(Part 1)

Even as her fierce daughter was racing to come across some unlucky bread vendor out on the streets of Elbar, Mama Viper's mind was also racing, and no less fiercely.

She had heard from a Councillor Razin--Mama Viper's 'prime lapdog', as Zalea would insistently have it--that a rebellion of sorts had exploded in the north, rendering the valiant Prince Mustafa occupied for the foreseeable future.

'Such an opportunity might not recur, my lady,' Razin had gone on, perhaps too eagerly. Good thing they had been alone. 'At a word from you, those swayed and dedicated to our cause shall scour the palace, expunge this monumental farce of an 'Amirate', and the venerable Izurian line shall prevail once again and forevermore! You need only to give it.'

'The vazir's men yet remain,' Mirani had objected, 'and they are being led by a figure enjoying the Amir's undivided confidence. Attempts to distance them from each other have so far proven unsuccessful.'

This had given the councillor pause. 'Be that as it may..."

'Nor will Urdin himself be so much of a pushover, as you might fancy he might be,' she had also pointed out. 'A veteran of a hundred raids, great and small; survivor of at least five major battles... he wouldn't be a cakewalk. Nor had age considerably dampened such a granite-like character, as evinced by his swift reaction to House Azam's... provocation, three years past.'

At this point Razin had allowed himself a slight bemused smile, having been one of those covertly sent to help ensure just such a contingency.

In this respect, he had also been immensely grateful that the Amir, in the latter's perfectly-reasonable but strategically-inept fury, had ordered that none of the poor catspaws were to be spared: no witnesses.

In the councillor's defense, the schemes that had been discovered on the to-be murderers' persons were not of his making.

'Womanly sentiments notwithstanding, my lady,' this 'prime lapdog' had pressed on, 'be reminded that more like-minded potential agents are joining our ranks with every passing day. So far they are quite mollified by the simple assignment of providing information from reasonably-strategic places, but should this bout of indecision on your part prove too long-'

'Make do!' Mirani had retorted. 'I did not take you under my good graces so you could whimper about what men in your position are darn-supposed to do. Our move shall commence by my word, you said; very well, I reserve when to give such a word, and so help me, you better not rush it against my judgment.'

Razin had lowered his gaze in a display of deference. 'I mean no disrespect, my lady. Oh, and there is another point: the most recent donations from Sir Fatan had come in. When shall I next pass it on to your care?'

'I'll send for you when I shall need it.' With that, the session had been dismissed.

And this again, darn it all, Mama Viper thought, sighing inwardly. Fatan was one of this councillor's most dependable field agents, she knew... yet words had also filtered in that purported to hint that Fatan was in fact running rings of extortion--to name only one--within Elbar, fending off the authorities for years by throwing gold on to the right hands.

To think she would need to contend with taking money from her own people against a system that was affording them protection from people like her! Previously she had regarded it as a thing of course--great things were, after all, not achieved without sacrifices of various sorts--but the longer such a farce had lasted, the more unsettled she had felt for its prospects.

Razin, on the other hand, seemed to be genuinely untroubled by it. In such connivance he had in fact managed to bring in ever-larger sums for Mirani's cause...

***

Thus it was that, at present, navigating the way to her fellow consort's garden to help clear her own mind, Mirani the schemer wondered whether she herself might not have started to fall victim to her own web of tricks, and if she ought not to pause and reconsider her next move in a wiser light.

"Besides," she murmured, now massaging her own temple, "gosh, that dream again..."

In said dreams this time, she had come to see wraiths and flashes--the first of these being a laughing, younger Azalea as she had clung to the midsection of wraith-Mirani's dress.

That lass had not always been this irascible, the mother had recollected. There had indeed been times, nicer times, when I would be amused by her laughs and wits; smile at her songs; and be reassured at her presence, playing along with her kitten... Eara, I think that was how she used to call it.

