Samples from books that we have published under the Eartherean Press imprint.
This is another in a series from the second book in the 4-book series The Doom-Quest of Ara-Karn: The Divine Queen.
© 1982 by A. Adam Corby
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License. The license is included as an appendix to this work.
Under the King’s Light
THE COUNCIL OF REGENTS, who governed the Empire of Tarendahardil in the name of their lord the Prince Elnavis, Heir to the World, convened at a crescent table in a huge hall of stone in the Palace. Once it had served as the Imperial Hall of Justice, and been crowded upon appointed passes with throngs of petitioning citizens. And before them, astride a jeweled throne in a well of sunlight, the golden Bordakasha had given them justice. Ambassadors, suppliants and potentates once had come hither – even kings had waited with their servants on the wide stone steps without the hall to be allowed to offer humble submission to the world-ruling sons of Elna. But now the suppliants sought the offices of Dornan Ural in High Town below, and ambassadors and potentates sent cartloads of tribute to pacify dread Tarendahardil no longer.
Upon this occasion, as indeed upon most, the first to arrive was Dornan Ural. The High Regent spoke gently to his two clerks, who emptied upon the crescent table their sacks of scrolls and parchments. He thanked and dismissed them; then, sitting himself down in the third throne from the right, spread out his many papers, arranged the robes and pectoral of his office, and opened a wax note pad, all in the brusque, sure manner of the good, dutiful workman.
So, settling himself to make notes upon the latest list of the Imperial tax-gatherers, Dornan Ural carved for himself a comfortable little niche out of the air of that huge and somber hall. Far over him on either side, stone galleries protruded from the walls. There the highborn had had their seats in the past. Seven massive pillars rose like enormous trees out of the tiles of the floor of the hall to maintain the ceiling-beams lost in the gloom high above.
Along the long walls of the halls ran two series of arched niches, each with its own ceremonial lamp placed before it: in these niches were busts of each of the Emperors, from Elna himself all the way to the late Emperor, father to Allissál. There had been so many of them through the centuries, that their busts filled all the niches, even to the very ends: all but one, the very last niche upon the left-hand side. It had been a source of some concern where room should be found for all the Emperors yet to come.
High upon the outer wall several circular windows broke the black stone to admit Goddess’s light. To guard against the weather, these windows were covered with thinly cut sheets of translucent rock. The largest and central window, however, opened bare to the sky: and it was through this that the column of Her light fell to the innermost end of the hall, to form the oval pool of gold in which the Emperors had sat – for which reason it had been anciently named, the King’s Light.
Dornan Ural worked on, oblivious to these noble wonders about him – still, he was thankful for the King’s Light, which served well to illuminate the forest of figures and characters he had uprisen about himself.
After some time the High Charan of the Eglands entered, taking his accustomed place in the last of the thrones to the left. He nodded curtly to the High Regent’s words of greeting, and drew up the hem of his cloak to cover and warm his knees. Farnese, last lord of the windy horse-breeding plains of the Eglands, was an ancient man with but a few wisps of white hair left about his head. He had been hailed in his youth as the greatest general of his time; yet his crooked nose had been broken, it was rumored, not on the battlefield, but in a heated duel over the love of the Chara Fillaloial, years before the birth of the late Emperor. For all his age, the Charan’s sharp gray eyes darted about him as piercingly as those of a gerlin or some other prized bird of prey. One thing only did the old man despise more than the soft corruption of the young nobles of the court: the wrinkled corruption of his own flesh. The sternest, most dignified noble in the Empire, he had but a single friend – Ampeánor, the Charan of Rukor. There at least the old dying man fancied he had found a kindred spirit, almost, as it were, a son.
Dornan Ural worked on, now preparing his notes for the matters to be presented at this meeting. After some moments, the High Charan turned his rigid back and regarded the High Regent.
‘Where are the others?’ he asked in a deep, bitter voice.
