Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
A Shadowed Mien
Prologue
Part One
"You are a good ruler if nobody can defeat you. You are a great ruler if nobody who wants to defeat you is left."
-Redeemer Petraxes
Part Two:
---
The pheasants called softly to each other in the bushes of the garden as Elikas lay in his bed in the Tepecci nuccion. It had been a hard ride. He was far distant from his wife and his new seat in Alusille, and he quickly nodded off…
The man had a mask the color of water and uncertainty. He stood in the sunset forest of dusk, where floating, glowing creatures hummed and wisped through the fading golden light, the lengthening shadows.
“Do you know?”
“I am not the man I was. I am not the man…”
“No.”
“What am I?”
The sun set behind him. And he was pierced by the light of the sun. And Elikas saw his beating heart, and the pulsing of his blood, and a thousand other mysterious fluids and shapes at work inside him.
“You are, that you are.”
“I have done what you asked! I have made my exatas! I am free!”
“Know.”
--
“And the Kaphaiavai said, ‘New names he gave them, aspects he gave them.’ This passage is repeated both when referring to Taleldil’s sons and daughters and his first followers. But what exactly are the aspects? Wise men have debated this for centuries.
It can be agreed, however, that certain aspects are greater and certain are lesser. Talan the Elder said that there were only two great aspects, Wisdom and Power. All other aspects, he claimed, were just lesser permutations of these.
But many, most notably Xalshex-ta-Nikros, were fiercely critical of Talan’s assertion. In doing so they hypothesized alternatively an evil spirit rich in power and knowledge but willing to make all men slaves to serve its purpose, or a cunning and powerful but entirely heartless king, like the legendary Mutah of the Bharani.
In their criticisms, new aspects were defined to support the core duality of Wisdom and Power. Justice came first, proposed by Xalshex to counterbalance Power. Piety was added as well, because a wise, just man could still refuse to acknowledge Taleldil, and many have so refused. This was done when one iconoclastic chronicler of the Kothari proposed that Gaci, High Prince of the Moti, was more Aspected than Third Redeemer Xetares.
One final addition came from the writings of the Redeemer Petraxes: The aspect of Tactics. ‘A man may possess every appearance of greatness,’ he said, ‘but if he folds like a slender reed on the battlefield, he is nothing.’ Following Petraxes’ tumultuous reign, a consensus among theologians and philosophers alike emerged. Wisdom, Power, Justice, Piety, and Tactics: These are the Five Great Aspects.”
The philosopher stared up from his writings for a moment, as if the light in the room had changed. And it had, for a tall man had entered and was blocking the doorway, flanked by armored and plumed guards and accompanied by a shorter, slenderer man with an Accan goatee protruding from under his garish purple mask.
“Oh!” And he prostrated himself. As did his students.
“No need, Axilias. We must speak.”
“My prince.”
---
The three men walked through the twisted stone streets of Acca. In this part of the city, low-slung rooves covered ancient palaces of the Autocritiate, now occupied by squatting low families, too small and poor to consider a nuccion, and too proud to enter the one of a greater clan. Walkways and arches crossed over the road, some of them broken, some repaired in a medley of brick and stone and wood, and a chaos of falling ivy and painted clay storage jars covering the walls. A trickling fountain sprung from a wall, surrounded by splashing, laughing children.
They fled into their houses at the sight of the great men. For a time they walked in silence. Vecco Tepecci spoke first.
“Axilias-ta-Alma, the Satar call you. How interesting.”
The Accan stared back at him, puzzled. “Why does my name interest you? I am Satar.”
Tepecci cocked his head. “But you were born in Alma.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Elikas spoke as Tepecci continued to cock his head slightly. “You have been a good friend to me, Axilias. I see your school has gained many students.”
“The, ah…warlike arts, have achieved more than any other school of late.” He nodded in the direction of the Letoriate looming in the distance over the harbor, the only outwardly imposing building in Acca. “In such times little thought is given to men like myself.”
“Not many scholars are brave enough to ride with a Satar company at war,” said Tepecci wryly.
Axilias pondered this. “A warrior is a scholar. He is a student of motions practiced to kill. A commander is a scholar. He is a student of motions practiced to break and rally the proper men at the proper times. A prince is a scholar. He is a student of the motions that compose the aspects of exatas. All men, in the motions they learn and memorize, are scholars. In the different motions we perform, we are tradesmen of different trades…but we are all scholars.”
