Doom-Quest of Ara-Karn 2 The Divine Queen Page 2

  ‘Indeed yes, your Imperial Majesty,’ the chara uttered, bowing so low that the delicately coiffed curls of her fashionably dressed wig whispered on the marble floor. ‘Most humbly I beg pardon, gracious Queen, and would willingly submit to any punishment you might see fit to bestow upon me; even,’ she added with a quick glance at the other charai, ‘if your majesty should order me to prostitute myself with the horrid Ara-Karn himself.’

  ‘That would indeed be an idea,’ retorted the Queen, laughing despite herself; ‘yet though the barbarians are said by some to be the most vigorous and well-proportioned of lovers, none of them could possibly match your skills, Ilal. No, all that we shall require of you is that you kiss the High Regent Dornan Ural upon his lips, and publicly declare him to be the handsomest and most desirable man at court.’

  The charai laughed merrily as Ilal staggered back in pretended horror. ‘No, not that! Give me the barbarian instead, with all his rank breath and dirtied limbs! I’d as soon mate with a swine as kiss Dornan Ural.’

  ‘By the tale his wife tells, there’s little enough difference,’ said another of the ladies.

  ‘You have our command,’ said the Empress. ‘And we expect to see it obeyed this very pass, or it will be the worse for a certain one of the Empress’s ladies.’

  At this, all the ladies laughed again, even, under their breaths, some of the newer of the slave-girls. These had by now finished anointing the body of their mistress, so that she rose again to allow them to towel off the excess with those thick, soft towels never used before or again. Other slaves now brought forth the Empress’s bath-chair and mirror of highly polished silver, along with the various combs, ribands, pots of paint and perfume. The Chara Ilal, as her majesty’s favorite, claimed for herself the right to comb and arrange the gleaming cascade of her majesty’s golden hair, symbol and glory of her house.

  The Queen fell silent once again, as though the reference to the barbarian had disturbed her. The other ladies, seeing this, chatted softly among themselves while the Empress eyed herself critically in the long mirror. From the depths of the silver stared back the image of a woman taller than most women, with long legs sinuous as a dancer’s, broad yet supple hips and upstanding rose-peaked breasts perhaps a trifle too small. Above the long and graceful neck, the oval features were symmetrically beautiful in the fashion of a queen: with something indefinable and spiritual shining through the whole. The lips of the image were full and sensual, but pursed more often than parted; the eyes pearly, shifting softly now between pure blue and deep silver; the forehead high and smooth, denoting courage, intelligence and a determination verging upon willfulness. If there was a flaw to that face, it was that it tended to be too serious, too thoughtful for a woman – though not so, perhaps, for an Empress. Also the face seemed darkened; yet this may have been only the contrast with that shimmering wonder streaming down the length of her body. The Queen never wore a wig, although it was the fashion.

  ‘In truth, my figure is not so bad,’ she murmured to the image.

  ‘Indeed not,’ cried Ilal indignantly. ‘Should anyone ever see your majesty thus – though, alas, far too few do – they would not guess your age at so much as twenty-five summers. Truly, do you know what the new ambassadors say when they see your majesty and Prince Elnavis together for the first time?’ the chara asked, her voice a low, conspiratorial whisper.

  ‘No,’ responded the Queen in like manner. ‘Tell us what they say, saucy.’ The other ladies craned their necks discreetly forward to catch every word.

  ‘Well, you will not credit it, but I swear upon all my honor – never mind your smiles, ’tis true – that they take his highness to be your majesty’s elder brother! And in consternation they ask, “Why were we not informed that the Empress had had two children?’ I swear it is truth, your majesty: I had it from their very lips.”

  ‘Along with many other things, no doubt. Ilal, you were born with the tongue of a mocking wild bird, but we love you for it all the same. And in truth, our son does look older than his years.’

  ‘Older, stronger, and wiser, your majesty. It’s a crime, some more of these old men’s foolishnesses, that he does not hold the scepter even now. We are all more than a little in love with Elnavis.’ And the name of the prince slipped from painted lips to painted lips in sighs of heartfelt assent.

