Interlude 17. The Lows And Highs Of Being Sultan
This... was a disaster. Somewhat predictable one, in retrospect. But... still... Just... HOW!?
Salaadin grasped his temples, rubbing at them in a futile attempt to stave off the headache borne out of poring over the documents and listening to testimonies. Horrifying bloodchilling testimonies. He grew alarmed over the lack of communications with Alamut. Even if the target was not easy, they should have reported SOMETHING by now? At the very worst, the failure to do anything meaningful, if no better news? Spurned by suspicions and worries, he had dispatched a loyal guard to survey and report on Alamut. Although it was not likely, he did not discount the possibility of betrayal. Old Man on the Mountain was a force in itself, and he could have decided his chances were better supporting the White Witch. What his guard discovered was so much worse, he could barely comprehend it.
Alamut was razed. The whole order slaughtered, shattered bodies piled high in a pile of rotting meat and crumbling bone, crowned with the head of Old Man himself, forever frozen in a rictus of horrified disbelief. What had the old bastard seen in his final moments to freeze this expression on his face? There were not many faces left of his underlings, whatever killed them had a distinct preference for biting into skulls, but the few that could be recovered reasonably intact had similar expressions of disbelief, horror, and dare he say this... madness. It was this last trait that gave him the certainty that Alamut was visited by White Witch in person. He shuddered, thinking back to the ill-conceived kidnapping of the Champagne princess. White Witch came right into his palace to retrieve her. Walked through the guards like they were not there. Took the princess back. Took his wife. Took his daughter. Left behind several corpses and a full courtyard of men and women all driven to gibbering lunacy.
His surviving sages examined the lunatics in detail. Interviewed them. Nearly joined them in insanity. He thought about putting them all to the sword for the safety of the rest of the court, but in the end, he changed his mind. Mainly due to the fact that putting them to sword required someone wielding the sword to begin with, which was a complicated affair with bees enforcing the disarmament. His final decision was to exile all of them to the remote campus out of city bounds and assign a guard to make sure they wouldn't leave. So far, the colony of lunatics had proved themselves to be remarkably low-maintenance. Everyone, including several formerly high-ranked nobles, had joined hands, planted crops, cut timber under the supervision of guards and even assisted the guards themselves by erecting a couple of basic guardhouses for them to inhabit at the most common workplaces. But then, the commune requested paints and inks. He saw no reason to object at first, but when he saw the results, he grew horrified. Everyone, every single person, man, woman, noble, commoner... All of them found some specific art they were good at and proceeded to create the most singularly creepy paintings, carvings, statuettes, tapestries, beadworks, jewelry and even flowerbeds he ever had the misfortune of seeing. Tentacles and stars seemed to be a prevalent theme in all of them, a surprising majority also including the feminine figure... Or part of thereof, conjoined with tentacles in some way. Or more disturbingly, conjoined with stars. He still could not get that damn enchantment out of his mind. A simple stone slab, no more than that, but after a day in daylight, it would project an illusion all night. A collection of incandescent spheres swirling around each other, never holding a shape and yet nonetheless inspiring the image of a statuesque woman in mind. Most disturbing artwork, and yet for some reason so alluring he could not bear the idea of parting with it, no matter how horrible it was to his perceptions.
The conclusion his sages eventually reached was as disturbing as it was implausible. Yet, it matched the old legends with unwelcome precision. Salaadin's people never interacted with elves much, but his sages nonetheless possessed fairly comprehensive records of elven mythology. However, that was the end point of the journey. The start lied with imps. He snorted at the thought. Salaadin rarely paid attention to the imps, given that they were a race of women and therefore naturally subservient in his mind. Yet, they had extensive mythology, and one of the figures they referred in hushed whispers to as "Star Horror" seemed to match White Witch well. A powerful being, capable of magic beyond mortal comprehension or scope, quick to anger and slow to forgive, inspiring insanity with the mere appearance... Worse yet, while there were several distinct myths involving Star Horror, none spoke of fending one off. No heroes nor sages nor tricksters. No sword nor spell nor cunning. Dragons were described as mere food to one. The best his sages could offer is that the Star Horror could be pacified with appropriate sacrifice. Maidens were mentioned, but never alone. Apparently, those beings were not satisfied with just womanflesh. No, they also demanded tribute. Lands. Castles. Gold.
