‘It is late and we must travel early,’ said Seithenin, his voice echoing slightly in the near-empty chamber. Heavy cyprus beams arched into the darkness overhead; the richly enamelled walls glimmered in the light of brass hanging lamps, making the room appear filled with restless shadows. ‘Tell us what your divining has revealed.’
The three Magi stood before the king, dressed in the billowy vestments of their office: a long white alb, cinched with a braided silver belt and covered by a sea-green chasuble edged in silver threadwork. Tall white cylinder-shaped hats covered their shaven heads. They raised their hands in the sign of the sun, thin smiles on their long faces. Avallach sat in a chair beside Seithenin; Annubi stood behind his master, hands resting on the back of the chair, eyes narrowed.
‘Sire,’ said the foremost Mage, ‘after reading the required texts in the temple, we have consulted among ourselves and find this to be a most favourable sign – an omen of great virtue, signalling prosperity and ascendancy for all who witnessed it.’
‘Explain,’ said Seithenin. ‘I want to understand its significance more fully.’
‘As you will, Highness,’ replied the Mage with a sour smile. ‘It is our opinion that the starfall represents the seed of heaven wherewith Cronus has impregnated Oceanus. The result will be the birth of a new age in which the Nine Kingdoms will rise to lead the world in grace and wisdom and power.’
‘So be it,’ replied the other Magi, bowing, cylindrical hats bobbing once and again.
‘When will this take place?’ asked Seithenin.
‘Soon, Highness. As in a human birth there will be accompanying signs by which we shall be able to tell more precisely the moment of its coming. And then we shall announce the birth to the people.’
Seithenin glanced at Avallach, and said, ‘Please, speak if you have a mind to. I see that you are displeased.’
‘You are perceptive, Seithenin,’ Avallach replied. ‘I am displeased, it is true. And the reason is this: I am persuaded that the sign portends nothing half so pleasant as we have heard from these learned men. It is, rather, an omen of most dire circumstance.’ He challenged the Magi directly. ‘What do you say to that?’
The Magi bristled at this affront to their art, puffing out their cheeks. ‘What would be the source of your information?’ asked the foremost Mage, glancing at Annubi. The sneer in his voice was subtle.
Avallach glared, but did not rise to the insult. ‘I am waiting for your answer.’
The three put their heads together and mumbled the matter over to themselves. At length they turned and their leader replied, ‘It is difficult, Sire, to explain to one untrained in the prophetic arts.’
‘Try me. I think you will find me most astute,’ Avallach said. ‘At least, I will not be dissuaded so easily.’
The Mage mouthed a silent oath, but launched into his explanation. ‘It is recognized among the wise that of all signs of earth and sky, the omens of stars are most potent. We know that the heavenly houses through which the stars move in their courses –’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Avallach impatiently. ‘Get on with it. I am not stupid.’
‘To put it simply, the heavens may be said to represent that perfect order toward which all things on earth tend. Thus, as the stars fell from the House of Opportunity, passing through the House of Kings, we should expect to see increased fortune – especially for those of royal birth. When kings prosper, it follows that their kingdoms prosper. Starfalls are always highly propitious. There are precedents in the sacred texts – too numerous to mention, unfortunately – which bear out our opinion.’ The Mage spread his hands to show that any right-thinking man would find this explanation satisfactory, if not self-evident.
Avallach was not so quickly convinced. ‘It is also true, is it not, that the sign for opportunity has a twin?’
The Mage appeared surprised. ‘Why, yes, of course. Many signs have paired interpretations.’
‘And is it not true that the twin of opportunity is danger?’
‘This is true.’
‘In fact, is it not true that the signs for danger and opportunity are exactly the same?’
‘They are twins, Sire. Yes.’
‘Not twins,’ Avallach insisted. ‘The same sign.’
‘It is so,’ allowed the Mage, cautiously. ‘But the sacred texts are clear: this is to be regarded as a propitious manifestation.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because it always is.’
‘You mean because nothing evil has ever issued from such an omen?’
‘Precisely,’ replied the Mage; his colleagues nodded in smug self-assurance.
‘I have always thought it unwise to believe something will not happen simply because it has never happened before. Does nothing ever occur for the first time?’