The other two men stared at each other, their eyes behind their masks bright with amusement. “Yes, I think he’ll work just fine,” laughed Vecco.
Axilias stared. “I did not think I would receive a visit from a patriarch and a Prince, was I not called upon for some great task.” A cat darted out silently across one of the walkways above them.
Elikas spoke. “The Redeemer’s father Nephrax held the repository of many of the greatest chronicles of the Ardavai. Following the…Feast, all of this was lost, or it fell into the hands of the enemy.”
Axilias muttered sadly. “Magha and Seis held still more. What great works survived are guarded tightly by the Nuccia, or are locked in the great monasteries, which none but Princes and their tarkan can enter without fear of death. Our knowledge dies slowly, I fear. But it dies nonetheless.” He made a sound close to a sob, and the two other men stared at each other incredulously.
“Axilias.” Elikas put an arm on his shoulder. “Have you seen Avetas?”
The scholar blinked away his sorrow. “H..he is more golden than Xetares. And as intelligent as Atraxes, if not yet as wise.”
“And,” added Tepecci, “He is the Prince of the Scroll.”
Axilias’ eyes widened. “He is reconstituting the libraries of the Ardavai! And he would have me be its curator. I…I would…”
“Do you think we would come in person if the Redeemer were building a library?” sniffed Tepecci. “The Redeemer wants to create something…well…more.”
Elikas said slowly, “He has spoken of it, but we do not understand it well. We know how much stone it will require, how much gold will be spent, and how much labor will be used, but…”
“What is it, then?”
The Prince of the Shield struggled with the words. “It is…a…new knowing.”
“Sefashim,” repeated Axilias. “A Sefashim?”
Tepecci said, “I shall provide workers, and funding when the treasury of the Exatai is…otherwise engaged. Stonemasons and glaziers from as far as Treha and Athas are already travelling. This work will consume your life, Axilias. It will take decades to accomplish.”
“But I am not an architect, or a builder! What does the Redeemer want me to do?”
Tepecci laughed at his discomfort. “You’re the scholar, you tell me.”
Elikas looked Axilias in the eyes with the disconcerting, pale-eyed stare the scholar had come to fear.
“Know.”
Prologue
Part One
"You are a good ruler if nobody can defeat you. You are a great ruler if nobody who wants to defeat you is left."
-Redeemer Petraxes
Part Two:
---
The pheasants called softly to each other in the bushes of the garden as Elikas lay in his bed in the Tepecci nuccion. It had been a hard ride. He was far distant from his wife and his new seat in Alusille, and he quickly nodded off…
The man had a mask the color of water and uncertainty. He stood in the sunset forest of dusk, where floating, glowing creatures hummed and wisped through the fading golden light, the lengthening shadows.
“Do you know?”
“I am not the man I was. I am not the man…”
“No.”
“What am I?”
The sun set behind him. And he was pierced by the light of the sun. And Elikas saw his beating heart, and the pulsing of his blood, and a thousand other mysterious fluids and shapes at work inside him.
“You are, that you are.”
“I have done what you asked! I have made my exatas! I am free!”
“Know.”
--
“And the Kaphaiavai said, ‘New names he gave them, aspects he gave them.’ This passage is repeated both when referring to Taleldil’s sons and daughters and his first followers. But what exactly are the aspects? Wise men have debated this for centuries.
It can be agreed, however, that certain aspects are greater and certain are lesser. Talan the Elder said that there were only two great aspects, Wisdom and Power. All other aspects, he claimed, were just lesser permutations of these.
But many, most notably Xalshex-ta-Nikros, were fiercely critical of Talan’s assertion. In doing so they hypothesized alternatively an evil spirit rich in power and knowledge but willing to make all men slaves to serve its purpose, or a cunning and powerful but entirely heartless king, like the legendary Mutah of the Bharani.
In their criticisms, new aspects were defined to support the core duality of Wisdom and Power. Justice came first, proposed by Xalshex to counterbalance Power. Piety was added as well, because a wise, just man could still refuse to acknowledge Taleldil, and many have so refused. This was done when one iconoclastic chronicler of the Kothari proposed that Gaci, High Prince of the Moti, was more Aspected than Third Redeemer Xetares.