‘They should be here shortly,’ Dornan Ural replied diffidently. ‘Her majesty was in the baths, but I saw Arstomenes in the Gardens, conversing with the Chara Ilal.’ He colored slightly. ‘Lornof, I am sure, is on his way. We are early yet, I believe.’
‘And his highness?’
‘Ah – I am afraid I don’t know where the prince is this pass.’
The High Charan grunted, the sound of which was like the splash of a drop of gelid venom. ‘You should do more to oversee him, Regent,’ he said. ‘Such is your office.’
The High Regent turned in his chair, ill at ease in the scrutiny of those eyes. ‘I am but the chief of his highness’s servants,’ he said at length. ‘It is not for me to judge or condemn.’ Farnese looked away down the hall, his silence comment enough. Dornan Ural, relieved, lost himself again in the shelter of his papers.
Shortly thereafter, the palace slaves sounded the hour; Arstomenes and Lornof entered, followed shortly by her majesty. The lords of Vapio and Fulmine took the thrones to the right of the High Regent; Allissál sat in the third throne from the left, upon the other side of the central, greatest throne, from Dornan Ural. Two of the seven seats thus remained vacant: that between Allissál and Farnese, where Ampeánor of Rukor was used to sit, and the great central throne, that alone stood full in the King’s Light.
‘Shall we get on with it, then?’ said Farnese.
‘My lord, some patience, if you please,’ Allissál said gently, forestalling the assent that had leapt to Dornan Ural’s tongue. ‘We are not long past the time. We are expecting his highness at any moment.’
The High Regent sighed softly, and rustled again among his scrolls.
§
AT LENGTH they began, without Elnavis’s presence. For the first items on Dornan Ural’s long list, Allissál remained for the most part still, speaking only in an effort to soothe and reaffirm the minds of Arstomenes and Farnese. Lornof she did not bother about, for his revenues were dependent upon the office of the High Regent; and Lornof could act on occasion even more slavishly than Dornan Ural himself. Yet when the matter of Elnavis’s proposed expedition to the North arose and Lornof spoke in his way against it, Allissál could stand quiet no longer.
‘Surely, my lord,’ she said angrily, ‘you are not considering revoking what has already been agreed?’ Her hair was bound most intricately and formally, and her stiff dress was the color of pearls against a stormy sky, most admirably bringing out the icy lights within her eyes, before which Lornof quailed.
‘Your majesty, certainly not,’ he said, swallowing. ‘My only concern was for his highness’s safety. Yet if my lord the prince is determined to set forth upon this enterprise, perhaps it were best we should not prohibit it.’
‘I am in agreement there,’ said the Charan Farnese. ‘This expedition is foolishness; but then all boys will have their follies. This I would say even to the prince’s face, if only he were here.
‘Shall we risk the life of a prince of the blood on mere gallantry?’ the Charan of the Eglands continued. ‘Or shall we honestly expect that an untried youth leading a few hundred other such, could hope to stop these barbarians who have already overthrown great cities? Including Gerso, whose gates were ever held to be impregnable.’
‘Please do not think of our son’s expedition as mere gallantry,’ Allissál interposed. Surrounded by vacancies, the only woman among these men, she felt more than ever an intruder. ‘We realize that our presence here is tolerated by your lordships as a matter of courtesy only, and that we are allowed no vote in your deliberations. Yet we pray you out of the spirit of that courtesy at least to hear us out.
‘The people of Carftain have been our allies so long and through so many troublous times, that now, when they are besieged by this barbarian and desperately sue for our assistance, we owe them all the aid we can muster, and not mere scorn. My lord of the Eglands, his highness is presently engaged upon very important matters of training, else he would explain our hopes to you himself. Hear then my small voice instead.
