#24 - What A Thought

He turned, staring at Limyé.  “I will eat.  But you have to discourage that child from trying to be my healer.”

Limyé set a bowl of soup and a fresh loaf of bread on the desk, poured a cup of malik, strong enough to make Ahrimaz’s head come up to sniff the aroma.  Pats of butter each on its own bit of paper, perfect for a piece of bread.  No knives, not even butter knives, Ahrimaz noted.  Instead the bread was baked to be torn apart. He had no doubt that everything was fresh, even though he could have sneered at it as peasant food.

The Imaryan turned and opened his paint box to begin adding more birds to his tree painting on the wall and Ahrimaz looked at the door of his cell.  He hadn’t seen Shashe or Limyé lock it.  “I will discourage her,” Limyé said.  “But only because I discourage children from seeing their relatives in distress.”

The scrape of the chair legs was harsh and Ahrimaz half fell into it.  He took up the loaf and tore it in half, suddenly aware of Sure sitting attentively on his right side and Teh on his left.  The cat was luxuriously sprawled, taking the whole bed for itself.

One bite of dry bread. One spoon of soup.  Spread the butter.  Another single bite, though your body is screaming that you feed it, feed it NOW!  Pour the cream into the malik, watch the dark brown liquid roil around till it is the exact colour of Yolend’s skin.  Limyé is darker than un-creamed malik.

“Good.  So, who have the mob chosen to usurp me?”

“Not usurp.  Take up the burden of government to give you time to heal.”  The door clicked again, unlocked.

“This is a busy place for an isolation dungeon,” Ahrimaz said, staring down into the clear broth with what looked like salat leaves gently floating with onions and bright bright green cubes of kohlrabi.  "Take up the burden, yes, that is one thing that is the same."  It was Ahrimiar, who immediately waved him to sit as he jolted upright, away from the food.

“Sit, eat something, you’re getting skinny, boy.”  He settled himself cross-legged on the stone floor and waited quietly until Ahrimaz, wary, sank down into the chair again.  His father would never have allowed anyone to sit with his head higher than the crown.  “I heard what you were asking.  It will be Ahriminash, though he argues that he’s a better guard captain than any kind of head of state.”

“That sounds like him.”  In the Empire Ahriminash, though he was second in line for the throne and a constant threat until he overstepped and got killed, had always preferred training on the field to training in the salon.

“Limyé tells me that we might be at a turning point for you,” the older man said quietly.  “We’ve been locking you up and treating you like a wild animal for too long already.”

“What? You’re going to tell people I’m not their beloved Ahrimaz and let me go?”  Ahrimaz laughed.  Then he stopped laughing as he realized Ahrimiar was nodding.

“If you will continue to be Limyé’s patient.  He is offering the family his services in exchange for his research with you so you needn’t worry about payment—“ I hadn’t even thought of that.  What is it costing them to keep me here? “-- and not kill anyone or break any laws, we are not right to keep you isolated.  It was a panicky move on our part.  We were so shocked at what happened and you presented as a horrific danger to all of us.”

“Just… let me go…” Ahrimiar tapped the spoon against the empty bowl, poured himself another out of the tureen.  “I, personally, think you’d be mad to do so.”

“I don’t.  The worst problem you’d have would be being badgered by the writers for the Broadsheets, the novelists who want to make a romance out of your predicament, and so forth.  They can be quite persistent.”

“Writers.” Ahrimaz’s lips quirked.  “And I’m not allowed to injure any of them?”  It was only a half-question, teasing.

“Exactly.”

“You obviously think that I, alone, am not a danger to your Republic, or your Coalition.”

“Not if you continue with Limyé, and Rutaçyen, along with both Pel and Yolend.”

“Where… would I go?”

“Where you wanted.”

Ahrimaz was silent for a long time, spooning soup steadily into his mouth, dusting the crumbs of bread off his hands. “It seems too open, too trusting, just to blurt out this disaster to the country, destabilizing for one thing.”

“It’s not a disaster for the country.  It is not even a disaster for the family.  We will publicly apologize for having confined you and we will compensate you for that.  It won’t be a fortune but you’ll be able to find a place to live in Innéthel---“

“Compensation!  Set me loose with no skills other than warrior or tyrant?  I’d get mobbed in the street and starve before spring!”  Ahrimaz had to laugh again. The fear he was familiar with settled under his breastbone and he looked around at the cell.

“Our people, the Innéans are not inclined to mob, and I’m sure we could find something you could bear to do to support yourself.  Your notoriety alone would sell books.”

“A ‘Tell All’ in my own words, printed in their hundreds or thousands, given the number of presses you people have. What an obscene thought, baring my soul to every pest-ridden peasant from here to the Riga City states and beyond.”

“Far beyond.  Riga ships trade with a country across the sea that they discovered… They call it Tuinos.”

“What a thought.”  The terror of being uncovered, ripped open, laid bare before the world’s eyes rose up to choke him and he clutched the edge of the table as if to keep himself from flying off the face of the earth.  “Could I… may I… would it be you I have to beg to stay here?”