The Mage spluttered and appealed to Seithenin for help. ‘Sire, if you are displeased with our service, please send us away. But I assure you we have studied this matter most completely and carefully.’
Seithenin raised a hand soothingly. ‘For my part, I am not displeased. But perhaps you will wish to look into the question Avallach has introduced, eh? Further inquiry would do no harm.’
‘As you wish,’ said the Mage. All three turned as one and walked from the chamber, the air crackling with their resentment.
When they had gone, Seithenin turned to Avallach and said, ‘What you say has merit, certainly. But I am content. I see no reason to dispute the wisdom of the Magi in this matter.’
‘I am of a different mind, and will remain vigilant.’
‘If you are troubled, that is no doubt best. But,’ said Seithenin, slapping the arms of his chair and rising, ‘we travel tomorrow, and we both have wives waiting. Let us retire to more pleasant pursuits.’ He moved toward the door.
‘I will follow directly,’ said Avallach. ‘Goodnight.’ Seithenin closed the door, and the sound of his footsteps receded in the hall.
‘Well?’ Avallach stood and faced his seer. ‘What did you see?’
Annubi’s eyes flicked toward the door. ‘They were scared. Most of what they said was lies. Lies and foolishness. You were right to challenge them, but I think it will make them more stubborn. The learned do not easily admit ignorance.’
‘Frightened? Why would they be frightened? Unless they know more than they are telling.’
‘It is just the reverse: they know less than their words imply. They simply do not know what to make of the starfall and so cover up this lack by inventing pleasant-sounding lies.’ Annubi snorted. ‘They talk of precedents and sacred texts, knowing full well that signs of this magnitude are exceedingly rare.’
‘It is strange. Why would they do that? Why not err on the side of caution?’
Annubi answered in a voice full of scorn. ‘And allow everyone to see how little wisdom they actually possess? No, rather than disenchant the people or their powerful patron, they will utter nonsense and make it sweet so that men will swallow it.’
Avallach shook his head wonderingly. ‘It makes no sense.’
‘They have lost the power of their craft,’ explained Annubi, exasperation shrilling his voice. ‘They cannot admit this to anyone, not even to themselves. They have forgotten, if they ever knew, that their purpose is to serve, not to rule.’
‘And so, lacking the vision, they talk louder so as to drown out dissenting voices.’ Avallach paused and added, ‘Setting that aside for the moment, what about the sign? Do you still think it ominous?’
‘Most ominous, to be sure. I have no doubt – none whatsoever.’
‘What of the Lia Fail? Will it help?’
‘Oh, yes. When the time comes. But it is small, and its use is limited, as you know. Still, it will help with more immediate events as they can be discerned.’
‘Then I will trust it, and you, Annubi. And now, since there is no more to be done about this for the moment, I suggest we find our beds and go to sleep.’
Two young pages tumbled into the room just then with iron snuffers in their hands. They saw the two men, bowed hurriedly and backed out of the door. ‘No, enter,’ called Avallach. ‘We are finished. Save the lamps for another night.’
The two kings and their combined retinues journeyed east from Seithenin’s palace toward Poseidonis. The days were bright and warm and the travel enjoyable, for the roads were wide and well-paved and the company convivial. The towns along the route were alerted well in advance of the kings’ arrival, and all turned out in force to welcome the noble travellers and wave them on their way.
The first night they camped just off the road in a field of new clover. The next night they camped near a town that feasted them with specially prepared food and drink for which the townspeople were famous among the Corani. The two nights following were spent in a fragrant cedar forest; the fifth night they camped on the estate of one of Seithenin’s noblemen, who provided a horse race for their amusement.
They journeyed on, passing through fields and forests, over smooth hills and broad, fertile plains across which herds of wild horses and oxen ran. And then, on the afternoon of the twelfth day, they reached the king’s causeway which led to the capital city. The carriages and chariots rolled through wooded hills and over swirling streams, across bridges that thundered with the sound of the horses’ hooves. And, as the sun tinted the lower heavens with its fiery gold, the long procession crested the rim of the valley and paused to look down into the broad basin which cradled the city of the High King.
