Brothers and Sisters

"It's just a quick stop at the dressmaker's, Temmy, and then we'll go for a little stroll." That's what Ellika had said, but he'd ended up lounging around for a good hour and a half, desperately bored and drinking quarts of tea while Ellika tried on her new dress, twittered to the dressmakers about accessories, and pawed through the bolts of fine muslin and silk for the next new dress, which she'd undoubtedly need sooner than later.

But now they were out in the fresh spring air, walking arm in arm along the Promenade near the Temple District. "Now," said Ellika, "I want you to look at the young men as we pass by. Notice anything?"

Temmin scanned the faces of the passing walkers, who all kept a respectful distance but bowed and curtsied as the siblings passed. "Ehm, what am I looking for?"

"It's what you're not looking for. Oh, I'll just tell you! The young men are all trimming their beards to look like you--mustaches and sideburns and no chin whiskers!" And sure enough, as he looked around, he saw that it was true. Every third man under the age of 30 had trimmed his beard to look like Temmin's, unintentional though it was. "Isn't it hilarious?" giggled Ellika. "They're calling it the 'Prince.'"

"And here I only shave it to keep it from looking scraggly until it fills in more," he said, stroking his smooth chin. "Perhaps I'll just keep shaving it for now, though the idea of being copied like this is a little disconcerting. Maybe I'll just shave it all off."

"And look 12 years old?" said Ellika, twirling her parasol. "I don't think so. Now. Tomorrow. Don't give me that look, Temmy, we both know you're going. Allis asked me to make sure you'd know what to do."

"What do I do, darling sister?" said Temmin in a world-weary voice.

"Stop acting like it's your execution, for starters. This is a serious occasion, but also a joyful one. Jenks is already working on your ensemble, you're going to look magnificent. It's a simple thing, really. You just walk up the steps of the Temple, genuflect before the High Lover and High Beloved, and give Allis and Issak a kiss. On the lips, none of this tapping cheeks stuff."

Out of the corner of his eye, Temmin saw a commotion, a rather active one. He quickly put himself between his sister and whatever it was--"What on earth, Temmy!" she said as he knocked her parasol out of the way. Now that he could see, a small squad of plainclothes guards were restraining a man in workman's clothes; he didn't seem to be throwing any punches, but he was struggling valiantly to get free.

"Prince Temmin!" he cried as he fought off the guards, "save your people! Your highness, you must listen!"

"We must go now, your highness," said an urgent voice at Temmin's elbow. He turned to find a captain of the palace guard. "Prince Temmin, now, sir." The captain hustled both Temmin and Ellika into the suddenly waiting carriage, and they were off to the Keep before Temmin quite understood what was happening.

"Where did those men, those guards come from?" said Temmin. He watched wide-eyed through the back window as the protesting man was thrown to the ground and beaten senseless. "Who was that man? What did he mean?"

"I haven't the foggiest," said Ellika. She stayed facing front, but her usually sunny face was pale and clouded.

Dinner didn't seem like the right time to bring the beaten man up with his father, especially since Queen Ansella had rejoined them, walking in on Harsin's arm. The King seemed openly solicitous and caring of his wife, thought their son; you'd hardly have known they each had lovers. Ansella looked tired, her face pinched and a little sallow, but she smiled at her children and made small talk round the table. Temmin was surprised at how easy the dinner felt, even with all the tensions that must have been running through everyone. He even managed thirds.

After dinner, as the rest of the family drifted off in various directions, Temmin put his hand on his father's arm. "Sir--Papa, might I have some of your time this evening?"

Harsin stopped in mid-stride, surprised. "Yes, of course, Temmin." He looked down at his son, but not as far down as perhaps he'd expected to; Temmin was within three inches of his height now, essentially eye-to-eye. "It's overdue. We should spend more evenings together. I'm still not used to having you at the Keep, I'm sorry. Come, have a glass with me."

They walked silently up to the family's floor, taking the stairs opposite the children's wing. Harsin ushered Temmin into his study. "I heard what happened on the Promenade today."

"Yes," said Temmin, relieved he didn't have to bring it up himself. "I don't understand any of it--who that man was, what he wanted to talk to me about, and where all the guards came from."

"Oh, Temmin, they were following you. At a discreet distance, but I'm surprised you didn't notice them. Your military training can't come too soon if you're that unobservant. None of us can go out without an escort, surely you realize that," said his father, pouring out two snifters of Far Isles apple brandy.

"I did at Whithorse."

"At Whithorse you rarely left the grounds, and you were surrounded by people who loved you. Any one of the staff at Whithorse would have died for you and your sisters. That's why they were there. The staff at the Keep are just as loyal, but they're not with you once you leave the Keep. The guards go with you when you leave."

"All right, I'm not arguing," said Temmin, accepting the snifter. "I just don't understand why. Who would want to hurt us?"

"Anarchists. Trade unionists. War protesters. Southern independence terrorists. My brothers' assassins."

"You don't have any brothers."

Harsin smiled slightly. "I am the youngest of four brothers, Temmin. And the only legitimate one."

"So grandfather...well." Temmin sat down in one of his father's red leather wing chairs before the little fire burning in the grate. His jaw tightened and he looked up at his handsome father. "Tell me, then," he said quietly. "How many unknown brothers do I have?" At his father's stern look, he said, "Sedra and Ellika and I had a very thorough discussion of things yesterday. I know about Mama and Ibbit, and I know about you and your mistresses, though I have no idea who they are. How much do you take after your own father? How many children have you scattered over the landscape?"

