Prince of the Godborn (Seven Citadels)

by Geraldine Harris

  Silently the High Priest prayed for the dead. Then he gathered an armful of star-flowers and cast them on her body. One by one the Godborn copied him until Gankali's form was lost beneath a mound of scented blossoms. Laughing, the little Princess joined in this strange new game and covered her mother's face with petals. The Queen of Galkis was the last to honour the dead and there was no scorn in her face as she let the blossoms fall.

  The funeral was over. The Godborn left the Valley of Silence without looking back. Beyond the archway horses were now waiting for the tired mourners to ride back to the city but they could not yet rest. The night must be spent in elaborate festivities. The whole city would rejoice at the passing of Gankali's soul into the realm of Zeldin. Behind the smile that custom exacted from a royal mourner, the Crown Prince's face was as blank and desolate as his mad cousin's.

  * * *

  Kerish watched his apartments being stripped of furniture and ornaments and his jewels, furs and clothes packed into carrying chests. Everything had to appear as if he were permanently moving his whole household to Ephaan. Messengers had already been sent along the Royal Road to alert the nobles and officials who would have to entertain the Prince on his journey.

  Forollkin was constantly busy organizing the details of their escort and baggage. Kerish soon discovered that there was nothing he could usefully do. To escape the turmoil in his quarters, Kerish frequently retreated to his own small garden. As he sat reading beside a fountain on the third morning, a flustered servant approached.

  “Your Highness, the Ambassador of Oraz desires to speak to you.”

  Kerish's thoughts swirled in confusion and then settled. He remembered that today the Ambassador was to have his long-delayed audience with Queen Rimoka. Indeed by now it must be over.

  “Ask His Excellency to come to me here in the garden.”

  A few minutes later, Khan O-grak was announced. The Ambassador was alone. Kerish inclined his head slightly.

  “I am honoured, my Lord Ambassador. Though why you should...”

  “I'll come to my purpose at once,” said O-grak and sat down beside the startled Prince on the edge of the fountain. “I am sick of weaving words with the rest of your kin. Do you know why I was sent here?”

  “To announce the new alliance of the Five Kingdoms and perhaps to raise the question of the Jenozan border?”

  The Ambassador nodded. It was an old quarrel. Oraz and Jenoza were separated by the river Jenze but the river did not mark the boundary. The Galkian Empire extended twenty miles to the west of the Jenze. The Princes of Oraz had always claimed that twenty miles as their territory.

  “The Prince, my nephew,” began Khan O-grak, “has instructed me to demand that the territory beyond the Jenze be restored to Oraz.”

  “Demand is a strong word my Lord!”

  “And backed by strong swords. To be plain, if the land is not yielded, Oraz and her allies will declare war on your Empire.”

  Kerish trailed a hand through the clear waters of the fountain.

  “My Lord, I am sure the Queen has already refused your demand. Why do you tell this to me?”

  “Prince, you seem to store some wits behind those eyes of yours. I also hear your father, the Emperor, favours you above all others. Go to him, persuade him of the justice of our cause. There's no need to flare at me,” growled O-grak., “I offer no bribe but the thought of saving your country from a needless war.”

  “And if I were to do as you ask, what would your Prince demand next? The whole of Jenoza perhaps?” asked Kerish “No. We cannot give up the land beyond the river, if only for the sake of those your Priests of Az would persecute and slaughter.”

  “Your people may pray to your pale young god as much as they like. It is true that they would have to give up honouring your Foremother and acknowledge the Lady of Blood as their only goddess.”

  “That they will never do!” declared Kerish.

  “Then they will die,” said O-grak calmly, “and think themselves blessed for it no doubt. So your answer is no?”

  Kerish nodded.

  “Well, I am glad. I love defiance,” announced O-grak, “and this will be a brave war. I will remember your courtesy, Prince Kerish-lo-Taan, when I burn your city of Ephaan. I will spare your life and I will take you home to be a prettier present for my wife even than your bracelet. My word on it, Prince, for your brothers the sword but for you soft captivity.”

  “You are too kind, my Lord Ambassador!” said Kerish, his voice shaking with anger. “I will remember you also when the wrath of Zeldin is unleashed on Oraz.”

  The Ambassador laughed. “Keep to that faith, Prince, or despair may kill you before I can fasten an iron collar around your neck.”

  He rose and bowed mockingly. Then he stood tugging his fingers through his stiff black beard.

  “This is a fair garden. We have nothing like it in Oraz.”

  Before Kerish could think of a stinging answer, the Ambassador had gone.

  * * *

  Forollkin's face was very grave as he listened to Kerish repeating the gist of his conversation with O-grak.

  “It would have been wiser to pretend to consider the demand,” said Forollkin. “We need time to put the defences of Jenoza in good order.”

  “Rimoka has too much of the barbarian's own temper for that,” answered Kerish. “Do you still wish you were going to Jenoza?”

  “Yes,” said Forollkin and went back to planning their journey to Ephaan.

