Responsibility

The maidens' locks were almost completely dry when there was knocking on their room's door.

"Your Highness?" That red-headed page. "His Majesty wants to speak with you."

Oksana and Yana were separating Rahela's hair into two plaits.

"May we have a moment?" Rahela asked.

"Certainly," the page said.

When the ribbons were wrapped around the plaits in a diamond-like pattern, the girls hurried to braid their own hair. They didn't need long. Finally, Oksana went to the door, unlocked it, and opened it.

The page walked in first, and the Emperor strutted inside. His hair was dry and in a braid. His lips and disfigured nose were shuddering. Rahela dared to assume he wanted to laugh.

The maidens all bowed, and then the Emperor stepped somewhat closer to Rahela and said, "You imperiled yourself when you led that rebel away. If you were caught too soon, you'd be accused of plotting with her."

"Had I resisted," Rahela said, "the rebel might've panicked and fled, or even assaulted me." She held her bandaged hand close to her belly. "I couldn't trust her to behave mildly when rejected. I needed to lead her."

Making a short nod, his lower lids tightening around his dark brown eyes, the Emperor soon admitted, "Rebellions form everywhere. People have rebelled because they had more brown bread than white." One of his hands went to a hip. "It's only logical for a Testoan group to rebel against Yahsin."

"I'm certain," Rahela said, "that once that woman is properly interrogated, she'll give important information. There's no need to torment oneself."

The Emperor flicked his fingers over towards the bed. "Sleep well, Little Princess. This conversation is done."

How abrupt.

Rahela bowed. "Thank you for your time."

When the maidens were alone again, Yana slumped down to her pallet on the floor and made a long whine. It seemed to have been held in her throat for a long time.

Oksana also went to her pallet, but she did so more gracefully. "I didn't know that people were so easily angered," the blonde said. "Bread? The color of bread?" She shook her head. "Do such coddled people truly exist?"

Rubbing at one of her eyes, Yana gave a tired response. "I do ... I don't know."

"That Testoan rebellion won't last long," Oksana said. Her chest puffed out and her shoulders moved back. She even smiled.

Rahela walked over to the bed. "I believe you're very correct. Testoa will honestly comply to Yahsin's demands and snuff the rebels out." She sat down on the mattress' edge and started untying and unwrapping the ribbons in her hair. She preferred to sleep with her hair loose. The only reason she'd had her hair styled was to look dignified before the Emperor. The same was for the maids-in-waiting.

She was taking off her shoes when the girls blew out the candles and dimmed the oil lamps. Then she took off her clothes and laid them aside. She slept in her chemise, or shift, or whatever one wanted to call it. It was an undergarment and a sleeping garment.

Her dream raked through a memory.

***

A small voice.

Everyone needed to be respectfully quiet to hear it.

"I've read about a ruler from far away. He had his soldiers dig at a river near a city he wanted to conquer. Many of the soldiers drowned, and the ruler learned from it. Why shouldn't we have our own opportunity to learn?"

In her slumber, Rahela rolled onto her back.

"Your Highness?"

Highness ...? But she was a queen now.

A firm touch on her shoulder. A little shake.

"Your Highness!"

Oh.

A Princess. She was very much so.

Her eyelids opened only as needed to recognize the early morning sunlight. Apparently, one of the girls had pulled the window's shutter away. Her eyelids closed. Then she mumbled out fuzzy words. "Good morning."

"Your Highness. The Emperor's said that if you get up early, we may visit the marketplace. It won't be as crowded as before."

Lightly grumbling at Oksana's voice, Rahela rubbed her eyes with her finger joints and knuckles. Then she got up and muttered something similar to, "Must hide the hair again."

Similar to the previous day, Rahela and the girls dressed as the locals would. Then, with the truly not obvious of soldiers truly not following them around, the Emperor, Rahela, two squires, and the maids-in-waiting all went off to the marketplace. They were brisk. They didn't want to lose any of the early minutes.

While some stalls were being set up, some were already in place. The Emperor released Rahela's hand and let her freely wander. The vendors were pleased to have such a big amount of people. Some of them were nicely dressed. Of course they called out their sales pitches with more enthusiasm.

