>At 11:00 AM 10/19/2005 +0000, you wrote: >What are the sources canon and non canon for the prevailing political >environment of Esrolia 1621. Also the recent history.
There was something else about Esrolia (well, Porthomeka, to be exact) I'd like to share: I can't remember if this Jaxarte story was ever published anywhere, and I never got round to putting it on my website, so here it is and apologies if it's been around before. Almost all my Glorantha stuff is still back in Australia, so I can't check.
The tale follows on from Jaxarte's adventures on The Cradle, which (if memory serves) was published in the final issue of Tales. This story is non-canon and a bit rude.
Cheers,
MOB Jaxarte and the Demivierge
By MOB
with welcome assistance from Marion Anderson
When we last saw Jaxarte, he was unwittingly sailing off in the Giant Cradle towards Magasta’s Pool (see "Jaxarte and the Cradle" in Tales #20). However, it seems he transferred to a Vadeli trading vessel, which encountered the Cradle on the high seas shortly before it rode the whirlpool to the Underworld.
Jaxarte received a reward of precious metals for his somewhat accidental part in the defense of the Cradle against the Lunar forces commanded by his uncle. Taking the Vadeli on their word, he exchanged it for passage on the ship, which was on a regular slave run from Pimper’s Block via Corflu to Rhigos. As it turns out, Jaxarte may have been in safer hands joining Nose Ring, Onar Onari, Garrath Sharpsword and the other heroes escorting Gonn Orta's baby on its journey to Hell...
Floriat Fedora once again has annotated the manuscript.
***
Godday Harmony Week Sea Season, 1621 ST
How Captain Sodelcar learned of uncle's disgrace so quickly is a mystery,
but it was news that shocked me. If he was being sent back to face the
Emperor's wrath in chains, what fate awaited me, his lowly nephew?
[1] Fortunately, the captain was very sympathetic, and said he could help
me keep a low profile until things became clear. In fact, he had just the
hiding place for me: a spot in an entertainment troupe he was transporting
to their next port of call, the Esrolian trading city of Rhigos [2].
[1] Sor Eel was recalled following the Cradle debacle, but was not actually
arrested until some time after his return to Glamour. The perfidious Vadeli
captain misled the credulous Jaxarte for his own perverted amusement.
[2] Rhigos is the premier city of Porthomeka. Although it maintains many
of the matriarchal customs of Esrolia, Rhigos is politically part of
Caladraland. Since the Opening, it has emerged as a major trading
competitor to Nochet. A “free port”, Rhigos permits Vadeli trade; in fact,
it appears the Vadeli covertly supported Rhigos in its moves to establish a
rival trading network. Despised by Westerners, the Vadeli are banned from
the Port of Nochet, which is controlled by two rival merchant families from
Nolos and Pasos.
In the meantime, the tawny captain apologetically regretted that I would have to remain confined to my cabin (apparently, Vadeli crewmen are very shy). Just before leaving the Cradle, the boisterous Onar warned me to “keep my back to the wall”, just in case any randy sailors wanted to do it “Vadeli-style”. I’m sure he was just having a little joke [3]. I’d heard such libels against the Vadeli before, but, apart from the small tissue sample the affable captain sought from me as I came aboard (“so we can regrow your skin in case there’s an accident”), I was left well alone until we reached our destination [4].
[3] Though superficially human in appearance, the Brown Vadeli are said to
reproduce in a most foul and disgusting manner. If one takes Malkioni
scripture on its word, they are quite literally the “sonnes of Vadel,
expell’d from his bowels and shat into the worlde” Excoriations 23:15,
Bishop’s Book of Rokar, (King Guilmarn Authorised Version).
[4] It is interesting that Jaxarte makes no mention of any other crew but
the brown captain Sodelcar. Might the others on board have been fearsome
Red Vadeli, thought to be extinct since the Second Age, but lately claimed
to be again ravaging the seas?
***
Clayday Fertility Week Sea Season, 1621 ST
It was only going down the gangway that I met the fellow members of the dancing troupe, and what a surly, uncommunicative lot they turned out to be! I knew Rhigos was ruled by women and that males had certain diminished rights, but I was not prepared for the gag and halter that was placed on my head, nor did I expect to be led into what was little better than a stable!
There, I was unceremoniously stripped and hosed down by a pair of leering female attendants. The others seemed to take this in their stride, and appeared unabashed. When an instructor came in shortly after to teach us a set of strange (yet absurdly simple) dance steps, they shambled through the motions. While handsome and extremely well muscled, none were too bright, and they all took heavy blows because of the frequent mistakes they made. One beefy fellow barely flinched as he received a particularly heavy thrashing. It reminded me of a recalcitrant ox I once saw lie down in the middle of Parade Way in New Pavis: a Lunar procession was coming, and despite repeated blows from its owner, the dumb animal refused to budge.