  The Queen looked into the silver as Ilal carefully set the last of the golden strands into place. ‘Where is my son now?’ she inquired, turning her head slightly so that one of the slaves might apply the last trace of delicate pigment to her cheek.

  ‘As we entered the bath-chambers we heard of his highness that he was on the way to the martial fields with the Companions to exercise their steeds. He is probably there even now,’ Ilal pouted. ‘He spends far too much time practicing there in military dress.’

  ‘—And not nearly enough time among the charai of the court executing in amatory dress, eh?’ In the mirror, the Queen could see the rare carmine blush, none of it painted, suffusing her lady’s cheeks and bared breasts.

  ‘Come, that is enough time spent upon our toilet,’ the Queen declared. ‘We look well enough – and if we are to believe Ilal, paints could little augment this countenance of less than twenty-and-five summers. Where are the gowns?’

  Emsha came bustling into the baths, her squat, heavily robed peasant figure contrasting comically with the lithe, gauze-wrapped beauties surrounding her.

  ‘Here, majesty,’ the old nurse puffed, one gray lock falling aslant her left eye. Her hands being burdened with the garments, she attempted to raise the hair by blowing at it out of the corner of her mouth. The lock rose only to fall back even lower; whereat the charai burst into laughter, their voices pealing like little silver bells.

  ‘Now,’ said the Empress with great sternness, ‘we’ll not have you mocking dear Emsha, who has tended us since our infancy, and is wise beyond all your years. Do you hear, Ilal?’

  ‘Never mind, majesty, it is of no account,’ said Emsha, blushing confusedly. ‘I am used to it by now; and it is good to see your majesty smiling.’

  The lovely charai tried dutifully to suppress their laughter but, eying one another behind the Empress and over Emsha’s bowed head, only burst forth in redoubled force moments later. So charmingly did the peals echo off the painted marble walls that soon the Empress and Emsha herself good-humoredly joined in the merriment.

  When all was satisfactorily finished, the ladies accompanied her majesty from the bath down long corridors decorated with frescoes and elaborate tapestries. Through the depths of the huge Palace they proceeded, the darkling shadows about them dispelled at frequent intervals by fragrant lamps of brass and gold. The many servants abased themselves before her majesty as she passed. In time the shadows of the intricate hallways lightened, and with sinuous, exquisite grace the Empress Allissál and her ladies passed through the colonnade opening to the Imperial Gardens.

  II

  The Court of the Divine Queen

  IN THOSE HONEYED PATHWAYS, among the other festive courtiers, Arstomenes, High Charan of Vapio, laughed lazily, his violet eyes twinkling.

  ‘Arstomenes, will there never be a bridle on that tongue of yours?’ the Chara Fillaloial asked sternly.

  ‘Oh, all fine-bred steeds will want a loose rein.’

  ‘Dornan Ural, what know you of this?’

  The paunchy, ill-dressed man whom the chara had addressed looked on them absently, as though his mind had been elsewhere. As chief of the Council of Regents, ruling Tarendahardil in Elnavis’s name until the prince should come of age, Dornan Ural was the most powerful man in the Empire. His father, however, had been no more than one of the old Emperor’s freedmen; and Dornan Ural’s every act and manner betrayed that parentage. ‘Of this?’ he said absently. ‘I had not heard – what was it your ladyship referred to?’

  Arstomenes laughed. ‘Chara, you will never pour more than a philton out of a philton pitcher.’ The chara laughed, her voice melodious for all
her years.

  Another now joined them, bowing gracefully before the venerable chara, kissing elegantly the proffered hand. ‘Qhelvin,’ she inquired, ‘what do you know of her majesty’s purpose for this party?’

  ‘Why, the answer seems plain enough to me. Ampeánor, the High Charan of Rukor, departed some passes ago, to oversee some estates he has in the port-city of Tezmon, across the Sea of Elna. Now doubtless her majesty has grown bored in his absence.’

  ‘Ah, here she is,’ said Arstomenes, as a flourish sounded from above, turning all the lovely, painted, bewigged heads grouped about the floral terraces gracefully toward the stair. ‘And just in time, too; I grow positively ravenous for the latest delicacies of the royal cooks!’

  The Chara Fillaloial laughed beautifully, and offered her arm to Qhelvin of Sorne.

