Sunlight streamed in through the arrow slits high on the walls of the
Council chamber. Outside, Eria could hear a trainer calling cadence, the
shuffles and steps of scouts and trainees responding. She tried to find a
place on the wall behind the nine faces where none of them could catch
their eyes. There wasn't one, excluding floor and ceiling. Maybe if she
looked at the floor, she would look repentant. Too bad every Councilor knew
her position already.
"Meriandra a Zumi de Patros," the head of the Council began, staring straight at her. "you have been called here to explain yourself. Your actions towards your year-mates and fellow Gerudo border on inexcusable. Women have been cast into the desert for less than you've done."
Now, that was ridiculous. From a numerical standpoint, sure, she'd done a lot of damage. But no one had died, and there weren't any permanent injuries.
"Nearly the entire Fourth Squadron will have to be replaced indefinitely. We haven't seen a brawl of this caliber in years. This isn't the first disciplinary problem we've seen from you, either. We have voted and, based on a seven to two majority, have decided your consequence. Before we pronounce it, would you like to say anything?"
Eria opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "No, ma'am. Only that I hope the Council lived up to its reputation as a fair and just organization of unbiased and wise individuals." Her tone was so flat only her mother could tell it was sarcasm, and hid a small smile in her small hand.
The oldest Council member seemed unsure as to how to take her statement. After a moment's thought, she stood, her high-backed chair scraping back against the brown flagstone floor. "Given your previous behavior, along with the incident two days ago, the matter seems clear. You have serious disciplinary problems. You do not and will not flourish in Gerudo Valley."
Eria could see where this was going.
"However," the old woman continued. "the one aspect of life here you give credit to is our military environment. Your thieving, physical, and strategic skills are well above average. We took all of these aspects of your character, positive and negative, into account when we made our decision."
Eria had no idea where this was going.
"Every year, as well you know, the Queen of Hyrule calls forth representatives of her tributary states to re-swear their fealty, along with citizens to serve her in a militaristic or governmental capacity. While we have a resident diplomat in the capital, we renew our tribute yearly. It has been the tradition of the Gerudo to send our one strongest warrior to serve Her Majesty. We, the Gerudo Council of Nine, decree you, Meriandra a Zumi de Patros, our messenger and tributary to the Queen of Hyrule. May your year of servitude teach you true discipline and respect for authority, and may you be a credit to our people in all aspects of your character."
Eria wondered, distantly, if it would be disrespectful to throw up on the Council table.
"Any questions before we adjourn?"
The query seemed to be directed at the other Council members, but it snapped Eria back into real time.
"Would it be out of order to ask if I'll still have a place among my mother's people when I return?" she asked in as respectful a tone as rage allowed.
The old woman paused, thinking. "If you bring honor to the name of the Gerudo," she finally said. "we will welcome you back to our ranks."
"Will I need twice the honor, or only as much as a Gerudo from honorable parentage?" She snapped back to the non-answer without thinking.
The Councilwoman's lips and knuckles grew as white as her hair. "That was never an issue when we decided your fate!"
"It was an issue responsible for my so-called disciplinary problems. It seems to be an issue with some of my year-mates."
"Meriandra, you are dismissed!"
The words echoed through the large, empty room.
She wanted to throw back some taunt, some arrogant wisecrack, but couldn't think of anything to say. Instead she saluted, her crispest, most ass- kissing salute, spun on one heel, and left.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"This isn't my fault, Eria."
"I know." Eria threw her grappling hook into a saddlebag with more force than was really necessary.
"You're still angry, I see."
"I know that, too."
Her mother sat cross-legged against the wall, watching the sun go down. Usually Eria would have sat with her, but tonight she was too busy packing. Usually she loved to watch the sunset, but didn't want to acknowledge this one as her last Gerudo Valley Fortress sunset for a year.
A whole year. One. Eria paused to shake a tear off her red eyelashes, placed her ceremonial and battle armor into a second saddlebag.
"Be gentle with those," her mother admonished automatically.
"Mom, I own them. I think I know how to take care of them."
