Page 23 of The Laws of Nature (Heirs of the Empire #3)

The woman stops, but clearly she does not understand him.

She raises the spoon and says something that Tobi is sure is telling him to get out of the kitchen.

It ends with the word ‘kushir’ so it is surely directed at him.

Behind him he hears the gentle sounds of his guards pulling up straighter, preparing for action if this situation becomes more hostile.

He doesn’t want to be the reason a fight breaks out in the kitchens, not when the delicious food at Urynwud is one of his favourite things about the place.

He nods at the woman, “Fine,” he says, “fine. I will go. I’m sorry. ”

He turns away from her to see his guards all have hands on their swords.

It seems they have instructions to protect him.

“Ei,” he says to them firmly, which he thinks gets some reaction.

They seem to relax a little but he doubts he could have stopped something nasty from breaking out if his guards had thought him threatened.

All he can do is turn back. The guards follow him and the woman from the kitchen shouts something else.

Tobi hurriedly takes another branching passageway and ends up stumbling back to the Grand Hall of Urynwud, where Harok brought him when they first arrived.

The room with the huge tree growing through the centre of it.

He remembers the name of it. Susal-ur-Bellan , murmuring it to himself as he stops beside it.

It is truly beautiful, glittering in the sun that falls through the hole in the roof above it.

The Hall is busy with people. Most of them are gathered before the dais. As Tobi draws nearer to it he sees that Kushel Yaelin, sits on the throne.

Yaelin seems to be holding court, receiving petitioners.

With her on the dais are a dozen more women, also dressed in long green robes and dark fur cloaks.

Tobi winds through the watching Ambolk folk, to a spot in front of the dais.

Both Yaelin and the people addressing her, speak in Ambolk and Tobi can barely pick out a single word he knows.

On a table along the side of the room is food and drink.

Many people are helping themselves, so Tobi does likewise.

He is not particularly hungry after the honeycakes, but he eats some bread and takes a cup of weak ale, marvelling again at the wealth of Urynwud and Harok, that so much food should be provided for any who wish it.

As he finishes his drink, someone taps his shoulder.

Tobi turns around to see the old man who had been seated next to Harok at the anointing.

The man who had called Harok from the stables.

Close up, Tobi thinks this man is perhaps the oldest man he has seen in Urynwud.

He is as tall in height as any other Ambolk man, but he is bent over his staff.

A thick column of black wood carved with symbols.

His grey beard is so long it reaches to his waist.

“Greetings to you,” says Tobi, “I am sorry I do not speak Ambolk.”

The man smiles. “No matter, kushir,” he says in accented Artemian. He offers Tobi a gnarled hand. “I know your tongue.”

As Tobi takes his forearm, he says, “You speak Artemian,” delighted to hear words he understands. “I thought it might only be Lymok.

“Ah, these days,” says the old man, “I think there are only myself and Lymok who speak the language of the Azurian Empire here in Urynwud. Certainly with any proficiency.”

“I am certainly glad of it,” says Tobi.

The old man nods. “It is good to meet you Kushir Tobi Darekul. I am Mereli. Chancellor to the Irgo of the Ambolk.” He pauses. “Is that the correct word? Chancellor. I am Irgo Harok’s Chief Advisor.”

“Yes,” Tobi says nodding. “Chancellor. That would be correct. Emperor Selim has a Chancellor. Vindar.”

“Good,” says Mereli. “I have not spoken Artemian in many years.” He pauses as if recalling something, then says in a soft wistful tone.

“Chancellor Vindar, I know of him. I have held the post of Chancellor to the Ambolk Irgo for a long time,” Mereli continues.

“I was Chancellor to Harok’s regent uncle Irgo Vahul before Harok took the throne twenty years ago.

And before that, I was Chancellor to Harok’s father Irgo Lal. Although I was young then.”

Tobi looks at him. It seems strange to think that this ancient man could ever have been young.

Mereli seems to understand Tobi’s surprise. He says, “There are some here who think I am as old as Susal-ur-Bellan, but it is not true. Trees in this forest are older than Gods. Many of them saw the reign of the Bellator, including the sacred oak in this room.”

Tobi looks over at Susal-ur-Bellan. The Bellator are a legend. One of the old stories his mother used to tell him. “Could a tree really be so old?” Tobi says.

