NationStates Jolt Archive

The Imperial Court of Christ Pantocrator, 29 January 1979

She instantly regretted saying it. The look on her sister-in-law's face said it all - Empress Theodora was deeply hurt and offended. Irene had just been so angry that she didn't think before she snapped and insulted her brother's consort. The worst thing was that Theodora really didn't deserve it - Irene was angry with the Emperor, not his wife.

"How dare you..." the Emperor scowled. Emperor Andreus I of Pantocratoria was twenty eight years old and five years into his reign. He hadn't yet grown the beard he was to wear later on in his life, and his hair was still black. Despite his youthful features, however, he was even more imposing now than he would be later in life. He was tall, well-built and strong, and his eyes not only had about them the steely determination which they would have in his fifties, but also a youthful energy, which at this moment had manifested itself as a burning rage. His demeanour in his twenties was almost perpetually aggressive, and he was already an absolute authoritarian. To Irene's mind at that moment, he wasn't just intimidating - he was absolutely terrifying.

"André, I..." Irene stammered, and turned to Theodora. "Madame, I'm sorry, I didn't m..."

"HOW DARE YOU?" the Emperor bellowed, shocking Irene into silence and making her almost jump a yard back.

"I didn't mean it!" Irene whimpered. She was surprised at how timid her voice sounded.

Theodora, whose self-esteem was fragile at the best of times, had started to cry, and shook her head and ran out. She couldn't stand to be around either of them any longer. The Emperor's eyes followed his beloved wife out of the apartment, and then fell back on Irene, who had steadied herself.

"I was angry at you, I didn't mean to insult her!" she protested.

"That doesn't excuse it! Nothing excuses it!" the Emperor yelled. "Nothing excuses your behaviour, nothing!"

"I won't marry Monsieur le Marquis de Montmanuel!" Irene declared boldly. The Emperor slapped her in the mouth and Irene's surprise, as much as anything, sent her falling to the floor.

"Even after reducing Theodora to tears you're still obstinate, still insolent!" the Emperor raged. "Do you never think of anybody but yourself? Monsieur's father's cabal plotted to kill her, and nearly succeeded! How can you force me to miss this one opportunity to bind them to us? How can you imperil her again by leaving the Montmanuels flapping in the breeze? Do you want to see my wife poisoned again, you vile bitch? You don't care about anybody but yourself!"

"You don't care about anybody but her!" Irene screamed back, her eyes filled with tears from the indignity of being hit by her brother. She was his sister, a daughter of an emperor herself, how dare he pass her like a peace pipe to the scheming Montmanuel cabal, as if she were some bargaining chip! How could he expect that of her? The Emperor looked down at her, on the polished wood floor, with contempt, his face curled up in a look of disgust. He reached down and grabbed Irene roughly by the arm, before yanking her up to her feet.

"Get out!" he growled, still holding onto her arm. "Get out! I never want to see you here again!"

"André!" Irene spluttered between angry sobs as he dragged her towards the doors of his apartments. "You're hurting my arm!"

"Never!" the Emperor reiterated, opening the door and shoving her through it. "Never again! You're banished, do you hear me? Exiled!"

"Banished?" Irene gasped. She believed him instantly.

"Guards!" the Emperor called over some Varangians, who approached and stood at attention.

"Where?" Irene asked, her voice now quiet, fearful.

"The Exarchate of New Jerusalem." the Emperor said. As far away from New Rome as one could send someone whilst keeping them within the Empire. "Guards, take Her Highness to the helipad at once, and keep her under close watch. She isn't to see or talk with anybody."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" answered one of the Varangians in accented French.

"You!" the Emperor called to a page. "Wake the pilots! Her Highness is flying to New Jerusalem tonight! Call the Exarch, and have him prepare her a household in some secluded, appropriate place far to the north."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Will you come with us, Your Highness?" the Varangian asked Irene. She looked up at the tall Scandinavian fellow, still in shock, and nodded silently. She looked up at her brother with pleading eyes - but his back was turned, and he was already leaving, following after his wife. "Then this way, if you please, mademoiselle."

