Speak No More

Speak No More

By K.P. Atchley

Young King Kabir took off his new crown and handed it to one of the many assistants walking with him from the throne room.

“That’s heavy,” he observed genially.

“Yes, your highness,” muttered the little toad walking next to him.

Kabir glanced at him briefly and raised his voice. “Pichai?”

“He will be here momentarily, your highness,” said the obsequious little man, bowing and making himself even shorter than he already was.

“Fine. Do I have any more public appearances?”

“Only the state dinner, your highness.”

A third voice joined their conversation. “There is time enough for you to visit the queen mother, milord.”

“Oh, hey, Pichai, thank you.”

“Mother?” Kabir said as he entered his mother’s rooms. The doors were closed behind him by the royal guards.

“In here, my son.”

She was seated on a soft couch and she opened her arms to him as he walked in. He gave her a hug and collapsed next to her.

“Are you tired?” she asked, a smile in her voice.

He grinned and glanced up at her. “A little yes. But I am looking forward to it.”

“As am I,” she said.

There was a knock on the door. “Come.”

To Kabir, she said, “I thought you might come. I asked for some mead and something to eat.”

“How did you know I would be hungry?” he marveled, and she laughed.

Ameesha, his mother’s old dresser, had brought in the food tray. She was now her all round general factotum. Her face might have been beautiful, but for the fact that her lips were fused together. Only a line denoted where they were. When Kabir had been quite young, he had asked his mother how Ameesha ate, and his mother had told him that she had a hole in her neck for food. He had been consumed by curiosity to see it, but without success.

And then one day, when he had been about ten, he had been playing in the small ballroom which had huge statues of winged mythical creatures. He had climbed onto the statue of a gryphon and had been about to fall off, when Ameesha, who had been searching for him, found him. She caught him, but staggered under her weight. He had caught hold of her dress and they both fell. The dress tore just a bit and he had seen the hole in her neck. But by then, he had been old enough to pretend that he had seen nothing.

Kabir turned to look at her. “Hi Ameesha. Did you come to the coronation?”

Abruptly, her face began to change. A mist covered it, and Ameesha let out a subvocal scream, the reverberations of which could be felt. The sense of power filled the air, as if a thunderstorm was about to erupt inside the cozy office of his mother. And just as suddenly, it all disappeared. To his utter shock, Ameesha’s face had completely changed. The line of her lips had become real lips.

She said, “Queen Nilofer, it is done.” The expression on her face was cruel, and Kabir’s heart sped up.

Ameesha said, “It seems the child is now safe from my machinations. You owe me, my queen, for all these years.”

The queen mother was pale, seated up, back straight, her face tight. “Ameesha, what do you want?”

“I want nothing,” she responded viciously. “You have got what you wanted, you and that accursed court advisor, Qurshee.”

“We only did what we had to do to protect the realm. If you had only …” her voice trailed away, and Kabir really looked at his mother. Did she look guilty, of all things?

“What is going on here?” he asked sharply.

“Oh, little boy, ask your mother,” said Ameesha, rude beyond measure.

Kabir, normally an easy going young man, felt red cross his gaze. “I am your king, and I will take your respect,” he said icily.

“My King,” Ameesha fell to her knees and said, “I am sorry, my King. There is nothing for me to say. Please give me leave to withdraw.”

“You may go,” Kabir said and they watched in silence as Ameesha stepped backwards to the door and exited.

“What was that all about?” he asked softly, yet with steel in his voice.

“Listen then, my son.”

Twenty three years prior, Queen Consort Nilofer stood up and began to dress. The court advisor, or magician by another name, Qurshee, stood up on the other side of the bed and clothed himself with a wave of his hand.

“Thank you.” They both spoke at the same time.

Nilofer let a small smile cross her face. “In this one thing, I suppose we are united.”

“In service to the realm, and to the king, yes.” Qurshee was a tall man, identical in almost all ways to his king, his brother, save one.

Nilofer left the room without any further comment, and walked down the silent corridors in the dark. She had lived in this palace for almost fourteen years, since she had turned fourteen. At the advanced age of twice fourteen, she was desperate to get with child. Would this be the answer?

A wave of dizziness overtook her, and she paused, leaning against the wall, breath coming hard. Someone was watching her. Nilofer closed her eyes to identify the source of her unease, but her magic was of the healing variety, ill suited to discovering if she had been followed and better suited to discovering if she had indeed quickened.

