Demon Child Ch. 20

There was a call that Jhar'drakon had perished defending his Aga Khan, and that it was an honorable death.

Aylanna stood next to the high priestess, watching in fascination. All formal order was gone, the Khan Lann were speaking and listening in turn without standing or sitting. The mood of the room was a vaguely amusing mix of embarrassment and relief. The Khan Lann of House Adamant still held his scimitar, but his arm was limp, the weapon dangling at his side. His expression was so bewildered that Aylanna approached him, gently guiding the sword back into the sheath. She found herself smiling again, "Do not despair, my friend. You are one man among many. Your story is not far different from theirs. They will not judge you, lest they judge themselves."

He seemed to shake himself again, as if he were wet or perhaps asleep and trying to wake from a disturbing dream. His voice was strangely subdued. "House Adamant withdraws the question of who killed the Aga Khan from the floor of the council."

Another Khan Lann who had been seated stood and protested. "I believe the girl is right, the Aga Khan was poisoned and I believe the blame should be laid at the wizard's feet." He looked around the room, "Is there any that wish to argue that point?"

The few council members that remained standing began to move to their chairs and the high priestess took Aylanna's hand. "I thank you for that. They were all so busy hiding their own guilt that they could not function as a unit. I do not understand how you managed it but you have restored the council. Now please, leave the circle. I have a few things to say and your presence is a distraction." The old woman paused, "But do not go far. You and I have many things to discuss." Her smile softened the chill of foreboding that sent a shiver up Aylanna's back.

The high priestess raised her arms up. Her voice low but penetrating, "The sun sinks to the horizon. The time draws nigh to carry the remains of our Aga Khan to his funeral pyre. The people of the city are already assembling upon the parade grounds. The songs of mourning rise up to the sky. Come, it is only fitting that the council itself should bear his body to its last resting place."

There was the usual jockeying for position but Kah'matlah was not among the Khan Lann that lifted up the bier. Aylanna stared about, wondering where the old politician had disappeared to.

Jhardron walked near the rear of the procession and she naturally fell in beside him, covertly glancing up at him in an effort to discern his reactions to this last series of revelations, but his expression was stoic and his heart closed.

The wide grassy field that lay between the edifice of the court and the tall red pyramid of temple was once again a sea of humanity. The song that they sung was a low, throbbing hymn that seemed to have no words, just a monotonous hum of sadness, but Aylanna did not sense that many of the singers around her felt particularly sad. The mound of firewood was huge, far more than was required but she assumed that perhaps the larger the blaze, the more quickly the spirit of the Aga Khan would be sent upon its way.

The witnesses that spoke were innumerable but their words were short and strangely meaningless. The Aga Khan's bravery, loyalty, sense of duty and many other things were cited over and over but in many ways Aylanna was sure that no one truly mourned his loss. When all was done and said, not one thing that anyone had to say resonated in her memory. She felt a pang of sadness that in the end the Aga Khan had left little behind but relief that he was finally gone.

She was right in assuming that the flames would be large. They seemed to reach almost to the sky. The heat was so intense that the front rows of the crowd had to move back. The tone of the song changed, the sadness slowly transforming to a farewell and in some ways a hopeful tone, as if they people were wishing the spirit of their leader good luck or happy travels. As the fire began to burn down, turning to a wide sea of glowing coals, there was more movement, people wandering about, exchanging greetings and talk in low voices. More than once Aylanna over heard speculation as to the actions of the Grand Council, questions as to whether there was a new Aga Khan to be chosen or if it would come to war between the houses as in the past.

Jhardron stood still, ignoring more than one person that tried to engage him in conversation and Aylanna made sure to stay close by his side. No one tried to speak to her, and she knew her appearance was a matter of curiosity. She was lost in her own thoughts when she sensed him tense and she looked up in surprise as Kah'matlah and Jha'hamatla began doing something near the edge of the fire. The head of House Broke Spear began speaking, his voice carrying out across the crowd. It took a minute for his words to register in her hearing.

"...dying words of the Aga Khan. House Broken Spear chooses to honor those words."

There was a buzz of whispers and murmurs as the people around them tried to catch up. Aylanna heard someone speak sharply, "It is about the son of the Aga Khan. You know, the one that the rumors were about, now quiet, fool. I am trying to hear."

Kah'matlah continued, "House Broken Spear wishes to state clearly and unequivocally that Jhardron Khan Bak Tai Twisted Dagger is the son of the Aga Khan born in secret and adopted by the Aga Khan's closest friend and confidant, Jhar'drakon. House Broken Spear is grateful to House Twisted Dagger for providing a home and shelter to the child of the Aga Khan." His eyes sought out the form of Jhardron and beckoned him forward. And as Jhardron reluctantly moved to stand at his side, Aylanna following along like a shadow. Her eyes widened when she recognized that a branding iron glowing red hot was lying in the coals of the Aga Khans funeral pyre.

The Khan of House Broken Spear lowered his voice. "Please listen to my words. I have no desire for you to renounce your loyalty to House Twisted Dagger. Yet, I do wish for you to demonstrate your loyalty to House Broken Spear as well. I propose that you carry the mark of two houses upon your arm, that you swear loyalty equally between the houses. It is not unheard of. Your uncle knows of this plan and approves. It would honor both your fathers."

When Jhardron curtly nodded his agreement, Kah'matlah raised his voice, shouting out to the crowd, "House Broken Spear and House Twisted Dagger have reached an agreement. Jhardron will carry the mark of both houses upon his arm. He is and will always be a son of both our houses." He turned to Jhardron, his voice still ringing out, "Do you Jhardron swear to honor both your fathers, swear equal loyalty to two houses, a man not between but of two houses, a link and a symbol of the bond between the Houses Broken Spear and Twisted Dagger?"

For the first time Jhardron spoke, "I swear."

Jha'hamatla took a firm grip upon Jhardron's arm and held it out and Kah'matlah lifted the iron from the fire and pressed the heated end against flesh of his arm. Jhardron did not appear to notice. His eyes were upon the sky. The crowd went wild, shouts of, "Aga Khan! Aga Khan! Aga Khan!" began to spread across the field.

Aylanna felt both elation and a sinking of her heart. Kah'matlah and Jha'hamatla had performed an artful coupe. They had managed, without the council's approval, to present their candidate to the populace. Jhardron was already the Aga Khan in the eyes of the people, whether the council was in agreement or not, whether he wished for it or not.

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Thank you for taking the time to read this story. Please take the time to rate it and if the spirit moves you, leave me some feedback. I know I am being frustratingly slow in writing and posting more chapters. I too love this story and have every intention of finishing it. Unfortunately I love all the other projects I am working on and I so sadly lack focus.

I am between editors so if you find any errors; spelling, grammatical or mechanical... bear with me. I do my best but I really don't have an editor's eye for my own writing. If you find you cannot resist letting me know about my errors, be ready for me to respond to your criticism by asking you to help me edit.