Poseidonis was a large city – a city within a city, for the palace of the High King was a city in itself – laid out in a perfect circle a thousand stadia in diameter, corresponding to the sacred sun disk. The circle was pierced by a canal that ran from the Temple of the Sun to the sea, a canal wide enough for two triremes to pass one another, and straight as a spearshaft along its dressed stone length.
Three more canals, each a circle – one within the other, separated by rings of land, or zones – intersected the straight canal. These inner sections together formed the palace of the High King. The royal apartments were housed in the enormous temple which covered the disk-shaped island of the innermost zone. The canals were perfect concentric rings joined by huge bridges, which were approached by ramps and steeply arched to allow cargo-laden boats to pass beneath.
The entire city was surrounded by an immense outer wall of white stone from which at measured intervals rose spire-topped turrets. Beneath each turret was a brazen gate – each gate cast from a different metal: bronze, iron, copper, silver, gold, orichalcum. Through the gates passed the busy commerce of the city – traders from all Nine Kingdoms and the world beyond. Except for these gates, and the long canal which joined the harbour, the white stone curtain was seamless and unbreached.
And, rising in the distance like a snow-capped pyramid, stood Mount Atlas, cold and aloof, wrapped in robes of mist and cloud, towering over all, its peak thrusting at the sun-washed sky dome. The holy mountain of the gods loomed over the city, reminding all who lived under its shadow that, like the mountain itself, the gods were above all, supreme, remote, indifferent – silent, yet ever present.
Charis took all this in as the coaches and chariots paused before beginning the descent into the basin. Although she had often heard the wonders of the capital extolled, she had never imagined it to be so grand, this imposing. She stared at the glimmering scene before her; then the carriage rocked forward and they were descending to the city.
Trumpeters in the high turrets of the outer wall saw the royal procession approaching and heralded the kings’ arrival with a brilliant fanfare that reverberated through the city. Riders dressed in the livery of the High King raced ahead through the crowded streets to clear the way. The carriages approached the gate, rolled through and onto the Avenue of Porticos, so called for the homes of the wealthy merchants of the district whose houses lined the street – each house featuring a long, raised, multi-columned porch which shaded the front of the enormous edifice.
The carriages swept along the avenue, passing through gates, between high walls, and along crowded markets ringing with the sounds of trade; Charis glimpsed black oxen, and sand-coloured camels laden with exotic goods, and once saw a painted elephant chained to a pillar beside a stall. The air was heavy with the scent of spices and incense; it rang with the cries of beasts and men – camels braying, dogs barking, children screeching, and merchants hawking their wares. Everywhere Charis looked she saw the reddish gleam of expensive orichalcum shimmering in the sun. It was as if the city were wrought entirely of the god’s own metal, so that it blazed with Bel’s glory, as a jewel blazes from every facet. The royal entourage crawled through the bawling, busy district and at last came to the place where the avenue intersected the Processional Way, a wide and well-paved avenue leading directly to the High King’s temple palace.
Once on the Processional Way, they quickly arrived at the high-arched bridge crossing the first canal. The bridge was lined with the banners of the Nine Kingdoms, and at each banner stood a soldier bearing an oblong shield and lance of silver.
The procession clattered over the bridge and entered the first of the inner zones. Here the royal craftsmen lived in tall, narrow houses of white-glazed brick, their quarters above their workshops. There were smiths and weavers and potters, woodwrights, masons, glaziers, tanners, chandlers, shoe- and harness-makers, lute- and lyre-makers, fullers, spinners, rug-makers, wainwrights, carvers, founders, tinkers, and coopers, toolmakers, brickmakers, glassmakers, stone-cutters, dyers, and enamellers.
The paving stones fairly vibrated with industry, and the air was filled with dust and smoke, the clamour of voices and the clangour of hammers: hammers on stone, hammers on metal, hammers on wood. Like the soldiers on the bridge, everyone wore the livery of the High King – long green tunics with wide silver collars, over blue trousers.
The entourage passed through the first zøne and came to the second circular canal whose bridge, like the first, had two high towers on either side which were joined by a covered walkway above, from which a gate could be lowered. The banners of the Nine Kingdoms flew from spears, a soldier in ceremonial armour – breastplate and shield shaped like scallop shells, and helmet shaped like nautilus – gleaming beneath each one.
