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"As my queen commands." The man dashed down the steps and moments later the
hoofbeats of his cabo were facing in the distance.
TWELVE
T
o reach the palace they rode uphill, past Lady Ya-sha's estate and around the
slope to the opposite side. Beneath the hulking temple crowning the city, the
palace complex sprawled messily, a clutter of large and small buildings
surrounded by a twenty-foot wall. Sentries paced boredly atop the wall,
uniformed as colorfully as if for a festival.
They followed their guide through an open archway into a paved courtyard. At
the far end of the courtyard a road ascended to a vast building. The road was
lined with towering trees that bore lush, spindle-shaped foliage. The trees
were alive with exotic birds and arboreal mammals and at the base of each tree
was a wide bowl full of food for the tree's inhabitants. The road was flanked
by a park full of tame animals. Among them, Ansa was astonished to see a
creature resembling the man-of-the-trees, but human-sized. It looked dangerous
to him, but it ambled on all fours, unmolested, its, thin, vestigial tail held
erect.
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John Maddox Roberts
At the palace, the servant took charge of their mounts and gestured for them
to enter the high doors. Guards beside the door paid them no flicker of
attention. This surprised Ansa. He expected to be challenged since he was
armed. A sharp-face, bearded man met them just within the doorway. Even before
he spoke Ansa knew it was Lord Klon. He thought that even without the mask the
man looked much as he had wearing it.
"Welcome to the palace of His Majesty," Klon said. ' 'You are to consider
yourselves his honored guests." There was a throat-clearing sound from a
blocky, uniformed man who stood by an open door.
"I am being reminded," Klon said. "I am afraid that you must leave your
weapons here in the guardroom. It is the custom, and there are no exceptions
save for visiting royalty."
This was not the time to protest that his father was a king, so Ansa handed
over his sword and dagger. It felt strange to be without them, but he had
expected this. Kings were notorious sticklers concerning who might be allowed
to bear arms in their presence.
In any case, he reminded himself, he was no longer a simple, steppe warrior.
He was an important. . . what? He was reluctant to think of himself as a spy.
That seemed faintly dishonorable. Spies, he had always heard, were
professional skulkers who sought out secrets and sold them to whoever would
pay the most for mem.
Whatever his new identity might be, he knew that being deprived of his weapons
made him no less a warrior and mat his task called for an alert and observant
mind. His father had always stressed that fighting skills were the least of a
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real man's accomplishments, and weapons merely tools of necessity. As a boy,
he had assumed that this was just more of his father's foolishness. Now it did
not seem so unreasonable.
THE POISONED LANDS
165
Klon began to lead them into the palace. "The, ah, personage to whom I now
guide you for consultation is . . ."
Fyana laid a hand upon his arm. "Lord Klon, forgive me, but my companion and I
are from lands less sophisticated than this one. We are unused to your court
customs and usages. We are most especially uncomfortable with these
circumlocutions which to you, no doubt, are femiliar and simple. Please do not
think that because we lack court polish we are stupid or ignorant."
"My lady!" he protested. "I would never suggest . . ."
Once again, she laid the calming hand upon his arm. "Of course not. I simply
wish to set some things straight between us. It is quite clear that we go to
treat either the king or his heir. The sovereign's state of health and that of
his heir are, naturally, legitimate subjects for state secrecy. Questions of
government stability and dynastic succession may hinge upon them."
Ansa enjoyed the stupefied look on the courtier's face. He was, as always,
impressed by Fyana's quick assertion of equality, if not superiority. He knew
that it cost her an effort because they were now in the inner environs of the
palace, a place as new to her as to him, and it was a place of marvels. On the
road to the city, and since they had been here, he had heard of some of the
earlier kings of Gran, many of them men of legendary eccentricity.
They passed between two pillars of clear glass. Within the pillars were
swimming fish, their bodies weirdly distorted by the curvature of the glass.
Golden-furred man-of-the-trees seemed to scamper about at will. Murals,
mosaics and sculptures abounded everywhere he looked.
"To begin with," Fyana went on, "may I know your real name? We are in the
palace now, surely there is no pressing need for secrecy."
"Ahm, ah, well, of course, you are right. I am Lord Osha KTan, chamberlain to
His Majesty. I am sorry, but
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John Maddox Roberts the extreme delicacy of the situation necessitates all
this secrecy. That, and a certain love of mummery on our part.''
Fyana smiled. "That is better. Now, is it the king I am to see, or his heir?"
They climbed a broad stair between tall statues of winged, beast-headed men.
Beyond the landing at the top of the stair the rooms were smaller, more
intimate. Apparently, these were the actual living quarters of the palace.
What they had just passed through had been reception rooms and areas for
public functions. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]