The Chronicles of Ki
Book 1: In The Beginning
© Copyright 2024 Frank Walters Clark ~ All Rights Reserved
“His actions have become very odd, even strange to his nature it seems. I can’t reason the cause, Xib. Even our father has noticed and spoken about him on occasion. So too, has the queen.”
Two kilometers from her home in Modl, Lady Nols and Lord Xib rotate their gravtrols down off the flyway and touch down in a small park at the edge of a crystal-blue lake, planted with brakes of tall reeds spaced around its perimeter.
Carried about by warm breezes, puffs of white clouds float across reddish-tinted skies. Small flocks of birds circle and land at water’s edge then pick at seeds and insects, and groom and squabble amongst themselves.
After they stow their gravtrol rings, Lord Xib gestures at a large boulder that has settled deep into the grassy soil, its frontage curves beautifully carved into the graceful shape of swan. Wearing a mask of black and arching its neck, with one wing fanned high over its back, it provides a comfortable seat for two.
Brother and sister sit at an angle to each other, and Xib pats her on the arm. He frowns, recalling distasteful moments in his younger brother’s company.
“To tell you the truth, Nols, I have not observed anything about his behavior of late that is out of character for him. He acts, for the most part, the same way he has since we were kids. Let me count the ways for you…”
“Cunning. Aggressive. Mean-spirited.
Uncaring. Vindictive. Shall I go on? Failing that, what can I say? What do you cleave in the man I do not?”
Nols crosses her arms and rubs her shoulders. She breaths apprehensively, care for her brother evident in her voice.
“I can’t put a finger on it, Xib. I only know he holds himself at a distance from me, alienating himself from me, from everyone. A characteristic so far apart from the brother I— we—grew up with, I know not what to do.”
Putting his arm around her, Xib pulls her close and rubs her neck.
“I have many things on my sked right now, sister. The duties of royal chief scientist leave little room for else in the way of personal affairs. But I am very concerned for you. How this may affect your royal duties and your psyche.”
“Could we walk, Xib?”
Nols pulls him up by the hand and leads him to a footpath that winds around the lake. She turns her face away for a few moments, hiding the tears on her cheeks, then spins around, to walk backwards in front of him, holding his hand.
“I know we can’t change Dalu, brother. Not in ways that would matter, and not in ways that would be anything short of violent ends.”
Apsu’s light fades, and stars twinkle in the vault of heaven. The short light poles bordering the pathway begin to shine.
Nols turns again and walks at Xib’s side.
Her breathing has slowed, her words are more fluidly rendered, and her rapport seems stronger.
“At such a young age, and as legal royal heir… apologies. I know you do not like me to use that nomenclature… Dalu has taken on responsibilities that no man twice his age could manage. I think those royal burdens are what weigh him down, Xib, distorting certain aspects of his character, and sending him in directions he should not go.”
“What say you, short of physically restraining your younger brother?”
“We can monitor his actions, Xib. Myself, in my position as chief officer of the royal manifest. Yourself, as chief scientist and engineer.”
“True, we both do meet with him regularly.
He can’t perform any royal administrative function without assistance from one or the other of us.”
“At least we might prevent him from doing irreparable harm, to himself or someone else.”
Xib pauses and angles his head, hesitating with his answer.
“Nols, you and I both know, realistically, we can’t possibly keep track of his every action.
Including anyone else in our oversight would be to ask for trouble, difficulties we do not need, now or ever.”
“Without actually spying on him, there is a way, Xib. Let’s go back to my place, and sample some fine wine I recently acquired.”
Nols removes her gravtrol and activates it, and Xib follows suit.
“Do you not have access to royal supplies of sacred wine?”
“I do, but I prefer this pressing, from a local village grower.”
Three of Nibiru’s small bright moons trail across diamond-studded, black velvet skies.
Tiny sparkling golden lights, along the edges of the rolling, carpet runner-like flyway guide their progress. Minutes later, they arrive at Nols home in Modl and debark.