"Are you taking Freia?"
"Of course. I'm not going to let my horse get adopted by a bunch of bigoted tradition-crazed maggot larvae."
"Eria. Your father had nothing to do with the Council's decision. I know this."
"You're right, Mom. If I recall correctly, it was mostly about me." Drawing a breath, Eria bit her tongue. "Sorry. I just- I can believe they'd send me away from my home after telling me how much trouble I've been. I can believe they'd kick me out with no support or shelter or aid. I just can't believe they'd expect me to uphold the honor of the Gerudo after doing all that!"
"Do you think maybe it's because they think you can do the job well?" Zumi asked wryly.
"No, I think they expect me to become smitten with some guard, get married, and plunk out quarter-traitor babies for the rest of my life."
"Because all they see of you is Patros. The Gerudo half, the half you favor, my half, they can ignore."
"My father was Gerudo. Why do you let them forget that?"
"That's a bad question, Eria, and you know I'm not going to answer it."
"Why, because my father has scales now? He lives with fish, he is a fish? So it's okay what they say about him?"
"Your father turned his back on a tradition going back over millennia. He knew what the consequences would be."
Finally finished packing, Eria pulled the last strap taut and turned to face her mother. "Do you realize that while you made an error in judgement that lasted nine months, it's lasted me twenty years?"
In one lithe motion, her mother stood, strode over, and slapped her daughter sharply across the face. Eria leaped back, hand pressed to her cheek.
"Two things," her mother said tersely. "First, I love your father, and so do you. We both know that. Don't ever insult me or him by assuming we were just a pair of sex-crazed teenagers. Second, you've spoken two ways here tonight. You've called your father a traitor and you've defended his position. Sooner or later you're going to have to make up your mind, Meriandra, and stick with it, because you're too old for me to excuse your rudeness to the Council as a child, and you're too old to have everything both ways."
On her way out the door, her mother added: "I love you. You're my only child. Write or I'll hunt you down and pour lamp oil down your throat."
The door shut. Outside, the sunset stained the rock walls of the canyon fiery red. The inside of her room was red as well, the dark red-brown of drying blood. Eria stood in the center of it, surrounded on all sides by stone and flame, and cried.
"Meriandra a Zumi de Patros," the head of the Council began, staring straight at her. "you have been called here to explain yourself. Your actions towards your year-mates and fellow Gerudo border on inexcusable. Women have been cast into the desert for less than you've done."
Now, that was ridiculous. From a numerical standpoint, sure, she'd done a lot of damage. But no one had died, and there weren't any permanent injuries.
"Nearly the entire Fourth Squadron will have to be replaced indefinitely. We haven't seen a brawl of this caliber in years. This isn't the first disciplinary problem we've seen from you, either. We have voted and, based on a seven to two majority, have decided your consequence. Before we pronounce it, would you like to say anything?"
Eria opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "No, ma'am. Only that I hope the Council lived up to its reputation as a fair and just organization of unbiased and wise individuals." Her tone was so flat only her mother could tell it was sarcasm, and hid a small smile in her small hand.
The oldest Council member seemed unsure as to how to take her statement. After a moment's thought, she stood, her high-backed chair scraping back against the brown flagstone floor. "Given your previous behavior, along with the incident two days ago, the matter seems clear. You have serious disciplinary problems. You do not and will not flourish in Gerudo Valley."
Eria could see where this was going.
"However," the old woman continued. "the one aspect of life here you give credit to is our military environment. Your thieving, physical, and strategic skills are well above average. We took all of these aspects of your character, positive and negative, into account when we made our decision."
Eria had no idea where this was going.
"Every year, as well you know, the Queen of Hyrule calls forth representatives of her tributary states to re-swear their fealty, along with citizens to serve her in a militaristic or governmental capacity. While we have a resident diplomat in the capital, we renew our tribute yearly. It has been the tradition of the Gerudo to send our one strongest warrior to serve Her Majesty. We, the Gerudo Council of Nine, decree you, Meriandra a Zumi de Patros, our messenger and tributary to the Queen of Hyrule. May your year of servitude teach you true discipline and respect for authority, and may you be a credit to our people in all aspects of your character."