Upon crossing the bridge, they entered the second inner ring which, when compared to the first, was as silent as the grave itself, for this was the province of the Magi who served in the temple of the High King, or taught their ancient arts in the temple schools. The buildings of this ring were of glazed brick also, but tinted light blue; they had thin windows and narrow, arched doorways, and were topped with bulbous domes, around which were constructed circular parapets. Scattered among the dwellings were numerous round towers with staircases spiralling up the outside. Instead of domes, however, the towers’ tops were flat, thus affording the Magi platforms from which to study the night sky with their sky-searching instruments.
A dense blue haze hung over the section, and this, Charis soon realized, rose from the mounds of incense burned for divination. For on every corner and in every nook and sheltered alley of the honeycombed streets, Magi, standing at smouldering braziers or huddled over seeing stones in dark dens, served pilgrims of the Nine Kingdoms who had come seeking advice or blessing, or to have their futures cast by the wisest and most holy in the land.
The carriages proceeded through the second zone and came to the third and last bridge, which was made of stone and lined on either side with pedestals – each one bearing the sculpted likeness of a former High King. Across the bridge rose the palace: a gleaming mountain of a structure rising up on tiered bases stacked, it seemed, one on top of another in descending sizes to end in a great, needle-like obelisk at the pinnacle. This obelisk was carved from an enormous crystal of topaz, so that when the sun’s rays struck it in the morning, the obelisk appeared to flare like a single golden flame.
Great hemispheres of orichalcum domes bulged on top of massive square foundations; gleaming towers and rotundas topped by golden cupolas reached skyward; gigantic columns stood in ordered rows, bearing up roofs and ramparts; tall, tapering spires with gilded finials soared majestically over all. There were halls and galleries by the score; elevated gardens graced every level; fountains and waterfalls sparkled in the sun.
The procession passed through a huge archway and entered the foremost courtyard, a veritable plain, where the travellers saw porters standing rank on rank, awaiting their arrival. They stopped and had no sooner stepped down from their carriages and chariots than the porters sprang into action, unloading the wagons, seizing the luggage of the kings and bearing it into the palace on their heads. All at once they were surrounded by music; Charis looked and saw musicians emerging from the colonnade, marching forward to welcome them.
Leading the musicians, some distance ahead of them, strode a tall man dressed all in green and carrying a gold-tipped ivory rod. ‘Is that the High King?’ asked Charis in a whisper.
‘No,’ answered her mother, ‘that is the king’s steward. He will conduct us into the palace and present us to the High King.’
The steward bowed low before the kings, uttered a few private words and then they all tramped up the short flight of stairs to the colonnade and into the palace. Charis, who thought that not even Bel himself could have a palace so grand, walked lightly, as if her feet had difficulty making contact with the ground.
They entered a reception hall and the steward gave them to the care of chamberlains, explaining, ‘Your apartments have been prepared. You will wish to refresh yourselves after your journey. The High King is anxious to welcome you, and will do so this evening in the Hall of Oceanus. Ushers will come for you at the proper time.’ He inclined his head in a regal nod. ‘Until then, should you require anything to complete your happiness, the chamberlain is yours to command.’
Avallach and his family and servants were conducted along a seemingly endless series of corridors which led at last to an open atrium across which were apartments on two tiered levels. ‘Yours are the upper rooms, Sire,’ explained the chamberlain. ‘The lower rooms are for your retainers. My quarters are there,’ he pointed to a doorway off to one side. ‘Want for nothing while you are here. Your desires are mine to fulfil.’ So saying, the chamberlain conducted them to their rooms and quietly withdrew.
Charis was accustomed to luxury and fine furnishings. Yet the appointments of her room made her gasp with delight: the cool sheen of silk and the rich, warm lustre of sandalwood and teak met her eyes wherever she looked. She whirled through the room, arms outstretched, touching everything, and arrived at the white marble balustrade of a small balcony. ‘Oh, look! Mother, have you ever seen such a wonderful garden?’
Briseis joined her on the balcony to survey an immense green expanse in the height of its flowering splendour. Shaded pathways wound along streams fed by softly splashing fountains filling cool, flower-edged pools. ‘Simply wonderful,’ agreed her mother. ‘It is even more lovely than I remember.’
