Prince of the Godborn (Seven Citadels)
Page 22
Twenty years before, the Emperor of Galkis had ordered his craftsmen to make a necklace of moonflowers from shining cirge and cloudy gems. One spring morning, he had placed it in a casket as exquisite as itself and presented both to his beloved Taana. The Emperor had passed on the necklace to Taana's son, for his bride to wear on her wedding day. Kerish wondered if he could ever love a woman as intensely as his father had loved Taana. Until her death, Ka-Litraan had been a good Emperor and had striven hard against the coming darkness.
Kerish thought about his father as he undressed and murmured his evening prayers. He slept almost as soon as he lay down and failed to hear Forollkin's unsteady progress to his cabin or the sacrilegious comments of the crew.
Both the brothers woke before dawn and dressed by lamplight. The Prince's chest was crammed so full that two soldiers had to sit on the lid before it could be fastened. Kerish looked wistfully back at all the things he was forced to leave behind. Unimportant in themselves, they were reminders of home. He wrapped his cloak around him and quietly closed the cabin door.
On deck, Forollkin and Gidjabolgo and their meagre luggage were waiting. Kerish noticed at once how pale Forollkin looked and asked if he was well. With an embarrassed glance at Engis, Forollkin muttered something about a headache.
Gidjabolgo's unpleasant laugh broke through Kerish's reply, “My poor master, his brain hasn't dried out yet. It's still clogged with Tryfanian wine. Just as well we're leaving.” The Forgite pitched his voice to reach Engis. “Who knows what sea-monsters our captain will sight today or how straight his ship will sail?”
The captain's face suffused with anger.
Kerish hastily repressed a smile and said, “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, your Highness.”
Four Galkian soldiers hoisted the luggage on their shoulders to take it half a mile up river to where Ibrogdiss' ship was moored.
Kerish extended his hand to Engis. The captain knelt to kiss it.
“We have much to thank you for captain,” said Kerish. “The Governor of Ephaan told me that you were the best captain in the fleet. I have seen ample proof of it.”
“Your Highness, I would ask a favour,” murmured Engis.
“Name it.”
“My men have asked if you will bless them.”
Shocked and humbled by their faith, Kerish quietly agreed. One by one the crew knelt before him. The Prince traced the ancient sign for peace on their foreheads. Then it was time.
The crew crowded to the rails to watch the Prince and his escort leave. At the bottom of the gangplank both brothers paused to look back at the ship and the great purple and golden wings of her figurehead. This seemed a more final and a more painful parting than leaving Ephaan.
The Zeloka had been part of Galkis but now they would be alone in an alien country. From now on they had only each other.
End of Part One
The story continues in `The Children of the Wind'