Chapter Fifty Two – Sorrow
"However…"
hm, yes, there is always a however, isn't there chamberlain? everything must have a however. isn't that the way it is…
"It is with heavy hearts that we must qualify our conclusion. You are Paetsu o-Latormolo, the evidence we have weighed makes that clear. You are of royal blood. But you cannot be accepted into Gondoan society as royalty because you were barred. When Pazsu Phom was banished seven hundred years ago he lost his title and he was disowned. His descendents, although of his blood and although able to draw spells from royal stones and do any number of unique and special things, are not royalty. They cannot assume the mantle of titular position. They are all disowned. With considerable regret I must officially state that although worthy of bearing the title Paetsu o-Latormolo you cannot do so. This Gathering recognizes you only as Pazsu o-Numenaor."
Carefully, choosing her words with meticulous precision, the Chamberlain continued.
"There is only one way you can be welcomed back into the royal families of the four nations. A King or Queen, the ruler of one of the houses must recognize you. If that happens your bloodline is restored."
"Who is alive of the four houses?" Sheeta suddenly blurted out.
The large black-haired woman pushed her glasses down her nose and looked over them at her.
"The Head and the Heart are dead. Their royal families are no more, died out. You, Pazsu o-Numenaor, are the only known descendant of the Hand, but all your kinfolk are also disowned. Even if one were present that would serve no purpose, for a disowned prince or princess cannot recognize one of their own house."
"What are you saying?" Pazu asked
"There have been, in recent times, only two known living royal family members: Qu-elle Lucita Toelle Ur Laputa and Pazsu Romuska Palo Ur Laputa."
"Muska is dead."
"Yes. His body was washed ashore near Porthaven three weeks ago."
"Which means…"
Pazu looked at Sheeta. She stood up, took a step down from the dais onto the floor of the council chamber.
"I can say it!"
"Sheeta."
"I can recognize you Paetsu!"
"Sheeta, wait…"
Pazu stood, there was something she had to see, he had to show her…
"Paetsu, all our troubles will be over, you will be Prince. Everyone will recognize you. You will be home, again. You will come home. To me…"
Her eyes were bright and damp with hope.
"Sheeta, no. You can't say it."
"Why?"
"If you do… then half of Gondoa will recognize me, the Sky."
"Yes!"
"But half won't. The Soil won't accept me. Do you see? Seven hundred years of discontent, argument will boil over again. Half of Gondoa against the other half."
I don't need to take you. all the death and sorrow and hate and orphans, you know what? you are going to do my work for me
what? where the hell did that come from?
The florid woman watched him carefully. She saw that he understood. Something hot and frightening was uncoiling inside Pazu. Something stinking and dog-like came bubbling up in the bile of his mind. Where had this memory come from? A gravel voice and an evil leering snout…
He pressed on.
"Sheeta, don't recognize my bloodline. You can't. That way those who are of the Sky will not have a leader, no-one to follow and Gondoa can stay as it is now, of the Soil where it should be.
a sunrise, a beautiful dawn, a peaceful farm, a simple people farming the land, simple prayers, simple gods, giving simple gifts. this is what I want. I know that now…
"Peace, a peace that may only last a generation or two but at least in your lifetime, Sheeta you will not know change. The scientists and engineers are coming, they will eventually, they will bring their machines. But not yet. Let Gondoa stay as it is."
I don't need to do my work. I am you and you are me... hm, you're good. and you're going to get better. oh, much better...
no you bastard! I know you. I won't let you! not through me, you won't use me to do evil! do it yourself you foul sick…!
"Pazsu o-Numenaor, there is something you need to know," the Chamberlain spoke, her voice tired.
"What is it?"
His mind couldn't handle much more of this. And anyway, he was talking to a dog in his head.
"A member of one of the four royal houses can marry a member from another, or a noble commoner, a Lord. But a disowned citizen is not a suitable match. If you are not recognized by Qu-elle Lucita, she cannot marry you."
Pazu stared at her. What? How could this be so, now, right now when they had gone through all this? He looked at Sheeta. She stared at him, her eyes filled with longing.
"Paetsu."
"My dear Highness, my child, he is not Paetsu, but Pazsu. The prince who is gone away. The prince who is lost."
"Damn you! He's not lost! He's here! Home where he should be! How can you be so… so stupid! So cruel!"
"These are the laws my child."
"I'm not a child!"
Pazu stepped forward. He walked to her and stood, taking her hands in his. They seemed so small, so fragile.
"Sheeta, if you marry me," he could hardly speak, his heart ached in his throat, "If you marry me you must first recognize me. If you recognize me, Gondoa might be thrown into civil war. It may even be destroyed."
She stood, hardly believing how sick and twisted history could be, how stupid could people be, dust for seven hundred years in their graves, and still interfering, still banging a hollow drum like an angry spoilt child. History stamped its spiteful foot at her, and wouldn't let her play. Pazu sank down in front of her onto his knees. He put his arms around her waist and pressed his face to her middle. He breathed in her smell, her beautiful earthy spicy scent. He wanted her, yet he could not have her. If he had her, they might be the figureheads of opposite sides in a war. The world was insane.
He pressed his lips to her soft belly. Spoke against her.
"Don't do it. Don't recognize me."
"Paetsu…"
"Don't say that name. He doesn't exist. I am Pazsu, the Prince who went away."
"We can live together, not married," she was desperate, clutching at straws.
"Sheeta, no. How can that work? People will always plot and scheme, people might kidnap you and under duress, force you to recognize me. It would go on and on, we would never have peace. I want you to have rest, and like that you never could."
"Without you, how can I rest?"
Sheeta took his arms from her waist. Her knees bent and she slowly sank down into a pool of fine robes, a circle of pure green silk and ornamental brocade. She fell against him. She held him and he held her.
"Yau al-dhu' ulve om."
"Yau taemo. Yau ulve om. Uh, I don't have the words, but I love you more than you can know."
"Pazu…" Sheeta crumpled. She became very small and burst into tears.
"Don't cry, Sheeta, please don't cry."
Fate was bending around them, cruelly reversing and turning. The princess and the simple miner, the girl and the boy, the prince who was lost and who had now come home, the princess who was home and had now become lost. Sheeta wept and his words this time were no use, the girl in his arms sobbed, she moaned. Her world was ending.
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3 April (mostly) & 16 – 22 April (some polishing) 2007
For author notes about Chapter Fifty Two, please see my forum (click on my pen name)