One of the vendors was a man with an accent different from the rest. When Oksana greeted that vendor in the Yahsin language, Rahela figured out he was indeed from Yahsin. He was selling soap, but Rahela thought most of the products didn't look like soap.

Some soaps were delicately carved to look like all sorts of things. Flowers. Horses standing against a clean background. A few different kinds of fish. Pairs of hands holding each other. Even some butterflies.

A few of these carved soaps were a natural version of yellow, but there were others. Pale orange. Spring green. Light blue. Cold gray. Even a rare darker color. Some of the soaps were a true black

Some soaps were in bar shapes. These bars tended to have even more colors, often in layers or swirls. They also tended to have stamps or carvings on one side, usually pro-Yahsin propaganda. There was still a fair amount of harmless symbols and words, however.

Most of the soaps were safely kept inside stacks of strongboxes, carefully monitored by a pair of teenage assistants. It seemed that the soaps on display were mostly meant to be examples.

It was at this time when Oksana suddenly stepped over to the Emperor, bowed, and said, "My Mistress doesn't have any proper soap. It's pitiable."

Rahela didn't even care about whatever expression was on the Emperor's scarred face. She was too busy trying to figure out how one could could make colorful swirls in a soap, her blue and green eyes narrowing down at one example that had pale brown and rosy pink in a mostly white bar. Still, she paid enough attention to say, "My soap is perfect. I'm clean and smooth."

Oksana skipped on over to Rahela and giggled. "Oh, Mistress. You haven't lived as well as you should. Your skin is a soft rose, but with Yahsin soap you'll become a lush garden."

"Yahsin is indeed known for their beautiful, artistic soap," Rahela admitted as she turned to look at a soap sculpture. She had to admit the fine details were expertly made. "Regardless, I'm content with my own." She noticed that Yana was sighing at a black bar. What ingredient had been used in that soap? Ink? Was that safe?

Pointing to a bar of soap that had a textured side, Oksana said, "That would feel lovely on one's feet."

Suddenly, one of the squires walked up to the display of soaps, and he asked the vendor, "What hair soaps do you have?"

Rahela's brow wrinkled as she wondered how soap could be made specifically for the hair and nothing else.

Animated and proud, the vendor gestured towards a specific row of soaps. Then he pointed at one. "This one has mostly mutton tallow in it." Another. "This one has palm oil." A third. "Olive oil's here. It's nourishing."

Rahela looked at that bar and almost angrily blinked at it. She wasn't sure what palm oil was.

"But all of them have some coconut oils in them," the vendor said.

Rahela's head leaned to one side.

She had no clue what a coconut was.

And suddenly, the Emperor's casual voice rolled on through their little shopping moment. "The red bar. My wife will have that."

Rahela's chest swelled, then receded, all in a decently loud and thick way.

The vendor handed one of the assistants a ring of keys and told him to get one of the "red hair soaps" out. Once it was out, the vendor put it in a soft little sack and set it aside. "Anything else?" he asked the squire.

"Face soaps?" the squire said.

The vendor pointed over to a row of soaps that Yana had been looking at. "The black ones have activated charcoal in them. They're excellent for keeping the face soft and clear."

The Emperor spoke again. "The black bar with the rose carving."

Rahela wanted to turn her head back and look up at him with suspicious eyes, but she didn't dare.

The vendor had another soap put in another little sack and laid aside. "Would you like anything else?"

Nodding, the squire said, "Body soap?"

The vendor pointed to some soaps that were carved to look like butterflies. "These soaps have honey, olive oil, grapeseed oil, and sesame seed oil."

What in the world was a sesame? Rahela put a palm to her cheek and tried to cool her overheating brain.

"The largest butterfly," the Emperor said, which prompted the vendor to get a new bar.

After the Emperor handed coins to the squire, who handed the coins to the vendor, all three bars were put inside a small wooden box, which Rahela quietly hooked onto her belt. Then she bowed to the Emperor and said, "My husband is a loving man. When I bathe, I'll fondly remember your kind gifts." They were pretending to be already married, after all, and absolutely not royalty.

The Emperor stepped in closer, to a point where Rahela could see his leather shoes. Then he patted her shoulder, making her jolt with each touch. "Don't waste those fetching words on someone you've no need to seduce."

