The Exchange

The land in Haramani was mostly full of deserts, but the people had long ago settled close to a beautiful river. Yearly flooding was part of their daily life. They even depended on it.

Inside the regal royal palace of the Haramani's king, there were many apartments. One of them belonged to Prince Mayur Mishradas. On this bright day, he sat on a stone balcony, under a sturdy shade. Servants played music while some pretty female "guests" fawned over him. They hand fed him. They held his drinks to his lips. They playfully touched his knee or tugged on his sleeve to gain even more attention.

His attendant interrupted the fun, though, in order to whisper in his ear, "Several iron mines have been discovered in Agrolyle. Your father has yet to report this to the Gehnan Emperor."

Agrolyle was a smaller little outsider nation that Haramani had been at war with for Gehnan's sake. They were so successful that the Gehnan Emperor was willing to let Haramani keep the defeated nation as its own little vassal state.

This information concerning the iron mines was certainly very useful.

***

On this dry and almost pleasant morning, Inka received a written letter from the Emperor himself. The handwriting was crisp and very angular. It requested a visit from her, which wasn't particularly upsetting, but Inka wasn't accustomed to it. He'd visited her on occasion, but he'd almost never asked her to go to his apartment.

The Emperor's reception room had many pots of little tomato plants near his windows. There were also occasional flower pots and almost random incense sticks waiting to be lit at a moment's notice. Inka met the Emperor there with a soft, serene expression.

Taking his seat with a light frown, stroking his beard, the Emperor said to her, "It's good to see that your health improved."

"It's due to my Imperial Family's care," Inka said with a bow.

Reaching out and taking a cup of water from a tray his attendant held out, the Emperor said, "Nitishila has been staying with you for longer periods."

"This is true, Your Majesty."

He nodded, and then he took a swig of his water. "Haaaaah, you forgave my wife and I much easier than you did that boy."

Inka retorted quickly. "Both you and your honorable wife were tricked, and you didn't have the evidence before your eyes. I can't find any sin in what you said about me."

"There was plenty of sin to spare, however," the Emperor said as he set his cup down on a table. "Particularly with that rotten child."

Inka wanted to say something to agree with that last sentence, but she thought it would be wiser to keep her words hidden.

"Have you forgiven Nitishila yet?"

"I'm more than willing to keep your fine son at my side for as long as he wishes," Inka said.

One of his thick eyebrows jerking up, the Emperor said, "As his father, I haven't even forgiven him, not completely."

Inka looked down at her slender little hands. There was a very small, hardly noticeable scar on one of her fingers.

"He could have risked a war." The Emperor shook his head. "But you were proven innocent, and the risk would've been for nothing."

Inka chose not to respond to that. She didn't want to seem cross.

"My son is kind," the Emperor continued, still touching his beard, "he dislikes everything unjust. He understands the importance of agriculture, functioning economies, and warfare. Despite this, he's been far too trusting. He doesn't have the cold heartedness needed to see when others are scheming against him."

Very quietly, Inka sighed.

"Young Princess? I hope you're paying attention."

She looked up at his severe nose and nodded.

The Emperor's old hand folded over his knee. His rings shined in Inka's eyes. She had to force herself not to wince.

"You didn't ask for any material compensation for your injuries. You could've complained for years and we'd have little choice but to listen, yet you only wanted peace." His fingernails dug into his pants' soft material. "And so, Little Princess, if you find yourself in another terrible position, please call upon me. I'll offer my influence to protect you, at least once."

Bowing again, holding a hand to her bosom, Inka said, "I'm humbled by your offer, Your Imperial Majesty."

***

Banners and streamers, paper lanterns. Dancers moving on a soft rug to protect their bare feet. Hands clapping, their rings clanging. It was similar to Prince Nitishila and Princess Inka's wedding, tiered platform and all. But this time, Inka sat much closer to Nitishila and actually looked at him sometimes.

The main purpose of the banquet was to celebrate that Nitishila had been chosen as the successor. He was now the Crown Prince, which meant that his wife was the Crown Princess Consort. The secondary, unofficial purpose was to celebrate that Inka's fingers were strong again, and she could even weave and sew.

And during the party, Nitishila thought he saw Inka's lips perk a little, as if she wanted to smile but knew better than to let it happen.