Irene sighed and discarded the piece of driftwood she had just picked up. The Exarchate of New Jerusalem seemed like the most wretched place on earth to her at that moment. The skies overhead were grey, the beach on which she was walking was abandoned, devoid of people after the storm scared them away. The place seemed desolate, and very lonely. At least she didn't have people following her about here - but who would want to follow her about such a miserable place? In front of her Irene saw what looked to be a wrecked canoe...save that it was tiny, far too small for even a child. Could it be a toy of some kind? She made her way over to it, hoping over some washed up debris, thankful that at least here in this backwater she didn't have to wear the restrictive dresses she had to wear back in New Rome. Her jeans and warm windbreaker were much more practical. A woman lay in the sand by the canoe, unconscious, barely breathing. She looked human, Pantocratorian Indian in fact, except that she was about two feet in height. Her dark skin was smeared with sand and cut in many places and her long, black hair was tangled and matted. Her clothing was shredded, exposing a well formed figure. Irene knelt down next to the little woman. She clearly wasn't a child - she looked like a miniature adult, but Irene had never seen anything like it before. Maybe she was from some lost tribe of one of the surrounding islands? She furrowed her brow as she tried to think of what she was supposed to do. She tried gently slapping the woman's face to bring her around, opened the little woman's mouth and checked for anything which might be obstructing her breathing.The woman coughed slightly, spitting sand from her mouth and jerking her tiny body sporadically. Irene made a nervous whining sound, desperately hoping that she knew what she was doing. She then leaned over the Indian and breathed out into her like she had seen life savers doing a few weeks ago at this very beach. The woman began to breath as Irene breathed into her. After a moment, the tiny woman shot to an upright, sitting position, coughing out more sand until she was taking in ragged breaths. "Thank you." she said in Cherokee.

"Je ne comprends pas." Irene said apologetically, her look one of concern. She helped the woman sit up and leant her forward a little so that she could cough up any remaining sand or water. "Parlez-vous francais, mademoiselle?" The woman tilted her head, repeating herself in a number of languages, none of which were French, but one of which was eventually English. "You're welcome." Irene replied. "Are you from one of the islands nearby? What happened?"

"There was a storm. I crashed on the beach. I am from an island. I'm...not sure where nearby is though. Where am I?"

"The Exarchate of New Jerusalem." Irene replied. "You and I are both marooned here." The woman tried to stand up, stumbling a little. Irene helped her to her feet, although she didn't move from a kneeling position herself, since she didn't need to, given the Indian's size. "Where are you from?" she asked.

"I'm from the Nunnehi Nation territory in Shieldcrest."

"Shieldcrest..." Irene mumbled, wondering whether it was an Indian name for one of the islands surrounding the Exarchate. "Hmm... we should get you in out of the cold, anyway.... I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"Amadahy." she said, steadying herself against Irene.

"Well, Amadahy, let's get you inside..." Irene said, getting to her feet. She indicated to a fairly stark looking Pantobyzantine castle on top of a cliff at the end of the beach. "Do you think you can walk that far, or do you need me to carry you?"

"I can walk." Amadahy said proudly, holding her chin up. However, as soon as she tried to put this into practice, she stumbled, hitting the sand roughly again. Irene quickly dropped down to help her up again.

"Maybe I should carry you anyway?" Irene offered.

Amadahy blushed lightly. "If...you think it's necessary."

"It would be my pleasure, Amadahy." Irene said, picking her up like somebody would pick up a small child. She started carrying her down the beach towards her temporary home. At least, she hoped it was temporary...

Amadahy looked around quietly. As Irene made her way up the steep path - path being a generous word for it indeed - to the imposing tower, a servant saw her from a window. Soon two servants emerged from the castle and made their way down the path to help her. "Your Highness!" they called. "What happened?"

"Highness?" Amadahy blinked.

"This is Amadahy, she's from one of the islands, her canoe was wrecked in the storm, I found her on the beach." Irene replied to the servant, before looking down at Amadahy. "For the time being I'm still a Highness, yes." Amadahy looked both surprised and happy to hear this news, though she didn't comment. She gave a light smile. The servants helped Irene and Amadahy up the path and into the relative warmth of the old tower - and relative was the right word for it. Irene took off her windbreaker, under which she wore a white blouse with a plunging neckline, and handed it to one of the servants as the other one wrapped a warm blanket around Amadahy.

Amadahy nestled into the blanket, wrapping it tightly around her barely covered body. "Thank you."

"Let's get in front of the fireplace!" Irene said to Amadahy, leading her into a lounge room which looked like it had been furnished from an antique catalogue - an ugly antique catalogue. The chairs were ornately carved wood, but had no cushions. The only decorations on the bare stone and wood walls were small religious icons. The fireplace and a soft Persian rug in front of it were virtually the only comforts in the room. Amadahy followed, sitting near the fireplace and getting warm. She looked at Irene as though she were curious about something, though she didn't ask. Irene sat down on the rug, and held her hands up to warm by the fireplace.