Harsin tried staring him down, but soon discovered Temmin had no intention of backing down. "Ah," he said sadly. "There's no point my denying it. I'm sorry you found out that way."

"How should I have found out?" said Temmin testily. "And I'll ask again: How many sons do you have hidden away from prying eyes? When will I have to start worrying about my brothers coming to kill me?"

"No brothers," said Harsin, shaking his head. "After you were born, and it was clear you would live, your mother and I...we were not a love match, Temmin."

"So I've been told," he said sardonically.

The King ignored him. "We have sought comfort in other beds, it's true. I have no other sons but you, though. I have been very careful." He sipped at his brandy. "I want you to understand, though, the deep affection and love I have for your mother. Ansella and I may not have been a love match, but I could not have asked for a better partner. I hold her in the highest esteem, and I have no regrets in marrying her. Your mother is an excellent woman."

"You say you have no other sons," said Temmin, looking up from his untouched snifter. "What about daughters?"

Harsin was silent for a long time, the muscles in his face working as he pondered the fire. He sat down in the opposite chair and regarded his son quietly. "Do you remember, Temmin, last summer? When I came to Whithorse unexpectedly?"

"Yes." Temmin thought back to the summer. "What about it?"

"Do you know why I came?"

"No." Temmin took a nervous sip from his snifter.

"I found out I had a daughter that I didn't know about. And she was at Whithorse." He met Temmin's eyes, and Temmin found he could not look away. "It was also discovered that you were getting interested in a certain maidservant. A very pretty girl named Mattie. There was a girl at Whithorse who looked a lot like her, just before you were born. Name of Tellis. She had the most beautiful hazel eyes. Sweet rosy cheeks. Quite a beauty. Am I getting through to you, Temmin?"

Temmin drew his brows together in confusion. "You didn't want me making the same mistake?"

"No. I didn't want you having sex with your half-sister. Do mind the snifter, Temmin, you're about to spill."

Temmin sat back in the wing chair, his brandy dangling from his fingers. He stared above his father's head until he had his breathing under control, but he remained pale and sweaty. "You're telling me that Mattie is your daughter."

"Yes. And as pretty as she is, she doesn't hold a candle to her mother. When Tellis found out you'd kissed Mattie she came to your mother immediately and begged an audience. That's how I found out."

"I kissed my sister."

"Half-sister, but yes. You did."

Temmin closed his eyes. "Where is she now?"

"I've given her mother and the stepfather who raised her their own holding with an income, still in Whithorse Province. Mattie now has a dowry should she choose to marry, and she should marry well. She'll never have to work as a maidservant again, that's sure, and her brothers and sisters will get an education now."

"Does she know?"

"No, she does not. No one knows but her mother, your mother, and the Teacher. And now, you."

"Oh, gods. Oh, Amma forgive me."

Harsin chuckled slightly. "You didn't know. No forgiveness is necessary. And I could hardly blame you, she's a beautiful girl."

"No, Papa," said Temmin, his voice breaking slightly. "You don't understand. Mattie didn't want to kiss me. I found her with her sweetheart--I forced her to kiss me or I'd tell Crokker."

"I fail to see the difficulty. A little coercion adds spice at times."

"Oh?" said Temmin hotly. "How would you feel if someone 'coerced' Sedra or Ellika?"

"I will be coercing both Sedra and Ellika, and you, for that matter," said his father flatly. "You're all going to diplomatic marriages. That's coercion, Temmin. I was coerced into marrying your mother, for the sake of the kingdom and the continuation of our line. You will be forced into doing the same--to marry in your turn, and to marry off your children into relationships that they might not choose on their own. It is the way of things when you're royalty. In fact," he said, leaning back and sniffing at the brandy's rich fumes, "I may be announcing a marriage very shortly." He took a long sip.

"Not mine?!" said Temmin, horrified.

"Oh, no," said Harsin. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet. But soon. Speaking of liaisons, tomorrow you are going to the Lovers' Temple to become a Supplicant, yes?"

Temmin shook himself a bit at the abrupt change in subjects. "Yes, I expect so. No point in denying it--yes. Everyone seems so excited at the prospect. If it's such a wonderful thing I'm doing, why doesn't the Heir always do it?"

"A number of reasons, but the primary one is that you're the first one in some generations who's made it to 16 with his virginity intact."

Temmin groaned faintly. "And how old were you?"

"Thirteen," replied his father, with a faraway look. "She was 16." He focused back on Temmin. "One of the reasons you were raised at Whithorse was to see if you could retain your innocence longer--not just your sexual innocence, but your basic character. Your mother was adamant about raising the three of you away from court, and the Teacher counseled that she was correct. The signs said--" he stopped abruptly. "I can't say much about the signs, Temmin, not just the signs around you but around this entire time. Me, your mother, your sisters, the political situation--some very old prophecies are beginning to come true. Suffice it to say that it was important to the kingdom that you and your sisters be raised as normally as possible and still benefit from your positions, and that meant being away from the Keep." Harsin leaned forward, his dark eyes intense. "This is a time of great danger for the kingdom. If things aren't handled just so, it could be the end of the house of Tremont, of everything."

Temmin thought of his first day at the Keep, and what Jenks had said: "There's always something not right, young sir, and that's the secret of adulthood." He considered the apple brandy in his hands and drank it down in one, but its warmth did little to thaw the cold lump in his belly.