‘And look,’ said Charis, ‘a staircase of my own, so that I can go down to the garden whenever I want.’ She looked out across the garden park to the great swell of an enormous shining dome rising above a grove of acacia trees opposite her balcony. ‘What is that? The High Temple?’
‘No, that is the council chamber where the Great Council convenes.’
‘I want to go and see it! I want to see everything!’
‘We will see it all soon enough,’ laughed Briseis. ‘I have no doubt you will find enough to keep you busy for as long as we are here. Come now,’ the queen motioned her daughter back inside, ‘we must leave exploring for later. It is time to bathe and change. We must be ready when the usher comes for us.’
Charis walked slowly back inside, brightening again when she discovered that her room possessed a small bath, and that it had been filled with scented water in anticipation of her visit. She quickly undressed and stepped in. ‘Oh, it – it is magnificent!’ she said as she slid into the warm water.
‘Enjoy your bath,’ her mother said. ‘I will send Ilean to dress you.’
‘I can dress myself,’ Charis said, splashing at a floating blossom.
‘You are getting your hair wet!’ warned her mother. ‘We will be dining with the High King in the presence of other kings and royal families; you must look your best. Ilean will dress you.’
Charis was still wallowing in the water when the maidservant came in. ‘If you please, Princess, stand up and allow me to wash you,’ Ilean said as she seated herself on the marble ledge.
‘I have already washed,’ Charis replied, standing up. ‘I am ready to be dried.’
Charis stepped from the bath, and Ilean wrapped her in a large linen towel. ‘The queen has chosen your blue gown for this evening.’
‘I prefer my green one.’
‘The queen has instructed me otherwise.’
Charis shrugged haughtily and allowed herself to be dressed in the pale blue gown. Her hair was curled and combed, and blue and white silk ribbons affixed to the tresses. A garland of tiny white flowers was hung around her neck, and new white sandals placed on her feet. Charis looked at her reflection in a large mirror of polished silver. She saw a slender girl with hair like pale sunlight, a high, smooth brow and large green eyes. She practised a greeting smile and tweaked her cheeks to bring fresh colour to them.
The usher arrived a few minutes later and led them to the banquet hall. As Avallach entered the hall trumpeters signalled his arrival with a fanfare, and the herald called loudly, ‘King Avallach of Sarras, his wife, Queen Briseis, and the Princes and Princess!’
The hall was bright with the light of a thousand lamps and filled with people, all talking so loudly that Charis wondered if anyone heard them announced at all. But someone did, for no sooner had they stepped across the threshold than they were intercepted by a waiting monarch who swept Avallach into a firm embrace.
‘Belyn!’ cried Avallach. ‘It is good to see you. When did you arrive?’
‘Yesterday. Was your journey enjoyable?’
‘Tolerable… it is so dry. We travelled with Seithenin.’
Belyn lowered his voice. ‘Is he with us?’
Avallach nodded. ‘Solidly.’
‘Good.’ Belyn clapped Avallach on the shoulder and turned to the queen. ‘Briseis, I did not mean to slight you.’ He leaned close and they exchanged kisses. ‘I am delighted to see you, too.’
‘Do not apologize, Belyn. It is too late to change who you are.’ She glanced at Avallach. ‘You are just like your brother.’
Belyn laughed, ‘We are found out, Avallach. The woman knows us too well.’
‘You are not alone, Belyn?’ asked Briseis, gazing out over the milling throng. ‘I do not see Elaine. She is here, I trust.’
‘Ah, sadly she must remain in her room this evening.’
‘I am sorry to miss her. Is she feeling well?’
‘Well enough. In truth, I tried to discourage her from coming. She insisted, though the birth is imminent. She said that she would benefit more from fresh air and stimulating company than from sitting alone in a stuffy palace, awaiting my return. If she births the baby in a field beside the road, so much the better – so she tells me.’ He gave a helpless shrug.
‘Tell her I will call on her tomorrow. Perhaps she would enjoy a walk in the garden – if that would not tax her overmuch.’
‘She will welcome it.’ Belyn turned to the others clustered around. ‘And who have we here? Kian, Maildun, greetings; Eoinn, Guistan, what young men you have become. I’m glad all of you have come; we will have to spend some time riding together, eh? Perhaps tomorrow afternoon.’ The princes chorused their approval of the plan at once.
