Page 31 of Elvenbred

Triana sipped her tea, as Nora cooked a slice for herself and popped it into her mouth. “Good king.” She licked her fingers.

She cut a few slices in quick succession, and laid them out in the row, before pointing at them with her little knife.

“Next, these are the lords by birth, all with birth pedigrees going back enough generations to qualify for the city. Standards vary, as some have had their hereditary families wiped out … lords also have to be good at magic, very good, and more than a few died fighting when the cities warred. Now, we are too busy fighting the Predators outside to bother with going to war with each other.” She slid two wafers onto Triana’s plate, including one doped with the green sauce.

“Try it.” Nora said. “It’s said to be good for the infrenzia you had. Opens up all the breathing passages.”

If that’s not a dare, then I’ve never heard one. Triana took a deep breath, and slid the wafer off the plate and into her mouth. Things were fine, no problem with the heat … for about three heartbeats … then it felt like she had swallowed a solid ball of dragonfire. She inhaled involuntarily, carrying the pestilent stuff into her lungs. She coughed and wheezed, trying to expel it. Nora slid her a large carafe of water, which she gratefully drank.

“What the …” Triana started.

“Language …” Nora inserted helpfully.

“… was that?” Triana finally wheezed out. Her eyes still firmly shut and tears leaking out.

Nora passed her a paper handkerchief, and Triana blew her nose. After her bout with that illness she was very familiar with those paper handkerchiefs now. Harsh on the nose, but preferable to blowing your nose into the same soggy square of fabric over and over.

“Erdivin will never tell,” Nora answered. “It truly is good for several illnesses. There is hornroot in there that cuts the heat. I do know that. Otherwise, without the hornroot, it can blister.”

Triana had no idea whether to take that seriously.

Nora continued with her explanation, while Triana recovered from the dragonfire sauce. “After the birth lords come the technical lords. Less powerful, less magic, less family, but with some unique skill with things and contrivances. Anything mechanical or nonmagical. Could be the lifts that carry things to the upper floors. Could be Machinas that do most of the fighting when the Predators attack. The title goes with the job. Serve at the king’s pleasure. King can’t take a birth lord’s title … that came from the parents. But he can take a technical lord’s title at any time … for any reason.”

She leaned towards Triana, glancing around, ready to share a confidence. Triana leaned in as well. Nora lowered her voice. “I heard a rumor that the king removed his chief farmer. Just gave him the boot. Just like that. lord no more, and back to weeding the gardens for his ration.”

As gossip went, Triana found it rather tame stuff. She was hoping for some kind of skulduggery, knavery, or even garden-variety bed hopping, ideally topped off with a duel. Nora’s city, she concluded, was more than a little dull, if that constituted juicy gossip. She realized she missed a bit of what Nora had said.

“… so, more title, more explaining. See?” Nora smiled at her. “You’ll want to be very careful before you dab your eyes, dear. Get any of that in there, and you will be crying it out for days.”

Triana got a fresh paper handkerchief. Her eyes had mostly stopped watering, but it still felt as though she had a hot coal lodged somewhere in her upper chest. Well, if feeling as if her lungs were on fire was “cleaning them out,” the stuff was doing a good job.

“Our birth lords make it a point of stressing the vast gulf between them and the lords technical. ‘Technically lords,’ as the wheeze goes …. Not really lords. The ever so not too subtle reminder to Haldeen that no matter what he does, how much success he has, he will never go any further than he has now.” She made a vague gesture, taking in the city around them. “How is it for you, and your ever so long titles?”

Triana definitely heard the note of bitterness in Nora’s voice. There was a story there, and a crack in the facade. Another crack. The school was the first. The packet Nora had passed to the woman, who was not thrilled to receive them. Something definitely going on there.

“Well,” Triana replied, testing her voice. “Lord Kyndrath.”

“Trill, dear,” Nora reminded her.

“You trill,” Triana replied. “My tongue is skiving scorched. Lord Kyndrath has the backing of much of the Council, and he can pressure, cajole, threaten, get Council backing, and freeze you out … but he can’t command, not like a king. He pushes the other Great Lords too hard … the rest of the Council will push back.” She paused, trying to explain the nuance with her limited vocabulary. “Don’t get me wrong. He wields real power, and while he can’t make me do anything I really don’t want to … but he can make me wish I had. But, it’s not the same as a king saying ‘Do this. Do that.’”

“Are you one of the Great Lords, sit on the Council?”

Triana shrugged. Something about the way Nora asked the question raised Triana’s guard. Nora was definitely fishing for something. Triana elected to toss out some bait and see what Nora nibbled on. “It’s complicated. Sometimes.”

Nora passed her another wafer, sans dragonfire. Triana held up a hand. “Please, no. I’m still recovering from the last one.”

“Are you a powerful lord?” asked Nora. “Armies, that sort of thing.”

Triana shrugged. Nora had gone straight to it, very little roundabout. “Not as such,” she answered. “There is a top tier of lords. The Ur’Lords, Kyndrath and most of the others, but not all. Call it a dozen maybe, who can raise a decent force off of their estates. Still, they don’t want to lose their troops, lose their ability to raise an army, so they draft from their … what’s the word … lesser lords … lords minor?”

“Vassals?” Nora offered.

“Yes, vessels,” Triana said.

Nora shook her head. “No. No, that’s a sea-going thing. Purse your lips a bit more, and linger on the third syllable. El’e-cur-VIL-ene. Like that. You’re still dropping the vowel sounds when they follow consonants.”

Triana dutifully repeated the drill until Nora was satisfied.