Chapter XIV
Cedric's chamber resided at the end of a lonesome corridor, near a hall where fewer soldiers roamed. Rather than be dismally lit by Threban torches, like the rest of the castle, the corridor gleamed cheerfully with the help of round Kopallitli lanterns, which emitted saffron light.
The walls were also vivid. Painters had meticulously lined each side with the tears of Tifereth, fruit that to an earthling's eye were shaped like bluebell buds or blueberries and coloured juicy crimsons and wealthy violets.
The doors to Cedric's chamber looked as spectacular, for an Aargonag had been carved upon each door, and each one faced their partner, hands lifted in either salute or celebration. Vivid violets, brilliant blues, rich greens, and blazing reds danced on the wood reliefs, while linen white lilies and lotuses surrounded the Aaronagim, and golden stars twinkled above their heads.
"Is this... Is this all what your home land looks like?" asked Caleb aghast.
"My part of the country, at least," said the noble.
Then he placed one of his great hands upon the door and muttered a few words in his native tongue. The colours upon the doors each began to glow in their respective hue before the light faded, and the doors creaked open.
The chamber was taller than it was wide. Nevertheless, it seemed more spacious than many peasants' homes. Much like the corridor and doors, colour laded every inch of the room: finely crafted tapestries; gold and silver baubles dangling from the ceiling; and a round, low-lying bed with sumptuous pillows and sheets.
"You are not to sneak from here until I return," commanded Cedric. "You've caused enough of a panic with your talk of rebels. I don't need you wandering around, causing more mischief."
Caleb harrumphed and plopped his heavy Galtroh body atop the downy bed.
"And how soon'll you be back exactly?" he inquired.
"As soon as His Highness allows it of me," said Cedric.
"Just tell 'im a bird smashed through the window and got back out. Happened to old Duke Magdor last winter—thought a bobiboad was dead 'til one o' the two heads snapped at him. Nasty little thing."
"The bobiboad or the Duke?"
Caleb smirked. "The Duke. I don't think even Phobos likes him."
"Heh. Why do you think we put him out pig-cow farmers?"
Then Cedric turned and slithered to the door. As soon as he vanished and locked the chamber, Caleb relaxed and reverted to his true form.
As he ran his fingers over the gentle sheets and eyed the shimmering ornaments, Caleb wondered if Cedric had always been well-off or if much of his wealth had been gained at the impoverishment of others. Neither scenario would have surprised him.
Of course the Prince would have distributed ill-gotten spoils to his general, lieutenants, colonels, and captains in order to reward success. But certainly some of this grandeur had to have originated from the Aaronag's homeland.
The tapestries, for example! Caleb knew of no weavers whom would depict Aaronagim in such a common light. Rather than be depicted as ferocious beasts attacking the livestock of an unfortunate Galhot farmer, the scenes that Caleb saw depicted them as astronomers charting the stars, merchants apparently trading animals and fruits, and great serpents tending to younger serpents (their children, judging by the short, chubby coils and round faces).
Definitely not spoils of war, thought Caleb, and educational.
Galhots, Galtrohs, Passlings, and Escanors alike all had tales of the fearsome shape-shifters—and yes, they were often lumped together with other shape-shifters, as though Aaronagim, Andandsee-ites, Werebears, Mogriffs, and an assortment of a others were all the same. But Aaronagim were particularly feared because unlike every other shape-shifter, they could blend in with anyone. (Andandsee-ites could only shift from being four-legged spider beasts to either an Escanor or a Galhot and nothing else, and Mogriffs always gave themselves away with their red eyes, their drool, and their nasty demeanor).
Not only that, but they shifted to please both the eye and the ear, for they trained their tongues to speak what their potential victims wanted to hear before striking.
Aaronagim drowned in the rumours of being cruel and much too cunning for anyone's own good. Only the Queens Binah and Chesed had extended a hand to them, whom early in Metamoor's history had withdrawn from much contact with races outside theirs.
Better to be isolated than slandered and slaughtered.
"You actually all seem quite normal," said Caleb to the tapestries. "And Rowenna wasn't too bad either."
Much to the contrary! The incidents on Sei'espian had turned some of the rebels to introspection. Perhaps not all Aaronagim were bad. After all, they had helped the Queens in the past, despite their feared reputation, and their spirits seemed sympathetic to their old enemies.