Rahela gave a nod and then the group went on to look at other stands. One of the squires purchased a handful of little buttons made of bone, horn, and shell. Fairly shyly, Yana made a purchase too. It was a bolt of blue, knitted wool, perfect for making stockings. As far as Rahela had been told, the Emperor was temporarily responsible for giving the maids-in-waiting pocket money. Once she was established in Yahsin with her own income, Rahela would be responsible for giving the girls money.

The Emperor pointed to a stall selling crabs and said he was craving a certain dish. He had a squire buy a bucket full of live crabs. One of the soldiers that had been watching offered to carry the bucket off to the inn.

When the marketplace seemed too lively for the Emperor's tastes, he said it was time to go back to the inn. Stuffed crab was on the menu. The inn's cooks would certainly be willing to work with donated ingredients.

Back at the inn, Rahela and the girls combed their hair out as they waited for lunch. They were very hungry. Rahela heard Yana whine and sniffle. Oksana decided the best way to express her hunger was to complain about how the cooks weren't fast enough. Rahela imagined her bacon scented hair didn't soothe them.

Their hair was styled, the girls' headdresses tied and pinned in place, the ribbons wrapped and clasps set, when someone knocked on their door to announce that lunch wasn't finished yet, but there was significant progress. Both girls groaned. Rahela told them that she'd personally go to the kitchens to find some light bread to ease their understandable feelings. Oksana volunteered to go with her.

They walked downstairs, to the kitchen, asked for some rolls, and got them quite easily. Rahela had to forbid Oksana from putting any in her mouth until everyone had a chance to take some.

Back upstairs, in the hallway, the Emperor himself happened to be walking by with his page. The maidens stopped to bow.

Rahela had been looking at the floor.

As the Emperor passed, he reached out. Rahela hadn't seen it.

But she felt something.

She felt one of her long plaits being lifted, just for a moment.

Then it was released. Like a rope or cord, it swung for a moment. Then it slowed and hung as it normally did.

Both maidens were frozen, and they certainly didn't thaw at this event.

The Emperor ... had put some of Rahela's hair in his grasp, then let it go.

He ... he'd teased her! He'd played with her!

The only reason why Rahela blinked was because her eyes burned from not doing so.

The boorishness!! The lewdness!! The pure gall!!

Rahela reached up to tightly hold her plait. Her fingernails sunk into the hair. Her hand trembled, which put similar movement into the plait.

Then she sighed, dropped the plait, and straighten her back and neck. Her voice was no less elegant. "Come Oksana."

***

The Emperor, his squires, and his page all went to the maidens' room for dinner. Tables and everything else were set up. It was a snug fit. The tables had to be smaller than normal. Nobody complained. They were happy to have their fresh crab based meal. There were other things too. Macaroni and cheese. Vegetable casserole. A salad with some fruits. And cups of water flavored by herbs and flower petals.

It was the sort of meal that could lift most peoples' moods, but Rahela was tense. She hardly looked up from her food. She only spoke when spoken to, or to tell her maids-in-waiting something important. She didn't even think she was properly tasting her food, which was nearly shameful. It was all well made and finely presented.

When the meal was finished and the tables were put away, the dining chairs remained, and so did the males. The squires read scrolls in a corner of the room; those texts were apparently about history and philosophy. Some feet away, the maids-in-waiting worked on embroidery. The red-head page was told to stitch up some tears in a pair of the Emperor's old hose. Then he had to practice his grammar in with a wax tablet and a metal stylus. There was plenty of room for these young people to chat with each other.

As for their Master and Mistress, there was a different activity in place. The Emperor told Rahela to come and stand beside him near the window, and she did. However, she purposely kept more than a foot away from his body.

He still had that irritatingly peculiar sweetness about him.

She stared out the window to watch general urban life roll along as the Emperor spoke about it. This city's wealthy. The temple's well built. The people are so industrious. Nobody's emptying their pots out the window. General compliments. Rahela would nod or say, "Yes," or "Yes, My Lord" to everything he said about the city.

The course was changed when the Emperor turned his body away from the window and pointed towards a stack of luggage. "Little Princess," he said, "other than your poison studies, what merry little tasks do you hold close?"

"My other diversions are terribly banal." She barely even glanced at the luggage. "I cant imagine you'd find any thing interesting there."