Was it really the plot against young Mu that may have altered us? Mama Viper remembered wondering as she had gazed at the dancing wraiths, passing like clouds one after another before her field of vision. Mere days after said plot's ditching, in sheer frustration at my own 'failure', I had thrown Eara to the doghouse. Nor had that lass truly forgiven me for it since.

At this point the vision had again morphed to show wraith-Zalea screaming in furious anguish, flailing for the pet being hoisted up with one hand way beyond 'her' reach.

'EARA..!'

This was very soon to be followed by a blazing glare behind wraith-Mirani's back... who, in 'her' turn, had sported a devilish grin even as 'they' had watched--side by side but with hearts torn wide open and apart--the starved beasts mangling and tearing the pet, cutting short its feeble mewing with feral impunity.

'You will have to pay dearly for that, Mom...' wraith-Zalea had managed from the floor, through her seething grief. 'I freakin'-SWEAR IT!"

'Heck, go on then,' pride-choked wraith-Mirani had asserted. 'Impress me.'

The next wraith-like scene had displayed how, when her daughter had bothered to address her personally once more in that secluded chamber that other day, Mirani had used the hands of peons to rid herself of the possible truth that Zalea had been struggling to point out, instead of bothering to simply listen.

By this point Mama Viper had awakened with a start, but the message had sunk in--deep.

'That... that kitten, Eara,' she had gasped a short time upon waking, ignoring the cold sweat, 'ain't meant to hint at Dastra, perchance..? To be hurled headlong into a pitful of power-hungry mongrels... gosh, and I was the one doing it. That's... just sick. My only boy!"

In all fairness, never had Mira even come close to bridging the differing opinions of her own children, even when Dastra had dared to scold his own sister for the latter's 'disloyalty' to their mother; no easy thing for him, no doubt, and still it had not occurred to her to console nor reward him for even that kind of bravery on his part.

Presently, Mirani gritted her teeth while keeping her face buried in her hand.

"Darn you, Das," she managed. "So darn-complacent have ya grown, that ya didn't even bother to question right then and there whether I, yer own mom, might not have been the one in the wrong, all along... To think you were gonna be the one I'd foist to rule this whole realm! As for the child who did question it, I had instead maligned, and for so long... Oh Allah, what the heck have I done?!"

Nevertheless, Mirani was still clear-headed enough to comprehend that such 'womanly sentiments' would not have rung any bells with Razin nor with any of his like-minded cohorts that she could think of. As far as they were concerned, she had been egging them on in a cause which, no doubt, many of them would still desire to see occur, and with the zeal of demented fervor. Should it become known that she had exhibited this kind of 'flagging' in spirit...

"Heck," Mirani seethed as she slowly revealed her now-tear-streaked face, "much as I resent that very prospect, it would seem like I'd have to strike some chords with Vessy, and soon..."

(Part 2)

On the other side of the line, Lady Vestra, oblivious to what might have been happening to her eldest son, and fortified with the rekindled flame of resolve in her bosom born out of her own round of reflections, had now come to a similar conclusion of seeking out her fellow consort. Great as her sympathy for Das might have been, it had occurred to this Estrean that she ought not be making premature steps.

To begin with, Vestra was not that princeling's true parent, much as she would gladly have prayed that it had been otherwise. Having some knowledge on Mira's views on such an issue would be a wiser step forward, surely?

Moreover, when was the last time that Urdin's consorts had exchanged ideas in earnest? Vessy found it quite hard to recall.

She spotted Mama Viper enjoying the sights and feel of being at the backyard palace gardens--the very same place, incidentally, that their husband had been using to soul-search hours earlier.

"'Lo, Ves," Mama Viper greeted, oddly pleasantly. "I had not thought we'd meet here, but perhaps that's something to be expected. Nice garden ya got here, gotta say. Perfect for a talk."

Vestra made no immediate reply aside from a brisk nod as she warily assumed a seat one bench beside that being taken by her fellow consort.

