JADIS: CHARN ON THE BRINK
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His Venerable Majesty
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Charn was a city and also much of the world; that is the first thing to grasp. That was certainly the situation as it drew to a close (as all worlds, one day, must). There were pockets of resistance but, one by one, they were emptied. I've talked elsewhere of the great tower that the Saru Habil-Luxi had built; the tallest building in the world of Ki-ertu. Home to the supposedly 'incarnate gods and goddesses' of the royal household, it reared up into the sky, defying the heavens. A temple sat at each corner; their altars and floors ran scarlet, the smoke from constant sacrifices blackening the lower part of the tower. It was in the tower that Jadis was weaned, the incessant drumming of the priests below surely driving her mad. It was there that her older sister, Katilu, had attempted infanticide.
Habil-Luxi sat in the State Room in the An-za-kari (which he much preferred to the ancient, Imperial Palace of the Ancestors). He was old – very old – and his health was poor. The king's breath came grudgingly, in gurgles and gasps. The man who'd slain the famous rebel Azag in hand to hand combat, then personally fired every suburb along the Ab, was failing. As he aged he became even bloodier, as if spilling the blood of others would somehow revitalise him. "How long do you think he's got?" his Cup-Bearer would ask, again and again. The Mace-Bearer would shake his head, fearfully. If Habil-Luxi chose to go to a living death in the Hall of Images, his servants were safe. If the Saru died then his retinue might well be entombed with him.
Habil-Luxi had just dismissed his daughters from 'the presence'. The king had no male heir; not that he needed one, for both ladies were more than capable of holding the reins of power. He'd given them startling news, "I will attend the victory parade," he'd declared. His daughters glanced at each other in surprise, for their father hadn't left the great tower in two years. "The people will see me," he declared (by which he meant the ruling class, of course).
Jadis had returned, by magic carpet, to the Imperial Palace, where both princesses maintained suites. Her rooms were certainly magnificent, if not particularly comfortable. Hunting scenes, in relief, adorned the walls as did the most superb tapestries imaginable. If one stared hard at them, the scenes seemed to be almost alive. "What can it mean?" Jadis wondered, striding about the chamber. She bit her lip in frustration. There was only one seat in that particular room, as Jadis would never dream of letting an inferior sit in her presence. As a teenager she'd often thrown herself down onto the padded couch, rather like a chaise longue, in an uncontrollable tantrum.
The Sukkallum watched his mistress, warily. Officially he was in the employ of the Saru but he'd long since thrown in his lot with the younger princess. The lady knew too many of his secrets for him to consider doing otherwise. "I did wonder…" he began hesitantly.
"Well, spit it out, man," the princess snapped.
"Is his Majesty planning to make an announcement?"
"Is he?" Jadis asked rhetorically. She flounced over to a full length, golden mirror to admire her reflection. "Is he going to sleep in the Hall of Images?" she pondered, in a whisper. It was too good to be true.
"Perhaps… or… could he be about to name his successor?"
Jadis span round on her heel, "My sister," she said, hissing the sibilants.
"She might – quite wrongly of course – think that she has the right." Pointing out the obvious truth could prove to be a dangerous thing in Charn, even for one as senior as the Sukkallum. He was perhaps fortunate to find Jadis in one of her milder moods.
"Yes," Jadis acknowledged, "She's arrogant enough."
"The Saru can choose a more worthy heir; there's many, many precedents," the Sukkallum soothed.
"Yes, he can indeed." Jadis frowned, "We need to be sure that my father makes the right decision. I must see Marshal Felex-Luli-Du without delay; arrange it."
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Beware of ambitious men
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Charn had been a militaristic society for many generations. One of the most notable military divisions was the aerial cavalry. On paper, the Charnonian Dragon Corps wasn't the most prestigious regiment in Charn. The honour lay with the Household Guard or the Royal Guard; officially, at least. Ask any member of the public and they would answer however, "The Dragon Corps." Certainly it was the most difficult to get into; the mountainside cold and altitude training alone did for many recruits. Learning how to handle a Dwarf Dragon (even the elderly, cowed, toothless ones of the training camps) broke or killed some of the remnant. A little below ten percent of recruits finally 'passed out' and gained admittance to the Corps. The regiment favoured single men, often orphans, although it took such married men as preferred dragons to their spouses. "The best flyers are from the north," was the received wisdom (put about, in part, by northerners). Not that there weren't some women flyers, but the physical strength required was considerable. Most of the women were from the dank region of Mistgeard and were remarkable for both height and a stark beauty. Some said that giant blood ran in the veins of the folk of Mistgeard. If one survived in the corps it was possible to acquire fame and rank, if not great riches. Promotion beyond the rank of General was legally impossible (for fear of a potentially unstoppable insurrection). The greatest regimental heroes were always a popular attraction of Charn's many military parades. One had been so popular, in fact, that the Saru of his day had him executed out of sheer jealousy.