“Of course,” says Mereli. “Trees live lifetimes men cannot imagine. This tree,” — he points to Susal-ur-Bellan again — “is the most revered tree in the Amber Forest. The Sacred Hall of Urynwud was built around it long ago. Its name, Susal-ur-Bellan — means the First White Tree. To the Ambolk it is a connection to our most ancient triple God. We bring offerings here.”

Mereli points down at the tree’s roots. Amongst the burning candles set around the tree, Tobi can see many small clay pots, sealed with wax and tucked into every gap in the twisted roots, where they plunge down through the stone floor of the hall into the earth beneath.

“What do you put inside the pots?” Tobi says.

“The pots are called anks,” Mereli says, “They are specially wrought by skilled craftsmen for the purpose of making these offerings. Each one contains a hidden treasure, known only to the one who packed it, a secret sacred to them and the spirits. But it could be dried flowers or feathers mixed with honey, animal bones, human hair, even the remains of dead babes taken too soon. The pots are never removed.” Tobi looks closer.

He can see that under the intact pots are more, older pots crushed beneath the newer ones.

Layer upon layer. “So,” Mereli continues, “the ones at the bottom return to the earth, feeding the ancient tree that watches over us all.”

“I…” Tobi finds himself speechless for a moment. There is something strangely beautiful about this custom. “That is… that is very profound.”

Mereli’s voice turned softly amused. “You are surprised we have such traditions? You expected to find yourself brought to a den of savages?”

Tobi feels heat bloom in his face. “I did not know what to expect,” he says, “truly.”

“Until Harok slayed the demon, Diazuul, he dwelled in a pit within the roots of Susal-ur-Bellan. Many believe the offerings in the anks gave him some kind of power. But when Irgo Harok killed that creature and threw its foul body into the firepit, freeing us from its terrible rule, he did not stop the offerings. Although now we make them to the great tree itself, not the demon we once thought a God.”

Tobi swallows. “A demon lived beneath the tree? Here in your Sacred Hall?” Did Harok really bring a demon’s body out of there? Mereli seems to believe so. Perhaps this was some elaborate trick Harok performed?

“Oh yes,” says Mereli.

“And you made offerings to him in these pots?”

Mereli nods.

“I had heard that there were other offerings. In Azuria it is said that the Ambolk worshipped a demon and gave him blood sacrifices.”

Mereli looks around the hall. It is busy but no one seems to be paying them much attention. He says, “Irgo Harok asked me to find you today and ensure your safety and comfort,” says Mereli. “But you were not in your chambers. You have been hard to track down.”

Tobi frowns. Mereli seems to be purposely not answering the question. But he is interested to hear what Harok asked Mereli to do, so he says, “I have simply been exploring my new home, Sire.”

Mereli smiles. His old face crinkling. “Indeed. You know it is not usual for kushir to wander the halls. But Irgo Harok must have told your guards to permit it. Come with me, kushir. I would speak with you in my solar.”

Tobi nods in agreement, feeling quite delighted to be able to speak Artemian with someone so venerable.

He follows Mereli out of the Sacred Hall, through a door that leads to a passageway and into a series of fine parlours.

Each one is warm and plushly decorated, with soft furnishings and fabrics and, as with every room in Urynwud: dense foliage covering the walls — ivy and creeping vines and flowers blooming, scenting the air.

Every part of Urynwud is strangely magical.

Eventually Tobi and Mereli reach some stairs and climb up them, Mereli seems to cope with them impressively, his staff tapping down firmly on each tread.

They emerge into a wide room with a glazed ceiling.

The top of a tower. The room is sweetly warm.

Through the glass, Tobi can see that the trees around it have been cut back, allowing the chamber to fill with warmth and sunlight.

Mereli gestures to a long settle, “Please, kushir. Sit down.”

Tobi does as he is bid. “You speak Artemian very well, Sire” Tobi says. “How did you learn?”

“I was taught by the Maid Alyse, on the command of Irgo Lal. His intention was that all the Solwen should learn the language of the Empire. Although, of course, those plans were thwarted in the end.”

Mereli turns away to a small cabinet. Atop it is a large silver urn.

“The maid Alyse. You mean Gold Alyse?” says Tobi leaning forward. “The woman snatched by the Ambolk fifty years ago?”

“ Snatched,” Mereli says, turning from the cabinet. “I do not think that is truly the right word.”

“That is not the story in Azuria,” says Tobi. “The way I have heard it, she was taken the way I was. Carried off to be bride to a forest king.”