He found his own delight in looking at her body.

She was wearing a revealing outfit, completely appropriate for the weather. She wasn't wearing a headscarf, but she did have a turban, which would give a stranger the impression that the princess had long hair but chose to have it wrapped up.

Inka's elegant neck somehow made the turban seem more prominent, as lovely as a group of polished stones on the end of a hairpin. The henna on her flesh held shapes of lace-like scallops, lotuses of varying sizes, and water drops. It likely hid some scars.

Nitishila frowned as that thought nearly ruined his good mood.

But when Inka gave him another look, an admittedly polished and uncaring look, he forgot to feel ashamed of himself. He held a bowl of fruit out to her, and she took the bowl with no protest, not even a little movement in her eyelashes. A length of one of her fingers slid across his, and Nitishila's body felt lighter then.

Regardless of what had happened, he thought his wife was the most beautiful woman to ever ... well ... to ever do anything, really.

When the party was finished, Nitishila asked his wife if he'd be allowed to spend the rest of the night in her apartment.

Inka nodded her head and walked beside him. She even let him hold her close as they went on.

When the morning came, Nitishila was frightened out of his sleep. Near him, on Inka's bed, he saw his wife thrashing around and crying. His heart panicked and ached, but he was able to calm her down soon.

Another nightmare.

His fault.

He did this.

Her words rang in his head.

"I hate you so much."

"I wanted to pierce your heart with the results of your irresponsibility."

"Because you didn't trust me, because you wanted to put me in the cell."

"You're the same as your cretinous sister."

Inka never did rescind those furious, resentful words. She wasn't required to.

She stared up at Nitishila as the glaze evaporated from her eyes, and she soon understood that she was safe. Her body wilted. She used a corner of a blanket to wipe tears off her cheeks.

"Inka ... are you alright?" He let his palm stay on the bend between her neck and shoulder.

The worried lines in Inka's face were ironed out, and the mask returned as she gazed up at him. "There's nothing to fret over."

Nitishila let his fingers press and stroke up her throat. "Are you thirsty?"

"No," was all she said.

A tapping.

Somewhere.

Nitishila rose, giving Inka enough space to do the same. They followed the noise to a window, and Nitishila was the one to open the shutters. They found a small white bird on the windowsill. It was very clean and very adorable. Inka cooed to the thing. "Oh, hello there. Where's your flock?"

The bird's little feet tapped on the sill as it approached, its head abruptly moving one way then the next. Why wasn't it afraid?

"Could this be someone's pet?" Nitishila said as he swept some of his hair out of his eyes.

"It could have flown out of a cage," Inka suggested as her head moved to one side, her eyes narrowing at the bird.

The bird was quiet.

Then, after around two minutes, in which the couple quietly discussed the situation, the bird stretched its wings and flew off.

Both of them blinked at the empty space where the bird had once been.

"Well," Nitishila said as he folded his arms, "let's hope that bird wasn't some mysterious foretoken."

"It was a beautiful little creature," Inka said as she sighed. "Pretty and white, as Little Indu is."

If Nitishila's ears were like a dog's, they would've perked up. Lightly smiling, Nitishila asked, "Are you fond of pretty white animals?"

"Not particularly," Inka said as she stepped away from the window and moved towards a chest of clothing. "It was a fleeting fancy. If I had a pet bird, I'd rather have something more colorful," she unlocked and flipped up the lid with a creak, "but I don't want a pet bird. They can be rather loud, and this apartment is loud enough."

As he approached, watching Inka look through several folded items, Nitishila said, "You could escape the chatting maids and the boisterous dog with more time spent outside."

"Fresh air is quite healthy," Inka said as she held up a fresh yellow top. It consisted of such a small amount of material that it might not be wise to call it a top. Nitishila hoped she'd choose it. He loved when she wore clothing that displayed most of her bosom.

He reached up to flick at one of her short blonde curls. "Shouldn't you have a maid wipe the pollen off your swing more often?"

"I don't see why that would be necessary," Inka said as she put the yellow top back and took up a more modest pale blue top. "Nobody will use it."

Nitishila's eyes turned away as he tried not to bite his cheek. "Oh. That ... that's ... hm." He made a snort-like noise in his throat as he tried to reclaim some dignity. "You're cutthroat, aren't you?"

