THE ARD RHI AND THE AUGUR
Archos Zyan,High King,former Master of the eastern world,Lord Master and Liege of these realms, was reviewing his troops. Through sommelier sampling and the vast assortment of vintages that his Siveni Queenes had acquired in another age in their travels in a land of Empire peopled by those known as "Roman",the King had knowledge in a new enjoyment:wines.
"Samian," he said,stroling down the ranks."Coan. Cretan. Cyprian.Falernian---ah,Falernian!But these," he said with the deep pleasure of a man who has come at last,"are the real,the only,the true Caecuban."
The winejars stood in their ranks,marching away into the gloom of the cellar. The general had been conducting a proper inspection,tasting as he went,but when he came to the Caecuban he filled his jewel-encrusted goblet full and drank deep.
He was nae drunk. Archos Zyan seldom was: his capacity was legendary. But he was in what his intimates and Queenes and concubines called a "Caecuban mood",warmly expansive, urging the crowd of them to find cups and goblets and fill them,too, and carry a jar out into the sun. The door to the wine-cellar of this slave villa was placed conveniently close to the dining hall, but also and pleasantly to the garden that looked on the river.
They took time to sort themselves out. Galen the Augur, who liked a cup of good Caecuban,but nae in the early afternoon,wandered to the wall and up the flight of steps that went to the top. Some previous tenant of the villa had set a marble bench there, where one could sit in comfort and watch the ships come and go in the harbor.
"Are they here yet?"
He looked down. Archos Zyan stood at the foot of the steps,wine goblet full as it always seemed to be. The rest were gathered round the jar,oblivious. Galen was reasonably certain that Archos Zyan had made sure of it before he spoke.
Galen answered the question easily enough, with a glance at the river to be sure. "Nay. No' yet. No', I think,'til the morrow."
"'Tis an augury?"
Galen forbore to lose his temper. Archos Zyan didnae vex him with his office as too many others did;or nae often. "'Tis common sense," he said."And an ear for rumour. The natives can tell to the hour when the fleet shall come to harbor.
"So they can." The King climbed the steps more lightly than his bulk might have suggested. When in elvyn form, he was a big man,nae much run to fat,yet,nor much softened by the wine he drank so much of. As he came to the top, he did nae sit as Galen did,but leaned on the rail that edged the wall. "She be taking her royal time," he said.
He sounded less impatient than bemused. Galen observed,"Tis fitting, I suppose. She is the Ard Rhighan and the High Queen of Folcuth and its tribute Nations long e'er she knew thee."
"Yea do remember her? Yea were out of New Agropas when she was in it."
Galen nodded. "Aurak,"he said. "Then other places, on thy errands. And only after that,and after she was gone,New Agropas." He rather regretted that he had nae been able to see Folcuth's "conquest" of the Godslayer's heart and harem---or so they called it where authority was lax enough to permit such levity. "I gather she wast--IS--unusual?"
Archos Zyan laughed, a rumble in his throat. "Unique, more like. Let her move or open her mouth, or bring those big grey molten silver eyes to bear, and she could be a black Fury for all you care how beautiful her face is. She and her twin art better than beautiful. She's interesting."
That, from such a connoisseur of beauty as Archos Zyan, was praise indeed. Galen raised his brows at it. "Then yea expect an interesting interview."
"Twill be that," said the King. He looked down,seemed to realize that there was wine in his goblet,drained it in a gulp that would hath set Galen reeling, and set the cup carefully beside his foot. Rather surprisingly, the King did nae go to fill it again, though he glanced o'er his shoulder at the winejar and its court of admirers."Twould be like her nae to see me at all."
"Her ships art on the sea,"Galen said. "Surely she would nae come all this way home for nothing."
"SHE would," said the King. "Just to show her ire."
It was hardly silent,with the King's general staff long gone on Caecuban , but there was a certain peace in sitting apart from them, in the sun,with the wind in his hair. The King was nae an unrestful Companion. Like a lion, Galen thought, sleeping the day away,until roused to the swift violence of the kill.
