Hollow Towers

story 4 with Jirus and Campbell.

Campbell stared through the window carved high in this tower.  He could not afford to wish.  The cruelty of peace was that he could not avoid reflection.  Whether the mirror or his mind, there was too much he didn’t recognize, too much he saw with a clearer eye now that all chances of making things right was behind him.  While the kingdom rejoiced old victories, he mourned the person he could have been.

“Tis high noon past, love,” came the timid voice at his shoulder.  “The court wishes you at one.”

“And what is it you wish, flutterby?”

His words were quiet, his voice as distant as his mind.  He still did not see the need for company, woman or man.  At best, Gila was a distraction.  More often than not, she was another tedium in a long list of annoyances.  Peace time for the kingdom, and what had it cost him?  Everything he’d never thought he needed. 

“To accompany you,” Gila said, averting her eyes. 

Campbell studied her, hands behind his back.  Her forest green gown complimented his grey tunic.  With her string of pearls and beaded bracelets, she had made herself ready to appear in court--if he allowed it.  Her braids coiled together, netting over the chocolate brown locks that reached nearly to her waist.  Campbell imagined Ksya and Catl could have held their own with each other, unafraid of what they might find in each other’s eyes. 

“You would go in my place?” Campbell asked, his quiet voice more distant than gentle.

“Never, my lord!” Gila’s words came only on a breath, her brows drawn up in surprise.  “I plead thy pardon if I have disrespected thee.  I only wish to offer--"

She faltered.  Campbell turned his gaze to the window once more.  The sky was a pure cobalt blue, seemingly infinite.   He must be careful not to show his impatience, or she would wilt and wallow even further. 

“My support, if you desire it?” Gila finished.  “If you would have it.”

If you would have me is what you really mean.  Campbell did not say this.  If she had asked him if he would have her, he was unsure his answer would be kind.  He was equally unsure what she would say, if he’d asked her the same.  Better to let arrangements have their place when feelings took up wasted space. 

“I will have the courts told I will have no long windedness,” Campbell said.  “Send my word I will be with them shortly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

She dipped her head and turned to go.  He watched her swish out of the room, the long train of her gown reminding him too much of the rolling hills, the endless fields, the lifetimes he had left behind when Catl had died.  Battle.  Bloodshed.  It had been a long time since he had seen red.  Jirus had nearly drawn him to that edge three weeks hence.  Campbell had no desire to be pulled, to be led like a mule as he once had been.  Your semya was always purer than mine, brother.  My face professes stoicism, yet my spirit is restless, and our Teacher knows it.  How did you"but Catl had not won against Jirus, unless death on one’s own terms was its own sort of triumphant reward.  Of that, as of many things, he was still unsure. 

The twisting flights of stairs and long halls gave him time enough to set his composure in stone.  When he reached the Reception Hall, Farmu greeted him with his usual hasty nod.  His attendant handed him an envelope, and Campbell raised his brow.  Was this urgent or could it wait?

“From Anyn,” Farmu explained.  “Sooner is better, but there is no need for alarum.”

“Might I summon him anyway,” Campbell said.  “Let him be ready, should I will it.”

He put the envelope in an inner pocket as Farmu opened the door for him.  Campbell entered the Hall from the back, mounting the seven steps to the platform where a pair of thrones faced the semi-circle of the Nine Seats of Ministry.  Only four of them were filled"the seats of Commerce, Medicine, Nutrition, and the Tribute.  He stood before them, feeling the weight of the silence.  Gila stepped to his side.  She had donned a veil that hid all of her face save her eyes, and Campbell was reminded that Jirus was not the only one who could hide in plain sight. 

The four bowed before them.  Gila turned to him and bent a knee.  He kissed her bent head and turned to take his seat.  She alighted on the throne beside him, reaching for his hand.  The court presented their news.  Most of it failed to hold his focus, but he was careful not to let his face betray his boredom. 

The light at the top of the world is blindingly bright, brother. 

Those who refuse to embrace it are those who are blind. 

You are true to follow the Empress, but have you ever considered the real reason you fight?

Because the light that is the highest is the light that shines the furthest.

Or so he had once believed.  Perhaps it was still true, but it wasn’t that simple anymore.  Perhaps it never had been.  Catl had given him a sidelong glance, but had said nothing more at the time.  Wisdom was not learned, it was earned by living.  Catl had foresight to aid him, while all Campbell could do was look behind.  So many warnings, so many signs.  Campbell forced the matter to the side of his mind, if not necessarily the back of it.  The Minister of Commerce was arguing with the Minister of Tributes.  The central market and trading system were nigh complete, but the High Artisans were resisting the push toward a more organized structure, claiming regulations would devalue their enterprise. 

“Competing guilds may be more troublesome than cooperative ones, but competition breeds honesty,” Campbell said interrupting their dialogue.  “There are too many false niceties when all are forced to agree.”

“Wise words, my Lord,” Vna said, always eager to speak.  “But is it wise to give in to the royal guilds whenever they whine about your rule?”

Campbell eyed him silently.  Vna clasped his hands in front of him, looking at a point just underneath Campbell’s chin, awaiting his reprimand.

“I have served the Empress from the age that a boy trains to be a man, and I have given the years in between then and now to serve her.  Do you really think the Royal Guilds would be so arrogant as to dishonor their Beloved Queen?”

Vna’s eyes lowered to the carpet, as black as coal and thicker than any oaths made in blood.  As Gila had spoken in little more than a hiss, he sank to his knees before her, touching his forehead to the floor, palms outstretched.  Vna found himself in this posture more often than not, when he attended the court.  Campbell had yet to suggest his removal, but the idea became more appealing as time went by.

“It is wise to let them speak,” Campbell said.  “I will meet with them in a full moon’s time.  Let them prepare their case, and I will hear it.”

Vna said nothing"he still lay prostrate himself before Gila, awaiting judgment or grace.  Mother Mercy, be not dead to me.  Campbell suppressed a shudder from surfacing, although his intestines still shivered ever so slightly.  Whether Vna got his just reward or was spared for a worse fate, Campbell did not care to stay and find out.  Gila pressed his hand, and he took his leave. 

The wheel of his thoughts turned toward a grave that he had not visited, outside his thoughts.  The day was bright enough to go out for a stroll, if he should please it"a day that would sing its praises to Catl, and shun Campbell’s own stupidity.   Jirus had riled him like he wanted, but it was a dead brother to whom his thoughts always turned, not a dead mother.  She would have mourned you, Catl.  Better that she was there to warm your bones and welcome you home.  As for himself, the life had become as purgatorial as Jirus’ existence in the dungeons. 

Campbell pulled the envelope from his pocket once he had returned to the tower where he kept his quarters.  What did the chief prison guard have to say that he would not show his face in court?  Anyn’s news was little out of the ordinary request for supplies and report that repentance worked well for rehabilitation.  Campbell noticed a faint smudge of ink on the bottom corner and turned the page over.  He was not surprised by the words written in Jirus’ hand, slanted and scattered to appear to be the ravings of a madman. 

You always saw better when you were low to the ground, my boy.  Come visit, and we’ll untangle these lies on which you’ve dined.  Supper is served at nine.  

Author's Note

haven't fully edited this one. might come back through later and clean it up. any and all advice/comments appreciated!