‘It was centuries ago that great Elna, our first and most glorious ancestor, first banded together the cowed peoples of the civilized cities, and fought the barbarians back, so that they were at last all but extinguished, and their few survivors were penned in the frozen wilds of the far North, beyond the mountains of the Spine. Well, and that was the founding of this city and this Empire and all of what we enjoy now. Yet we think you, Farnese, would be the first to bow your head to the knowledge that we have the strength of our years of glory no longer. And this not in terms of tributary nations only, but as well the inner strength of each of us, common and noble alike. So it does not surprise us to find such timidity before plans requiring courage and strength. Yet even so, shall we refrain from saying that what great Elna gained, we might win back? And now the barbarians are risen again, as none dared dream they might; and cities fall before them like ripe wheat. Is not this Ara-Karn the common foe of us all? He will grow only the stronger for continued victories, while we – all of us, not only the cities of the North – grow weaker. And how long think you it will be then, before he comes to penetrate our own supposedly impregnable gates?
‘Charan of Fulmine, you have spoken of your concern for our son’s safety. Therein we are in full accord. The problem, however, admits of an easy solution; send more than the Companions, and guard your future sovereign’s life with veteran troops from Rukor.’
There was an uneasy silence when she had ceased, as if she had put a little shame into those men, the greatest lords of the Empire, with the reminder of what their ancestors had done and been. Then Dornan Ural looked up from a scroll of parchment covered with a part of the Imperial tax-rolls and addressed her.
‘Your majesty, we have been through all of this many times before. The barbarian cannot hope to subdue the North so quickly as your majesty believes – indeed, it is not likely he shall ever be able to do so. Yet even then he would never venture beyond the sands of the Taril. That desert is all but impassable for a few hardy men, let alone an army; and thus, so long as Rukorian warships control the Sea of Elna, we of the South may bide secure.
‘Her majesty has but now spoken many no doubt stirring words; yet I ask you all, what will the balance-sheet of this expedition truly be? What will we gain for the lives of our citizens and the monies spent? Perhaps the cities of the North will thank us; more probably they will envy and fear us and our ambitions. Shall we bare our own defenses on their behalf? Perhaps there will be fine poems composed; is it worthwhile to spend the lives of the sons of our common folk, to purchase the ambitious fancies and flatteries of the highborn? Your majesty surprises me by her words. These barbarians are but robbers after all, not a nation. Doubtless when they have stolen enough, they will return to their homeland to be heard from no more.
‘And moreover, if our learning suggests anything at all to us, it is that the humbling of certain cities of the North will only give our craftsmen an advantage in the markets of the world. Already monies flow our way with the refugees who seek our shelter. I greatly fear his highness’s expedition will prove needless, futile, and in the end quite costly. I on my part am well known to oppose such grandiose dreams. Yet his highness will go and, like some wayward child, will tolerate no denials. What then can we, who are his servants, do? We cannot chain him to the walls, or feed him wisdom with his meat. If he will go, he shall go; yet to arm and mount a full army in the field would be far more than the Imperial Treasury can now afford. Especially when there are so many other, more pressing expenses.’
‘Such as the city sewers,’ added Allissál dismally, at which the Charan of Vapio laughed lazily.
‘Yorkjax of Belknule is known to be hostile to us,’ said Lornof, whose own province of Fulmine marched upon Belknule. ‘We shall need to maintain our strength here to deter his aggressions, I think. Yet at the same time I agree with her majesty, that the prince should be at all times adequately protected.’
‘A right masterfully phrased pronouncement,’ said Arstomenes, laughing from the end of the table beyond Lornof, and lazily sipping wine from a goblet carven of a single block of crystal.
‘My lord,’ said the Queen, ‘we have not heard from you regarding this matter. Have you nothing to put forth before us?’
‘Not words on this,’ he smiled insolently. ‘If Elnavis wants to go, let him fly! I’ve heard the women of the North have some delightful ways about them. But why send soldiers on a pleasure lark?’
‘Charanti, we go nowhere,’ said Dornan Ural. ‘And there remain many important matters yet on the lists, details of policy and official appointments. Shall we come to a vote then, and pass on to greater matters?’