Well, at least the maidens were already covered... He had very complicated feelings on the matter. Why did White Witch take only one of his wives? His terrified harem readily regaled him with the tales of monster in gleaming plate, taller than his best warriors by half, wielding the hammer... and yet keenly intelligent one, capable of healing magic. Was it the true form of the witch herself or a demon she summoned to do her bidding? If second, then... Well. Hardly any demons his sages knew of were capable of healing. To be able to summon something so capable... If first, then the theory of White Witch truly being the Star Horror imps whispered about gained ground. Maybe that girl was taken because she asked to be taken, though. His wives were adamant krainian captive he never had the time to properly tame asked of the invader to be taken along. He did not like to ruminate on that point much, because the conclusion that HE was the less desirable option than submitting to demon rankled his ego something fierce. No one knew how did Rafiqa end up being taken, however. Her rooms were not in disarray, implying she left out of her own will or was taken from somewhere outside the rooms. A lot of jewelry belonging to her was missing, the kind that could be easily stuffed into a sack. Could it be that Rafiqa also asked to be taken? On one hand, she was the princess of the Sultanate, and treated as such. Best clothes, best food, best adornments, best soaps, best entertainment. She lacked for nothing... Nothing but freedom, that is. Salaadin was no fool. He knew that Rafiqa chafed in her role, that she did not want to be married to one of his beys, as befits of a princess. But did she loathe the idea enough to ask to be spirited away from her home?
His remaining spies and diplomats in Champagne had brought to him some encouraging news on that front. It seemed that Rafiqa was treated with the same courtesies as afforded to foreign royals in Champagne, at the very least. She was given a room in the Academy, next door to the prince of Kraut at that. His people reported to him that the chambers proffered to his daughter were indeed one of the suits reserved for highest nobility attending, so at least in that, proprieties were observed. She was still treated as a princess. Granted, he did not approve of her educating herself in overly libertine ways of northern women, but being treated as a highborn hostage was honestly better than pretty much any other fate he could think about, barring her safe return home. That krainian girl, what's her name... Roxolane? Lost cause, he wouldn't miss her much. A slave taken from her family and sold to him for her beauty, a nice gesture but he really had no time to properly mold her into an acceptable mindset, not with her rebellious nature. Perhaps, if Abbas did not arouse the anger of eldritch abomination masquerading as a woman, he could have devoted the necessary time and effort to it, but as it were, he was far too busy to tame the wily woman. Good riddance, then. His spies did report that princess Lily-Anne herself was a lover of White Witch, so he could understand the extreme prejudice in storming his palace. The fact that Roxolane also elected to become a lover of a woman instead of his wife rankled a little, but if that's where her tastes truly lie, he honestly wouldn't miss her in the harem. Salaadin had women of women in his harem before, and he was not happy with the results. Even broken, they were displeasing in bed and sullen in manner. Disappointing to the last. He resolved the situation by sending them out to the imp communes, as was the usual custom to do with wives that grew too old or too infirm to serve well.
Anyway, the truly interesting point was that by all indications, Rafiqa was not pressed into this parody of harem White Witch seemed to gather. Truth to say, he was a little bit curious as to how such a disparate harem would even function. A princess, an elf, a maid and a foreigner... To him, the whole mess looked like a house fire in slow motion. The squabbles between them must be legendary. So... why Rafiqa was excluded? Was it a slight against him, or was White Witch honoring Rafiqa's silly desires of finding a husband on her own? And if second, than why would she do something so outlandish? Whenever he tried to think of the motivations and reasons for the things witch did, his common sense felt like a dog padding the quicksand.
Still... The legends of Star Horror helped his sages find the commonality in the elven mythos. But what they found was, at best, a mixed blessing. Elves had their own name for such beings. Tools of Gods. Ominous, that. Did Abbas really go against the gods themselves with his tantrum? Was one maid's chastity THAT important that divines themselves moved to punish Sultanate? Or was it simply due to the maid belonging to the Star Horror? Legends did say the beings were more than a little possessive of those who could withstand their presence with sanity intact, after all. On the plus side, elven legends were pretty clear on the topic of sacrifices. Tools of Gods claimed lands. Yes. Tools of Gods did NOT destroy lands, however. Rather, they built up the lands they claimed. Erected castles, paved roads, raised towns. Drained swamps, irrigated deserts, tamed the storms and cajoled the rains. Honestly, if it was not for the initial hostilities, he would not be averse to ceding some lands to the White Witch, if she truly wanted them to multiply the prosperity. The problem was, however, that the lands he would prefer to cede would be mostly within the domains overseen by Mustafa and Kemal. The deserts. And that would not work well, as the primary offender was Abbas. And the lands Abbas oversaw were... well.
Technically speaking, Thousand Isles were perhaps the most convenient land to cede to Champaigne noble, or rather the abomination masquerading as one. Salaadin had the nasty suspicion, however, that White Witch would not settle for just a few of the isles. She would demand a significant part of them at the very least. Probably all of them. And with Champagne fully allied with her due to Abbas being a rash moron, there was preciously little Salaadin could do in return, now that Alamut was taken off the board for the foreseeable future. With that unfortunate conclusion in mind, he was currently awaiting one person that would be embroiled in the middle of it all. One person whom, honestly speaking, Salaadin counted as his closest friend, as far as Sultan could have friends. Vizier of Thousand Isles, Nazrudeen al-Hoja.
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His friend was... an old man, Salaadin thought with a wince as he saw Nazrudeen laboriously kneel and put his forehead against the floor in supplication.
"Sayidi kayf yumkin lhdha alshakhs altaafuh'ana yakhdumak?1 My lord, how can this insignificant serve you?" - Nazrudeen gave the formal address, making Salaadin wince again.
