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“Let it be known,” said the Speaker, shuffling the papers atop his towering desk to look down at the assembly before him. “That on this, the third month of the twelfth year of Azar Tisroc (may she live forever), this Court convened—in the presence of the Grand Vizier and three Princes of the realm, and representatives from all provinces in the Great Empire of Calormen—to explore the question of legal approval for cultural celebrations to be observed within this Great Empire. This is the first of many sessions.”
There was a rustle about the room as the crowd took their seats in the long hall, some craning their necks to see beyond the marble pillars. There were some sighs of relief, too—especially from the students, who were hoping to make it to lunch on time at one of the famous restaurants in the Palace area of the city.
Yasmeen Tarkheena, clad in her most scholarly tunic with her long dark hair in a thick braid, stood perfectly still at her own dais on the far right end of the semicircle. The Speaker sat in the middle, and directly behind him and slightly above him, the Grand Vizier—his beard nearly as white as his turban and a hand to his cheek as he listened intently. In between the Speaker and Yasmeen were a variety of scholars and members of the Tisroc’s Court (may she live forever), each with piles of notes ready before them, along with two young Princes sitting side by side (she suspected they were passing notes to each other throughout the proceedings). A third Prince, she suspected, sat somewhere in the audience.
“This session will address a specific Argument, the results of which will not yet be legally binding but lend perspective to this Court as it moves into more wide-ranging deliberations, after which a final decision will be made. As per tradition, his honor the Grand Vizier, executer of the Tisroc’s law (may it forever guide us), calls forward the Argumentators. On my right—”
The man on the opposite end of the semicircle spoke up, in a voice made stern from years of Arguments. “If it pleases the Grand Vizier, salutations and peace. My name is Sardiq Ardih of Tashbaan, Serjeant of the Royal Circle, and I will be speaking on behalf of the City of Tashbaan in this most revered Argument.”
“Noted,” the Speaker looked to Yasmeen. “And on my left—”
“If it pleases the Grand Vizier,” Yasmeen repeated, as was tradition. “Salutations and peace. My name is Yasmeen Tarkheena, Professor at the University of Tashbaan, Department of Narnian Studies. It is my pleasure to bring to this Court a cultural perspective on provincial practices, to inform this sacred Argument.”
The Speaker nodded. “Do you understand the proceedings of this Argument? Very well. You have been called to this most ancient Court to present Arguments against and on behalf of the activities witnessed a fortnight ago in the city of Beroona, whereupon provincial authorities notified the Courts in Tashbaan of a potential violation. Sardiq, you may begin.”
The assembly seemed to lean forward expectantly. It had been some years since a deliberation of this kind had been held, focused on cultural and religious practices. Every printing press, local authority and priest or priestess within two days of Tashbaan had made it a point to be there. Similarly, every faculty member of every nearby university with a Law or Religion Department had tasked their students to attend—which led to a peculiar mix of young and old, experienced and amateur, turbaned and bare-headed, human and part-Narnian. As a professor, Yasmeen was overjoyed to see such interest given to civic matters; as a Tarkheena, she knew she would be cursing at the crowded streets when this was over; as someone part-Narnian, she wondered if some of her Jasmine relatives were in the crowd.
Sardiq launched into his speech.
“In the name of Tash the irresistible, the inexorable, the bearer of gifts. Be it known to this Court that a fortnight ago, in the streets of the Northern city of Beroona, a primitive act of revelry took place. A delegation of no less than fifty Narnian Calormene took to the street of Azim Selda—popularly known as Badger’s Row—and, with fearsome cries, initiated a collective vandalism upon the neighborhood. It was humbly requested by some neighbors that the Court outlaw such disorderly behavior and hold the culprits responsible for the disruption caused.” He produced a scroll of paper. “Among the damages listed were: disturbed sleep of approximately fifty residents in the area, forty stone-measures of spoiled vegetables, and fifteen new potholes for which repairmoles had to be mobilized in the morning.”
There were some gasps from the audience, and perhaps also some banging of hooves on the marble floors. Yasmeen knew that the Court had already picked up on the problematic undercurrents of the complaint— primitive and fearsome : no doubt the “neighbors” listed were among the elderly settlers from Tehishbaan, whose grandparents would have accompanied those adjectives with the term barbarian.
“In the name of Tash the irresistible, the inexorable, the just,” Yasmeen began her turn. “I will endeavor to clarify the misunderstanding. The event described in Beroona was, in actuality, a cultural celebration that takes place on the last spring night of the year: the feast of the Found Prince.”
There was a hum of agreement from half the crowd. The two young Princes’ expressions had perked up, perhaps hoping to find something that related to them.
“This is an Aslanic tradition in which each family digs a hole in their yard and lays out meal offerings just after sunset, praying that lost children return to their families, and celebrating those they hold dear. It is an entirely Aslanic practice and has no true Southern counterpart. It is also not to be confused with the Midsummer Celebration—an event often associated with princes—where by tradition no man is allowed to let a donkey into the streets; as you know, this has caused some logistical constraints for Narnian Donkeys. To the inhabitants of the province of Narnia, the condemnation of this festival appears as nothing but a suppression of their cultural traditions.”
