> 📗 _The Civil Mage_ is a multi-part serial. You can [start here](https://eleanorkonik.com/the-civil-mage-sewers-1/) %% ( [[2022-08-17 Civil Mage Sewers (12)]] ) %%. It pulls together a great deal of research I've done — check out the Afterword for more notes on that. Valentia's proclamation meant that all of Lysaria's most important personages had flocked to the capital. On the morning of Eramepi's funerary rite, the palace courtyard was bore only passing resemblance to the garden she had finally left, well after moonrise, the night before. Marble plinths jutted up out of the coriander carpeting the courtyard, each displaying a selection of artful cakes and sculpted sweets. Irella felt her Voldshee heritage keenly. Lysarian elites were gluttonous at the best of times, but the their tendency to swarm a banquet seemed particularly obscene now. Even after fifteen years away from the mountains of her birth, her stomach tied itself in knots of stress and grief at the thought of food in the wake of a death. A servant appeared at her elbow even before she finished scanning the courtyard. “May I offer you refreshment?“ Irella’s gorge rose, but she accepted a plate so her empty hands wouldn’t mark her for further solicitation. "Thank you," she murmured. The woman before her did not share Irella's aversion. She speared a slice of blackcurrant pie and slid the morbid thing into her mouth without dropping a single crumb onto the golden mantle that marked her as a high-ranking treasury official. Her expression turned rapturous as she swallowed. “The Gardener’s priests have really outdone themselves,” she murmured. The man beside her, also clothed in the bright gold of the treasury, smirked as he accepted his own plate. “Nasha darling, what choice do they have? They let Eramepi die of _bloodspot fever._” Irella pushed an allium bulb through the creamy sauce on her plate and asked, as diffidently as she could, "Did they really?" Nasha turned toward her, taking in her height, her robes, her hair, then slowly raising her perfectly arched eyebrow. "You hadn't heard?" she offered a saccharine smile thick enough to choke a fly then shook her head. "And you his favorite priestess." Irella consciously relaxed her jaw as Alem touched her elbow. “I think I see Wanishtu, nin-Irella. You said you needed to speak with him?” She’d said no such thing, but she was grateful that Alem had recognized the Marnan trader as a friendly face. Alem had guarded her the last time Wanishtu had been in Oruku on business. Wanishtu had taken her out on his flagship and taught her how to fish, while Alem did his best to keep her from stumbling overboard. Irella nodded and let Alem lead her toward the throng of traders in the shade under the east pavilion. Wanishtu flashed her same charismatic smile she remembered from the siege in Marna, when he’d promised to smuggle in grain from the countryside if only she could build him a way out of the starving city. She’d built the tunnel. He hadn’t returned. Eramepi had been so angry, raging privately about the cowardice of traders, until word came that he’d been captured by Keldehssi soldiers. Wanishtu still had a scar on his collarbone from the deep bite of a Keldehssi sword; he hadn't betrayed them, and his father now stood as Eramepi's proxy governor in Marna. Valentia's proxy, now. "It’s good you’re here," Wanishtu said in a low voice. "Father sent word through the Archivists' priests that the eastern logging bridge burned down this morning. He's is worried someone's trying to take advantage of Eramepi's death to cause trouble.” Irella's gut clenched. "So soon?" The swift sharing of knowledge the Archivist offered to His faithful was a wondrous miracle, but sometimes she wished they weren't so eager to spread _every_ bit of portentous news. He spread his palms. “You’ve been through Keldehss more recently than I, nin-Irella. What do you think?” "That depends," Irella said slowly. "On whether or not Eramepi really died of bloodspot fever." Wanishtu offered her a crooked smile. "My cousin saw the rash himself, and a couple of my father’s men who were with him got sick around the same time.” “They recovered though?” Irella asked, tamping down her irrational anger as best she could when he nodded. Truly, she did not wish ill on men who had done nothing but survive when Eramepi had not. She didn't. But she had to close her eyes for a moment anyway. “Plague is no respecter of rank, though I wouldn't want to be Eramepi's mender right now." Wanishtu sighed. "At least Valentia acted quickly to secure the succession, though it’s hard to say if she’ll be able to hold the League together. You should come with me back to Marna. Father and I can protect you there.” "Eramepi isn't even entombed yet, and here we are speculating about the politics of it all," Irella said bitterly. Wanishtu rubbed his face tiredly, the most human gesture she'd seen from him in years. "The best way to honor him is to protect his legacy, Irella. You're one of the most powerful thaumaturges in the League, but you were born Voldshee. People are going to start coming after you, with Eramepi gone." "Erampi is dead! I think there are bigger things to worry about than my social standing." “I'm trying to protect you!” he hissed. “The soldiers don’t really know Valentia; they’ll follow their generals and a lot of _them_ would be happy to carve off a piece of Lysaria and rule on their own. The civil servants will keep their head down; it's not their first regime change. The Temples are the key, you're going to be a prime target and Valentia isn't going to do anything about it!” As Valentia had made abundantly clear to her, with Eramepi gone, the new Sovereign was every bit as vulnerable as Irella. Valentia had stood beside her brother while the river cities of Lysaria were united, but she had been his negotiator, not his general. A lot of powerful people had been eager to put a stop to the constant raids—but plenty more had profited from the violence and the chaos. Before Irella could think through what Wanishtu was saying—offering—a novice appeared at her shoulder. “Excuse me, nin-Irella, I’m sorry to interrupt, but en-Avestur asked me to watch for you. He needs to speak with you.” Irella wanted to snap at him to go away, rage at him for daring to interrupt her. It wasn't fair; the boy had even less control over his orders than she did. To defy her own high priest when Eramepi was alive had been a dangerous necessity. To do so now, with the League on the knife-edge of collapse, would be a spike through the heart of everything she had ever worked for. No matter what Wanishtu urged, she wasn't going to be the one who destroyed Eramepi's legacy. "Excuse me," she said to Wanishtu. "Of course," Wanishtu murmured, but his eyes told her she was a fool to obey. ## Afterword - The cultural differences around the handling of death between the Voldshee and Lysarian cultures was a significant chunk of worldbuilding in this chapter. For more about my research into funerary rites, check out the previous edition about [burial practices & grave goods](https://eleanorkonik.com/funerals/). - Bloodspot fever is this universe's word for [dengue hemorrhagic fever](https://www.cdc.gov/dengue/resources/denguedhf-information-for-health-care-practitioners_2009.pdf), also as the severe form of breakbone fever, which is a mosquito-borne viral disease common in tropical and subtropical areas. It's generally mild the first time around, but in rare cases can be deadly, especially if a sister disease is later contracted. There's usually a fever and a rash along with muscle and joint pain, but the hemorrhagic version that comes with severe cases causes spontaneous bleeding and platelet leakage. It's not particularly common in the regions Lysaria is loosely modeled on, but unlike Mesopotamia, Lysaria is just north of a very marshy delta, and the delta regions have more mosquitoes than Eramepi's home city of Marna, which is up in the mountains. - The Lysarian League is in some ways based on the Greek [Delian League](https://www.worldhistory.org/Delian_League/), which eventually evolved into the Athenian Empire, but it's more strongly based on how Hammurabi brought almost all of Mesopotamia under Babylonian rule. In fact one of the ways I describe _Civil Mage_ is "what if Hammurabi died young and his sister had to team up with his chief engineer to keep the empire from unraveling?" Only with magic, of course, and in a fantasy world with a lot of other things going on.