"Have you been a Princess long" Amadahy asked innocently.

"Twenty five years." Irene smiled. "Twenty six in July, if I make it that far."

"If you make it that far?"

"Nothing..." Irene said. "Just, my brother, the Emperor... I upset him, and he's very angry with me. That's all."

"He loves you, though."

"No." Irene said, shaking her head to dismiss the notion, whilst smiling weakly. Some tears began to form in her eyes, although she didn't allow herself to cry. "He doesn't."

"But he's your brother." Amadahy said.

"He's the Emperor." Irene said, turning away so that Amadahy couldn't see her dry her eyes. Amadahy started to sing. It wasn't in any language Irene understood but her voice was simply astounding, the audio equivalent of the sidhe appearance Irene wouldn't see until decades later. The song seemed to contain pain and love and hope, all tied up in a lost paradise in the springtime of the world. "That's beautiful..." Irene commented as she finished.

Amadahy smiled softly. "I'm sure he loves you."

"You'd have to know him." Irene replied. Amadahy looked back at the fire silently.

"I think you look adorable in them!" Irene said cheerfully in response to Amadahy's protests about the children's clothes she was wearing for want of any other clothes her size. Irene's servants and gone out and bought children's dresses for Amadahy to wear. High quality children's dresses, but still. She had been given pink dresses, blue dresses, and white dresses, all decorated with lace and ribbons and all the sorts of frilly things little girls were supposed to like.

Amadahy looked down at the dress again, frowning to herself. "I look like a Sidhe."

"Their selection was rather limited." Irene smiled hopelessly. "What do you mean?"

Amadahy looked upat Irene, incomprehension on her face. "This is the kind of clothing the Sidhe wear."

"Is that an Indian word for children?" Irene asked.

"No." Amadahy answered simply. Then she blinked. "You mean if I assumed a larger size, I could have better clothing?"

"What?" Irene asked, her eyebrows raising in a bemused fashion.

Amadahy stripped rather un-self-consciously, her beautiful, dark curves free and unrestrained. As soon as the tossed the clothing aside, she began to grow right before Irene's eyes, soon reaching a normal human size. Irene gasped and put her hand over her mouth as Amadahy disrobed, looking away rather urgently, but then turning back in amazement as she saw her growing out of the corner of her eye.

"H.... how... impossible!" Irene mumbled, crossing herself by reflex.

"It is clearly not impossible." Amadahy looked down at her rather nude body. "Would it be possible to get more proper clothing now?"

"Mère de Dieu!" Irene mumbled, swallowing nervously. She nodded as her only response, taking Amadahy by the hand and leading her into her bedroom. Amadahy, who was approximately the same size, allowed herself to be led. Once inside, Irene let go and dashed to the wardrobe. "Uhh..."

"Take anything you like, all store bought I'm afraid." Irene said, trying to look away as she made her way out of the bedroom to give Amadahy some privacy. "The Emperor didn't give me time to pack."

Amadahy slipped on some underwear, a pair of jeans, and a pullover shirt, quickly rejoining Irene in the other room. "Thank you. You are very kind."

Irene had almost collected her wits about her when Amadahy emerged. "How did you do that? And why... well, I don't know what your tribe does, but we wouldn't normally consider it appropriate to... disrobe in front of somebody like that. Just so that you know, for next time."

Amadahy blinked. "Why? We are both women. It would not be natural for you to have any inappropriate thoughts about my body."

"Ahh..." Irene said, blushing even though she had done nothing wrong. "Well, it just isn't done. But how did you... grow like that?"

"I am a Nanehi." Amadahy answered.

"Yes I remember that's what you said your tribe was called." Irene nodded. "But how did you do that?"

"Nanehi can do that."

Irene shook her head, attributing the inadequate answer to the language barrier - neither was a native English speaker after all. But before she changed the topic, she stopped to consider something she hadn't thought about before.

"Pardon me, Amadahy, but are you human?" she asked.

"No, I'm a Nanehi."

"Ah... now I understand." Irene said, smiling. "I don't think I've ever met an inhuman before. You'll have to excuse me, I thought you were from some native tribe which was unusually small!"

Amadahy laughed lightly. "I've never met a human noble before. It is an honour."

Irene smiled for a few moments but then turned a bit sullen. "I uh... I suppose that you'll want to leave as soon as you can get in touch with someone. We do have a telephone here, I believe. I'm not allowed to use it except in an emergency, but I'd say your being ship wrecked is an emergency!"

"A telephone."

"They don't have them in Shieldcrest?" Irene asked. "Most of the people here in the Exarchate don't have them either, outside the city that is."