"A talk on what?" she prompted then.

"Forthright as always." Mirani sighed, her gaze becoming slightly melancholic. "Be it so; not like more can play that kinda game. For starters... how many years has it been since my hook-up, Ves, do ya remember?"

Vestra pursed her lips. "Twenty long years; would that I have forgotten. Why would you bring this up now?"

"When we first met, ya had insisted on regardin' me as a rival to Urdin's affection. Is this still the case now?"

"Mirani!"

"Please answer me."

The 'please' gave Vestra pause; instead of giving a hearty rebuke to that, she merely looked away. "Why would you care?"

"See, we have both borne his kids--ya have more, gotta give ya that, but I'm still his wife. Heck, we've even lived together under my dead father's palace, all these years... so why are we still pretendin' to keep distance from each other, huh? Why are we still bein' regarded so differently, do ya think? 'Mama Viper', I'm called, while you... you are considered the model of a dutiful wife by so many, what with little mongrels of like minds." Mirani leaned forward and whispered the next line. "Could it be that oh-so-precious faith, hmm?"

"Your schemes against our husband's reign is rather well-known," Vestra offered, "and this isn't being in any way helped by that fire-eating attitude of your daughter. Can you fault me for thus maintaining a safe distance?"

"Zalea's acts are on her own account, dang it, you know that much!"

"I also know that upbringing plays not a minor part in someone's future acts, Mira, and I thought you did too. Yet in your case, you had exchanged this period of Zalea's life with weaving ever-widening webs of trickery against your benefactor, our husband--which, incidentally, you would not have done had you observed the tenets of said faith more--the very same faith you're taking lightly just now--for they also did not neglect the rearing of one's kids."

"Yeah, okay, I admit it! I may have been inattentive at best on that particular quarter; but as I see it, securing our homeland would be the least I thought I could do for that kid..."

Vestra narrowed her eyes. "In what way might that be?"

Mira exhaled. "Now look here, lass. It's all very well for ya to preach 'bout faithful upbringing; your family is quite established, if ya believe the tales: your now-dead mom Ashara Darys had been a mayoress in her own right, dubbed the Lioness of Estreon, and now your younger bro Arys is holding the reins there. Time and leisure ya've gotten plenty.

"As for me," Mirani blinked away tears even as she slapped her own chest, "I didn't freakin'-know what to do, darn you! My father's gotten so many kids from those wenches and had been there for exactly none of 'em! Heck if I can even hazard a guess on which one of those bed-warmers who had birthed me...

"As if that wasn't quite enough, years later," Mama Viper railed on, "I found my homeland invaded and the rule of that same family, far from perfect as it may have been, toppled! I love Urdin as much as you do, if that's what ya wanna know so badly, and deep down I thanked him, but... can I really be faulted for wanting to preserve even a shred of my legacy, by providing my only daughter--such as she is--somewhere to grow up in?! Yes, I may have been a very bad mom in not providing Zalea with all the attention you think she deserved; but I wouldn't just nod to your assertion that I haven't done anything for her, ya southern prick! I tried; she left! What, gonna laugh now?"

At this point Urdin's second consort paused for breath and Vestra found it in her to pity this 'witch' for almost the first time. To think she had been so against that second hook-up...

"Is that what all those schemes would boil down to, then?" Mustafa's mother resumed, a tad more gently, "To provide Azalea, and perhaps Dastra too, with a home they could call their own?"

Mirani nodded. "Basically. But had it been that simple, I wager you'd have scrambled to Urdin to beg this of him: that my kids be provided with a mansion with servants and the like to tend to their needs forevermore. No, Ves; my original intention was to retake all of the lands--and in this I could never turn back, being egged on by the very same hotheads I'd spent years nurturing, as you've succinctly put it. Heck, my own kids might even be brought in harm's way to this end..."

"And whose fault is that?"