They had nae known one another long. Galen was half an age the younger, had been away many years. Archos Zyan had been mounting an expedition into the east, to make it his own and to raise war against dragonslaying kind. It had seemed a less dreadful thing to go away again than to stay where he had estates to maintain in a style that his resources would nae much longer permit,sisters who required dowries in order to marry respectably,clients and slaves who had to be fed and clothed and looked after with endless solicitude. So he had gone, attached as a lesser augur to the general's train. And somehow, on the long voyage and the longer muster of forces, Galen had found himself inclined to talk to his commander. Twas nae anything he sought. He was a poor hand at currying favour, did his duty with competence and kept himself to himself, but Archos Zyan was the sort of leader a man could talk to. E'en such a man as Galen Servi the Augur.
The King went down after a while to see to matters of state and the Queenes' welcome. Galen stayed where he was. Archos Zyan came back in time and in panoply, to stand watch again, this time with an edge of eagerness, perhaps e'en apprehension.
"Look," he said sudenly. "out there."
At first Galen did nae know what the High King was seeing. There were always ships on the river,beating up from the sea, sailing down to it from the harbor of the capitol. These came in order like a fleet. The sun blazed on them, catching them just as it came down from the zenith.
No, he thought. It was nae only the sun. There was gold on the decks and rail and prow, and their sails--dark at first to his dazzled eyes--were the royal sapphire of Tempestas and silver of the Siveni, and of royalty. One ship was larger than the rest, riding ahead of them, its three great banks of oars swinging to the beat of a drum that he felt in his bones though he heard no sound, yet, with his ears. The oars were bladed with silver. The decks were sheathed with gold.
The wind,shifting, brought music of the Masterbard with it, the wailing of flutes, the deep sweet voice of the aulos and the shrill twitter of the pipe, and under them the pulsebeat of the drums. The King's voice was almost as deep as the drums, with laughter in it, and more than a hint of admiration. "Ne'er the expected! Nay, ne'er! Nae with mine Queenes!"
People were running along the river's banks,a vast throng of them, lured by the gold and the music and the sweetness that rode opn the winds: parfums both subtle and strong, rich with the strangeness of the Folcuthae. The crowd's voices were like the cries of birds,too feeble to drown the music that came from the ships. Some flung themselves into the river and swam among the fleet, taking no heed for the slow relentless beating of the oars. The water curled o'er them,caressing them with white foam-fingers. Almost Galen could see the curve of white-breasts,sea-blue hair,sea-green eyes of teh waternymphs and Selkies skimming with the great ship, making it light, bearing it o'er the sea.
"THERE," said the King, soft with rare wonder. "There she is."
Galen had been waiting, taking in all the rest,tasting something that, if nae magick, then was as close as made no matter. Now he let himself look at the ship's high deck,where the gold and silver was blinding in its brightness. But nae too bright to conceal the couch that stood there, or the ones who reclined on it. There were no faces to see from so far away, only forms that unquestionably were women's, robed and crowned, surrounded by children wielding fans of gold: boys, beautiful and quite naked except for the conceit of gilded wings. Women and maidens stood beyond and about them, robed in foam-green and foam-white, with their hair streaming upon their shoulders: mortal and elvyn images of the half-green,half-imagined spirits of sprites and spirits of air and of water.
"They come as goddesses from the sea," said Archos Zyan,"in their court of loves and graces, with an honour guard of sea-nymphs. HOwlike her that is! How..eloquent."
"Thou art besotted with her," Galen said. He did nae know what had got into him;he was ne'er so blunt or so impolitic. What approached on the river was a spectacle of ostentation. Its magick was mere credulity, its immortal escort a figment of dazzled eyes and fuddled brain. {How little our Galen knows!} And yet it moved him. It made him forget the requirements of tact.
The King grinned at him, unangered and completely unrepentant. "Why,so I am,aren't I? Are nae yea?Tis she and the harem nae splendid?"
"She is---"Galen began to say,but stopped. "So. The rumours art true. She doth hath powerful magicks."
"Of course she hath!" said the King, nae e'en mildly appalled. "She is mine Queen and Jewel. She is the Ard Rhighan of Folcuth and a Siveni Sidhe. She is some embodiment of a goddess on earth. She but breathes enchantment."
"No' on me,"said Galen. "no' if I can help it!"
"What, art thou afraid of her?"
Penetrating question,dangerous perhaps to answer. But Archos Zyan did nae wait for Galen to speak. He was halfway down the steps,bellowing for his aides. One of whom, Galen was;but Galen was powerless to move from his seat on the wall. Magick,he thought. She breathes magick.
