Chapter Eight:
The outer wall of Melei-Argalla rose a hundred feet in the air, a towering construction of white stone that gleamed like marble in the sunlight. Passing through it was like passing through a tunnel; the wall itself was so thick the top of it could have comfortably fit an eight lane highway.
“Damn,” muttered Darius, staring up at it, obviously impressed, “Can you imagine what type of force you would have to have to bring this thing down?”
Rheidan glanced at Darius and arched an eyebrow.
Marie ignored them, craning her head around to glance at the group following them. It stunned her how much their group had shrunk. Before entering the city, Barnabas had ordered most of the expedition members to stay outside it, so as not to alarm its residents. He had allowed only twenty of them to enter. Marie thought the new group looked dangerously tiny. Even with machine guns, if the crowd turned against them, they’d all be dead. Her stomach lurched as she twisted back around. Up ahead of them, the circle of sunlight grew brighter. She could dimly hear the roar of people, the stomping of animals, the clacking of wooden wheels on stone…With each step she took, the sounds grew louder.
Rheidan stepped out of the tunnel—she heard a great roar—and sunlight blinded Marie.
She gasped.
They had entered a wide street, white columned buildings towering on either side of it, each at least five or six stories tall, each a fortress of stone. Marie stared at them in awe. Stalls with brightly colored canopies nestled at the base of the buildings, and people dressed in long robes rushed to and fro between them, haggling with the vendors. Marie had never seen such a strange collection of wares. One stall, lorded over by a vendor reminiscent of Bernard, overflowed with strange little wooden boxes with spinning tops. Another held statuettes made of different colored stones, while its neighbor offered cloths made of a luminescent, colorful material. Nearby to her left, Marie saw a pudgy woman arguing with an older vendor about a handful of purple of leaves. She waved them angrily in the air, and a sharp, spicy scent wafted over. Standing out in front of the stalls, young boys and girls shouted announcements—“Laekins here! Fine fish from Jairus ni Ocken!”—occasionally motioning to one stall or another. They fell silent when they saw the expedition, their eyes wide.
The group’s presence had a dimming effect on the noise. As it was noticed, conversations stopped abruptly. Eyes were drawn to it. The crowd lurched forward, as if to approach, but Rheidan held up his hands, and it fell back. For a few seconds, as the denizens of Melei-Argalla stared at them in shock, the noise level dropped to almost silence. Marie blushed. After a few agonizing moments, talk resumed, hushed whispers rising to a dull roar.
Hundreds of eyes followed them as they made their way down the street. Marie tried not to do anything to show her discomfort, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded. Her eyes darted around, but met nothing but intense stares and gawking faces. At last she focused her attention on the back of Rheidan’s head, gluing her eyes to his mane of thick black hair.
She tried to stay like that—focused on Rheidan—and for the most part she succeeded, but as the group rounded a corner and fell beneath a huge shadow, her curiosity flared. She glanced up and almost didn’t believe her eyes.
Ahead of them loomed an impossibly large building. It towered hundreds of feet into the air, a monster made of white stone. Its walls were curved, bulging forward toward the group before fading fast into the background. It was so large it was difficult to tell whether or not it was a perfect circle. The group could only see a small portion of it. Its height, though, was easier to determine. It was tall enough to be divided into seven distinct levels, with each level characterized by a series of decorative arches, each at least 20 feet tall. As the group stepped closer, Marie realized reliefs of horrifying beasts decorated each arch. One such relief depicted a large, snarling lion-like creature with six scaly legs; Marie saw it and shuddered.
From inside the building she heard animals roaring and growling and the echoing cheers of the crowd. To her left she saw Barnabas gaping, unable to tear his eyes away from it. She could practically see the clogs churning in his brain as he worked out what he was hearing. He suddenly went ashen. Marie herself felt sick.
They veered around it. It seemed as though it took them an impossibly long time to do so. She felt like an ant in comparison to the building and tried to guess how many people it could hold. Tens of thousands, at least. Maybe even a hundred thousand.