"I don't know what they are."

"Well..." Irene said. "Nevermind for now. What do you think we should do?"

"What do people usually do in Pantocratoria?"

"I mean, about you being shipwrecked here and all..." Irene said, turning her head on its side a little.

"I suppose that the matter is in your hands."

"I suppose I could contact your embassy... do your people have an embassy in New Rome?" Irene asked. It was clear that she didn't want to contact the embassy - she had been desperately lonely in her cold, isolated tower, and Amadahy was the first other person she had seen in weeks, other than her servants.

"No, they don't."

"Well of course, you could stay here while we get this all sorted out." Irene offered.

Amadahy smiled warmly. "You are most kind."

"Just doing my Christian duty." Irene said. "Besides, I've been so lonely here!"

"Christian?" Amadahy asked, curious.

"Yes, you don't know what that means?" Irene asked. "Chrétien? ????????????"

"I've never heard the term before."

"Oh..." Irene said, putting her hand on Amadahy's upper arm in a friendly fashion, and started to walk along with her out of the bedroom and towards the tower's little chapel. "Well, maybe I can explain it?"

A fortnight later, Irene and Amadahy went to Mass together in the town nearby Irene's lonely tower, Elanople. It was the only time Irene was allowed to see other people, and so she had been particularly excited about going. The two women sat in the little church, with Irene almost glowing she was so happy. She was just so lonely in the tower, and even though she now had Amadahy, Amadahy was just one person, and Irene still felt very isolated. Amadahy looked about excitedly. This was where Christ did His work, according to what Irene had told her. Before long the people in the little church were standing for the opening hymn. The town priest and the altar boys made their way up the aisle to the altar, where the appropriate preparations and demonstrations were made. The Mass then began in French although Greek was by far the more common language in Elanople. As everybody sat down, Irene caught a glimpse of a man on the other side of the church. She actually gasped in surprise, and looked back over to him, rather frantically moving her head about the place to try to get a clear view. Amadahy whispered "Is something wrong?:

"I thought I saw a man... a man I knew in New Rome..." Irene murmured back. Behind the altar the priest paused, an impatient look on his face as he shot a look at Irene and Amadahy. Amadahy looked down, realizing she'd done something wrong though she wasn't sure what. Irene bit her lip and settled herself, looking straight ahead and down just as Amadahy did. She'd see if it was really him soon enough. Amadahy sat quietly.
The priest continued, moving through the Mass. Every so often, Irene tried to catch a sideways glimpse of the man she thought she had seen, but failed, until finally, it came time for the Eucharist. The priest prayed over the host, and then the people started to rise to receive communion. Irene got into line with everyone else - the lack of television in this far northern part of the Exarchate meant that nobody had the slightest idea of who she was. Amadahy started to get into line with Irene, not knowing better. To her delight, the man Irene had thought she spotted also lined up, right next to her. She shot him an absolutely delighted glance, which he acknowledged with a silent wink. She bit her lower lip again in excited joy, so excited by the knowledge that the Marquis de Semally was here, in her place of exile that she didn't even think to remind Amadahy that she should only ask for a blessing instead of the sacrament. Amadahy followed along in line. Amadahy walked along.

"The Body of Christ." the priest said in a grave, respectful tone to the Marquis de Semally, who extended his hands to receive the host.

"Amen." he said. He went off, and Irene stepped up to the priest next, her eyes following the Marquis back to his seat.

"The Body of Christ." the priest said to her. There was no immediate response. "Ahem. The Body of Christ." Amadahy also looked after the Marquis before looking forward to the priest.

"Amen." Irene practically sighed, barely glancing back at the priest to receive the host, which she put into her mouth and started to chew as she made her way back to her own seat, still glancing across the church to the Marquis, who was now pretending to ignore her. Amadahy stepped forward.

The priest rolled his eyes, before returning to the very serious task at hand. He looked at Amadahy, held out a wafer and said: "The Body of Christ"

"I don't understand." she said in English, her beautiful brown eyes opening in
fascination as she looked at the bread (she certainly didn't know it was supposed to be anything else), reaching out to take it.

The priest, who was quite used to people saying the wrong thing all the time when he tried to minister the Eucharist, whispered back "Amen" to Amadahy gently, before handing her the host. Amadahy took the bread and ate it, in a rather invalid administration of the Sacrament.

Amadahy walked back to sit next to Irene, murmuring under her breath. "That was a very small serving."The Mass was concluded shortly after Communion by the priest giving the people the sign of peace, and then leaving the church to the closing hymn. It had taken just under an hour in total. As the people rose and began to file out of the church, Irene excitedly turned to Amadahy. Amadahy smiled at her.