Of course he had known that. The elvyn kyn and forests were a fount of the art;an art which he had studied, and respected but ne'er greatly feared. But this was something more than the dry words and drier potions of the old magicians and wizards. This was power like a blade,aimed straight at the heart of his commander:Archos Zyan,the lover of wyne and women.
~*~The Ard Rhighan was a mistress of illusion. Twas her great gift to show herself as she was,a goddess on earth, in a form that mere mortals and handed folks could understand. Thus the gold and the parfums, the costumed sprites, the music that turned it all to magick. Of real magick there was little in this display, no more than was in the Ard Rhighan by her nature. She did nae waste Power when its semblance would serve.~*~
~*~Taliennse, clad in white and wearing an aspect of the Graces, stood just behind the Throne. Half of her was caught up in this play of the Ard Rhighan's. Half kept a wary eye on her son. Timoleon had yearned to be an Eros, had objected strenuously when his mother refused to let him stand naked on a ship's prow for the world to stare at. He had been mollified when she permitted him to mingle with the sailors; his tunic was still on him,for a wonder, as he clung to the rigging a heart-stopping distance above the deck.~*~
~*~The oars lifted like wings. A light wind caught the sails and bore the ship forward. As smoothly as the great vessel sailed, it seemed almost that the ship stood still and the land moved toward it, laden with cargo of shouting,singing people.~*~
~*~There were foreigners and Gerenghi among them. The scarlet cloak of the Tallerian legionaries was a thing no eye could mistake, vivid as blood among the many colours of the city. They were forming ranks along the quay;the hoarse shouts of the knights commanders carried o'er the water, e'en through the Ard Rhighan's music. So would Talleria always make it's presence known, with rough efficiency.~*~
~*~Edain meant to be stronger than the tribute Nation.Taliennse let her eyes return to the splendour that was Folcuth. There for awhile she rested, until she could look outward again, and see what waited on the quays of Terestai.
~*~The fleet bent toward the shore, riding wind and oar. The music continued beneath the shouting of captains and the pounding feet, bringing the ships to their moorings. Folcuth in all its majesty floated in the harbor of Terestai, more exotic than e'er, and somehow less gaudy than it had seemed from a distance.~*~
~*~Galen Servi the Augur stood somewhat nearer the quay than the market square, on the edge of a portico raised above thelevel of the street, so that he could see o'er the heads of the crowd that rimmed the harbor. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Archos Zyan on the dais set up on one side of the market square, where he heard cases and administered justice in this part of the world--and where now he expected to receive his Queenes. Archos Zyan, like his staff and troops, was in full panoply, and no sign in him of the haste that had brought him here. He sat in his chair of pine that was all the throne any Crystal Dragon needed, posed as if for a sculptor, seeming oblivious to the weight or the discomfort of his armor.~*~
~*~Galen had stopped on his way down from the wall to put on the cumbersome robes of state. Armor might have been more comfortable. The sun was warm, and the tunic was wool, and heavy. One learned to ignore the weight and the itch, and to walk with ponderous dignity lest the folds be disarranged and the lot of it fall in an ignominious tangle. Soldiers could stride out e'en in parade armor. Robed notables must keep to a more sedate pace.~*~
~*~E'en so, he came in time to take a place where he could see, and his ceremonial robes held back any who might have contested his right to stand there. Nae that any did. Every eye in the capitol city of Terestai was bent, it seemed, on the ship in the harbor.~*~
~*~It rocked gently in a swell. The music went on as it had for an hour and more now, since the fleet came to port. The people on board stood like images in a temple, as if they ne'er grew tired or restless or footsore. No boats went down, nor did the Queenes move to greet the men who waited to conduct them to the King's seat.~*~
~*~For a long while the sun beat down, the King neither moved nor spoke. Nae when the crowd about him drifted one by one toward the ships and the river and the bright lure of the FOlcuthae fleet. Nae e'en when his own men,some furtively, some more boldly, joined the exodus to the harbor. At last he sat all alone, awaiting a tribute that did nae come.~*~
~*~Thewomen on the ship seemed as solitary as he, though all eyes were on them, and their attendants stood all about Edain and Eden. The Queenes sat immobile in their midst, their long, heavily painted eyes fixed on a prospect far above anything of earth~*~