"Yeah, you all aren't so bad after all," said Caleb.
Then he hopped to his feet and strolled around the room. He stopped at one of the tightly-packed book shelves, eyeing the spine of each book. Many were written in letters in which he had no fluency. He recognised the local Galhotian of a few volumes, and the titles scribed in the Roman letters of the Escanors sparked no interest in him except one:
"Regarding the Reconstruction of Political & Economic Goodwill with the Serpent Shifters, Recorded by Heosphoria Chesed." Caleb paused at the author's name, excitement seeping into his brain. "Elyon's mother!"
Extracting the book carefully, he hurried back to the bed and flipped to a random page:
I have taken aside all my soldiers after the rash assumption that Dagana had made in the presence Lady Mamiwata. I have instructed that no one is to address the Shifters by either Lady or Lord until such distinction has been, with genuine curiosity, asked and then given by the questioned party; for the differences in the sexes cannot be determined at first sight when the Shifters walk as Escanors or Galhots, and this task gains more thorns when the Shifters slither in their true form.
This I have learned from one of our hosts: that the women are greater in stature than their men, and the subtle characteristics that distinguish the sexes must be detected by a sensitive eye. Therefore, I have determined that we, as respectful guests, must ask if one calls oneself 'she' or 'he' rather than make assumptions that further tarnish our relationships.
Well, that was certainly interesting—no, 'interesting' wasn't even strong enough to describe Caleb's amazement. If he was inferring alright, the Queen had journeyed to the dreaded land of the serpentine shape-shifters; and she had seemed quite accommodating.
"Heh! I would have asked too," said Caleb, especially given that Cedric had proven he could change his sex at will. It only made sense to ask the shape-shifters what their pronoun was.
The next set of passages that Caleb flipped to left him feeling ill with guilt:
I have not forgotten that, when first my ancestors came to this world, we brought with us ideas about the Serpent that to the Shifters are unflattering and damaging. The Wyrm has often in Escanor tales been a villain, but the actions of the Shifters do not bear those falsehoods; for I recall that during my mother's reign, the Great Lady Rowenna came to the aid of our land; and though her words had been harsh and displeased Mother's advisors, her people had averted catastrophe.
Our races have battled, and each party shall argue who began the fight. We have killed one another in the most gruesome ways, but I am certain that the Shifters have suffered more often. Escanors encroached upon their lands and allowed other Peoples to encroach. Great Lady Olindoyo and Lady Mamiwata have told me, to my disbelief, that my ancestors had no qualms violating their women and men as they walked among us in multiple efforts to understand us and assimilate. Though I hesitate to admit to such a nightmarish crime, I cannot ignore the Ladies' view of history. I cannot ignore their complaint that Escanors, having taken to heart the idea of 'smashing the serpent before it hatches,' took infants and cut them down, grieving their mothers and calling upon their wrath, sometimes using it to lure them to injury and potentially their deaths as well.
I am grieved to hear their complaints, yet, the Shifters have aided us; for I believe that their love for Metamoor transcends what hatred they have for Escanors and Galhots and other Peoples. They place the land and the long road of Metamoor above their vengeance and help us, if it means preserving what is precious to them.
Were the Aaronagim that angry? Well! If such crimes had transpired, what other reaction did Caleb expect?
Before Caleb continued, the locks clicked. Caleb stiffened and set aside the book, leaping behind the bed and waiting for whoever entered.
Cedric slithered inside and locked the doors, sighing raspily.
"Are you alright?" asked Caleb as he manifested.
The shape-shifter smirked and reverted to his human form.
"I might have taken your suggestion to heart," he replied. "I told the Prince that I could smell nothing but Ravemorph stink in his lovely gallery. He believed it and spared my back."
"Well, bless me!" exclaimed Caleb as he embraced him. "See? I can be as clever as any devil."
Cedric harrumphed.
"If you had not been so foolhardy as usual, I wouldn't need to lie to my Prince like that."
"Like you haven't been already?"
Cedric scowled, but Caleb's soft, puppy-like gaze charmed the noble to smile slightly. He kissed his cheek, then stepped away and began to shed his regal vestments.
