“Then what is it that you have eaten?”
The two started laughing again.
“Really, the two of you,” she said as she pushed away her platter and wiped at sudden tears. “You have made this dinner in Palzhad as unpleasant as any other.” When the two started laughing again, she felt as if a stopper in her heart had been plucked to release streams of sadness, regret, and despair, a gushing that filled her with an unbearable heaviness. Before she could stop herself, she yelped in the deepest pain and dropped off her seat to the floor. She lay on the tiles, feeling as if she had been paralyzed, once again, by a Dranverite’s dart, and felt sure that she could never rise again.
“Trellana, this is very unbecoming of a queen,” said Nuvao, suddenly sober and standing over her, looking down. “It is unbecoming of anyone. Get up, please. The servants are watching.”
“You don’t understand, Nuvao,” she said. “I’ve no one here. Not my father or a husband or my babies or friends . . . no one who loves or understands me. And now the Dranverite has taken away my one great pleasure, my only relief.”
“There are other pleasures besides drink,” Nuvao said.
“Have one of these,” said Moonsinger, and lifted up a thin, black wafer from a platter of yellow quartz.
“And what is that? It looks like dried pond algae. Which I have never cared for.”
The eunuch chuckled and looked at her with a warm concern as he handed her the wafer.
“Brother, I don’t think she should!” Nuvao said, trying to tear the wafer away. Moonsinger blocked Nuvao’s arm and then offered the queen the wafer again.
“Everyone should have one of these, Queen Trellana,” said Moonsinger. “It’s the ladder to the gods, the means of entering into their most lovely world. And after you leave their world, you might be able to accept this one.”
Trellana was shocked and sat up. “I know what that is! That’s the Holy Mildew!” She glared at Nuvao. “And ingesting it like this—sharing it with someone other than a priest—it’s sacrilege!”
“Who knew sacrilege could be so wonderful,” said Nuvao. “The Britasytes, one of which you are wed to, have been ingesting the Mildew for centuries. The Sand has not crumbled nor has the sky fallen.”
“I’d like to be sacrilegious every day,” said Moonsinger. “But I might laugh my lungs out.” As the two men were possessed by laughter again, Moonsinger dropped the wafer, which floated this way then that before it landed near Trellana’s hand. She picked it up and looked through its dark translucence.
“Don’t eat that, Trelly,” said Nuvao, recovering from laugher. “In your state, you may not react well.” He turned to the servants. “Go to the kitchen and get the queen some kwondle tea, please.”
“I don’t want tea,” said Trellana as she folded the wafer into a wad she could fit in her mouth.
“You should have some tea before the surprise gets here.”
“I thought the eunuch was the surprise,” she said as she stuffed the wad in her mouth and chewed. It was bitter, and as it dampened, it became tar-like and stuck to her teeth.
“I do have your best interests in mind, Trellana,” Nuvao said, looking over his shoulder as he heard footsteps. “Though I don’t know that ingesting the Mildew was the best idea right before receiving your visitor. Please stand and welcome her.”
Barhosa entered the dining chamber and behind her was a woman in fine, thick dress and small but stylish antennae. “Announcing Her Majesty, Queen Omathaza of Shishto.”
All rose to their feet. “Aunt Omathaza! This is a surprise!” said Trellana, wobbling. “What brings you to the edge of the Dustlands?”
“You do, honey-crystal.” said Omathaza. “I have heard you are in need of some company.”
Trellana sobbed out of relief. “You have heard correctly,” she said between sniffles. “Please . . . let’s find a seat for my aunt.”
“Good evening, Omathaza,” said Nuvao. “Very kind of you to visit.”
“Very kind of you to receive me,” she said, and Trellana watched as her aunt took in her brother from head to toe, with her eyes slitting in suspicion or contempt, or both. “I was a young queen once and sent to live at a strange mound. I know some of what our benighted little blossom must be going through here at Palzhad—Palzhad, which has always been such a peculiar mound. I have come to offer her a bosom she can cry on, since her own mother is so very busy in Cajoria.”
“She is,” said Nuvao. “And Mother has no plans to rest until the very end of her days. Such is her devotion to the new nation. Would that we were all so dedicated to such high ideals.”