~*~Galen wondered briefly if the Ard Rhighan was nae a woman at all but a carved image or an ilusion--if the ship was full of dreams and mockeries. Then something stirred in the rigging--a sailor, young from the look of him, and agile as a monkey, standing on a narrow bridge of rope as if it had been a stone floor. One of the Graces bent a stern eye on him. They had the same delicate oval face with eyes as wide and dark as a doe's, and the same rich curling hair,but one like buttery sunbeams and theother so black it shone blue. The young man's form was boy-lean, the woman's richly rounded, but they stood in the same way, light and supple, swaying as the ship rocked. Brother,then,and sister? Or son and mother?~*~
~*~The boy caught the woman's eye, fine fair brows drawing together. The woman frowned very slightly. The boy's chin formed. But the woman was a match for the child. He stilled,eloquent of resistance but clearly unwilling to test his mother's will--for mother it must be, no sister had quite that weight of authority.~*~
~*~Galen discovered that he was amused. The glittering abstract that was Folcuth was suddenly a tangible thing: a son plotting mischief, a mother catching him before he began. There was no fear in the child's manner, no tyranny in the mother's. He was almost disposed, for a moment, to feel kindly toward the Queenes who had to suffer such servants.~*~
~*~Whate'er charity the Ard Rhighan and the Rhighan might keep for those about them, they had none for Talleria . They made no effort to disembark from their ship, but floated at anchor as if they expected something more. The King, unmoving, was treated to the music's sinking into silence, and to the drawing of curtains about the Ard Rhighan and her Court. The play was done, the gesture said. The audience might applaud, and then it should go home.~*~
~*~Galen glanced at the High King. He seemed calm,undismayed. Then at last, when it seemed that the High Queen Edain would remain aloof e'en in her own harbor of Terestai, a boat lowered from the ship's side. It was a small boat, but gilded about the prow and along the gunwales, with oarsmen in shining white kilts of the Thebaid. A personage sat among them. He wore what must hath been Folcuthae formal dress,or else the robe of a Priest, white linen so fine as to be nearly transparent, with a heavy golden pectoral, and hair in elaborate plaits. The face under the weight of such thick hair was wizened and brown, with eyes painted in that fashion e'en men of Folcuth ofttimes affected.~*~
~*~But, thought Galen Servi, Edain was a Sidhe of an ancient tribe. They said she spoke the languages of her kingdom and its subject nations as well. Her messenger disembarked with dignity nearly as stiff as that enjoined on an augur by the robes and vestments of office, and, leaning on a gilded staff, faced the Ard Rhi's officers. Galen could nae hear through the crowd's roar what he said to them, or they to him. THey spoke at some length. Then the Folcuthae turned away from Archos Zyan's messengers and began the ascent from the quay. Tallerian legionaries with spears opened a way for him. He walked slowly but ably through the throng into the emptiness of the square. Archos Zyan, waited, silent, solitary in his splendour.~*~
~*~Somehow, as happens on occasion e'en in mighty crowds, there came a silence, a stillness in which no voice spoke. In it Galen heard the tap of the staff on the stone that paved the square. The staff was carved, its head the head of a serpent, the hooded cobra of Talleria and Folcuth. The eyes were set with jewels, rubies like drops of blood, glittering almost as if the thing were alive. And so it might be, if tales were true. Rod into serpent was an old trick and slight of hand. Would this one fling down his staff at the Ard Rhi's feet and bid the living snake sink fangs in the Godslayer's heel?~*~
~*~It seemed that he would nae. The staff remained a staff, gilt over wood. The priest approached the Ard Rhi. Some paces from the foot of the dais he halted. He did nae bow, although he inclined his head in lofty respect. (Note: High Priests/Priestesses of INU do NAE kneel before a "Godslayer".) When he spoke, he spoke in elvyn, in a clear, high, ancient Voice.~*~
~*~Stripped of flourishes, his speech was simple enough. The Ard Rhighan of Folcuth bade the ruler of Crystal Dragondom to dine with her ship at sunset. The ruler of Crystal Dragondom revealed emotion at last: he frowned. "Twas wished that she dine with us," he said,"before sunset."~*~
~*~The Ard Rhighan, said her emissary at length, regretted that she was unable to accept;but she would be most pleased to entertain her King and family, as it were, on her own decks.~*~