The Dragon corps rarely came near the centre of Charn proper (meaning the heart of the original city). The potential of a rogue dragon for mayhem was far too great to risk. Two hundred troopers and four token beasts were chosen to represent the regiment in the great parade, to celebrate the victory over the rebel forces of Lirum. Their commanding officer, in camp, was one Colonel Shulgi. He was the archetype of a Dragon Corps officer: strong, brave and fearless. The fact that he was handsome added to his popularity. He would be showered with flowers and garlands during the forthcoming parade. The night after the Saru's surprising announcement saw Shulgi waiting outside his tent for an unaccustomed visit from a senior officer.
Marshal Felex-Luli-Du had commanded men of the Dragon Corps twice. The first time had been in the unnatural, dry heat of Mardak-Isan. Charn was a cold world with a huge, red, diseased sun. As well as that magical, scorching heat there had been starvation and disease. More recently, he'd had the corps under his control in the biting snows of the islands of the late Winter King. The Marshal had followed in Jadis' wake as she'd entered the Winter King's court. He'd continue to follow her almost to the end of his life. One day, after disobeying orders, he would save a brigade from the catastrophe of Sweet Meadow Farms, but would swing for disobedience. One might have expected a great man like Felex-Luli-Du to summon Colonel Shulgi, but he had his own reasons for keeping the fellow away from the capital. "Ah, Shulgi, good to see you," said the Marshal. He'd come wrapped in a dark, heavy cloak of a type common throughout the military. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested.
The two men wandered over to the enclosures where four Dwarf Dragons were penned. They lay motionless, accustomed to being strapped and buckled down. "Fierce looking brutes, ain't they?" the Marshal said.
"To an enemy; good as gold otherwise," the Colonel replied stoutly. "Keep their bellies full, know when to use or spare the whip, and they're content."
"Like the common solider." You may have noticed that the Charnonian officer class had some rather unpleasant ideas about both men and beasts.
"I daresay."
The dragons were guarded by young men from the Youth Division. That was a comparatively new innovation, with youngsters drawn mainly from the military orphanages. They were taught to worship the royal family and were generally regarded as dangerous fanatics by the ordinary soldier. "Sir," said two such guards, saluting, as they passed by. They'd shown no great interest in the Marshal and seemingly hadn't recognised him.
"I've never taken to them," Felex-Luli-Du said, "and never will". He was right in that. One day he would see, first hand, the obscene horrors committed by the Combined Youth Regiment in the thick Forests of Calumn and the ravaged Sweet Meadow farms.
"They'll make poor fighting men," the Colonel allowed himself to suggest.
"Fanatics always do; they can never see the bigger picture." The Marshal halted; eyes on the retreating youths. "Talking of which; I have a job for you."
"Sir?"
"Zi-Dig,"the Marshall began. Now, that meant 'to tell the truth' but, of late, had become synonymous with 'by royal command'. "Zi-Dig, you don't have much choice but the rewards – oh the rewards – will be many."
"Sir?"
"Her imperial Highness, the Princess Jadis, needs you to do something for her."
Shulgi had enjoyed the dubious honour of serving alongside Jadis, in the assault on the Winter King's domain. Being well acquainted with women flyers from Mistgeard, Shulgi had been taken with Jadis' similar, cruel beauty. "It will be a pleasure, sir!" Shulgi was related to a number of important people in the pro-Jadis faction.
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The Rival
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"Father surely won't be foolish enough to name… my sister… as heir," Katilu said. She couldn't bring herself to say the name Jadis. Katilu had been ten when the sickly babe was born. She immediately saw the infant as her rival.