Mama Viper was not to be put off. Instead, she now moved to grasp Vestra by both shoulders.

"Never had I expected words of this sort to ever escape my lips in our decades together, know that," the arch-intriguer contended. "but--please shield my kids from their own mom whenever it shall matter from here on, Ves; and for the love of God, MAKE it count!"

Urdin's consorts gazed at each other during the brief but very tense silence; one brimming with desperate love, the other with clear-headed sympathy. Vestra too had learned several things during her infrequent but intense encounters with Mama Viper, however.

"There, there, just hold on a second," Vessy said, putting her own hands on those of Mirani's and gently easing them off her shoulders. "Surely you don't intend to sink lower than this by shedding maternal responsibilities, Mira? Those heartfelt pleas notwithstanding, they said nothing as yet of your own willingness to, how shall we put it... reform."

Mama Viper blinked with hurt surprise at this jibe of her own erstwhile agenda.

"I lack the will to reform, is that it?" she asked through gritted teeth and flushed countenance. "Explain yaself!"

"You explain," Vessy countered, not unkindly. "Explain what you did to Dastra earlier, and how it could possibly relate with those protestations of seeking the best for your own get."

"My locking him in a chamber filled with things I damn-knew he'd hate, ya mean?" Mira sneered. "Darn right, I did it... in hopes to firm him up and perhaps make something out of him yet; but no, you held him close to that ample bosom of yours, I was told, whispering words fit only for weaklings!"

"I comforted him," Vestra replied evenly. "One would think the poor kid deserved that much, having so long been under the thumbs of such a heathen-like figure as yourself-"

"THAT DOES IT!" Mirani flared at the ill-chosen term, rising. "I sought you out in the hopes that we might finally stitch some semblance of cooperation in years, did ya know that?! You're Urdin's first consort for cryin' out loud; ya should have guessed that that is what he would've welcomed better. 'Sides, heathen or not, a mother still deserves to seek protection for her get one way or another... but be it so! If you would shirk from actually taking my kids into your protection, make damn-sure no harm would come to them even outside it; or so help me, lass, that would be the sort of failure that you would rue for the rest o' yer days, and not even that valiant mongrel Mu shall be able to do ya much good!"

In the wake of her counterpart's fuming egress, Lady Vestra could only blink and gape in dismay.

By that earlier question about Dastra, she had only intended to find out the real cause of the "poor kid's" confinement--yet now, through an unfortunate slip of the tongue, she had apparently earned herself a full-blown adversary where previously their mutual animosity had at best been latent--and this at a moment when Mustafa was, indeed, not around, that Vestra might then have sought his (to her) much-valued opinion.

(Part 3)

On the other side of the palace.

Zalea and Rashid had made their way back from their 'wind-down trip'; by this time the princess had changed back on to her preferred dark-purple dress. The prince had, meanwhile, taken off his bandages, having given his earlier wound enough time to heal and out of the wish not to look weak.

Most importantly, Zena had regained her daily bread--"and never ya mind how," as the princess had once more undertaken to remind her brother.

This done, the headstrong princess sought out her lord father, whom she found brooding alone in the throne room.

"Out," Urdin called.

"Dad," she greeted. "Why the long face?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Then I might as well stay. You need someone to talk to, I sense."

"Not you."

"I have ears too, you know. I also wonder when was the last time any of us kids gets to talk to ya at all outside meal times. Last time we did, ya lectured me on values o' charity, how I recall."

Urdin sighed. "That why you're here now?"

"There are yet more things I need to know, yeah," the princess nodded, with hints of a smile, "things that I believe only you might give answer to. But you are Amir, so why not share your concerns first? If ya will."

"Mustafa," the Amir let out, "isn't coming home anytime soon. A rebellion where he is."

"Only proper for a wali, which Akhi is, to try deal with it. My prayers for him," Zalea observed, her expression softening for twenty seconds. "That all?"