One final addition came from the writings of the Redeemer Petraxes: The aspect of Tactics. ‘A man may possess every appearance of greatness,’ he said, ‘but if he folds like a slender reed on the battlefield, he is nothing.’ Following Petraxes’ tumultuous reign, a consensus among theologians and philosophers alike emerged. Wisdom, Power, Justice, Piety, and Tactics: These are the Five Great Aspects.”
The philosopher stared up from his writings for a moment, as if the light in the room had changed. And it had, for a tall man had entered and was blocking the doorway, flanked by armored and plumed guards and accompanied by a shorter, slenderer man with an Accan goatee protruding from under his garish purple mask.
“Oh!” And he prostrated himself. As did his students.
“No need, Axilias. We must speak.”
“My prince.”
---
The three men walked through the twisted stone streets of Acca. In this part of the city, low-slung rooves covered ancient palaces of the Autocritiate, now occupied by squatting low families, too small and poor to consider a nuccion, and too proud to enter the one of a greater clan. Walkways and arches crossed over the road, some of them broken, some repaired in a medley of brick and stone and wood, and a chaos of falling ivy and painted clay storage jars covering the walls. A trickling fountain sprung from a wall, surrounded by splashing, laughing children.
They fled into their houses at the sight of the great men. For a time they walked in silence. Vecco Tepecci spoke first.
“Axilias-ta-Alma, the Satar call you. How interesting.”
The Accan stared back at him, puzzled. “Why does my name interest you? I am Satar.”
Tepecci cocked his head. “But you were born in Alma.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Elikas spoke as Tepecci continued to cock his head slightly. “You have been a good friend to me, Axilias. I see your school has gained many students.”
“The, ah…warlike arts, have achieved more than any other school of late.” He nodded in the direction of the Letoriate looming in the distance over the harbor, the only outwardly imposing building in Acca. “In such times little thought is given to men like myself.”
“Not many scholars are brave enough to ride with a Satar company at war,” said Tepecci wryly.
Axilias pondered this. “A warrior is a scholar. He is a student of motions practiced to kill. A commander is a scholar. He is a student of motions practiced to break and rally the proper men at the proper times. A prince is a scholar. He is a student of the motions that compose the aspects of exatas. All men, in the motions they learn and memorize, are scholars. In the different motions we perform, we are tradesmen of different trades…but we are all scholars.”
The other two men stared at each other, their eyes behind their masks bright with amusement. “Yes, I think he’ll work just fine,” laughed Vecco.
Axilias stared. “I did not think I would receive a visit from a patriarch and a Prince, was I not called upon for some great task.” A cat darted out silently across one of the walkways above them.
Elikas spoke. “The Redeemer’s father Nephrax held the repository of many of the greatest chronicles of the Ardavai. Following the…Feast, all of this was lost, or it fell into the hands of the enemy.”
Axilias muttered sadly. “Magha and Seis held still more. What great works survived are guarded tightly by the Nuccia, or are locked in the great monasteries, which none but Princes and their tarkan can enter without fear of death. Our knowledge dies slowly, I fear. But it dies nonetheless.” He made a sound close to a sob, and the two other men stared at each other incredulously.
“Axilias.” Elikas put an arm on his shoulder. “Have you seen Avetas?”
The scholar blinked away his sorrow. “H..he is more golden than Xetares. And as intelligent as Atraxes, if not yet as wise.”
“And,” added Tepecci, “He is the Prince of the Scroll.”
Axilias’ eyes widened. “He is reconstituting the libraries of the Ardavai! And he would have me be its curator. I…I would…”
“Do you think we would come in person if the Redeemer were building a library?” sniffed Tepecci. “The Redeemer wants to create something…well…more.”
Elikas said slowly, “He has spoken of it, but we do not understand it well. We know how much stone it will require, how much gold will be spent, and how much labor will be used, but…”
“What is it, then?”
The Prince of the Shield struggled with the words. “It is…a…new knowing.”
“Sefashim,” repeated Axilias. “A Sefashim?”
Tepecci said, “I shall provide workers, and funding when the treasury of the Exatai is…otherwise engaged. Stonemasons and glaziers from as far as Treha and Athas are already travelling. This work will consume your life, Axilias. It will take decades to accomplish.”
“But I am not an architect, or a builder! What does the Redeemer want me to do?”
Tepecci laughed at his discomfort. “You’re the scholar, you tell me.”
Elikas looked Axilias in the eyes with the disconcerting, pale-eyed stare the scholar had come to fear.
“Know.”