"No, surely not, Highness," said Ngissu, her chief advisor. "He owes you… so much." The oblique remark was pregnant with meaning. Katilu, skilled in herbs, potions and poisons had murdered her own mother, Astaru, at the behest of her father. He'd longed to be rid of Astaru for many years but her supporters had been too strong. It had taken a long time and many subtleties to whittle down their number.
"I am a Dhingar," Katilu declared (by which she meant a living goddess) "and the rightful heir by age and experience."
"Of course, Highness, that is beyond question."
"And yet… my sister… questions it."
"If His Majesty pronounces you his heir in public, it will be official."
"Mm – and if he is going to the Hall of Images then he must declare his successor."
"In which case, Majesty, we must stay near him to ensure there is no – erm – misunderstanding."
"Yes; She would go berserk. My people must stay near my father. See to it."
Many generations before, King Saggasu (the Destroyer) introduced the Imperial cult: the compulsory worship of the royal house. The parade route would begin outside the old city, entering via the Soldiers' Gate, wend its way along the Pleasure Gate Boulevard, then pass through the great market place, Blalalgu Square, by the Red Temple of Saggasu and beyond. The approach to the temple was something of a bottleneck. Planners and other officials periodically suggested clearing surrounding buildings but such schemes always came to naught. Too many important people owned land thereabouts. The imperial family would, of course, arrive by flying carpet and easily land on the temple roof.
Saggasu's Temple was, in its own, monstrous way, magnificent. Built of red marble, it towered over the surrounding buildings. Only used on civic occasions latterly, the local residents were now generally untroubled by sacrificial smoke pouring from its upper platforms. Sixty six marble steps led to the portico where massive bronze doors would stand ajar on the day. Six statues of Chimer-u, a mythological dragon that tried to swallow the world, guarded the steps at both ends.
Ishbi, priest of the Imperial Cult and senior temple administrator, was having a challenging time. Organising the junior priests was bad enough - "No, you lift the ox heart and cleave it with a single blow" – but the servitors were worse still – "hold yourself straight, three steps apart, you are too fast, you are too slow!" Whilst watching rehearsals with a critical eye when he was approached by
the Sukkallum.
"I need to see the seating plan," said the vizier.
Ishbi suppressed a groan, "I thought it was all agreed?"
"Not by his Majesty though."
"It's very much the same as the last parade."
"Nontheless, I need to see it," the Sukkallum insisted. Then, upon studying the paper, he shook his head. "These Lughals," he said (indicating the names of three great, military men) "must be further back."
"But they sat there before," the priest objected, "the Princess Katilu was happy with it."
"Ah," said the Sukkallum, sagaciously. He looked about and lowered his voice as if about to betray a confidence. "Let's just say that she's not quite so… um… fond of them now."
"Really?" Ishbi loved hearing confidences revealed.
"Yes; you don't mind me tipping you off like this?"
"Dear me, no," said Ishbi, "I'm glad you told me, Zi-Dig."
"I don't think either of us would want to upset her Highness," said the vizier with a rueful smile. "Now, I have half a dozen names for you that need to be bumped up. They now have the favour of the Saru – and her Highness - you understand?"
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The parade
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The old city was full. Most of the inhabitants had turned out to see the parade, with people pouring in from the surrounding suburbs overnight. Mile after mile of temporary barriers were erected to prevent onlookers falling under the feet of the marchers. It was a public holiday and only the enslaved were expected to work (and even they found opportunities to pause and stare). Everything was bathed in a soft, orange light that was the best the sickly sun could offer. The streets rang with the sound of traders, selling their wares from baskets:
"Bread and honey; fresh bread and honey."
"Cold sausages – spicy and delicious – hot kebabs."
"Ripe apples – oranges – from the slave orchards."
It would be a trying day for undercover officers of the City Guard, watching for pickpockets and other thieves. Criminal gangs from the warren of the Hara would flood into more respectable districts. "Watch 'em lads; they'd even nick the steam off the horse-dung given half a chance," one experienced Sergeant warned his men, during the breakfast briefing.
Precisely on schedule, the first unit of soldiers entered the old city. The Women's Archery Brigade, led by Colonel Eresh, attracted enthusiastic cheers from the young fellows and misogynistic comments from older men. The archers wore their traditional brown tunics (they never wore armour) with quivers slung over their backs.