"He had also taken it upon himself to ally with heathens. You can guess how Ves might react to that."

This princess snickered. "You're cowering 'cause of what a wench might say? How unusual."

"Careful now, daughter. That's my first consort you're making light of."

"I don't give a damn how many lasses you may choose to keep for yourself, Dad, or how I should refer to whichever of them. My granddad Tharion was rumored to have had way more than two. Vessy's not my mom in any case, and the real one's no better. So- heathens, blah blah. Why would that displease Vessy?"

"She had raised your siblings to be true to The Straight Path. To her, any who adopts a religion or belief other than this, deserves... less. Imagine her learning that our precious firstborn is consorting with those very same people as we speak."

"Vessy's too darn-hard on herself," the princess pointed out. "Mu's allying with ones of differing faith is of no real consequence. He's got a rebellion at hand, you said; he may have run short of men while these heathens happened to have plenty. Only darn-logical to strike common chords."

"My thoughts exactly. But she might not want to see it that way, being a mother and all."

"That much I can't answer for, Dad. If she's got any grievances with you about Mu that's somehow yet to be settled, very well, face it. The longer you delay, the fiercer she'll get when the news is broken, and ya'll have none else to blame but yaself."

The Amir nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Your turn."

"Why did you keep your dead bro's line alive?"

Urdin blinked. "Where did you hear about this?"

"Auntie Lista's residence. Called in there with Rashid earlier."

"And why would you think that a problem?"

"Oh, you think not, huh? So instead of two contenders for the Amir-ship once you breathe your last, we might see three--that totally fine with you?!"

The father smiled. "By that time you shall be mature enough to sort it out, I hope."

"You haven't answered the first question."

"At that time it didn't seem like a question at all," the present Amir corrected. "Imran was dust, our first homeland lost. This rendered Idris an orphan, his mom a widow. I took them in. I honored them as per station with resources at my disposal. Our religion encourages such practices, does it not?"

"But that leaves Idris a contender, now he's got a line of his own!"

"See it how you will, Zalea. Regard me as a wretched throne-grasper too if you like, but the fact remains--Idris was eleven. Huddling together for a regency would've taken time, all while our war against your granddad Tharion's empire, already crumbling as it was, was still in full force. Someone needed to take charge, and with as little time lost as possible. Do you see the wisdom here?"

The daughter gaped in comprehension. "That was why Auntie did not regard your rule under too harsh a light, must be..."

"Whatever secrets Lista might've let you in, is at her own discretion," Urdin contended. "So? Did you get what you came here for?"

"Eh..." this princess gulped, not quite knowing what to say next--a rarity. "Pretty much, yeah..."

"Then listen." The present Amir now stepped away from his throne, tapping his headstrong daughter on the shoulder. "There are things you've yet to learn, it is true," he related, "but I implore you, girl, whatever those might be, get to learn them quickly and as well as can be. If Mu can find himself confronted with a rebellion--and there is always the possibility that he might not see that through, may Allah Keep him safe--so can we here... and I know not how long we have."

***

Considerably vexed as she had been from her previous encounter, Mama Viper nevertheless took herself to the training grounds, this time hoping to personally make arrangements for her son's instructions in the field of arms.

To her mild surprise, she spotted said son already sitting on the steps leading to said grounds, book in hand.

"Hey, Mom!" the boy cheerfully greeted.

"Das. What are ya doing here?"

"Reading, obviously."

"Yes, but why here?"

"Wanna see it practiced directly. Here, look... it's said here, a proper basic swordsman's stance--depending whether or not he is carrying a shield, would be for-"

While her son rambled on, Mirani took a closer look at him from the back.

He's eleven, she reflected, and is just beginning to learn proper stances from a book. Yet I used to aspire to train him in live steel, just so he might firm up. Thinking back, would that be... proper?

"Dastra."

"Ah--yes?"