‘What could be greater than the safety of your future sovereign?’ countered the Empress. ‘However, we are in agreement that time presses. You have read the document of the High Charan of Rukor, signed by his own hand, in which he names us as his surrogate. Thus if none of you has objection to the wishes of the High Charan, we shall come swiftly to a vote. You know our wishes; and they are the desires of Ampeánor as well. Arstomenes, will you not throw in with us?’
The tall man in robes of silken elzantine turned his heavy-lidded, kohl-streaked eyes upon her and opened, his sensual lips in a slight, smiling yawn. He somehow managed to perform even so boorish an act with grace.
‘Why, if the prince will play at warrior-and-maidens, let him go, by all means. Yet my own inclination is to send him accompanied by only the charming youths of the Companions, as originally decided. Great comedies and tragedies alike, after all, require small casts of characters.’
Allissál looked away, unable to dissemble her disappointment. Her eyes ranged over the busts of her ancestors, whose carved mouths seemed to cry out to her.
‘Yet when one of the beauty of your majesty asks a thing with such a winning grace, my own inclinations are beside the point,’ Arstomenes added, amused at the look upon her face. ‘I vote to send the Rukorians as well.’
‘My own opinions are already known,’ said Dornan Ural. ‘We should not send the Rukorians, because we cannot afford to do so. Already several merchants have protested to me concerning the rates of taxation upon harbor-goods; this could only raise those rates. It is all very well for you of the highborn to mount up expenditures, but it falls to my office to find some means of paying for it all. Why, do any of you realize the cost of the last exhibition of wild beasts at the Amphitheater? It would shock you, I assure you. Not to mention the cost to sweep and wash the streets afterward, and the disposal of the carcasses. And if the expedition fails, who but I will get the blame for it? My lords, we must be realistic.’
Lornof nodded. ‘This would seem the best compromise to me,’ he said, eying uncertainly the Charan of Vapio. ‘Yet still I do not see why we cannot have more time to consider the matter.’
‘That has been decided,’ said Farnese impatiently. ‘Have done. This is all of it folly,’ he added. ‘But all men are fools. Before this meeting, for example, I would have said to you all: Let us not be idiots by half – if we allow the prince to go, then we should send trained troops to guard his soft young neck. Yet his highness, whose soft young neck it is, seems to think so little of the matter that he has not even bothered to attend us to argue his interests. Should we then consider it a thing of greater weight? So, much as it tears me, I must go against Ampeánor’s wishes. Let the prince take only his Companions, and let them discover for themselves the cost of such gallantry.’
The Queen sighed, and looked down the long and empty hall.
‘So it is decided,’ uttered Dornan Ural with finality. Just then, a horn sounded from without; and the prince himself strode in through the colonnade, swaggering and breathing heavily, the flush of victorious exertion still upon his cheeks. The men rose at his entrance.
‘My liege,’ said the High Charan of the Eglands, inclining his head stiffly. ‘How honored we are that you have chosen, in the end, to attend this our little meeting.’
The prince noted the tone of the old man’s voice and smiled impudently. ‘Our apologies for having been – unavoidably detained.’ He threw himself lazily into the centermost chair. ‘The races were overlong in getting started: one of the stallions chose to be temperamental. Our teams won though, and in record time according to the sands and water-clocks alike. Greetings, mother.’
Elnavis leaned to kiss his mother’s cheek. She whispered angrily into his ear, ‘You should have been here!’
‘Your highness,’ said Dornan Ural, ‘at last we have reached a final decision regarding your proposed expedition against the barbarians besieging Carftain. You shall depart as soon as you wish.’
‘But alone, with only the Companions,’ added the Queen.
The prince laughed. ‘Is it so, then? No great harm: we shall be more than a match for any of the barbarian ragtag.’
‘No doubt,’ the Charan of the Eglands agreed dryly.
A slave approached the dais, interrupting their talk.
‘Yes, Paranin, what is it?’ asked Dornan Ural, who seemed to be unable to refrain from addressing every single slave by name.
‘Great Charanti, your Imperial Highness and your August Majesty, there is a stranger without, most urgently requesting an audience. He claims to be a nobleman bearing important news from Carftain.’