"The Marquis de Semally is here!" she said. "He's here!"

"Is he your lover?"

"He... umm..." Irene stammered, blushing. "He and I are in love, but... umm... we haven't..."

Amadahy nodded a little. "Do you want me to go back home so you can talk to him alone?" They were interrupted by the arrival of the Marquis, who was a tall, handsome man wearing a tailored suit (New Rome court fashion being a tad ridiculous outside of the Imperial Court of Christ Pantocrator). When the rest of the congregation had gone, he bowed courteously to Irene, took her hand, and kissed it.

"Your Highness," he said. "I have come rather a long way from New Rome to see you, and it has certainly been worth it." Amadahy fell back and shrunk to two feet in height to stay out of the way.

"Monsieur le Marquis." Irene replied, practically melting at her pew. The Marquis' eyes followed Amadahy back, and then went wide as she shrunk herself down to two feet in height.

"And who is this?" he asked breathlessly Amadahy looked around briefly, blushing a little and becoming notably less attractive, moving down to what would be moderately above average for a young, human, Cherokee woman.


"Hmm?" Irene asked, switching to English. "Oh, oh, Amadahy. Amadahy, you don't need to... erm, shrink. Go back to normal, I want you to meet Monsieur le Marquis..."

Amadahy returned to her normal height and to looking like a beautiful model. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. le Marquis.” Speaking in English of course.

"A pleasure, Mademoiselle... Amadahy?" he ventured in English laced with a sexy French accent.

"Likewise, of course."

"Amadahy was ship wrecked near my little prison, she's been keeping me company. Keeping me from going insane by myself." Irene replied in English. Amadahy looked down demurely.

"Is that so? How kind of her, but how awful, to be shipwrecked, mademoiselle!" the Marquis said.

"I can't believe you're here!" Irene exclaimed, tears beginning to appear in her eyes. Amadahy just stood back quietly for now, looking the Marquis over curiously.

"Did you expect me to stay away?" he asked her, raising his fingers to Irene's cheek, which he brushed gently. He kept on with quick glances in Amadahy's direction.

"I didn't think I'd see you again..." Irene now sobbed. "Locked away in my tower so far away from you..."

"You'll be brought back to court!" he said, sitting next to her and placing his arm around her shoulder reassuringly. "Monsieur and the Empress are both attempting to soothe the Emperor as we speak. They will see to it that you are returned. And then, ma petite..." Amadahy looked away, really feeling like a third wheel at the moment. Irene's guard entered the church, crossing himself with holy water as he stepped through the doorway. His charge had taken too long inside, and he wanted to investigate. He arched an eyebrow on seeing the man sitting next to Irene.

Amadahy walked towards the guard with a polite smile. "She'll be out shortly."

"Mademoiselle la Princesse," the guard began, addressing Irene. "I'm afraid I must insist that you return home with me. Right now." Amadahy looked between the guard and Irene, not comprehending.

"Outrageous!" said the Marquis in French as he rose to his feet. "You would dare take that tone, dare issue orders, to the daughter of an Emperor? Insolent knave!"

"Ah, Monsieur le Marquis, I'm sure His Majesty will find it very interesting to know that you violated his express instructions and associated with this exile." replied the guard. He did so love it when he got to tell self-important aristocrats what to do. "I think you had best leave, don't you, monsieur?"

"You wretch..." the Marquis started, before Irene interrupted him by rising to her feet as well. Amadahy idly wondered what they were saying so excitedly.

"I'll go with you, monsieur." Irene said sullenly, turning to the guard. She then turned back to the Marquis, fell into his arms, and kissed him passionately, whilst still sobbing Amadahy moved protectively between Irene and the guard.

"Right now, Mademoiselle!" the guard insisted, ignoring Amadahy's maneuvering. Amadahy crossed her arms, frowning at him.

"Thank Monsieur for his efforts for me." Irene whispered to the Marquis quietly as she withdrew from his embrace. "And apologize to the Empress again for me, and the Emperor."
"Of course I will, Irene." said the Marquis, moving closer to kiss her again. Irene took another step back and offered him her hand.

"Thank you for your visit, Monsieur le Marquis." she said. The Marquis reluctantly kissed her hand again.

"A pleasure, Your Highness." Then the Marquis withdrew, giving a final meaningful look to Amadahy, and then an angry glance at the guard on his way out.