It then occurred to me: these dancers *were* dumb animals!
Unable to call out because of the gag, my incoherent but frenzied protest only earned me a beating. I’d been tricked into slavery by the Vadeli, and sold with a bunch of Herd Men! [5] Cursing my ill-fortune and the wickedness of Captain Sodelcar, I was at a loss what to do next. I noticed that just as the stockman puts a ring through a bull’s nose, each Herd Man had been pierced with a cruel pizzle ring. These were no doubt used to lead them around if they got unruly. I still had the gag and halter, and thankfully it didn’t look like was I to get a ring myself yet. Wincing with the thought of it, I resolved to behave for now, and await a chance to escape.
[5] Herd Men are of course the beasts in human form raised by the Morokanth
of Prax. From their prime physical appearance and maturity, these would
certainly be considered prized examples of the breed; so exceptional in
fact that I suspect they may originally have been True Humans, altered by
Morokanth magic. Another horrible possibility is that they were flesh
constructs, created by evil Vadeli sorcery to cash in on this lucrative
trade. One shudders to think what Sodelcar’s real purpose was when he took
a sample of Jaxarte’s skin as he boarded the ship…
***
That night, a pair of burly Axe Maidens led us through the busy torch-lit streets to the Grand Seraglio, the promontory home of the notorious Demivierge, ruler of Rhigos [6]. Whistles and catcalls followed in the wake of our strange procession, but I noticed the male folk in the crowd tended to pull their cloaks about them and scurry out of the way. Talk of the Demivierge’s lewd depravities was infamous even back in the Lunar Empire, though I remember uncle once received a coin with her regal visage on it, and said he didn’t believe anyone so fair could be so wanton [7] I wondered whether the stories were true, and just what this powerful woman had in store for us.
[6] The Demivierge rules Rhigos as High Priestess and Virgin Queen of the
Voria cult.
A hereditary matriarchy, the queens rule until they choose to bear an
heir. The subsequent Festival of Fecundation is a time of great joy
throughout the city, which is garlanded with specially plucked flowers. A
key part of the celebrations are the Onanismic Games, where the queen gets
to select her long-awaited First Mate. Men flock from all over Porthomeka
to prove their virility. Events such as the Snatch & Jerk and
Monkey-Spanking are always crowd pleasers.
[7] Conservatives say the cult became an obscene parody of itself during
the reign of her mother. Is it a coincidence that this particular queen
was the one who made the deals with the Vadeli, and subsequently proceeded
to stretch the definition of “virgin” to its current, deplorable bounds?
I got some inkling of the peril I was in when we were delivered not to the entertainment suites but the palace kitchens! Here we were plucked and shaved, and then liberally basted with honey and oil by a team of eunuch cooks. They were meaning to eat us! [8] But, obviously not before we provided some sort of entertainment otherwise we wouldn’t have been put through that laborious dance rehearsal earlier that afternoon. I resolved to make my move soon…
[8] Herd-man can be served in a variety of ways, most of which can be found
on the great epicure Anchoritenus's list of morally objectionable
foods. Here in Pavis, butchers peddle it as "mock pork"; where it is known
in the Holy Country it is called "forcemeat".
***
The Demivierge leaned forward in her dining couch as we strutted into the dining chamber, a lascivious leer on her face, which, off the coin, appeared to be far more voluptuous, but still haughty and imperious. Even her eyes, glazen as they were with hazia, bhung or perhaps just plain wine (but large, dark, expressive and ringed with kohl) could not detract from her beauty, though I’m sure to my uncle it would have been the beauty of a brazen strumpet, not the mighty ruler of a powerful trading city.
A great sigh of lust both carnal and gustatory, I feared went round the banquet hall as the cooks put us through our paces. How was it that I, who had come to Rhigos as a humble fugitive, ended up shaven and oiled, disguised as not a member of the mid-course dance troupe as I first thought, but the next course itself!
I squirmed against my restraints as best I could, desperately trying just to get one hand, even one finger loose, my muscles bulging against the bonds that cut cruelly into my flesh. The Demivierge looked up, her heavy eyes pouring like chilled honey over my gleaming body.
“You... Come here!” Her voice cut through the babble of gossip, and the hall grew suddenly silent. I stopped my struggling.