“High ideals, indeed,” said Omathaza. “Your description of her intentions is so very . . . generous.”
“Forgive me, Auntie,” Nuvao said. “Allow me to present Brother Moonsinger of Mound Loobosh.”
“We are already acquainted,” said Moonsinger as he bowed. “I was a history tutor to the queen’s youngest some time ago. Prince Bahadoor.”
A pained look came over Omathaza’s face as she took in the face powder that hid his darker color. “My little flea-slayer,” she said. “I’m afraid the Hulkrish invasion was his first and last battle.”
“I am sure he fought most bravely,” Trellana said. “I heard he was quite handsome.”
“He was indeed—the very image of my husband in his youthful glory, the both of them with widely spaced eyes of a piercing green. Little Bahmi would have been the most beautiful consort to a general’s daughter or perhaps some lovely princess.”
“Prince Bahadoor was a . . . a good pupil,” said Brother Moonsinger, though his face indicated that he thought otherwise. Omathaza remained lost in some precious memory when Trellana, feeling energized, beckoned to her maidservants.
“Good servants, let’s not have my aunt sitting and eating on the floor like the working people on a hot summer’s day. Please, let’s bring everything over to a proper table with chairs that will suit a queen.”
“Actually, child, I think that we would be more comfortable in your own chambers. And these jolly, uh, individuals here would be so bored by women’s talk. Might we bring some food and drink back to your own dining table?”
“Certainly, Auntie. We could . . .”
“That would not be a good idea,” said Nuvao. “Not now. Trellana should stay with us for the evening.”
“I am sorry,” Omathaza asked. “Was this not a good time for a visit?”
“It is a brilliant time for a visit,” said Trellana. She was feeling a bright and pleasurable energy in her bowels that radiated through her limbs and made her skin tingle. “Brother, I will have my ladies nearby in case of any emergency. We can have them fill some platters and bring over some drink. I feel as if I am the one who has interrupted your pleasures.”
Nuvao glared at her. “Some unfermented drink,” he said. “Promise? The both of you?”
“I swear it by Mantis,” said Trellana,
“I give my word as a queen,” said Omathaza.
The servants gathered up some food as the queens drifted out to the hall in a leisurely way to make small talk about the journey south. After they settled at Trellana’s dining table, Omathaza spoke in a whisper. “I have very interesting news for you, Trelly.”
Trellana gasped. “Is it true? Is he . . .”
“Alive? Yes.”
Maleps is alive! she wanted to scream.
“How do you know?”
“Since the Partition, we have been able to pass messages at Venaris. They have reopened and extended one of the ants’ tunnels that goes deep into the East and intersects with a tunnel of Mound Fecklebretz; we are going back and forth. We know now that the Slope is not about to fall to the Beetle Riders. They have been pushed back! At the moment, we have a truce.”
“A truce? How?”
“Our men have learned something from the Dranverite—about fighting on foot behind shields soaked with repellants instead of riding on ants. And on the fringes of the Dustlands,
they have found different and more powerful weapons that were left behind by the Hulkrites. The missiles from these massive crossbows destroyed the Britasytes’ roaches. And they can penetrate the Carpenters’ war beetles.”
“The Dranverite,” said Trellana. She felt a sadness plummet through her.
“Do not worry about him, little sugar moth. He has his own troubles. We have heard he may be lost forever among the Seed Eaters. If Maleps is indeed alive, you are still married to a Slopeish king. Your union to that insidious interloper will be annulled.”
“But I carry his children in my belly.”
“Exactly. His children.” Omathaza was quiet as her grin turned to a toothy smile. “You must come to Venaris,” she whispered. “For a wedding! One to be attended by the queens and princesses of all the eastern mounds in the Lost Country.”
“Who is marrying?”
“Not a marriage so much as a commitment ceremony. Our distant cousin, the Princess Tajette of Habach, will be the new Nun Queen of Venaris. At the next new moon she is taking the Yellow Veil as a bride of Grasshopper. She has invited you and all royal women to her celebration. Tajette is celibate, of course, and no men are allowed—except his Ultimate Pious Dolgeeno, who will conduct the rite.”
