22 Chapter 14.1: The Sijarkes Gets New Friends

"Your eminence...," Umdochar began gruffly.

"There you fucking are!" The Sijarkes erupted as she stormed in, heels clicking. Her cry echoed several times around the Hall of Du Quams, catching the attention of the Quams under oath of silence. Toruaz was tempted to look.

Dressed in the most expensive of padded magentas, topped off with an unreasonable amount of gold—from her sandals, to the rings around her neck, the lining of her sleeves, and even the bells keeping her hair in braids—she looked like a walking jewelry box.

"Seriously, Umdochar? Pink? The cloth concealing my statue is colored pink. What makes you think I like the color pink?" The Sijarkes whined, completely ignorant of the fact that—as Toruaz could see from his peripheral vision—the dominant shade of her robes was simply a concentrated version of the shade itself. "The Tirkju'a likes the color pink. I dont."

Umdochar was forced to be agreeable. "Forgive me. I'll have it changed, then."

"Your Du Quam, Nubejul Tavhaii," Umdochar said after, gesturing towards Nubejul, who kept himself bent in respect, just like Toruaz did.

"Nubejul Tavhaii, my Du Quam." He heard her say in contemplation. Then she jumped. "My Du Quam? Really?!"

"And Principal Scribe, Lord Toruaz Rozkamoro—"

"—yes! The late governor's son! I know you," the Sijarkes interrupted enthusiastically. She turned her heel towards Nubejul first, a change of focus. "And you! I've heard about you from the Tirkju'a!" Quick on her feet, she wrapped her arms around Nubejul tightly.

Toruaz still not dare look. She was supposed to have a tail.

Where was it?

"We're going to be the best of friends for the next 300 years until you inevitably die. Or get crushed by a bell—like Du Quam Umdochar's mentor!" the Sijarkes cackled insensitively, gripping at Nubejul's ceremonial robes, keeping him in place as he stayed as still as a doll.

It was nothing short of impressive, to not be ruffled by such behavior.

"Du Quam Nubejul Tavhaii?" Umdochar called out. With this signal, Nubejul raised his head, straightening up to face the Sijarkes head-on, whom he discovered to only be about his height—of around five feet. To the Sijarkes' amazement, his eyes glimmered the brightest green she'd ever laid eyes on to which she could only liken to the purest of jade.

"I am honored to be of service, Domma Sijarkes."

"He's been under me for 12 years, Domma Sijarkes. Admittedly, not a lot of time, but I assure you he is very capable."

"But how will he compare to the Margijer's Du Quam? I want to show him off as soon as the ceremony is over." There was a hint of impatience. Toruaz kept himself bent, still.

He could not see how the Sijarkes sized Nubejul up and down, judging his biological make-up, his outward-looking capabilities, but she had muttered a few things regarding his appearance, of which he had heard; the question of whether or not Nubejul could do Kedrik better in the faculties that matter to her—she seemed to have no problem voicing out those thoughts.

"Her Du Quam was odd, but he can do a lot of cool stuff that I haven't seen you do before, Umdochar. I heard he can even see the future!" the Sijarkes cried, and then stopped herself upon considering that fact some more. "I thought only the Parrhadomme can do that..."

Her heels shifted again. It seemed she moved on. She was on to him next.

"You, dog."

Toruaz felt it was time to face his new master, the revered Domma Sijarkes and regent Tirkju'a.

As he gazed upon her true form for the first time, he felt his knees quiver at the sight of her scaly head—a vermin-beast child. Certainly not what he expected. He did not wish to glance down at her feet again. That was supposed to be a tail. He did his best to stare straight ahead. It was easy. She only got up to around his chest.

"Who would've thought that the foolish governor's son would one day be serving me?" the Sijarkes cackled again, clutching her stomach from the glee this situation brought her. "Interesting choice there, Du Quam Tavhaii! You're all silly."

"This just made being Tirkju'a better! I love surprises!" the Sijarkes exclaimed, stretching out her arms to the ceiling. She ran around the Hall of Du Quams, now in a good mood, pointing at everything that produced even a sliver of amusement.

Toruaz willed Nubejul to catch his gaze. His recipient was too distracted, smiling at the overjoyed Sijarkes running about like a child out of home arrest.

"You two, come. The Du Quam Umdochar has something else he needs to take care of." The contented Sijarkes placed her hands on her hips, gesturing for the exit. "As for us, we have an inauguration ceremony to prepare for. Come, come. I have instructions. We will rehearse my speech as soon as I'm through."

Nubejul followed her obediently, without a word. Toruaz, being a Principal scribe, followed only within a few meters, never beside either masters. Watching as they left, Umdochar sighed. He leaned against the statue erected of him in his youth, wondering what challenges await this strange era in Domminical history.

Would they sing praises of these three in the years to come? Will his tomb remain in preservation? Will it all come crashing down? Where would he be then?