  The next day Kerish was received by the Queen and the Crown Prince, given copious advice on the government of Ephaan and kissed coldly on the cheek. In the afternoon, he took Forollkin with him to say goodbye to Kelinda. The young soldier had never been to the Princess's apartments before. He was startled both by their simplicity and by the quantities of books and scrolls heaped in every available space.

  Kelinda rose hurriedly from a window seat and came forward to greet them.

  “I am sorry if we've disturbed you in the middle of a poem,” said Kerish.

  “Oh no. I was just copying out a fable for Koligani and trying to draw pictures to go with it. Birds and beasts and flowers I can manage but my people! Dry twigs have more life.”

  Kelinda realized that she was still clutching her dripping quill. She set it down, asked her guests to be seated and sent one of her ladies to fetch wine. While they waited, Kerish asked the Princess how her step-daughter was.

  “She has begun to understand that her mother will never come back,” answered Kelinda, “but sometimes she still screams or cries for her.”

  “Doubtless the Crown Prince is a comfort to her,” said Forollkin stiffly.

  “No. That is, he would be,” stammered Kelinda, “but he is greatly upset by her crying. The Crown Prince likes to have happy faces surrounding him.”

  “Then he is born in the wrong age...”

  Kerish broke off as a servant entered with a flagon and two cups of rose crystal. Kelinda poured wine for her guests but did not join them. It was not the Seldian custom for ladies to eat or drink in company. Kelinda only forced herself to do so on state occasions.

  “Your health, Princess,” said Forollkin.

  There was a nervous pause as Kerish searched for the words to begin saying goodbye. Kelinda suddenly broke the silence.

  “I envy you living in Ephaan. From my journey here, I remember it as a beautiful city. You will always be within the sound of the sea. The Jorgan Isles will be in your care too, though perhaps you do not intend to visit them with the passage of the Sea of Az so dangerous.”

  “It will be one of our first tasks to remedy that,” said Forollkin.

  Kelinda smiled timidly at the young captain whom she scarcely knew. “You have sailed often?”

  “Yes. Well only on the state barges but I expect it's much the same,” said Forollkin airily.

  “Say that to your ships' captains and they'll mutiny! Is throwing sticks the same as firing an arrow?”

  Forollkin, who ha
d not expected to be teased by the grave Princess of Seld, muttered into his wine-cup.

  “Promise me, Lord Forollkin,” said Kelinda abruptly, “not to be too brave, nor to let Kerish be either. The Brigands show no mercy.”

  “Lady, I cannot make that promise for myself,” answered Forollkin grimly, “but I will keep Kerish safe.”

  Kelinda turned to Kerish. “And you, brother in Zeldin, will you promise to write often? I shall miss a companion in my studies.”

  “No, I can't promise either.” Kerish seized her thin ink-stained hand. “Kelinda, don't be upset.”

  “I am not upset,” said Kelinda. “I do not know all your customs. If it is unfitting...”

  “It is nothing like that. Kelinda, I cannot write because we won't be staying in Ephaan.”

  “Kerish!”

  “Forollkin, it's all right,” declared the Prince. “I know we can trust Kelinda.”

  Looking into her compassionate grey eyes, Forollkin could well believe it. `Yes', he thought a little bitterly, `I can trust a stranger but not my own kin, not my mother.'

  “Kelinda you must say nothing to anyone and when the news comes you must pretend ignorance,” insisted Kerish. “We are not leaving the Palace to govern Ephaan but to seek the Saviour promised in our scriptures.”

  As he told her most of what he knew about their quest, Kelinda sat with her hands knotted in her lap. Finally she said, “And you both believe that this is Zeldin's will for you?”

  “Yes,” answered Kerish.

  “I don't know,” said Forollkin, “but it is the High Priest's will. He's the nearest I'll get to Zeldin.”

  “Then I withdraw my request, Forollkin,” murmured Kelinda. “You will need all your bravery. Kerish, you say it is possible that you might visit Seld?”

  The Prince nodded.

  “Take this ring.” Kelinda drew a circle of emerald from her finger. “Wear it to remember me. If you meet my sister, Queen Pellameera, show this ring to her as a token and she will welcome you.”

  “Thank you.” He placed it on one of the fingers of his left hand. “Have you any message for your sister?”

  “Yes, tell her that she was right. If I had my life again I would never leave the Temple of Trykis.”

  Kerish and Forollkin left shortly afterwards. When Kelinda's ladies returned they found her weeping.

  * * *

  In the cool of the evening, Kerish wandered through the Emperor's garden. He hardly knew what impulse had brought him there. He had received no summons from his father and he ought to have stayed in the Palace in case Forollkin needed to consult him. Kerish lingered as the sun faded. There was no wind. The birds had stopped singing. The flowers, robbed of colour by the setting sun, looked pale and deformed. The trees seemed to lean threateningly towards him.

  Kerish remembered all the whispered stories he had heard about the Emperor's garden. Stories of men who had climbed the wall to see the wonders within or to pick a flower for their sweethearts, and had never returned. Once he, himself, had found a yellowing skull among a clump of innocent blue flowers. A night bird shrieked nearby and Kerish ran.