“They’re allowing Dolgeeno to return to Venaris?”
“The dispensation was approved by the Dranverite and your mother. They’re busy with other things, want us out of their way.” Omathaza paused, then smiled and leaned in. “Trellana, this ceremony is an opportunity for us, for we royal women to convene and take charge of our destiny, to speak with one voice and make some decisions. As the Dranverite’s wife and the mother of his children, we are looking to you to join us, to help us take back what is ours.”
Trellana’s heart was pumping hard and fast. She felt the beginnings of an uncontainable ecstasy. The flood of feelings was springing from some extraordinary news, but the effect of this Mildew had multiplied her joy a hundredfold. Everything, even the dark emptiness of her chambers, had a strange and colorful sweetness. She looked up at the ceiling and it dissolved before her and opened to a gorgeous view of the gods in their palace at the Tree Top of Ganilta. They smiled fondly on her as they sang her name. “Trellana, Trellana, glorious Trellana,” sang Grasshopper. She was chortling, eager for life again, and feeling a rock-hard sense of hope and power.
“Auntie, let’s not eat yet,” said Trellana, turning away from her vision. “Let’s summon a tamer to rouse a carrying ant and take us down to the cathedral! I have yet to see it here at Palzhad.”
“The cathedral? Really? Are you feeling devotional?”
“I am feeling more than that . . . I am being touched by the gods! Their warm, gentle hands are guiding me to visit them. I know something now, as I know my own name. I must offer my life to their service. Tonight I must visit their altar and leave them some of my blood to drink.”
“You want to serve the gods? Are you all right, little caterpillar? I do know what you might have eaten before my arrival, and I am just the slightest bit shocked.”
“I couldn’t possibly feel better. No one, until now, has ever been this happy. I must know how our gods will use me, for our cause as royal women. It can only increase my inner mounting joy!”
Omathaza looked at her, unsure, but smiling.
Some time later, the niece and aunt were seated atop a slow but steady riding ant as it was lured by a reluctant and sleepy ant-tamer who had been summoned from his bed to don a turban of finding-scent. Trellana had brought her chamber torch and the tamer had brought one as well, but their dim lights were drowned in the darkness of the unlit stair spiral. As they made their way down and deeper, Trellana relished the blackness and felt it as warm and loving. The sound of ant and human steps played in her ears as an intricate music. When they reached the ornate wall ring of the cathedral’s entrance, the tamer tied the ant to a post, then held back the slit of the diaphragm to allow the queens to pull themselves and their heavy gowns inside the sanctuary.
“I’ve got to sit down,” said Omathaza, who felt in the blackness for a bench at the back of the cathedral. “That ride through the darkness was most unsettling.”
“Please do take a seat, Auntie,” said Trellana as she heard her name repeated by a thousand whisperers. “They are calling me! Can you hear it?”
“I cannot.”
Holding her torch before her, Trellana raised her chin and felt a rush of pride pour through her as she approached the altar and its clustered idols, her faint light revealing their faces. As she got closer to the deities, the cathedral filled with the yellow sunlight of day. The ceiling turned a bright and heavenly blue, and under its vault was a southward migration of milkweed butterflies with bright orange wings that sang sweet melodies as they flapped. The idols stood as stiff, painted carvings until Ant Queen and Mantis rattled and rolled. They came to life to walk upright and knock aside Locust and Cricket, then trampled over the toppled carving of the Roach Demon to stand before Trellana.
“The time has come,” said Ant Queen as Her golden antennae probed Trellana for kin-scent. “You, Queen Trellana, must fulfill your mission as my most favored descendent.”
“Your will be done,” said Trellana, and curtsied. Next, Mantis probed the queen and cocked Her triangular head with its great bulging eyes. She grabbed Trellana’s hand with Her right fore-claw and pierced the palm for a drop of blood, which She brought to her mouth to lick.
“Trellana, Queen of All Slopeites,” said Mantis as She crawled to the idol of Cricket and chewed off its head. “You and Omathaza must send messages to all the Slopeish queens and princesses who live in disgrace in the unholy East. Tell them it is their duty to come to Venaris for the wedding of Princess Tajette. They must attend.”