How did they know I wasn’t a Herd Man like the rest of them? Sadly, it was my own body and amorous temperament that involuntarily betrayed me. The “dance” the cooks made us go through was simple enough to keep up with, consisting as it did of slapping buttocks and thighs, flexing muscles and showing off prime cuts and juicy haunches. I guess it must have been when the Demivierge’s Vorians glided in on the massive bronzed Gravy Boat, alluringly made up as sea nymphs draped around the bathing pool-sized salver of bubbling savoury sauce. How was I to know that a Herd Man's reaction to such a bewitching sight would be nothing more than a blank stare, a shuffling of the feet and uncomprehending bleating?
Try as I could to hide my bodily discomfit, I could not. How uncle would have berated me, and sent me off to the cold baths had he seen me so! I was noticed by several of the feasters reclining in front of me. “Hey, let me see, you!” tittered the aging roue to my right, pelting me with grapes. Automatically I turned round to face him, glaring, and the gig was up. “A spy, an imposter!” the jaded libertine cried, throwing the fruit into the air. Moments later, I was trussed up and dragged before the Demivierge. In my shock and apprehension it took me a few moments to realise that apart from my bonds, a filigree of gold had been placed on my head: it was almost like a crown. “Congratulations, Year Son”, sniggered one of the Axe Maidens, as she threw me to the floor.
I felt rough hands push me forward as my toes sank into the plush silk carpet, now stained with food scraps and wine dregs. I ended up on my knees at the Demivierge’s feet. The same hands held my ears, tilting my head forward, forcing my eyes to the ground. As the redness of my pain and indignity cleared from my vision all I could see was a large gleaming emerald, caught up in an intricate weave of gold and pearls, and all adorning what was indeed a most amazingly attractive foot.
The Demivierge spoke again, to the crowd in general, or so I assumed. “Who in here will deny me my right.” A statement, rather than a question. It was met by stony silence. “Good... Prepare the chosen one...”
I was hauled back to my feet again, and my eyes met hers, the briefest of glances, but a meeting that spoke volumes. It was then that I felt my bonds were slightly loose, just as one of the guards passed, her axe within easy reach...
***
In the end, slipping out of the bonds proved remarkably easy, what with all the oil and honey I had been so liberally basted with, and I lunged for the weapon and got it free of the Axe Maiden’s belt. But, just as the oil had been so fortuitous in wriggling free of the restraints, so now it proved my downfall, and the axe slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.
Laughter reverberated around the hall. Especially raucous was the brown figure reclining to the right of the Demivierge. It was Captain Sodelcar! “I hope you don’t mind my little joke”, he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “The queen is always looking for novel ways of meeting new friends.” He turned to the Demivierge. “Your Majesty, may I present young Jaxarte, a nobleman of the Lunar Empire.”
She looked at me with those eyes, and I knew again that with her skills, arts and passions, we could experience carnal delights together far beyond my own modest amatory experience, and probably beyond even my imagination. But, I’d also read what happened to the “Year Sons” when the queens tired of them too! [9] After a moment’s hesitation, I suddenly cut and ran.
[9] Esrolite customs vary, but the end result is the same: the Year Son is
sacrificed and his blood mixed with the earth to promote fertility for the
coming harvest. In Porthomeka, the hapless victim is quite literally
ploughed into the ground.
***
Naked, indeed basted, I ran blindly, deep into the Palace, completely at a loss what to do next. Exhausted, I sank behind one of the huge herms lining the corridor as a troop of furious Axe Maidens stomped past. “Psst”, I heard behind me. Looking round, a short man clad in a rough tunic was peering furtively from a concealed hatchway. I crept over, and he pulled me inside.
“Welcome, brother”, he said, with a zealot’s gleam, “I release you in the name of Chauvinist’s Liberation. Some day all men across Esrolia will too be free!”…
***
Floriat Fedora: We must leave Jaxarte here, safe in the hands of the Male Freedom Front. With their help he managed to evade the perfumed lure of the Demivierge, and escaped to Casino Town, only to lose all his money again after a gang of one-armed bandits ambushed him on the road to Refuge. After many escapades (including an accidental interlude on the wrong side of the Siege of Whitewall), he finally made it back to the Lunar Empire. Too low down the pecking order to unduly share in his uncle’s disgrace, he returned to the bosom of his family.
Jaxarte returned to the Lunar Heartlands and life as a Senator and sometime architect. Although he often spoke wistfully of his youthful adventures along the River of Cradles, his subsequent career never brought him back to Prax or the Holy Country.
Approx. 2550 words
© 2000 Michael O’Brien
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