"I knew you nobles were fancy," began Caleb, "but why is yours so elaborate? Not even Phobos has such complicated robes."
As Cedric hanged his robes and folded his tight trousers, he replied, "Many reasons, not the least of which they are a part of my culture. They also protect me. I'm far more agile inside this bulk than I look, and an adversary must take longer to... do what they will."
"Like stab you?"
"Yes."
Caleb hummed and reclined on the bed. He watched Cedric don a golden bed robe, trimmed with green as brilliant as a jungle snake.
"Lookin' sharp," said Caleb, much to Cedric's amusement.
"Did you pick up that vernacular while on earth?" asked Cedric as he settled next to him.
"Where else?"
The noble smirked and propped his head up, twirling a strand of Caleb's hair with his free hand.
"Sneaky, little rebel," he said.
Caleb frowned slightly.
"Look, I'm sorry for slipping in like this—"
Cedric laughed and sat tall.
"I'm accustomed to you sneaking in like this. I know we still have spies, willing to risk their lives for the rebellion. It's your timing that upsets me: right after the princess arrives. You just couldn't wait."
Caleb sat and stared into his.
"How was I supposed to know that Elyon was okay? How am I supposed to just let you take the princess after you promised that—"
Cedric lifted both eyebrows and said, "What would you have had me done? Risk my life by telling her the whole truth? Have you any idea what Phobos would have had done to me?"
Caleb bristled, using all his will to keep his voice calm.
"You've already been risking your life. Why now? Why did you suddenly lie to me and jeopardize all our success so stupidly—"
In a split second, Cedric's eyes took on their serpentine shape, and he snarled, "You have no idea what I'm going through! You have no idea what I've been threatened with! You want to speak of how I violated your trust?"
Before Caleb could defend himself or escape, the shape-shifter pinned him, his human face becoming more animalistic and his voice more dreadful.
"The man I loved threatened to punish me with the same v-v-vile thing that led us to all this hell in the first place! I. Had. No. Choice!"
Caleb saw anger, sure, but he also saw grief: deep, deep, heart-mangling grief. He saw fear, and he saw betrayal but not solely the betrayal Phobos had allegedly perpetrated. He saw that Cedric felt betrayed by Caleb for not trusting him.
"I... I'm sorry," said Caleb. "Of course, I don't know what you've been through. I've never seen it, and I've never heard about it. I didn't... I didn't mean to..."
Cedric's face slowly reverted from beastly to human and from the torrent of emotions to regretful and sad. He peeled himself off Caleb and sat slouched at the edge of the bed, trembling.
Cautiously, Caleb slipped beside him, watching the sweat drip down his face as his breath hitched. That was no act. Cedric was on the edge of tears and perhaps a mental breakdown.
"Cedric?" Caleb reached the hand in Cedric's lap. The noble didn't look at him just yet.
"It... It isn't right," he continued. "It isn't right the way he treats you. It isn't right for you to be whipped and put down and threatened with horrible things just because he's greedy and wants more from you than even the gods could offer." (At which point, Cedric choked, and the tears fell down his cheeks). "You... You don't have to tell me anything. There's a lot my men don't tell me, and I know it's because they don't want to re-live it. But if... if you do want to share... maybe... I don't know... I..."
Cedric held his breath for what must have been until the count of ten before drawing out a sigh and looking at Caleb's sincere face.
"I don't know if you'd even believe me," he said. "The person involved is so revered among members of the rebellion that I... You would have to have seen it to believe it, just like he had seen, and even then he couldn't believe it."
... I cannot ignore the Ladies' view of history. I cannot ignore their complaint...
Caleb squeezed Cedric's hand. The spirit of the rebellion was about putting the world right again. It was about restoring the Light of Meridian, the power passed from mother to daughter and the spirit associated with that power. In that moment and for that moment, Caleb felt that listening to Cedric, regardless of all that had transpired, would restore a little bit of the Light, a little bit of Queen Chesed.
"What happened to you, Cedric?"
The noble took a few more seconds to restore his composure. His face assumed that serpentine coolness trademark to him and did not change as he stunned the rebel:
"The Royal Consort violated me for five years before his son found out and took me and fled from the palace."