"The Emperor will hear of this." the guard said to Irene as she quietly made her way towards the door, taking Amadahy's hand as she did so. Amadahy smiled lightly, clutching Irene's hand and walking towards the door.

Amadahy found Irene sobbing in her room some days later, her guard standing over her with an almost smug look on his face, as if he was taking some pleasure in her reaction. Amadahy walked over and sat down next to Irene.

"You'll still be able to call the priest here to hear Mass in private, Your Highness." said the guard, one corner of his mouth upturned in a half-smile.

The thought didn't seem to comfort Irene, who just rolled over on her bed, face down, and wept into her pillow. Amadahy waited patiently, sitting there.

"Why, Mademoiselle la Princesse," the guard said, unable to resist turning the knife, taking an almost condescending tone. "Was there some particular reason you wanted to hear Mass in town? I mean, the priest can come here, it isn't like you'll be deprived of anything..."

"Just go away." Amadahy said in English.

The guard, who spoke no English, just looked at Amadahy like she was speaking gibberish.

"She said get out!" Irene cried to him. "Get out!"

As you wish it, Your Highness." the guard said, before leaving the room, chuckling under his breath.

Amadahy hugged Irene tightly. "Don't worry about him."

"I'm to be confined here, not even allowed to hear Mass in town. Direct order of the Emperor." Irene cried.

"I'm still here with you."

"Thank you for staying with me Amadahy, I think I'd go mad if it wasn't for you." Irene said, looking up from her pillow through the tears. "But, if I can't go to Mass in town, I won't be able to talk with the Marquis de Semally!"

"Could he come here?"

"No." Irene said, shaking her head sadly. "Everybody from the court is forbidden from coming to see me. I'm an exile. Anathema."

"How come they let me stay?"

"Because you're Amadahy. You're not Amadahy d'Adrienople, or Amadahy de la Côte d'Est... to them you don't exist. You're scenery." Irene explained.

"Oh..."

"I'm sorry." Irene apologised for the coldness of the explanation. "But that's how they see it. I'm not with a noble, so I'm not with anybody."

"I do have magic powers though." Amadahy said, nodding proudly. However it came out in a rather stuttering, desperate way. The woman didn't seem to have her normal confidence and self-mastery.

"They wouldn't know what to do with magic powers." Irene observed. "They lack imagination, creativity, vision... they don't care about anything outside of their own little world."

"How do you know I'm a commoner, anyway?"

"I... I..." Irene started. If she had guessed wrong, she had committed an intolerable insult. "Do you mean to say that you're not?"

"I'm a Gallain."

"What's... what does Gallain mean?" Irene asked.

"It's complicated. It's like a...third group, besides the nobles and the commons. Though it's more complicated than that, actually."

"Between the two? The gentry?" Irene asked.

"What's gentry?"

"They're between the common people and the nobility. Like knights and squires." Irene explained.

"No, no, not like knights. Knights and squires are nobles. They're just not peers."

"They're low nobility, or gentry." Irene said. "What's a peer? And your tribe has knights?"

"No, no. My tribe is Gallain. Sidhe are knights."

"I'm sorry if I've insulted you." Irene said apologetically. "I didn't mean... I just meant that the court didn't care that you were here with me because they think you're just some commoner whose canoe was wrecked outside my tower."

Amadahy smiled weakly and hugged Irene tighter. "Do they even know I'm here?"

"I imagine it has been reported." Irene said, looking at the door with some resentment in her eyes. "Everything else has."

Amadahy kissed her cheek.

"No, really." Irene said, whispering now even though they were speaking English, and the staff didn't understand English. "These people... that man isn't my guard. He's my jailer. Even the maids are spies."

"You helped me when no one else could. You taught me about Christianity. You've been kind to me where the only people I've known of rank have always been cruel before. You're my best and only friend, Irene."

Irene hugged her back, a flattered smile breaking through her tears.

"Love you." She smiled. "You know...if they don't notice me...I could carry messages to him for you."

Irene gasped and bit her lower lip. The thought hadn't even occurred to her.

"You would do that?" she asked.

"I owe you my life, Irene."

Irene sat up and brought a hand to Amadahy's cheek. Amadahy smiled gently up at her.

"We shouldn't start right now. The guard will be more cautious after that exchange. I'll make the first trip in two days time."

"This means so much to me." Irene said. "The Marquis... he's... I don't know, but I think I'm in love with him."

"Then he is a very lucky man to have the most beautiful woman in Pantocratoria in love with him."

Irene smiled and blushed. "You're right though. About waiting that is."

"So what shall we do until then?"