Ant Queen stepped forward and lifted the idol of the Roach Demon with Her mandibles and then ripped its body into pieces with Her six claws. “Then you must tell all your aunts and cousins, all my lovely daughters, what they must do to restore the Great and Holy Slope,” said Ant Queen as Her halo brightened to a blinding white.
Trellana’s eyes burned in the brilliant light but she kept them focused as a gorgeous vision unfolded of the mission her goddesses had given to her.
Chapter 36
Breakfast with the Emperor
The cell where Anand and Daveena were imprisoned was strangely sunny in the morning. It was a long but shallow room that was more like a hall than a chamber and set on the bottom level of the palace. The walls were made of thick, clear quartz that allowed them to look out on the emperor’s courtyard as it filled with his promenading subjects and their abundant servants. The inconvenience was that the promenaders could also look back at them.
“We’re on display,” Daveena said. “The living curiosities of Emperor Volokop.”
“So kind of him to share his pets with his subjects,” Anand said as a richly dressed couple and their young children stood before the window, staring. Behind them stood the family’s servants in their loose, pleated robes and the outlandish bonnets that obscured their faces and even their sex. Twin boys with shaved heads and single side-locks of orange hair turned to their mother to make a request, and she smiled and nodded her consent. A bonneted servant stepped forward, opened her robe, and produced curly sticks of a sweet from one of a hundred pockets in her robe’s lining. As the children sucked on their candy, the family was joined by others who pointed at Anand and Daveena and discussed their appearance.
“Should we return the favor?” Anand asked, pointing at the husbands.
“Yes, let them wonder what cruel comments we’re making about their physical appearance,” said Daveena as she pointed at the wives and then at each of their children.
“Look at me and smirk,” said Anand. “And then we’ll break out in laughter.”
Daveena did as Anand asked, and they watched as the families took offense. They moved on, but were replaced by new gawkers who munched on treats from leaf bags as they stared. Hungry harve
ster ants approached the gawkers and antennated them, opening their mandibles and then their mouths in hopes of being passed some digested food. “The harvester ants are hungry. And so am I,” said Daveena.
“And it’s getting hot in here and my mouth is dry,” said Anand. “How do they expect us to put on a show if we aren’t properly fed and watered?”
“Let’s lie on the floor and clutch our stomachs and maybe they’ll figure out we need some refreshments.”
The two were lying with faces to the back of the room when its walls were pulled open by strongmen yanking on ropes. The High Priest of the Moon stood at the back of the men, chin tilted up and clutching his staff, surrounded by some other holy men and a priestess. He shouted to Daveena.
“We have been invited to the second breakfast of His Divinity, the Emperor Volokop,” she translated for Anand. The priest gestured to them to walk out of the cell and into the vast chamber where an indoor sled awaited them. To Anand, the sled looked like a giant hairbrush, with a thickness of bristles on its underside instead of scale runners. They walked up the short flight of steps at its back, then followed the priest onto its platform, where they took seats on a divan shaped like the crescent moon. The hauling boys in their golden armor dragged them over the empty expanse of the palace floors, where occasional courtiers stopped to stare or stepped aside. The sled entered a tunnel in the wall cut in the shape of a katydid in profile, then emerged into the emperor’s reception chamber. It was a vast, ovoid room with a cone-shaped ceiling and filled with a rich orange light from its walls of amber panels.
The emperor was wearing another extraordinary robe that was a replica of his palace, but this version was a pale violet. He had not worn his crown, but his bright ginger hair had been sculpted with beeswax into the shape of a mantis with upright claws. He was seated, or maybe standing, at the top of a star-shaped structure with graduating levels, and each level was covered with platters, jars, and bowls of prepared foods and drinks. A bonneted attendant was atop a ladder feeding the emperor with a small, pronged shovel that carried bits of chopped food to his mouth. On the other side of his mouth was an attendant whose broad spoon offered drops of a black liquid from a keg worn around his neck. This attendant used his sleeve to wipe the emperor’s mouth just before he spoke.
The Prophet of the Termite God Page 32