Several hundred troops of the 17th Giant Regiment were next; leading ten bewildered giants, kept apart from each other for safety. The poor giants were bewildered and frightened by the unfamiliar crowds (for they usually only saw such numbers on the battlefield). They'd been heavily dosed with herbs to sedate them and stop them from becoming angry.
A modest detachment of elephants from the 156th mounted cavalry followed the giants. They'd played no part in the recent conflict (arriving when it was all over) but influential friends at court had pulled strings on their behalf.
By far the greatest cheer of the morning was for the two hundred Dragon troopers and their four token dragons. Colonel Shulgi and three of his most trusted officers sat upon their mounts. The men were clad in the high necked, leather tunics and close fitting leather helmets that they wore in the field. Their boots and gauntlets were all made of that precious material, dragon skin. Now, Dwarf Dragons walk in a most peculiar fashion. Their legs are splayed and they move their front ones first, one at a time, with the rear limbs following. Their bellies and necks press close to the ground. Periodically they would lift their heads, on long necks, to gaze about them.
"We love you!" some shouted.
"Huzzah for the Dragon Corps," others suggested.
"Marry me Colonel," shouted an impetuous young woman, stood with her friends, before collapsing into a fit of giggles.
Even as the head of the parade reached the House of Correction (headquarters of the security police) the first VIPs were lined up outside the temple. Protocol normally dictated that the Saru would arrive last of all but, given his state of health, he needed help and duly arrived before his daughters. "The hall – it is empty – yes?" the Saru said, panting. He'd been forced to lie flat on his back during the flight and he'd proven difficult to lift up. His most trusted servants helped him from the flying carpet.
"Yes, Majesty," said the vizier. "We alone have the honour of seeing you take your place. The priests and staff will not be admitted until you are seated."
"Let me get my breath before I attempt the stairs," the king instructed them.
Some minutes later, the Saru safely installed below, Captain Zagesi of the Palace Guard stood on the flat roof of the temple, watching the skies. He was a last minute replacement as several other senior officers of the Palace Guard had been struck down with, what appeared to be, food poisoning. Zagesi and all six of his men were connected with a particular political faction.
"They're coming, sir," said a guardsman.
Zagesi peered at the sky, "Well, let's get this right, chaps."
The crowd of important guests below had waited patiently on the steps, by the main entrance. They watched as unit after unit marched past and arms ached from making regular salutes. Finally the great doors opened and they were invited to enter and take their seats. The Saru, in high, ceremonial headdress and white robe, sat on the dais upon a golden throne.
A little later, the King's daughters arrived. Unable to agree on anything much, as ever, the two ladies entered the main hall by different staircases. They went to take their places in the huge, wooden pews that lined the chamber. Princess Katilu looked startled (and a little alarmed) as she saw potentially hostile faces immediately behind her. Staring hard, she noted several of her key supporters sat much further back. Soon, the priests began the ritual sacrifices.
The cheers that announced the arrival of the Dragon Corps could be heard, as the outer doors stood ajar. Due to the narrowness of the approach, the dragons had to walk in single file. Some wondered if the close proximity of the crowd spooked them, for each dragon suddenly halted and refused to move. Each beast seemingly took its lead from the one in front. "Don't worry," Colonel Shulgi called out, "they've just gone shy." Despite the riders' best efforts though, the recalcitrant dragons refused to move. Experienced dragon troopers, of course, might have been surprised at the way they were being handled.
The ceremony inside the temple wasn't particularly long, being no more than thirty minutes. The great songs of praise were kept short in consideration of the Saru's condition. After all, he'd expressed his intention to make a very important announcement (and he wasn't a patient man). After a prayer and a hymn to 'all the powers and imperial monarchs of the heavens' the ceremonial cup was brought reverently, by the High Priest, to the Saru. He raised the vessel and drank deeply, being expected to drain it, as tradition demanded.
The High Priest then stood in front of his congregation and gave a prayer of thanks for being blessed with such a 'wise and benevolent ruler as Habil-Luxi". He said it without betraying a single twinge of irony. Even as he finished, the Saru's head nodded and he slumped forward in the throne. Most of the congregation hadn't noticed but Jadis was already out of her pew, surrounded by a handful of her supporters. "My father," she gasped, stepping forward. "Keep everyone back," she instructed her followers.
Princess Katilu had started up too, but disliked the look on the faces of Jadis' people. She glanced down the hall for her own supporters, in vain. Several tried to rise but found themselves blocked by hostile neighbours. "What's going on?" Katilu demanded.