Irene dried her tears and smiled back. "What would you like to do?"

"You can ask me anything you want to know."

"Can you tell me what being a Gallian means?" Irene asked. "About the Gallians?"

"Well, all kinds of races are considered Gallain. Specifically, I'm a Nanehi. The law has changed a lot regarding us."

"Go on." Irene said.

"Well, the original law said that Nanehi were untitled nobles. The new law says that we're neither commoners nor nobles. But the duke who runs the area where I lived didn't care about either law."

"What do you mean he didn't care?" Irene asked.

"I mean that he decided we weren't even commoners. He hunted us like animals."

"That's terrible!" Irene gasped.

"That's why I was fleeing over the water."

"Oh Amadahy!" Irene said, hugging her comfortingly. "That's awful, just awful!"

Amadahy nestled into Irene. "You're so good to me."

"No, you're so good to me!" Irene insisted.

Bump for Panto!

Incidentally, High Queen Corrina had forced the Duke in question to stop his murderous practices in 1981. However, he was, being a Duke, allowed to remain unpunished for his crimes throughout her very conservative reign. In 2004, he was brought to trial, convicted, and executed for 222 counts of murder on the orders of High Queen Agwene. Anyway, back to our story...

Amadahy left Irene two days later. She was just another common born Pantocratorian Indian walking the countryside outside New Jerusalem. Of course, she didn't speak any Pantocratorian Indian languages and all the real Pantocratorian Indians she encountered new she was a foreign almost on sight. However, they were not the people she was trying to fool.

When she arrived at the Marquis's residence, she presented herself at the door with a small smile. "I have business with Monsieur de la Marquis. My name is Amadahy."

"Do you?" asked the butler who opened the door, with a snort of some disdain. "A moment."

He closed the door in Amadahy's face instead of inviting her in to wait, quite sure that the Marquis wouldn't want to see this random Indian. Nevertheless he went down the hall into the drawing room, where the Marquis, who arose very late in the morning, was taking breakfast and reading the newspaper. The headline read "JEAN-PIERRE d'ADRIENOPLE RESIGNS: CAMPAIGN BEGINS FOR UCF LEADERSHIP".

"Monseigneur le Marquis," started the butler. "There is an Indian woman at the door, monsieur. Shall I send her away?"

"Yes, please do." replied the Marquis without thinking. The butler turned and started away. He remembered the striking Indian woman... or at least... vaguely Indianesque woman he had met the other day. "Wait... what did she say her name was?"

"Oh... erm... Amadahy, I believe, monsieur." replied the butler.

"Oh? Well..." the Marquis said, straightening up in his seat and putting the newspaper away. "Send her in at once."

"Monsieur?" the butler was surprised. "I mean... erm... yes, Monsieur le Marquis."

He returned to the door and opened it, his manner entirely changed. He was now the essence of the polite butler.

"Mademoiselle, please, come in, Monsieur de Semally will see you at once." the butler said, guiding Amadahy in. "May I take your coat, mademoiselle?"

Amadahy was actually crying when the butler opened the door again. She fumbled a little as she slipped out of her coat. She clumsily walked in to see the Marquis, giving a very nervous smile. She didn't seem to have the grace and elegance she'd had when he first met her at the moment. "Hello again, Monsieur." she said.

"My dear, whatever is wrong? Can I get you something?" the Marquis asked as he got up to take her hand and kiss it politely. He gently guided her over to a seat.

Amadahy smiled weakly as he kissed her hand and sat down.

"I'm fine." she lied ineffectively.

"Nonsense, mademoiselle, it is plain to see that you're not in anyway fine. Please, tell me what's wrong." he said, He glanced at the butler. "Fetch us some wine and fruit."

"Yes, Monsieur le Marquis." replied the butler with a bow, before leaving the room.

"I'm a Nanehi." she answered with a small shrug, as though that was an answer. As he seemingly fawned over her, she seemed to grow beautiful and regal again, her confidence and competence returning, although there was no overt physical change.

"I'm afraid I don't know what that is or what it means, Amadahy. May I call you Amadahy?" the Marquis said, sitting close by her on the lounge.

"You may." she answered. "What am I to call you?"

"Well, I am the Marquis de Semally, so most call me Monsieur de Semally..." he said, pausing to wink lightly at her. "But you may call me Louis."

"Very well, Louis." she smiled lightly. "Irene actually sent me here to talk to you."

"Did she?" the Marquis asked, arching his eyebrow. "What did Her Highness say?"

"She really misses you." Amadahy commented, starting to think she should have got an actually specific message.