"Qum, ya eabdi almukhalas.2 Rise, my faithful servant." - he offered a formal reply, irritably gesturing to the servants to bring the chair in quickly. No reason to make the old man struggle with his ailing knees any more than strictly necessary.
Nazrudeen settled down into the chair with a thankful sigh. "Shukri raby. Rakbati laysat mithl'ams. Ma hi aradtuk?3 My thanks, my lord. My knees are not the same as yesterday. What is your will?" - he inquired.
"How's your Albish, Nazrudeen?" - Salaadin inquired in return.
Blinking in surprise, Nazrudeen fumbled for the answer. "I dare hope I remain suitably fluent, oh my lord. If that is what you ask, then my humble ability with the northern speak might be of use in near future?" - he finally retorted.
"Unfortunately. So I shall oblige you with a little practice, old friend." - Salaadin admitted grimly - "I will be frank with you. My fool of a son had angered something beyond mortal ken, and I am with my back against the wall. As you well know, the curse prevents anyone from bearing arms or casting magic, and sages failed to proffer any counterspell that would aid. Alamut had been razed, Old Man on the Mountain slain along with all his disciples. All signs indicate that the being in question is something imps call Star Horror and elves call Tool of Gods. Ominous names, as you can well see. At this juncture, I fear it is not long before I am forced to cede Thousand Isles to save the rest of the Sultanate. You understand what it means for you, Nazrudeen."
"It means that I am to be surrendered with the isles, I believe." - Nazrudeen proffered slowly - "His eminence Abbas will not permit me to retreat with him, if such a calamity comes to us. My lord, do you believe that this White Witch will seek to punish me for his transgressions?"
"I honestly do not know, Nazrudeen." - sultan retorted - "According to the reports of my ambassador, Rafiqa had been treated with all the due respect northerners accord to visiting royalty, her accommodations being the same as furnished to the first prince of Kraut. So, maybe not. On the other hand, the wife that was taken ended up in the harem of White Witch, so... I have my doubts White Witch will add you to her harem, old friend, but there is no indication as to how you would be treated in such a circumstance."
"I understand, my lord." - Nazrudeen offered with a slight smile - "I shall endeavor to meet my fate with as much dignity as I can muster. In the event I am not executed or exiled or dismissed from service, what would you order me to do, my lord?"
"If sages are not mistaken, Tool of Gods takes lands to improve their prosperity, as preposterous as it sounds." - Salaadin offered with a shrug - "If this comes to be, then you are to aid her in making isles prosperous to be the best of your ability... with regards to your health, old friend. Be useful, but do not burn yourself out for her sake. If she proves herself to be more brutal than legends claim, then do your best to aid the beys in leaving the islands. If needs be, we shall offer enslaved imps in exchange. In any case, be on the lookout for any information you can glean about the curse and send the word back as soon as it is safe to do so. Do not take undue risks, if you retain your post as vizier, as I am unlikely to place another loyal man in such a lofty position under her."
"Regarding the curse, my lord." - Nazrudeen piped up suddenly - "I believe I have some interesting information for you already."
"Well, don't keep me waiting." - Salaadin perked up - "What have you found?"
"One of the commoners discovered a peculiar habit of husks, my lord." - Nazrudeen hurried to report - "It appears that they could be cajoled into performing simple tasks. The commoner in question grew irritated at the husk blocking her way to the well and in a fit of pique, thrust the pot into husk's arms and told it to make itself useful. It started following her and mimicking her actions as a result. Once she gathered her wits, she proceeded with filling up the pot at the well and emptying it into the household basin, and the husk repeated her actions. Then it proceeded to run back to the spring and fetch another pot of water. It appears that if the husks are given a tool, they could be lured into a simple routine which they will repeat mindlessly until someone takes the tool away or until something changes the routine. For example, the water-toting husk had stopped once the basin was too full of water to pour in more and waited with the pot in hands until enough water drained to empty it. I have tentatively given permission to entice the husks into carrying water and firewood, for now, but it appears that they could be also successfully trained into plowing the field or plucking weeds."
Salaadin cocked his head. "So.. what you are telling me is that the husks, in addition to doing the guard duty, are also good for simple labor?" - he repeated.
"In a way, my lord. There are certain differences. One being that husks engaged in a task never stop guarding. One of them was observed dropping the bundle of firewood, running in to subdue the sand jackal, then returning to the task at hand once the beast had its neck wrung. Another difference is that husks don't eat, don't sleep, don't tire and don't stop." - Nazrudeen explained.
"...Ghahahaha!... That witch. That crafty evil abominable witch!..." - Salaadin chortled - "Prosperity, my ass! It was at our hands the whole time!... Gods damn it, I hate being duped like this, but... write this up, Nazrudeen, and tell your laborers to try all sorts of tasks with husks. We need to know what labors are they good for. There are dozens of those shambling around each village, if all of them could be put to work, the last dahkan out there would live like a bey."