"Father, oh father, are you ill?" Jadis said, bent over the old man. He was thus out of sight from the pews. "Fetch a doctor!"
A chorus of mutters and sighs spread through the onlookers but nobody came forward. Common or garden doctors weren't considered important enough to be admitted on such an occasion. The Sukkallumwent over to the throne, joining the Princess Jadis. "Majesty – what did you say?" he asked, loudly.
"I think he's dying," said Jadis, dramatically, turning to face the crowd.
"What is this charade?" Katilu demanded, now clear of the seats but prevented from approaching her father. Unnoticed by anyone, a servitor slipped out of the main doors.
"Have some respect, sister," Jadis demanded, "Father is… seriously ill!"
"Sire, what did you say?" The Sukkallumpersisted. "Say it again, I beg you!"
"What is this?" Katilu was white with rage and her hands were shaking.
"Ah!" The Sukkallumcraned about to appeal to the front rows, "You heard that. His Majesty names the Princess Jadis as his successor; future Queen of Charn."
"This – is – an – outrage!" Katilu stressed.
"Father – speak to me – don't leave us!" Jadis, at her most theatrical, once again craned over the old man.
Several of Katilu's supporters had now managed to join her, but they looked frightened rather than brave. They edged away from the pews. All heads suddenly turned as the great doors at the back were thrust wide apart. Soldiers of the Dragon Corps began to pour into the temple, headed by Colonel Shulgi. Some few worshippers made frightened noises but the rest went silent. The troopers began to line up right along the back wall.
"He's gone!" Jadis proclaimed. She stood at the front, "A great man – greatest of all the Sarus of Charn – has left us." Perhaps she was foolish, taking her eyes off her sister. Maybe she was overconfident. Probably it was the sheer excitement of finally getting what she wanted. She was about to continue her address when Katilu bolted. There was a flash that blinded everyone for several crucial seconds. Both princesses were highly skilled in magic, although Katilu generally preferred potions to spells. Even as blinking subsided and dark shapes began to revert to their proper form, Katilu and several others disappeared through the door of the east tower. "Stop them," Jadis screeched, "stop the traitor Katilu!"
Captain Zagesi of the Palace Guard ensured that the eastern tower door had remained unlocked (contrary to standing orders). Even as his mistress and her supporters pushed passed him, Zagesi and his men readied themselves to fight. They finally locked the door and were ready for death. There was no way out for them but they could buy the Princess enough time to, hopefully, escape by flying carpet. "Why is this door locked?" the Sukkallum demanded, testing the portal to the other tower. Katilu's security arrangements hadn't been sufficient to thwart Jadis, but they would at least save her life, for the time being. Zagesi had ensured the other door was jammed from the inside.
Katilu did indeed escape, to raise an army. Thus began the final war on the bloody world of Charn. It was a civil war that pitted father against son, mother against daughter, sister against sister. Both the war and Charn itself would end in the heart of the old city where Jadis committed the ultimate evil, speaking the Deplorable Word. There, I think, we will leave this terrible place, for now.
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The end
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Glossary
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Mist-geard: Trans. Mist + enclosure, region, hedge, fence, dwelling (Old English)
Ninggina: Truth or justice (Sumerian)
Saggasu: Murderer or destroyer (Akkadian)
Hall of Images: See CS Lewis 'The Magician's Nephew'
Lughal: Similar to ancient Sumerian Lugal 'great man'
Azag: Serpent (Sumerian)
Sukkallum: Vizier (Sumerian)
Ngissu: Shadow (Sumerian)
Lirum: Strong, athletic (Sumerian)
Ab: River (Sumerian)
An-za-kari: Like Anzakar 'round, high tower' (Sumerian)
Digir (or Dingir) God or goddess (Sumerian)
Saru: Similar to the Akkadian 'Sarru' meaning King
Zi-Dig: Similar to the Sumerian 'zi dug' meaning to tell the truth
An-za-kari: Like Anzakar 'round, high tower' [Sumerian]
Hara: Rascal, ruffian [Sumerian]
Ki-ertu: Literal translation 'the underworld' meaning the place of mortals not Gods
Winter King: For more see my short story Jadis & The Halls of the Winter King
Deplorable word: For more see my short story Jadis & The Deplorable Word