"Feel like I never asked before, but... what's so interesting about weapons? Do you even plan on using any of 'em?"

"Hmm... perhaps only such standard ones as the bow, spear or sword, for starters. Morning-stars, from what I know, are highly unstable, whether afoot or ahorse; halberds are darn-heavy, as are maces, pikes and lances. Axes ain't that easy to conceal..."

"In that case, of the bow, sword or spear, which would you prefer?"

"Now, let's see... Big Bro Ras already is beginning to train with bow and arrow, going so far as fashioning his own bow, so I heard; Big Sis Zalea, I saw earlier, was having quite the sword-sparring with Big Sis Lei--and they were both darn-good. Akhi Mustafa is also said to be a second-to-none rider, so, um..." this princeling placed a finger on his chin. "Might as well take the spear."

"Reasons?"

"They're versatile!" Dastra was positively beaming as he quoted the following lines from the book. "'Preferred weapon for ground and mounted troops alike, in the latter case without the disadvantages on weight that lances would otherwise have presented, nor the costs of maintaining a sword with matching quality. Nor shall they be considerably affected by dampness, in ways bow-strings would have been...'; 'Can come in a variety of lengths, as required. Thrown, slashed or stabbed, the spear, where few other weapons could, boasts a high degree of versatility at the relatively-simple requirements of exceptional footwork and decent focus, on and off mounts.'" He looked up at his mother. "Straight to the point, too--much like Big Sis Zalea! She'd like it!"

At such an analogy, Mama Viper found it quite difficult to not pull off a wry smile. How elder siblings still serve as models, down to weapon-choosing!

"Is that really the kind of weapon you'd want to train with, then?" she inquired, much to his delight.

"C-could I really, Mom?!"

"Didn't think I'd lock ya up in that centipede-filled chamber for nothing, do ya?"

"THANK YOU!" the princeling embraced her, book forgotten, and the goons on the grounds--some already sweating--paused to watch... and upon seeing that the scene involved Mama Viper, quickly fancied they had not.

"There." Mira patted her son's head once, a sign for him to let go, which he did after several more seconds--such was the bliss. "Start praying Narvis'll be okay with it."

"He won't dare say No to you, Mom."

"To my face, maybe, but for how long? Or would you rather ask him yourself, see if you'd learned anything since last time?"

"Well, okay... But in that case, will you... you know... watch? From here? Promise?"

Urdin's second consort sighed. Perhaps next time she should've poured the centipedes on to the floor instead of keeping them in jugs, and have more of them too. Having the subject's hands tied behind his back as she did that might also be a thrilling-enough option. "This once."

Wedging his way amidst other trainees, the princeling now scrambled to meet the master-at-arms, calling out his name all the while.

***

"You wish to commence training with the spear, sir?" Narvis said that slowly, as if weighing his options. His gaze strayed on to Mirani at proper distance then, and it clicked on him that Mama Viper too was putting on a test of sorts to this stripling and himself.

He would have to be tactful.

"Yep," Dastra responded eagerly. "Spearmen, from what I read, constitute the backbone of our levies in cloudier times. I wanna know if there's more to it than them just standin' in packed rows, column after column. Would personal skills really count, or are they just fodder? That kinda thing."

"I understand," the master-at-arms nodded. "You must excuse me, however, for not being able to instruct you personally in this, owing to queues of other disciples with similar interests. In my place I shall suggest Raidan Alavis, an aspiring and quite-promising candidate for one of our spear-equipped infantry detachments. I wish you, sir, good and fruitful training."

Keener observers might also recall this 'candidate' as the one who'd earned Leia's compliment during a lull in her own bout that same morning, having tossed her a fashioned sword with so much deftness and precision.

"Is it possible to meet this Raidan today, I wonder?" Dastra inquired presently.

"If you would be patient for but another half-hour, my prince, he shall present himself to you."

"Good. Not goin' anywhere 'til I know when and where exactly to train."