‘We have many urgent matters of our own to discuss first, Paranin,’ Dornan Ural sighed; ‘And we have only just finished with Carftain. This one man cannot be so important to our affairs: have him wait, therefore, and I will speak to him later when I can find the time.’
‘Why not have him in now, my good man?’ asked the Queen. ‘If this man has news of the city that is his highness’s goal, then surely we can at least hear him?’
‘Truly, I think her majesty is reluctant to come at last to the topic of the cloaca,’ said Arstomenes in an undertone to Lornof beside him.
‘Yes, admit him.’ Elnavis waved eagerly, so that the High Regent, after a pause, gave in, and signed the slave to let the stranger in. The slave abased himself once more, turned and left the long hall.
§
WITHOUT THE HALL, two men stood on the wide stone steps beside a low granite pedestal supporting a towering statue of Elna Victorious. One of the men was short, bearded and middle-aged, with a servant’s coarse features. The other was a young-looking man, tall and cleanly shaven wearing a dark green hooded hunting-cloak from Gerso, fastened with a blood-red opal brooch-pin cut in the likeness of a serpent’s egg.
The slave bowed before the taller man. ‘The High Council of Regents, ruling in the name of Prince Elnavis, Heir to the World, has consented to grant you audience.’
The man nodded and turned briefly to his servant. ‘Await me here, Kuln-Holn,’ he said. ‘I should be out shortly.’
‘Yes, lord.’ The servant bowed.
Paranin led the stranger through the massive pillars and into the deepening gloom of the enormous hall, past the many frescoes and over the mosaic in the floor between the supporting columns, depicting the rock of the Citadel rising over the city. Before the stone dais, the slave prostrated himself. ‘Great Charanti, your Highness, and your August Majesty – the Lord Ennius Kandi, Charan of Elsvar of the nation of Gerso.’
He bowed gracefully before them, in austere traveling garb, all fur and soft leather after Northern fashion. ‘My lords,’ he said when given leave, ‘I fear I am the bearer of unfortunate tidings. Carftain has fallen to the barbarians.
‘Aye, my lords,’ he continued in his strange accent, seeing their consternation. ‘Forgive me if I fail to express myself well, for I do not yet speak your language well, having studied it only for the past few weeks.’
At this Allissál looked at him with respect, for he spoke the language surpassingly well for one so new to it. She herself had been struggling to learn the rather simple barbarians’ tongue for some months now, ever since the news had come of Gerso’s fall; and still she had difficulties with it
‘I was there myself,’ he went on, urged to it by their continued silence. ‘I was a witness to it. The barbarians stormed the Shadow Gate, and the lock was undoubtedly faulty, for the doors opened before them. They poured into the city, killing all who opposed them. Some men fought, and some hid in the dark cellars of their palaces, sitting atop their hoarded treasures; but the rest of us fled the city and traveled South before them – always on to the South. I, myself, when the city fell, took to mind coming here immediately to tell you the news: for in Carftain there had been much talk of Imperial assistance.’
‘Indeed, we had planned such,’ admitted Dornan Ural. ‘Now, sadly of course, there will be no need for it.’
‘You have seen these barbarians?’ asked the Charan of the Eglands.
The stranger nodded. ‘I am from the far side of the mountains, my lord, north of Gerso. I have known and dealt with the barbarians for all my life. Before Carftain I saw Gerso fall, and the breaking of Ancha, and the destruction of Eliorite as well.’
‘Tell us then what you consider to be the ultimate plans of the barbarian.’
The Gerso smiled, his dark eyes twinkling in the lamplight. ‘Plans, my lord? He has no plans, other than to loot and kill and rape until the urge leaves him, as it might do at any moment. To be sure, they say he is a madman, and I for one believe it. Whenever has a brigand had plans?’
‘Then may we take it as a truth,’ asked Dornan Ural, ‘that these savages have no overall plans for conquest? And do you think it likely, my lord, that they would ever come so far as to menace us here?’