Marie closed her eyes and shook her head, stunned and awed. Despite the amphitheatre’s grotesque use, it was still impressive. It would have been an immense project on Earth, but the Maretzians had constructed it with only the most basic technology. How had they done it? How many years had it taken?
But Marie hadn’t seen it all yet. As the group rounded the corner and found themselves on the opposite side of the amphitheatre, they stopped. Marie stared, her eyes wide in disbelief, her breath caught in her throat. Beside her, Darius and Pamela gaped.
Sidriel’s palace rose before them on a low hill, not as tall as the amphitheatre, but far wider, a glittering expanse of blue and white stone. Behind a pair of dark iron gates loomed the central portion of the palace, where a set of wide sweeping steps led up to a large door of blue stone. Low, white wings ringed with capitals branched off from the central portion, windows that shone silver in the sunlight peeking between every other column. In person or in pictures, Marie had never seen anything like it.
“They don’t make places like that on Earth,” murmured Barnabas, awed.
Marie just kept staring. She was fairly confident the entire Washington Mall could fit inside the palace. The place could have been a city unto itself. She should have thought it monstrous, obnoxious…but it wasn’t. It was elegant, a masterpiece of architecture.
They approached the gates, and Rheidan turned to face them. He smiled. “Welcome, Friends, to the Court of His Excellency, Emperor Sidriel the Clever, the Powerful, and the Magnificent. May your time here be blessed.”
Marie sat on the steps to Sidriel’s throne, her arms wrapped around her knees. She watched as Barnabas argued with a man with silver hair, his cheeks flushed. Next to them stood Rheidan, arms crossed, stony-faced. Marie felt her stomach flip nervously.
Things had gone wrong almost as soon as they entered the palace. Perhaps because she was intimidated by the palace’s grandeur, or perhaps because she was just stupid, but Hannah had felt the urge to blabber away about the magnificence of skyscrapers and other Earthly constructions, much to Barnabas’s consternation and Rheidan’s irritation. Then a couple of cat-lizard hybrids had started hissing furiously at Pamela, which had resulted in Pamela glowering at everyone who dared look at her. And then Barnabas, of course, had to trip on the stairs, which caused a gaggle of passing noblewomen to burst into giggles and put Barnabas in an even worse mood.
And Sidriel was gone.
Marie glanced behind her, up at the large stone seat that had been left empty. It was a beautiful throne. Its stone gleamed in the sunlight shining in through the large windows behind it. Someone had carved strange, curving symbols into the throne’s back, and they made the seat look even more imposing than it already was.
The angry voices rose sharply, and Marie’s attention returned to Barnabas.
Sidriel was not here. This they had been told by the silver-haired man, Lord Parvenin, the head of the Circle of Ten. Sidriel had left the palace to take care of a disturbance in the east, but he had left behind instructions regarding the expedition for his Councilors. The group was, of course, to be warmly welcomed.
But perhaps because he had had tripped and embarrassed himself, or perhaps because he had traveled for months, or perhaps because he was just a crappy leader, but Barnabas hadn’t taken the news well.
He had swelled with anger, his face purpling, and demanded in a less-than-polite tone the exact location of the emperor. Parvenin’s face had hardened, and it had all gone downhill from there.
The two had been arguing for 10 minutes now. Pamela and Darius had tried to intercede several times, but to no avail.
As for Marie, she was furious.
She narrowed her eyes at Barnabas. What was he thinking—making a scene their first day in the palace? Was he insane? He was embarrassing the entire expedition, and by extension, all of Earth! He was being so obnoxious, so arrogant, so absurd, Marie wouldn’t have believed it had she not seen it herself. She was stunned, flabbergasted, and humiliated on his behalf. She wouldn’t have blamed the Maretzians for kicking them out—she was surprised worse hadn’t happened.
The door to the throne room opened, and Marie’s eyes flicked to it, her stomach clenching. Was it guards coming to arrest them for their impudence? No. A man with dark, oily hair rushed into the room, stopped at Parvenin’s side, and whispered something in his ear. Some of the anger drained from Parvenin’s face, replaced by resignation. He nodded shortly.