~*~Now that, thought, Galen Servi, was an argument well calculated to sway a soldier. Certainly it swayed Archos Zyan. He was nae furious,though, he certainly felt angry: his words were bitten off short. But the Ard Rhi said,"Let it be, for this one night, as the Siveni wishes."~*~
~*~"A soldier goes straight in," the Ard Rhi said to Galen as the sun was sinking. He had taken off his armor to rest and to attend things that needed doing, but now he was putting it all back on again. If I were a proper emissary with the Lady in question--no offense to yea when yea come to it, Galen Servi--- I'd be playing every game in the field. And I'd lose to Edain. She hath been a Master since before her breasts were budded."~*~
~*~Galen was nae offended. He happened to agree with Archos Zyan concerning the duplicity of emissaries as a breed. Still he said,"Yea should no' give in so quickly. She'll think she can wrap yea 'round tho' fingers of hers."~*~
~*~"And let her think it," said Archos Zyan, with a hint of an edge. "I am nae immune to her, I grant yea that, but I do think I can hold mine own, on any ground."~*~
~*~Yea going to be hers tonight," said Galen.~*~
~*~But I am going as a soldier." Archos Zyan grinned a white wolf-grin, raising his arms so that his servant could fasten the golden cuirass. Twas one of his favourites, gift of Selenia, his Folcuth parade armor, embossed with the triumph of the Dragon o'er the wyvern. The long skein of satyrs and dancing maenads wound all about it through a thicket of vines and grape-clusters and forms of dragonkyn. In the center stood the Dragon,crowned with vineleaves. It seemed a strange thing to adorn the armor of a warrior, but the Dragon's face, if one looked closely, was terrible: a still,cold, beautiful mask, with eyes that were quite blank and quite mad.~*~
~*~Galen was nae a soldier of heart, but he had seen enough of war. He knew its face. He bowed to its god, offering up the thrill of cold fear that was the god's and its slayers due.~*~
*~"Come,"said the Ard Rhi. "There be a battle waiting."~*~
~*~"He sees everything as a soldier must see it," said Edain as her ladies-in-waiting prepared her for the banquet. "To him this wilt be a battle, and I the enemy, to be taken by storm if he can, or by stealth if he must."~*~
*~Taliennse was ready long since. Her face felt stiff in its armor of paint, under the plaited richness of her hair. Her gown was in the ancient style of the Two Lands, so transparent that it concealed nothing; she had learned nae to blush in it. Its great virtue was that it was cool, e'en with the weight of the jewels that made splendid its simplicity.~*~
~*~The Ard Rhighan was as nervous as a bride on her wedding night. She held herself still, kept her face immobile under the brushes of her most skilled handmaid, Oberon, moved only at the direction of the lesser servants who dressed her, arranged her long hair, put on the jewels she had chosen. But her tongue ran on as if it had a will of its own.~*~
"He has no subtlety," she said. "Everything he does, he does direct, with no more pretense than would deceive a child. And yet," she said,"such simplicity on its surface can be dangerous. One should ne'er underestimate him. Do nae e'er slip into that, Taliennse."
"Whom could stop me were I set on it?" Taliennse inquired.
~*~THe High Queen rounded on her, scattering servants. Taliennse smiled serenely.~*~
"Thou art impertinent!"
"Certainly!" Taliennse said.
~*~Edain's outrage faded as quickly as it had risen. "Ah,you.....now I remember why I kep yea!"~*~
~*~She might hath said more, but a page slipped into the dressing room, bobbed his head in respect, said,"Majesty, they hath come."~*~
~*~So they had. Taliennse, listening, heard the ring of armor, the thud of feet, the rumble of masculine voices. Edain had drawn up like a cat at gaze. Taliennse watched her soften every tensed muscle, turn back to her maids, submit herself to their ministrations. MOst of them knew how to read her expression;they moved in leisurely fashion. But one,the child who attended the High Queen's sandals, tried to quicken her pace. Taliennse touched her gently on the shoulder. "Nay, little one! Slowly. High Queenes ne'er male haste. They make bold foreign warriors wait."~*~
~*~And wait. And wait. The queen, once arrayed past any expectation of improvement, settled herself on the couch that stood against the wall of the room, awaited her sister, and called for her book. "Read," she commanded Taliennse.~*~
~*~Taliennse thought Hesiod unbelievably dull. But read she did, while the lesser Rhighan finished her preparations and while in the banqueting hall, no doubt, the Ard Rhi learned the virtue of patience with his harem's intrigues.~*~