The Gerso laughed, in a tone that seemed to displease the Queen. ‘And are they not mere savages, lord, as you have said? Would such as they ever cross the Taril? Twelve hundred fastces of desert wastes must ever be an impassable barrier to those born in the icy deserts of the far North. And my lords, what could the barbarians hope in assaulting the double gates of this Citadel? For they are impregnable, if I have ever seen any such. They could not dream simply to walk in here and confront you to your faces, could they? No, the barbarians will merely ravage the North so long as the wildness takes them and good loot remains to be had. One decisive defeat, such as will surely come even without your generous aid, and they will be sent scurrying to their holes in the far North where they belong.’
‘Just as I’ve always said!’ cried Elnavis with glee. ‘One good defeat! And why should we not be the ones to gather its glory?’
‘Oh.’ The Gerso shrugged carelessly. ‘As to that, your highness, why trouble yourself? What glory is gained in conquering such rabble? They are unworthy of your might. To hunt the wild bandar is a great feat; but the killing of tavern-rats, though perhaps as dangerous, is a task fit only for the lowborn.’
‘We are of like mind there,’ proffered Arstomenes languidly. ‘Tell me, sir, have you brought any of your countrywomen along in your train?’
‘Unfortunately not, my lord. I am a poor man now, with but a single servant, and he more than half barbarian himself.’
‘Elna got enough glory for conquering them,’ muttered the prince.
‘Your Highness,’ said Dornan Ural, like a tutor addressing some wayward student. ‘Am I not the High Regent in your name? And did not your revered father himself appoint me to this task? It is at times a great burden to me, yet I never complain of it. So does not your highness owe it to me, at least to consider my advice?’
The prince did not answer, but rather played with his dagger about the parchments on the table with a sour look. Allissál noted the fiercely contemptuous way the Gerso now regarded the High Regent. Up until then he had seemed rather a tame fellow; this new look, however, seemed to reveal a different man. Perhaps, after all, if he tested true, she might find some use in him. She leaned forward and addressed him for the first time. ‘And have you ever seen this madman, my lord?’
The Gerso turned his gaze back upon her, and for a moment perhaps, she regretted her question. But she did not look away, and this time it was the stranger who let fall his eyes.
‘Aye,’ he said softly. ‘Your majesty, I have seen the face of Ara-Karn many times, as he led his roaring men to the assault upon the walls of my cities. I know his face even better than my own.’
They leaned forward at this, curious, even to Dornan Ural, about the appearance of the man who had thrown his shadow across the round world.
‘Tell us,’ asked Elnavis, ‘are any of the tales of the refugees true? Her majesty has interviewed many claiming to have seen the man. Is he really twice the height of an ordinary man, with a great black beard as bristling as briar? And does he really breakfast upon the babes of his foes?’
The stranger laughed. ‘As for his diet, Your Highness, I could not say. No doubt he feeds upon things horrible enough. For the description you have given, it is not far from the mark. Oh, he is monstrous to behold, no one could argue it. He revels in blood and destruction, and even claims to be the incarnation of dark God upon the earth. Though this is manifestly impossible, of course, since it is well known that God is the husband of her August Majesty; and surely maid should know her husband? Yet his special joy,’ he added, with an insolent glance at the Queen, ‘is to ride the burning streets of those cities he has conquered and publicly rape the daughters of all of the leading citizens. None are spared his insatiable appetites, not maidens nor matrons, charai or even great Queens. Pray you do not let him conquer Tarendahardil, lest he get a chance to validate his claims to Godhood.’
‘Heavens,’ expostulated Arstomenes with a lazy laugh. ‘If that’s so, he’d fit into the highborn society hereabouts very nicely! Shall we invite him to our next garden-party, your majesty?’ At this sally all laughed, even, grudgingly, Farnese; except the stranger only smiled, and Allissál did not do even that.