Belyn’s eyes fell on Charis. ‘And Charis, my little dove.’ He hugged her and tugged on a ribbon. ‘Not so little any more, I see. Watch her, Avallach: she will be stealing hearts before this night is through.’
Charis thought this jovial banter odd, considering Belyn and Elaine had visited only days before they had left for Poseidonis. Before she could remark on it, however, their usher returned to lead them to their table, saying, ‘The High King will be making his entrance soon. Would you like to be seated?’
‘Yes, go on,’ said Belyn. ‘I am going to my table now. We will talk tomorrow.’
Avallach and his family wound their way through the tangle of guests to a raised table – one of nine, which were set aside for the kings and their immediate families. Charis, sitting next to her mother, who occupied the place at the king’s right hand, listened as her father named the others gathered in the hall.
‘There is Hugaderan of Hespera. He stares this way, but pretends not to see me; I expect as much from him,’ said Avallach. ‘And over there sits stoney Musaeus with his advisors; I have never once seen him smile.’ He shifted his gaze. ‘Oh, and Itazais of Azilia, looking bored and out of sorts – as if it were beneath him to appear in this company. Next to him, over there: Meirchion of Skatha; now there is a man who knows how to listen to reason.’
Avallach paused and swivelled round. ‘I do not see Nestor anywhere; surely he does not intend arriving after the High King has entered.’
‘Perhaps he will not attend tonight,’ said Briseis.
‘Ah, Seithenin has just come in. I tell you, Briseis, I am liking that man more and more. Given time, he could become a second brother to me.’
A few moments later, the trumpeters blew a high, dazzling fanfare and the herald announced loudly, ‘King Ceremon, High King of the Nine Kingdoms, and his wife, Queen Danea.’
The room fell silent. The kings and their parties stood as the High King entered, the queen by his side. They were arrayed alike in fine alizarin silk, with gold embroidery at cuffs and hem. Ceremon wore a short gold cloak and gilded boots, and on his head a golden circlet with a sun disk over his brow. Danea wore gilded sandals and a simple circlet of gold; her auburn hair was pulled back and the braid bound with gold rings. Her sleeveless cloak trailed after her, its gold-worked border sweeping the floor.
They walked slowly through the hall to their places at the high table, greeting others as they passed. They came near to Avallach’s table and Avallach bowed courteously. ‘Welcome, King Avallach,’ said Ceremon, inclining his head. ‘Queen Briseis, I am glad you chose to accompany your husband. We have not had the pleasure of your presence in this place for some time. Welcome, all of you.’
The High King made to move on, when his gaze fell on Charis. He paused and turned to her. ‘And who is this? Avallach, I did not know you had a daughter.’ He reached out a slender hand and raised her chin. ‘What is your name, bright one?’
‘Charis, Sire,’ she answered.
Ceremon smiled, his eyes bright and hard. ‘Charis: a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Welcome, Charis. I hope you find time to see our Great City.’
Charis bowed and when she looked up again the High King was gone. She saw him walking slowly away, erect, slender, cloak shimmering in the light, and thought that she had never seen anyone so regal, so commanding. ‘He is a very god,’ she whispered to her mother.
Briseis glanced at her daughter, but did not reply. Charis became embarrassed then and blushed crimson. The banquet proceeded – served by hundreds of servants bearing platters of food and drink, circulating continuously throughout the hall – but Charis did not taste a bite. She stared at the High King and his wife, and imagined herself in the queen’s place, looking as serene and majestic as the High Queen herself.
There was entertainment after the meal: a swarming army of musicians performed traditional songs while a chorus sang. Charis was certain she had entered a dream. The resplendent hall, the dignified guests, the formal music welling up and up, and the imperial presence of the High King – all combined to give the banquet a dreamlike quality. So much so that Charis was surprised and distinctly disappointed when the time came to leave.
It seemed as if the evening had taken wings and fled in an instant. Dazzled and entranced by her experience, Charis all but floated back to her room. In a daze she readied herself for bed, slipped beneath the crisp linens and drifted off to sleep, the High King’s voice still falling in her ears… ‘Charis… a beautiful name for a beautiful girl…’