  Descending the broad marble steps past statues of nude youths and maidens of excellent proportions, the Empress of Tarendahardil made her appearance before the assembled court. At every thirteenth step, a pair of flanking guardsmen offered her the Imperial salute with rigid backs, their gold-chased armor gleaming even under clouded skies. Behind her majesty her attending ladies followed, arrayed in loras of deep blue and yellow green. Before her, at the bottom of the steps, was the upper terrace of the Gardens, three circles of brilliant green sward bordered by low marble walls upon which were beds of flowers and herbs and still-green bushes. There in the largest, central circle, were gathered the lords and ladies of the court. Beyond them, between two statues of the Emperors Ilazrius and Porekanin, other steps led down into the middle terraces and the shadowed groves beyond. From those depths a riot of autumnal scents born of herb and ripening fruit swelled to greet her majesty, like the fathomless surge of the sea’s azure tide.

  Passing among them, the Queen spoke aesthetics with poets, antiquities with historians, politics with ambassadors from foreign lands. Especially charming was she with these last, discussing the state of the wars against the barbarians in the North, and inquiring after news of their homelands, Pelthar, Postio, the cities of the Delba, and others, including Carftain, whose walls were even then beleaguered by the invading barbarians of Ara-Karn.

  The charanti and charai then formed partners and passed down to the next lowest terrace. There, among the statues and artful flowerbeds, they prepared to array themselves upon the couches. First the beautiful palace slaves bent to unfasten the sandals and slippers, that the highborn might recline in greater ease without sullying the couches. For those couches were of the most exquisite workmanship, embroidered with scenes of surpassing loveliness. In order of importance they would settle themselves upon each broad couch with the lesser holding head to the breast of the greater and so advancing on either side up to the Queen herself. She stood before the royal couch, alone and above the others. The maidens with garlands in their soft hair set aside her sandals, and Allissál leaned back upon the soft couch, her left elbow propped upon soft cushions. And seeing this the others all did likewise.

  From behind her couch, slaves brought forth a low, three-legged table spread with grapes and succulent sliced fruits, nuts, sweetbread, and a golden goblet for the wine. A gleaming silver ewer filled with the lustral water was presented for her majesty to dip her fingers, and an accompanying towel to dry them. The serving-maid poured a measure of the purple wine of Postio and springwater in proportion to her majesty’s taste.

  She lifted up the goblet against the gray damp skies; and all the others imitated her.

  ‘To the glory of our son and the future splendor of Tarendahardil,’ she proclaimed; and murmurs of assent passed round the graceful scene, as courtiers and lovely ladies sipped their delicious wine. Only a sip did they take of this first, the God’s cup; the rest, according to the ancient tradition, they spilled into the earth.

  Now, the feast having begun, the charai and charanti reached forth with their free hands to the tables, the surfaces of which were for convenience somewhat below the level of the couches. The field was divided, in general, into the various nationalities of the Empire, with a special section, near to the royal couch, given to the foreign ambassadors and those foreign courtiers who were among the Queen’s favorites.

  At the end of the field, the Fulmineans faced the Vapionil. The Fulmineans were rather plain in their looks and apparel. In this they were outdone by their lord Lornof, High Charan of Fulmine, a small, mouse-faced man who wore his courtly robes ill. With him at his couch, Lornof dined with two women whose beauty and skills perhaps were greater than their families’ histories. Charan Lornof drank rather deeply, and from time to time could be heard calling out wagers with the men and women of his court.

  Across from these, the Vapionil were led by Arstomenes, whose insolent beauty was augmented considerably by the crafts of the expert female slaves of his household. Most exotically and richly garbed, the Vapionil wore sometimes the aspect of strange creatures of an intoxicated painter’s most extravagant fantasies. About the kohl-streaked eyes of their charai and charanti alike was such sly, jaded wisdom, it was impossible for an observer to conceive that there existed avenues of pleasure or vice these noblest of people had not fully explored. Vapio had been the seat of an empire a thousand years before Elna had killed his first man: even then in those but dimly remembered times, the attitudes and pursuits of the Vapionil had been notorious.