Xib stands before one of several paintings Nols has lighted, on walls set back from her sunken living room.
“This is a Paln! I recognize the swirls.
Where did you find this rarity?”
In the pit, at a low, black and white diagonally checkered square floatable, Nols uncorks and pours wine from a small brown oblong bottle, then carries the flutes to stand beside him.
“Try this, I think you will enjoy it.”
First a small toast, then Xib sips from the delicate, lace-etched glass, smacking his lips and savoring the golden liquid.
“Oh! Hints of honey and spices, with a bite.
That is nice.”
“You will not believe me when I tell you where I found this, Xib.”
She gazes up at the painting, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Do you remember your Shem art history? That Paln only rendered four paintings in his entire life?”
Xib rubs the side of his nose, takes another sip, then strokes his beard.
“I do! One hangs at the castle, the other three were missing, but you obviously now possess one. Where did you find it?”
“You are not going to believe this, brother. I was skidding, dressed like a commoner, and shopping vegetables at a grower’s market, far out into the countryside, near an absolutely ancient village called Zilr. Old customs, there.”
“I know, I have visited there myself.” “Cleave! Well, I was about to complete a
purchase at one of the stalls, and the old man who took the measure of my tomatoes had run out of sackettes. He motioned for me to follow, carrying my reds in his hand.”
“And you followed? That must have been a thrilling experience.”
“As things turned out, it was.”
Laughter on her face, Nols sips and turns, curling a finger at him, then steps down into the living area pit. Sitting on gray settee, crowded with round green, black and red pillows, she points at a green cushair across from her, and continues.
“He had a shed behind his stall, where he said he kept extra stock for his shelves. Ancient timbered portalway, it had; a dimly lit, musty hovel, leaned to one side a bit. I could hear little creatures scurrying about inside.”
“You crunch a few?”
“That is disgusting, Xib! No! I did follow him in though, watching as he rummaged through a collection of sackettes.”
“While I waited, I noticed something in the shadows on a sidewall, draped with a raggedy old piece of burlap. When I queried as to its nature, he shrugged and waved his hand, as if to sweep it away and said…”
“…That old thing? Just something I thought might brighten up this dingy old storage locker. Put the cloth on it, to keep the moths from eating it.”
“May I perchance a look?”
“Cleave. It is nothing though, just an old painting my great grandfather gave me, many sars ago….”
Nols’ eyes glisten, and her face lights up. “When I removed the burlap, I was
speechless, Xib. Under the layers of dust and webs, I could see those famous swirls, beckoning.”
She reaches to refill their flutes, her face still radiant.
“When I questioned its availability, he reproached me, handing my sackette of reds to me, and saying it was a family heirloom, and it would remain as such.”
“The bold lot I am, I offered one hundred talens. When taken in context, a mere pittance.”
Lord Xib laughs and clears his throat. “Three Sisters! You could say that!”
“There must have been some misfortune, knifing at his life,” Nols says. “He quite unexpectedly countered my offer, at five hundred talens. What do you think I countered?”
“Cleave!”
“Two hundred fifty talens—and he agreed! Without another word, he lowered the painting into my hands, cover and all, and there it hangs.”
“Do you realize its worth, Nols? In these times?”
“For historical e-records, I had my valuation section give an estimated worth of the missing Palns. At… over four million talens… each!”
“What a wonderful escapade, Nols! You will keep it, I imagine?”
“Considering its historical value alone, yes, I will. I could never part with something as mysterious as an original Paln, talens notwithstanding.”
Sighing, Xib rises, and walks up the steps to the portalway.
“I must take your leave, Nols. Kilometers to go before I sleep and all that.”
“So soon, Xib? What about our concerns for our misbehaving brother?”
“I fear I have not the time at the moment, sweet sister. Would you compile an e-record of your thoughts on the matter? Then angeline them to me?
“Done and done, sweetheart’s song.”