Let’s hear that again.”
The two of them laughed. Jerithan fancied envious eyes upon him at that instant. He played it for all the attention he could squeeze from it and laughed even louder. Few had his stature, none could compete with his position as First Lord, and in the arena of intelligence, he imagined he had few equals. Bringing it all together in one complete package, as human beings go, he was amongst the rarest of specimens—at least, that’s what he believed.
While Kaythlin loved the dance of seduction, she loved the payoff even more.
She breathed deeply. A distraction tactic, intending to appeal to his “weakness” and disrupt whatever thoughts occupied his mind.
Jerithan leaned in and spoke softly into her ear. “You know, I might share some things I’ve found out about that incident this morning.”
She imagined he stole a glance at her cleavage, hiding his purpose for the unnecessary whisper. Yet, in his offering, it appeared to Kaythlin, Jerithan wanted to impress her, to let her know he was a man with considerable reach; he was a big man, a powerful man, and well informed.
She had expected their verbal foreplay to last much longer before either approached the main event—the attack in The Stand. Disappointment in him reflected her expectations for someone in a position of power having the air of experience in such matters, more than Jerithan as a man.
Readily willing to accept his early misfire—before she herself put in much effort—she wondered if an additional move on her part could deliver the payoff she wanted. Deciding it worth a try, she stroked his ego. “First Lord, you are a man of many surprises and many levels, and I would be forever in your debt if you could help me, not as a First Lady but as a worried wife who wants to understand better the dangers her beloved faced today, and maybe beyond.”
She imagined Jerithan translated that in his mind to mean: You are such a big man. I didn’t think anyone knew about the attack at The Stand. You have sources that reach deep. You are very impressive.
“Please come see me tomorrow,” Jerithan offered. “We can talk more about this when we can be alone. Here, there are too many ears about.”
With his words, Kaythlin understood their dance was over for the night. Yet, she had partly achieved her objective with the First Lord.
He knew something about it.
She wanted more.
He hadn’t satisfied her yet. She wondered if he could deliver with additional stimulation from her. Slowly stroking his arm, taking another deep breath, exhaling bit by bit, she watched him steal a glance at the fabric stretching tightly across her breasts. “You are so gracious in your offer, Jerithan. May I call you Jerithan, First Lord?”
He beamed an impish grin as though a little boy who got away with swiping a cookie from an off-limits jar. “Of course, Kaythlin. Will you join me for breakfast tomorrow?”
Accepting his invitation, Kaythlin inwardly smirked. Derr had him pegged. An approach to her breakfast meeting with the First Lord began to take shape. She had him, but would have to wait for the information he would certainly share.
Jerithan was rambling now, yet Kaythlin listened to every word. Most of it was of little importance. She kissed him on the cheek, thanked him for his attention. “I cannot keep you to myself all night, Jerithan. Thank you for your precious time. Until tomorrow then.”
Their dance had ended.
Kaythlin released the First Lord and walked away. She expected he didn’t take his eyes off her. There was no need to turn around to confirm it. She had the measure of the man.
Meeting up with her husband, he filled her in on his night. Tomelai was not idle while Kaythlin probed the First Lord’s defenses. Tomelai informed her that he didn’t get much from Razoal, but Serco and a few of the other Prudents were freer with their criticisms without Jerithan listening. “You did well to keep him occupied, Kay.”
She thanked him. “My love, your toolbox has more power behind it and your results proved more immediate… though less important,” she teased.
“Kay, even so, I could not have done none of it without you.”
“It all comes down to my breakfast with Jerithan tomorrow? The game is set. He knows something.”
He Dies Tonight
Hensdale: 27th day of the Salmon Moon
Quith
Quith arrived early at the kill site. Across Tartica, the Feast of Teth was waning, but for Selundra Quith hidden in the weeds at the Brenton Family Orchard, the most important part of the day had just begun. The hot-shot young shooter and the team’s newest member, Agent Arrow, hadn’t arrived. She wasn’t late—not yet anyway. Only moments after settling in, Quith glimpsed Reyne walking back from the burn pit accompanied by Meratoruc, confirmation for the Evidarian that Reyne was still alive. If all went according to plan, not for much longer.
The advance setup enabled Quith to ensure he wasn’t followed. Careful that way, his attention to detail saved more than one mission from being aborted or worse. In his experience, ops broke down when people failed to carry out their assigned tasks precisely as planned. Early arrival at the agreed-upon location afforded him the chance to watch his team approach and to confirm they too arrived without unwanted escorts.