‘Charanti,’ she broke in dryly, ‘have we not wandered? This man here mocks us. No doubt he has never set eyes upon the barbarian in his life. It is difficult to run while looking backward, is it not? And you seem to have done a great deal of running, my good man.’
‘Far better to run than bleed, your majesty.’ He smiled. ‘Or to weep lonely tears in darkness.’
‘So all cowards claim. Now, shall we return to business? You have voted to allow our son to voyage with his companions to the North to fight the barbarians. Is there any reason to revoke that vote? Rather, the fall of Carftain should show you the necessity of swift aid all the more, to succor the city that may be next attacked. My good man, give us your opinion concerning the city most likely to be next assaulted.’
The Gerso looked dismayed, which pleased her. ‘Surely, your majesty does not intend that the prince should undertake such a hazardous mission?’
‘Nay, I’ll go!’ protested Elnavis. ‘Show me him who’d stop me!’
The Gerso bowed. ‘Perhaps Ara-Karn will stop you.’
‘I would welcome such a meeting,’ answered the prince proudly. ‘He would not stop me.’
‘And has your highness no doubts at all of that?’
‘I, at least, am no coward. We shall meet the barbarians openly upon the field of combat, and cut them down beneath our hooves. Judge not Imperial cavalry by your own pitiful troops.’
‘I would not dream of doing so, your highness. Yet the barbarians do have a strange new weapon, the like of which has not been seen in this world before. Perhaps your highness has heard of this thing they call the bow?’
‘I have heard of it.’ The prince shrugged. ‘It is a weapon for cowards and knaves. We would never stoop to the use of such a thing. Our troops will make short shrift of it, never fear.’
‘Of that, I have no fears at all, Your Highness.’
‘Yet still we need to know which city will be the next attacked.’
‘Below Carftain,’ said the High Charan of the Eglands, ‘there are two cities lying along the path the barbarian has been following. I have visited the North often enough to know them both. One city is large and powerful: Mersaline, under the leadership of Zarendal, a prince of rare strength in these soft times. The other is well situated but of no strength of men – Tezmon, where Armand the Fat is mayor.’
‘Why should he not rather travel toward the bright horizon?’ asked Lornof. ‘There are many rich cities there.’
‘He cannot leave Mersaline and Tezmon unconquered at his flank,’ answered the prince. ‘I have learned enough of tactics from Ampeánor to be sure of that. Zarendal would harry his supply lines and force him to battle two foes at once, before and behind. If he does that, the barbarian will but doom himself.’
‘Your highness shows rare wisdom,’ Farnese said, nodding. ‘And for a similar reason he will attack Mersaline before Tezmon. Tezmon would have the aid of Zarendal’s troops at the barbarian’s rear; but if Ara-Karn strikes Mersaline first, the Tezmonians would probably send no aid at all, even though they would be next attacked. It is only a city of merchants, after all.’
‘So soon as it may be arranged, then,’ Elnavis said confidently, ‘I’ll sail for Torjulla, and travel thence upland to Mersaline.’
‘None can doubt your highness’s courage,’ the Gerso said, bowing. ‘And now may I wish your highness all the good fortune upon this expedition that you deserve?’
Dornan Ural sighed wearily. ‘Now can we not at last pass on to other matters? There are many items yet to be discussed.’
Faintly behind her hand, Allissál groaned.
§
GATHERING in the courtyard outside to await the ending of the Council were soldiers gleaming in golden armor, and noblemen borne up from the gates of the Citadel upon litters of ivory and ebony. Silver-tongued ladies in gowns of translucent silk languidly passed by, conversing with word and laughter in strange and beautiful tongues. They walked beneath statues of consummate artistry, and leaned in one another’s embraces, gossiping, singing, and giving the gathering men lowered love-looks and secret signs of denial and assent. Their lovely voices arose melodiously in the soft air, like distant bells sounding through water, as they ascended the paths from the Gardens below. So those ladies and their suitors gracefully took their ease awaiting their sovereign, like the shades of voyaged kings and fair queens walking gently in the muted golden sunlight of the lands of the dead upon the far side of the world, godlike in stateliness serene and unending.