  Nearer to the Queen, the men of the Eglands faced those of Rukor. Long-legged and bronze-faced were the Eglanders, their eyes set as if upon the distant ends of the grassy plains of their home. These were men famous for their skills with horses: men whose ancestors had once been among the greatest cavaliers of the world. Even their charai seemed a sort apart from the charai of the other provinces. Their couch of highest honor, reserved for their High Charan Farnese, remained empty, however: Farnese, ancient, stern and of ill health, scorned to attend such functions of the court as this.

  The Rukorians sat in face to the Eglanders. Their lord’s seat was also vacant, for the High Charan Ampeánor was absent from Tarendahardil. Mostly the Rukorians there were men, and all of them wore the military tunics of commanders of lancers instead of courtly robes. They were for the most part silent, except for when they would utter some comments or boasts upon matters military, as the progress of the wars against the barbarians in the North, across the Sea of Elna.

  So all in their own manners, adorned with enough wealth to found a city or put a sizable army in the field, these greatest of this greatest city and Empire dined at their pleasure, reaching for cheese sprinkled with flour, sow’s-vulva fried in oil or any of the other seventeen delicacies served that pass. The Queen’s favorites spoke at length and jested with the foreign ambassadors; the wits of Vapio engaged poor Dornan Ural, and challenged Lornof to several drinking-bouts; the tall Eglanders and strong-armed Rukorians debated the relative glories of their provinces’ respective military past, giving boast for vaunt like blows.

  From time to time a damp cloud passed over the mountain-top, and chill northern winds pierced even the sheltering lower groves. Then the discourse and merriments dimmed while those ladies and lords with more elaborately styled wigs looked suspiciously to the lowering sky. But then the Charan of Vapio or Qhelvin of Sorne, in obedience to the Empress’s conceit, broke the mood with some scandalous pleasantry, and the buzzing and laughter would resume. And over it all, the Empress Allissál wore the mask of a studied pleasure, while her eyes were active.

  At the close, the feasters wiped their fingers clean upon the special pieces of bread. Then the signal was given for the entertainment. First a troupe of Vapio dancers, one of the most famous in the Empire, performed several tableaux; and it was generally agreed that seldom had a finer or more skillful performance been seen. The diners applauded eagerly the scantily clad dancers, those tall youths with sinews like finely spun wire, and those girls lithe and lovely enough to have been nobly born. Their bare feet trod softly on the lush emerald lawn, all in perfect and cunning rhythm with the music of the playe
rs beyond the logia flowers. At the close, the chief youth and maiden came before the royal couch, before which they suddenly dropped to within a hand’s breadth to the ground; at which the Queen laughed, delighted and surprised. She gave them praise, and crowns of garlands with her own hands. The pair bowed with their fellows as one, and wandered among the couches beneath the ancient statues, there to receive gratefully the gifts and favors of the highborn. Avidly they accepted the draughts of exquisite cooled wine after their heated movements.

  Yet for the old Master of Rhetoric, who followed the dancers, the applause was less than it might have been. For one thing, he was blind, which deformity was affront enough by itself; for another, the style of his Scertic robes was a good twenty years out of date. Seated upon a low stool before the Empress’s couch, and leaning with knotted hairy hands upon his ivory staff, the old man recited an ancient piece indeed: ‘Elna’s Wisdom’ as it was called, a heroic passage from the old Epic of the Bordakasha, known to every schoolchild. Allissál sat enraptured, for there was nothing she liked better than to hear of the heroic feats of her most famous ancestor; yet the younger nobles did not attempt to conceal their boredom – and among them was the Charan of Vapio.

  He, stepping to the center of the lawn when the old man had but scarcely finished, bowed theatrically before Allissál. ‘Are we gathered here, your majesty,’ he said lazily, ‘to hear nothing better than dreary tales of death and earnest politicking? With your majesty’s permission, I shall render a more modern piece, which perchance will bear more meaning to the charanti, and especially the lovely charai here assembled.’

  At this there was a marked rise in attention. Arstomenes nal Elagaryan let none of the city’s gossip escape him, from High Town to the low docks; his compositions were famous both for their subtle underside of meaning and the liberal allusions to real and well-known people with which he sprinkled them.