Muttering from the crowd. The Grand Vizier stirred for the first time, a finger tapping the Speaker’s chair to warn that he would speak. “The court acknowledges the validity of cultural festivities authorized by the Tisroc (may she live forever),” he intoned. “Calormen has always been an Empire where diversity is celebrated, and cultural exchange is encouraged. It is for this reason that Narnian celebrations were already placed into law in the last fifty years: the End of Winter (or lamp-lights festival, as many now refer to it), and the Snow Dance (which here in Tashbaan, of course, is celebrated with ice-cream due to it being summer—ice cream sponsored by the Palace itself, I might remind you).”
Sardiq threw his hands up in the air with rather dramatic emphasis. “This was an unauthorized celebration to which hundreds flocked! There would be no disruption if legal channels had been pursued.”
“Multiple requests have been made for the feast of the Found Prince to be included among these legal holidays; the most recent one last year, with much campaigning at Paraveel and Beroona. Yet nothing came of it,” Yasmeen explained, meeting Sardiq’s showmanship with a sweet smile of her own. She turned towards the Grand Vizier. “Perhaps there was some objection to the name?”
The Grand Vizier sniffed, adjusting his spectacles. “I cannot speculate on why the request was denied. But the name does cause some confusion—the only Prince-related festival in Calormen is the Midsummer Celebration.”
Yasmeen was almost sure that she could spot the historians in the crowd by identifying those furiously scribbling into their notes. At least three dissertations at her department in the last year had been on the topic of doomed Narnian Princes and their much-debated names and reigns. To the Palace, however, such talk still felt rather foreign—and perhaps even a little blasphemous, no matter how far policy had come.
“I do not see why this should cause confusion. It is not unusual to have cultural celebrations based on ancient histories and rites. In Tehishbaan, the Feast of Fire is held in winter, in which a ‘Fire King’ is crowned—this is, of course, not a true monarch but a feature of the party. However, the custom comes from the days before Calormen conquest, when the tribal king was crowned on that very day. If anything, festivals that remind us of the past allow us to reflect on the many cultures that contribute to the strength of this Empire, and remember the great power that holds us together.”
The Speaker was looking at her thoughtfully, although not unkindly. “You yourself are Narnian Calormene, are you not?”
“Half-Narnian. My mother (on whom be the peace of the gods) was a Dryad. My father is Sana Tarkaan, descended from Ilsombreh Tisroc himself. I believe I am not the only one on this court with such ancestry.” She knew that there were at least a few hooves underneath the traditional Court tunics.
“And was this festival in practice at your home here in Tashbaan, in your childhood?”
“It was, but not due to my parentage. As you know, my father is Calormene and did not have the custom. But our neighbors were Narnian—Fauns, as it happens—and, being childless themselves, they invited all the children on our street to their home. We dug a small hole with spoons, being children, and laid out a feast—part of which we ate together. It was here that I first tried some traditional Narnian dishes that are not yet widely sold in the market: Beaversdam pudding, and pickled peaches.”
Yasmeen turned her attention from the Speaker to the rest of the Court. “This tradition has long been practiced in the privacy of homes. It has never been a political act, but a family holiday.”
“That may be,” said Sardiq. “But a festival that involves digging and the desecration of food… such waste is outlawed in Calormen, for it attracts rats—already an issue in Tashbaan and other major cities, although perhaps not in Beroona where you might find Talking ones.”
“Perhaps a modification can be made, that the foods left outside are removed by dawn of the next day? And perhaps keeping in mind the food does not attract flies—perhaps primarily nuts, and no meats? And the digging is merely symbolic, I assure you; hardly any depth worth noting.” (Not that Yasmeen had not heard people mutter about burying someone they particularly disliked in their hole that year).
The Grand Vizier sniffed, glancing from his secretary’s notes to the people before him. “ Three Narnian holidays then, on the Tisroc’s calendar (may she live forever)?”
Yasmeen gave a respectful nod. “It is at the very least proportional, O Vizier—there are fifteen more on that calendar.”
The Grand Vizier nodded slowly, still looking at the paper. The members of the Court whispered among themselves, and audience members fidgeted. The young Princes seemed to be exchanging looks with some of their classmates in the crowd. Some of the students, Yasmeen was sure, would already be drawing out a strategy to be free of classes for such a holiday.
Finally, the Speaker straightened and spoke loudly for the benefit of the entire hall.
“Very well. By the rule of the Tisroc (may she live forever), and the voice of the people of the Great Empire of Calormen, the accusation of disruption of the peace is thus struck down, and the right of Narnian Calormenes to celebrate the Feast of the Found Prince is assumed upheld, and a proposition to legalize it as a cultural holiday submitted to the court for deliberation.”
A cheer rose in the audience, along with the hiss of many pens scribbling at the same time. By the next morning, opinion pieces would already reach Anvard Crossing, dissecting every word of the Argument and trying to determine what its outcome could mean for wider decision-making in the Empire. Ultimately, half of them would be wrong.
But while Yasmeen was pleased for the Narnians who would continue to joyfully celebrate the festival, in the moment she derived more satisfaction from watching Sardiq’s well-practiced blank expression slip ever so slightly—her old classmate shining through for a short moment. He mouthed Well done, Professor, before offering a respectful bow to the Grand Vizier, who was now tapping the Speaker’s chair again.
“It is the wish of this Court to acknowledge the troubled history behind us and the glorious future before us—one where all, man and Beast and Being, may live and work in service to this Great Empire,” said the Speaker. Then, with a sigh and a glance at his pocket watch, he added: “We will now take a lunch break, after which we will move on to the second Argument: the repurposing of western Telmarine ruins.”