On the wide stone steps, the Gerso rejoined his servant. ‘Now, Kuln-Holn, do you still regret that you chose to follow me, or that I brought you hither?’
‘No, lord,’ he answered solemnly. ‘Oh, but this outgoes all my visions. How could we have thought of such a place in the North? It is no wonder She has claimed it for Her own.’
‘Look upon it longer, if it pleases you. We shall wait here with these others until the meeting of the Council ends. I want another glimpse of the Empress.’
‘Lord, have you truly seen her? And is she all they say of her?’
‘More. But wait and judge her with your own eyes.’
They waited, the servant standing beneath the towering statue of Elna while the master paced the steps. After a time a clear and perfect note sounded above them. With great ceremony the High Council of Tarendahardil issued forth. Around them swarmed a crowd of attendants and petitioners.
Then, like Goddess-sun glimpsed between the dull mountains of the dusky border, a woman appeared before Kuln-Holn’s eyes; and the awful loveliness of her struck through Kuln-Holn like a spear-cast. Now the legends about her seemed easily believable, of how she had been ritually wed to dark God, who had taken her for His own in the upper reaches of the high White Tower, and so begat upon her Elnavis, Heir to the World.
A rough hand gripped the servant’s shoulder. His master turned him around, looking him in the face; then laughed suddenly, unpleasantly. There were pain and fury and a cruel delight in the Gerso’s face, none of them directed at Kuln-Holn. Kuln-Holn remembered the horror of Gerso’s fall then: the many slaughtered dead, the fire, the tribal warriors roaming the bloody streets, and the rocky ash-pit that was now the city’s only remnant. He beheld these things now again, reflected in the deep eyes of his master; and he was afraid.
But then the laughter ceased, and a calm gray death gave his master’s face some peace. ‘Come along, Kuln-Holn.’
With a fleeting glance toward the fragrant groves whither the Queen and her courtiers had gone, the Gerso turned and signed to the Imperial guardsman to conduct them hence. They proceeded between the rows of perfect statues, through the mighty gates and down into the City.
§
AFTER THE FIFTH MEAL the time for the longsleep came. In the silken, tented bed in her high, hollow dimchamber at the top of the White Tower, Allissál lay, as ever, alone. At first sleep would not approach her, for her heart was filled with burning hope for her son’s success. Slowly then her eyes fluttered together and she slept. Then the dream returned to her, like some daggered thief. Her upflung arms caught the folds of the transparent canopy and rent it, so that the jeweled web fell across her face and mouth and streaming snaky coils of hair. She woke with a little cry.
At the side of the bed she lighted the lamp of gold and pearl and huddled over its flame. She stood and went round the bed. Up the steep stone steps set into the wall she went with a measured, painful undulation, her small, naked feet making no sound. The thin couch-shift draped from her shoulders damply clung to her long, slender body. At the high narrow window she seated herself, and threw her long hair back defiantly.
Without, the air was fine and clear. Beyond the distant edges of the city shimmered the deep azure line that was the Sea of Elna. In Goddess’s brilliant light the birds wheeled, and the ships swung into harbor, and the bazaars hummed. Even in the time of the longsleep, Tarendahardil woke.
Yet even from that cheerful scene the Queen could draw no comfort. Her pale gray eyes were blurred, as if she saw only inner visions. Never before had the dream seemed so real or menacing. The man with the odd burning eyes and the bejeweled, dead noblewoman loomed before her, until the breath caught behind her teeth.
‘And are you the child Dornan Ural believes, that bogies in the dimchamber can affright you?’ she muttered, very angry with herself.
She thought of Ampeánor, whom she missed dearly. He was the only one in whom she had been able to confide all her dreams and hopes; though they were not lovers, as all her court assumed. She murmured a little prayer to Goddess for his swift return. Thereafter, calmed somewhat, she fell into a dreamless doze, alone near the pale painted ceiling; and her long hair fell disheveled over the chill stones.