"Sewing, weaving, embroidery, reading, writing," the Emperor said as he curled and straightened a finger at a time, "music, board games, cards, painting." He folded his arms and leaned back against a wall. "These must be fair assumptions. If I were to open some of your chests, I might find a board or some threads, certainly some scrolls or an ocarina."

Rahela looked back out the window. "I don't have an ocarina, nor a thin flute, nor a lyre. I've little skill with musical instruments."

"How disappointing." He didn't sound disappointed. He sounded uplifted, as if he was telling a joke.

"I won't be able to entertain you," Rahela claimed, mostly because she didn't want to entertain him.

She heard him step away. There wasn't much curiosity in her mind. She simply watched people on the streets. One person passed on while on a horse. Another rode a donkey.

Rahela was surprised by the sudden thunk of a noise near her. She turned, and she found that the Emperor had taken some of her square chests. He was stacking them up as if he wanted to make a short tower. The casual little tune he whistled as he did this made Rahela's eyelids quiver for a couple of seconds. Once the tower was finished, it seemed that the Emperor had been trying to create a table between them. This idea was confirmed when he took a large pouch from his belt, took something out, and put it on top of the tower.

It was a box with a slit in the middle.

The Emperor pulled the two sections of the box apart. There were painted lines and tiny holes, along with a square pocket holding tiny cylinders and differently shaped dice.

A miniature board game.

There hadn't been any other courses.

She was going to play a game with the Emperor.

Her strategy was to be quiet and cold, not saying more than a single word, and even then only when absolutely necessary. When she needed to take the dice, she wouldn't take them from the man's hands. Oh, he'd offered them to her a few times, right from his palm. She'd always look up at his conceited face with the most patient, most unruffled countenance. Then, she'd tightly fold her hands near her belly, behaving as if reaching up to his hands would be absolutely beneath her. That would lead him to eventually wince and put the dice down so she could scoop them up on her own.

This kind of behavior most certainly wasn't normal for Rahela. She knew better than to be rude to the Emperor. He didn't just have her life in his hands, but the lives of every single person in Testoa.

But this was a game.

She wasn't about to disrespect him by letting herself lose.

She was going to play very earnestly.

That meant she wasn't going to be friendly.

One again, she was gambling, but she was secretly pleased to notice the grin on his face.

He finished the game with two moves. He was victorious. Predictable. Rahela didn't know him very well, but she did know he was the type of person with many victories. He was partly responsible for the recent expansions of the Yahsin Empire.

Rahela gave a bow and gently congratulated him. "His Majesty has no peer. Once more, I'm humbled."

He was putting the little pieces into their pocket. It was interesting to see such large fingers move so daintily. "This wasn't a just game. Dice are too cruel." He closed the box and put it back in its pouch. "We should play a card game."

He pulled out a small leather case with a deck of cards inside.

Fine. She didn't want to play, but fine.

They each shuffled the deck once. Then they both cut the deck once.

Rahela's strategy here was similar. Frigid. Emotionless. Unwilling to show any warmth.

She still lost the game, however.

The Emperor shrugged and put the cards away.

He left with the boys soon after that, his gait as confident and grand as ever. Rahela almost expected him to boldly grab her hair again as he left. He didn't.

***

Two more days passed, and the group had to pack up for travel again. It would take some time to get to the next country. Rahela wasn't looking forward to more uncomfortable bouncing in the carriage. She certainly wasn't happily asking the gods for more camping in a tent, not after a few days in a decent bed. Still, there was nothing to be done. Griping wasn't an option for her.

They weren't too far away from the next country's border when they decided to set up their campsite. It was in another meadow near a forest.

By this time, the wound on Rahela's hand had mostly healed. The first thing she did once she exited the carriage was to seek out the medic just to be sure. He congratulated her on her strong constitution, or that's what he called it. Then again, he also said that since the bite wasn't very large, it made more sense that she'd heal faster. Rahela no longer needed a bandage, and the medic even suggested that the little marks might fade away over time.

After the maidens made sure their tent was set up and their luggage was safe inside, they took some baskets and went out to collect things. They made sure not to wander too far away.

"We mustn't take everything we see," Rahela warned the girls. "We must be kind and let the soldiers have their opportunities." When they saw what seemed to be a wild apple tree, Rahela carefully examined as much as she could. Then she verified the reality. No poison there.