"It's my most charming quality." Inka tied and pinned the blue top over her chest. "It might also be the most useful one."

Nitishila decided to go to the chest of clothing he'd brought with him. "A beautiful woman with words like arrows." He rolled his eyes after he opened his chest, but he put on another smile. "But I know you're secretly a warm little kitten."

At first, he didn't hear anything except clothing being pulled on bodies.

Then he heard Inka say, "I hope you haven't been telling people that."

He was wearing pants and a vest when he said, "Of course not. Your emotions are precious, something only for me."

Whether he deserved it or not.

He turned around.

A long skirt with a side split on one side. That's what Inka had on her legs. It certainly was good for her wide hips. It even made her seem a little taller.

"The swing might amuse Indu," Nitishila said as his eyes rolled up and down his wife's form. "She could be tied to you, perhaps in a sling in your lap, and I'll push you on the swing."

Her expression still blank, her eyes still, Inka told him, "That won't be necessary."

"Neither are board games and gemstones," Nitishila countered, "but you have them. So why not enjoy the weather?"

Inka put her fingers near her belly and asked, "Will this matter fester between us?"

"It might." Nitishila held a hand up to pretend he needed to examine a fingernail. "I'll have an easier time conceiving a child with my wife if I know she's been enjoying all the fine things I've given her."

She blinked. It was a smooth movement. Her hands went back to hanging at her sides.

"I don't know if that's an adequate argument."

Nitishila shrugged. "I don't know if you're willing to take that risk."

Translation: Copulation might happen less often if Inka wasn't willing to show her appreciation. Nitishila imagined she'd wanted to be very, very cold, but that was all a lie. She might've even lied to herself. The truth was, she liked getting a nice fuck from her husband.

Just slightly, one of Inka's feet turned inward. "I'll have to ask a maid to wipe the swing, then.

***

It was like floating.

Up in the air, happy and peculiar.

The ropes creaked with the movements. The air seemed to hit Inka's face, or perhaps her face was hitting the air.

Indu was oddly quiet. Normally, she'd be one of the most vocal creatures on this planet, but this activity held her attention like nothing else. Safely tucked in Inka's sling, the dog panted and watched everything in her vision.

Behind Inka, the one pushing the swing was her laughing husband. The attendants stood by.

"You want to laugh and squeal," Nitishila playfully accused. "I know you do, but that dog is making more sounds than you are."

Inka's stubborn side was still showing. Her hands were tight on the swing's ropes. "Please let me keep my pride, Husband."

"Haha, very well then." Nitishila touched her hands when he next pushed her.

Her belly tingled even with Indu's warmth cushioning it.

It was an innocent time.

Suddenly, Dey emerged and knelt an angle from the swing. "There's news, terrible news!!"

Inka put her feet down to stop the swing, and she used her hand to support Indu as she stood up. "What's the matter, Dey?"

Frowning, Dey announced, "The Empress Dowager has left this world!!"

"I beg your pardon?" Inka turned around to look at Nitishila.

His palm was over his mouth. His eyes were wide.

After sending a joint letter to the Emperor to ask for permission to visit, the couple discussed the sudden death for a few minutes. Why did the Dowager die? She was old, but she seemed fairly healthy for her age. The question wasn't immediately answered.

The Emperor sent a letter to accept a visit from the couple, and so the couple hurried to him. They both knelt before him in his reception room, their faces and voices quite gloomy. The Empress Consort was sitting next to the Emperor. She looked like some invisible force was holding her eyelids just open enough for her to see.

The first to speak was the Emperor. He did so precisely, every word tight and bitter. His hard eyes were pointed at a window as those words came. "The physicians believe the Dowager had a stroke in her sleep." Nobody responded to him. The following silence was long. Not a clearing of a throat, not a shuffling of the limbs, not even a heavy breath happened. "Her servants will either be transferred or politely dismissed with gleaming references for future careers or marriages. Her possessions will be given to me. If there's anything of hers that you want, you'd best send your requests soon."

Nitishila spoke then, but he looked down at his knees as he did so. "Father, I can't think of anything I want."

Inka couldn't think of anything either. She didn't bother speaking.

When she was back at her apartment with Nitishila, she personally took a tray of tea from Jorun and put it on the table between them. Then she poured the tea into a cup.