"I miss her..." the Marquis said, a little solemnly, before his handsome mouth turned up into a charming half-smile. "But I have you to keep me company."

Amadahy smiled briefly before getting more serious. "I'm here for Irene."

"As am I." the Marquis said, looking around the sumptuous room. "I've never much cared for the Exarchate - until I met you, there was only one thing which could draw me all the way here from New Rome."

"Before you met me?" she asked, a little confused.

"Well, now that I know the Exarchate of New Jerusalem is host to two beautiful and charming young ladies, there are now two reasons to stay on this otherwise dreary island." the Marquis smiled.

"Monsieur le Marquis," said the butler as he re-emerged into the room carrying a tray of fruits, and a bottle of wine with two glasses of fine crystal. "Your wine and fruits."

"Set them down on the table." the Marquis said without looking.

"Very good, monsieur." said the butler, who then set the tray down.

"Thank you, you may leave." the Marquis said, glancing at the butler when it became apparent he wouldn't leave of his own accord.

"Very good, monsieur." said the butler, who bowed politely and left.

Amadahy reached forward and picked up a piece of fruit, eating eagerly.

"She's so lonely all alone, Louis." she said as the butler walked off. "I mean, I'm her friend and everything but...she needs you."

"Of course, I understand... you can't believe how hard it is for me to be apart from her..." the Marquis said convincingly. He paused as if struggling to remain in control of his emotions. "...but I am forbidden from seeing her, and violating the Emperor's explicit command would only make things worse for her."

"I know." Amadahy conceded. "I know."

"Perhaps you could pass messages back between the two of us?" the Marquis asked hopefully. "That is why Mademoiselle la Princesse sent you, no?"

"I can do that." Amadahy said. "People don't seem to notice me much." She spoke as though she considered this a most unnatural thing.

"That is impossible to believe, Amadahy." the Marquis said with a smile. "A beautiful woman like you?"

She shrugged lightly.

"Would you like some wine?" the Marquis offered, pouring her a generous glass.

"Wine?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, some wine. Château de Clerri-sur-Theine, '69..." the Marquis said as he handed her the glass. "Montmanuel has wonderful, fruity whites. Here, try it."

Amadahy looked at it curiously and then sipped it. "Hmmm..."

"Try it again, I always find Clerri-sur-Theine's full flavour doesn't hit you until the second sip." the Marquis said, pouring himself a glass.

Amadahy sipped again, considering. "It reminds me a little of apples..."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with Château d'Apples... or... whichever wine you mean." the Marquis said, as if struggling to think of the place. "But I'm glad you like it... you do like it, don't you?"

"Apples. The fruit. They're round and red and grow on trees." She studied him a little, puzzled by why he didn't get it.

"Oh I see, yes, of course, I forgot the word." the Marquis said, a little embarrassed. "Apple. Pomme. Yes, of course."

"I like it." she said.

"Good." the Marquis smiled. "So, Amadahy... I'm dying to learn more about you."

"What do you want to know?" she asked as she took another sip. "It is good. I will have to drink wine again sometime."

"There's plenty more of it..." the Marquis said, and frowned faintly. He had a delighted twinkle in his eyes. "Wait, that's not what you meant... you mean any wine, not just this wine, don't you? You've never drunk wine before?"

"No, I haven't." she said. "I think some people in my home country might have had it but I've never heard much of it before. They didn't have it where I lived."

"Well by all means, drink all the wine you like while you're here." the Marquis smiled, holding out his glass, which he gently chinked against Amadahy's glass. "Cheers"

She clinked her glass against his. "Cheers." she took another drink, smiling.

"How come you're not allowed to see Irene?" Amadahy asked curiously.

"The entire court has been forbidden from seeing the Princess." replied the Marquis. "By order of the Emperor."

Amadahy tilted her head a little. "So the Emperor is some kind of priest or spirit?" She seemed extremely confused. "Is that the man who gave us bread the first time I met you? Why doesn't he want anyone to see Irene?"

She took another sip of her wine, sloshing it around in her finely formed mouth slightly. "This is good. Is it what most Pantocratorians drink?"

She went on like that at some length. Her questions were intelligent but profoundly ignorant about some of the most basic cultural assumptions of Pantocratorian society and confused as to exactly how nobles came to be noble. Over the next hour or so, she fell into telling him about the complex social structure of the Nunnehi, taking into account age, Family, and heredity, but relying mostly on age. She also told him of the nearby Fae and of the beauty of the Sidhe who stood out from all other Kiths. She expressed intense curiosity about how such matters were handled in Pantocratoria.