Eria wondered, distantly, if it would be disrespectful to throw up on the Council table.
"Any questions before we adjourn?"
The query seemed to be directed at the other Council members, but it snapped Eria back into real time.
"Would it be out of order to ask if I'll still have a place among my mother's people when I return?" she asked in as respectful a tone as rage allowed.
The old woman paused, thinking. "If you bring honor to the name of the Gerudo," she finally said. "we will welcome you back to our ranks."
"Will I need twice the honor, or only as much as a Gerudo from honorable parentage?" She snapped back to the non-answer without thinking.
The Councilwoman's lips and knuckles grew as white as her hair. "That was never an issue when we decided your fate!"
"It was an issue responsible for my so-called disciplinary problems. It seems to be an issue with some of my year-mates."
"Meriandra, you are dismissed!"
The words echoed through the large, empty room.
She wanted to throw back some taunt, some arrogant wisecrack, but couldn't think of anything to say. Instead she saluted, her crispest, most ass- kissing salute, spun on one heel, and left.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"This isn't my fault, Eria."
"I know." Eria threw her grappling hook into a saddlebag with more force than was really necessary.
"You're still angry, I see."
"I know that, too."
Her mother sat cross-legged against the wall, watching the sun go down. Usually Eria would have sat with her, but tonight she was too busy packing. Usually she loved to watch the sunset, but didn't want to acknowledge this one as her last Gerudo Valley Fortress sunset for a year.
A whole year. One. Eria paused to shake a tear off her red eyelashes, placed her ceremonial and battle armor into a second saddlebag.
"Be gentle with those," her mother admonished automatically.
"Mom, I own them. I think I know how to take care of them."
"Are you taking Freia?"
"Of course. I'm not going to let my horse get adopted by a bunch of bigoted tradition-crazed maggot larvae."
"Eria. Your father had nothing to do with the Council's decision. I know this."
"You're right, Mom. If I recall correctly, it was mostly about me." Drawing a breath, Eria bit her tongue. "Sorry. I just- I can believe they'd send me away from my home after telling me how much trouble I've been. I can believe they'd kick me out with no support or shelter or aid. I just can't believe they'd expect me to uphold the honor of the Gerudo after doing all that!"
"Do you think maybe it's because they think you can do the job well?" Zumi asked wryly.
"No, I think they expect me to become smitten with some guard, get married, and plunk out quarter-traitor babies for the rest of my life."
"Because all they see of you is Patros. The Gerudo half, the half you favor, my half, they can ignore."
"My father was Gerudo. Why do you let them forget that?"
"That's a bad question, Eria, and you know I'm not going to answer it."
"Why, because my father has scales now? He lives with fish, he is a fish? So it's okay what they say about him?"
"Your father turned his back on a tradition going back over millennia. He knew what the consequences would be."
Finally finished packing, Eria pulled the last strap taut and turned to face her mother. "Do you realize that while you made an error in judgement that lasted nine months, it's lasted me twenty years?"
In one lithe motion, her mother stood, strode over, and slapped her daughter sharply across the face. Eria leaped back, hand pressed to her cheek.
"Two things," her mother said tersely. "First, I love your father, and so do you. We both know that. Don't ever insult me or him by assuming we were just a pair of sex-crazed teenagers. Second, you've spoken two ways here tonight. You've called your father a traitor and you've defended his position. Sooner or later you're going to have to make up your mind, Meriandra, and stick with it, because you're too old for me to excuse your rudeness to the Council as a child, and you're too old to have everything both ways."
On her way out the door, her mother added: "I love you. You're my only child. Write or I'll hunt you down and pour lamp oil down your throat."
The door shut. Outside, the sunset stained the rock walls of the canyon fiery red. The inside of her room was red as well, the dark red-brown of drying blood. Eria stood in the center of it, surrounded on all sides by stone and flame, and cried.