He was so quiet. Nothing that could be called joy could be found in him. He was also still and distant, staring at the air itself instead of what was in the air. He was actually the cold one for a change. Inka was almost overwhelmed.

"I'm certain the loss of your honorable grandmother will be felt for a long time." She held the cup out to him.

His fingers gradually moved like a puppet's as they hooked in the cup's handle. He took a long sip. Then he put the cup down.

Inka poured a cup for herself. "There's nothing I can do to return the Great Dowager to us, but I wish that isn't so."

Nitishila spoke as she took some of her tea. His voice was dry and crumbling. "Inka. No matter how long you live here, there are some features of Gehnan culture that you might not understand, or you won't understand immediately."

"Hm?" Her cup was down. "Is there something I'm not recognizing?"

His fingers anchored on the table's edge. They even paled as much as his natural skintone would allow. "Inka ... have you heard of the Life Eater?"

Inka's eyes turned to note Jorun's completely puzzled expression. Then she looked back at Nitishila's tight lips and asked, "Isn't that something from old folklore? A creature that hides and eats people's lives ... somehow?"

His eyes closed.

"When a new bride enters a family, and she doesn't become pregnant within a year ... and if more than one in-law dies of a stroke, then many people will wonder if the bride's a Life Eater. A Life Eater's victim will always die of a stroke."

Inka stared at her very, very serious husband for six seconds. Then she asked, "Are you implying that I'm a Life Eater?" She didn't receive a response, and so she continued, "Following the folklore, I wouldn't qualify. Only one in-law has died of a stroke."

"Yes," Nitishila said, "but what if another has a stroke?"

Inka was quick to respond. "What if I have a stroke? It's not impossible."

"Unfortunately, many people in the world are far too superstitious." Nitishila pushed his tea aside as if he didn't want anymore. "Centuries ago, a law had to be passed that banned families from killing new brides with such misfortune. It's legally the same as murder, but not every community has adequate law enforcement, and people are stubborn."

Worried that Nitishila might hurt himself, or damage the table, she tried to pry his hand off that edge. "Husband?" His fingers were very strong. "Don't put your hands at risk. I know very well how one should cherish their hands." Nitishila released the table then, but his face was still dire. "Husband? Why would anyone be concerned over me? I've done nothing wrong."

He sighed so heavily that Inka thought she heard his bones crack. It was so odd to her. He was so fresh and youthful on a normal day, but now he looked ... not so fresh and not so youthful. "You likely won't be put to death over such nonsense, but people from all over the country will wonder about you. Some might speak out against you."

Inka reached up to adjust a small brooch on her headscarf. She didn't always wear jewels on her scarf, but sometimes she did. "I care not how hateful another's words are."

"But what if there are calls to violence?"

"That's an exception." Inka looked down at the spot on the table where Nitishila had previously gripped. It looked unchanged, and it would remain so, but Inka wanted to imagine that a deep handprint would form soon. "By the by, Nitishila, might I ask for your aid?"

His eyes thawed, but he was still tense. "What may I do for you?"

Inka picked up her cup again and stared down at the hot liquid. "I'd like to have as many scrolls and books concerning fertility and pregnancies as possible."

"Medical texts? Must you bore yourself with such things?" Nitishila put his hand on his nape and rubbed fairly hard. "We have many physicians to consult. You have no use for those texts."

A leisurely, sigh inducing draught, and Inka said, still holding her cup, "By now, you should understand that I have no reason to accept your opinion concerning ... certain matters."

The painful hiss in his mouth made her want to smile.

Good boy. Know your place.

"Be as discreet as you possibly can, Husband." Inka put her cup down and layered her hands on her thighs. "Don't tell the world of your intentions. Keep as many secrets as you can. And whenever you have a new text to give to me, hide it among another gift. A small scroll hidden in a secret compartment of a box, that sort of thing."

Nitishila nodded.

***

A week or so went on, and on a hot morning Inka heard more tapping on her bedroom window. Once more, she found a gorgeous white bird on her windowsill. It did little more than linger and stare at random things. Inka didn't have the courage to touch it. There might be a disease or a parasite somewhere in it. The bird left after a good while, leading Inka to wonder if there was a particular scent or noise attracting it. She discussed the odd bird with Jorun as they dressed, but they didn't create any worthy speculations.