Joy suffused her. She had indeed quickened. She pulled the tendril of healing magic back into her heart, a smile breaking out on her sweating face. Again, that twinge of unease buffeted her. Magic-less, ordinary methods would have to do. She opened her eyes and looked around. At that hour of night, it was quiet. A single candle burned further down the corridor, barely enough to make out details of the space.

There was no one around, yet Nilofer knew she was being watched. She slowly continued her walk and finally entered her room through a hidden door. She went right into the King’s bedroom, where he awaited her, lying awake in bed, wasting away from some unknown disease.

“Is it done?” he asked, his voice soft, all of his hopes on his face.

“Yes, it is done,” she said. She smiled at him, and he gasped, his hope turning to joy.

“Are you … did it …” his voice trailed away as he coughed, still smiling.

“My king!” She quickly poured out a draught from the porcelain jug sitting on the nightstand. She crawled across the bed, and shoved a pillow gently under his head, holding it while letting him grasp the cup with shaking hands.

When he was done, he breathed slowly, but he still smiled. “Tell me, wife of mine, queen of the realm, are we to have a royal heir soon?”

Nilofer smiled. “I congratulate you, king of the realm, on your soon to be fatherhood.”

Queen Nilofer had taken over the king’s office when he had fallen ill almost two years prior. That day, she was reviewing a treaty with the neighboring land that was up for renewal. The court’s advisor was late. The desk before her was haphazardly full of parchment, the odd and rare book, an earring tree that had a chain, and a few rings on it. It was a rewards tree, that the king used to reward those who pleased him. Strange custom, but Nilofer had ceased to be surprised by it.

There was a knock. “Come.”

“You’re late,” Nilofer said, frowning at the parchment in her hand.

“I’m sorry, my queen. Here is your tea.”

“Oh, sorry Ameesha, I didn’t realize it was you. Thank you.” She accepted the tea and took a quick sip.

“I brought you some nettle leaf tea, my queen. I thought it would be good for you right now.”

Nilofer coughed, the sip going the wrong way. Gasping for breath, she put down the cup and stared at the woman in front of her. Dimly she registered the door to her office opening and closing silently, the court advisor, not doubt.

“Ameesha, what did you say?”

“You know what I said. You betrayed the king, with his brother, no less. What kind of harlot are you?”

Nilofer’s mouth opened and closed. For a moment, she couldn’t say anything. Then reason returned. “How dare you?”

Ameesha laughed and stared at her unabashedly. “Dare? You speak to me of daring? You are not fit to be our queen. This isn’t about me. It’s about you, and if you think I will be quiet, you are very much mistaken, you harlot. The next king or queen cannot be the court advisor’s bastard.”

Nilofer’s rage knew no bounds, but she was an old hand at dealing with things that did not go her way. Her whole life, practically nothing had gone her way. Practice made her swallow her ire and think logically.

“What do you want?”

“For what? To keep silent? Nothing. Because I will not keep silent.”

“The court advisor will be he here any moment. I was waiting for him to review this treaty,” Nilofer said softly. “Why would you think that the next king or queen would be his bastard?” It was always critical to get to know a blackmailer’s motivation. Sometimes, it didn’t do any good, but if she was to get past this, and make Ameesha powerless, Nilofer needed to know why.

“You can’t make a bastard the king,” Ameesha said in outrage. “Or queen.”

So the woman wasn’t necessarily objecting to the utilitarian relationship between herself and the court advisor, Nilofer thought. The woman was excited about the gossip that had landed in her hands.

“I will make you my lady in waiting. You will have assistants of your own,” Nilofer said. “Here.” She took the gold necklace on the earring tree and threw it to Ameesha, who caught it with a greedy look. Nilofer didn’t stop. “Here.” She pulled a ring with a large stone in it from the earring tree and tossed it to Ameesha. From the drawer in the desk, she grabbed and thew five gold coins.

“Happy?”

Ameesha had a smile on her face that had both joy and greed in it. Before she could gather her thoughts, Nilofer said, “There is more coming. But you will need to keep your own counsel and stay quiet. So, say one thing for me. Tell me that your lips are sealed.”

“My lips are sealed,” came the immediate response.

Nilofer wiggled her fingers, and Quershee strolled up, gesturing at Ameesha whose face was now covered by a black cloud. It dispersed slowly and where her lips had been, was now only a line with no opening.

“Mmmmmmmm,” she screamed.

“Your lips are sealed by your own words,” Nilofer said brutally. “Until the child is safe from your machinations, may your lips be sealed. If you think I will brook a threat to the safety of my child, you are an idiot.”

The End