  Desiring only to get out of the garden, he fled down twisting paths and missed his way. In sudden panic, he found himself running into a part of the garden he did not know. Unheeding, Kerish splashed across a green rivulet. The water was icy and soaked through his thin clothes in seconds. The garden was silent and still, as if it had drawn breath before some sudden violent action.

  Kerish ran blindly on until, tumbling through a seemingly solid hedge, he fell face down on the grass. He lay quietly till his heartbeat slowed. He began to be ashamed of his irrational terror. Angry with himself, Kerish sat up and looked about.

  He was inside a circle formed by the high thorny hedge through which he had crashed in his panic. In front of him was a strange building, like a pointed tent of embroidered cloth but all carved in white stone. The doorway was open. From within a voice said softly, “Kerish? Come inside, child.”

  The Prince entered a circular chamber dominated by the object that lay in the centre of the room. Long and low, carved of purest alabaster in the form of a sleeping girl, it was a coffin fit for a Queen. Beside it knelt the Emperor of Galkis.

  Kerish stared at him and then, remembering his duty, prostrated himself. Once more the Emperor gently drew his son to his feet.

  “Welcome, Kerish, but you are trembling. Your skin bleeds and your clothes are soaked. Have you felt the terror that walks in the gardens of Galkis at evening?”

  Kerish nodded and the Emperor smiled at him.

  “Poor Kerish-lo-Taan. You are too sensitive to the horrors which lie beneath the mask of beauty. Forget them or your life will torture you as mine tortures me.”

  “I can't help myself,” whispered Kerish. “It is my birthright.”

  “Your birth curse! The gracious gifts of Zeldin. Clear sight and foreknowledge to sever us from humanity. Happy are the blind who cannot see the face of truth. Happy are the deaf who cannot hear the promise of hope.”

  “Father,” protested Kerish, “if you had been blind and deaf you would never have seen my mother's face or heard her vows of love!”

  “Or have grieved for her death,” said the Emperor coldly.

  “Will you have nothing then for fear of losing everything? Take pleasure in nothing for fear of it turning to grief?” demanded Kerish. “How can you bear such emptiness? I would rather have grief than never know joy!”

  “You speak justly,” sighed the Emperor, “but you are young and brave. A man's courage is like the oil in a lamp. The brighter it burns, the more swiftly it is consumed. It cannot be replenished and one day the lamp will go out and leave you alone in the dark.”

  “Father!” Forgetting all custom and precedent, Kerish flung his arms around the Emperor. “Father, however deep the darkness, you can share another's light. You need not be alone. There are many who would love you if you let them. The High Priest, Forollkin, Kelinda, your granddaughter...”

  “But I do not love them,” stated the Emperor.

  Kerish let him go and stepped back a pace. “Nor anyone?”

  The Emperor did not answer directly but knelt by the alabaster sarcophagus. “Do you know who lies here?”

  Kerish looked down at the alabaster face. “Queen Taana?”

  “Yes, your mother. She was just your age when she came to the Palace,” murmured Ka-Litraan. “Enemies of her people sold her to a slave merchant of Mintaz who brought her to Ephaan. The Governor saw her and bought Taana as a gift for his Emperor. They had to throw her down before me. She would not prostrate herself even to the Emperor of Galkis. I could love her but I could not change her. She did not know the shape of fear or falsehood.”

  The Emperor slid his hands along the smooth alabaster. “And she was beautiful, Kerish. Deep grey eyes and hair as silver as the light of a falling star. Skin as white as the northern snows. Here she lies, as fair as the first day I saw her. Fair and cold. When the darkness closes round me, I take her from her tomb and hold her in my arms. Do you wish to see her, Kerish?”

  “No, no!”

  The Emperor looked up. “Don't be afraid, Kerish. Perhaps you are right to think me mad, but I would never harm her son.”

  Kerish, his back against the marble wall, could frame no answer. The Emperor stared at him hungrily. Then the expression in his eyes changed. “Child, you're shivering and tired. Take off that wet robe. I will find you something warmer.”

  The Emperor crossed the small room and opening a chest drew out a mantle of thick black fur. He tossed it to Kerish, who slipped off his sodden robe.

  “Sit down,” commanded the Emperor.

  Kerish obeyed and the Emperor waited on him, pouring out a cup of wine. “Drink this!”

  Kerish sipped obediently.

  “It is late and dark, “ continued the Emperor. “Too dark for us to cross the gardens now in safety. Even I might lose faith on such a night.”

  �
��I must go back, your Majesty,” murmured Kerish. “Forollkin will worry.”

  Drowsiness was clouding his mind. His father's face wavered in the dim light.

  “Let him,” said Ka-Litraan. “I have given you a potion that brings peaceful sleep. Tonight we shall rest together, the three of us.”

  Too tired to protest further, Kerish lay down on a couch wrapped in the fur mantle. All through the night the Emperor of Galkis watched over him.

  * * *