Turning to Barnabas, he held up his hands for silence, and Barnabas eventually quieted. “My Friend,” he said in dismay, “What are we doing? You are here to make peace between our peoples! We should not be arguing!”
Barnabas slowly nodded. He looked like he was trying to rein in his anger, but he was panting heavily. “You are right, of course.”
They tried to smile at each other, but both expressions ended up looking pained.
Barnabas craned his head around and scanned the assembled crowd. Everyone in the hall was staring at him. He cleared his throat, and everyone looked away, gathering their things, shuffling awkwardly, and muttering with each other. Marie guessed that was her cue to stand. It would be her luck that perching on the steps to Sidriel’s throne was a crime of some sort, and she didn’t want someone to suddenly notice her doing it.
Parvenin whispered something to Rheidan, who nodded and headed toward the door. Marie followed his progression with her eyes, her heart fluttering nervously. Where was he going? Was she going to see him again? She opened her mouth to call out—
He stopped abruptly and revolved on the spot. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. Marie’s mouth snapped shut. He weaved his way back through the crowd, and Marie stood still as he approached, her heart pounding.
He stopped two feet from her.
“Will I see you again?” Her voice came out squeakily, and she cursed herself for it.
He noticed and smirked. “Yes,” he assured her, his eyes glittering, “You’ll see me quite often. I’ll even be joining you for dinner tonight.” His gaze turned thoughtful, and he inclined his head. “My Lady.”
He left. Marie stared after him with wide eyes. My Lady?
“Please,” said Councilor Parvenin loudly, and Marie slowly returned her attention to him. “We have prepared rooms for you. Come with me.” He turned on his heel and marched out the doors, expecting them to follow. Marie saw Barnabas glance darkly at Darius before the group shuffled after him.
Marie would never remember how to get to their rooms. They passed through a maze of corridors, all sumptuously decorated. Marie’s mind spun from just taking them in. After ten minutes of constant walking, they arrived in a section of hallway slightly more luxurious than the rest of the building. They slowed to a stop in front of a wide, gilded door, which Parvenin swung open to reveal a set of spacious suites, with thick carpets and plush furniture, nicer even than the rooms they had stayed in at Lord Daenlyn’s manor. Blue stone columns supported the roof of the room, and gilded reliefs of vines and flowers spiraled up them and into the arched ceiling. In the corner a beautiful silver mirror with dark stones around its frame made the space seem even larger than it was. Marie soaked it in, revolving on this spot. She had never seen such luxury in all her life. Grandmother hadn’t changed a thing in their house since the 1960s, so Marie had grown up with things that were old, outdated, and prone to breaking. The only place she saw luxury even remotely similar to this was in magazines, and even that couldn’t compare.
“I believe,” said Parvenin, turning to face them and pausing briefly to savor their awestruck expressions. Marie forced herself to tear her gaze from her surroundings. She stared at him expectantly. “That there are more than enough bedrooms in this part of the wing for each member of your party. Each room has a laewin assigned to it for your personal convenience. Hannon!”
He peered around, and a short, portly man appeared out of nowhere. “Aha!” exclaimed Parvenin. “May I introduce Hannon? He is in charge of this wing of the palace. If you have any domestic issues, please tell him. He will take care of everything for you.”
“Thank you,” said Barnabas quickly, his eyes flickering over the room before landing on Parvenin’s face. “Really, Lord Councilor, your hospitality is greatly appreciated and unexpected.”
“Nonsense,” said Parvenin. “We hope to be friends, no? Allies, as it were? And is this not how you treat your allies?”
“Well, I suppose…”
“You are welcome in Sidriel’s House, Visitor. But let us talk about these things later. I am sure your party wishes to settle in. No doubt you have bags you need to bring up to the palace. Please, explore your rooms. Clean up if you desire. Tonight at sundown there will be a feast in honor of your arrival. Hannon will escort you there. Then we can talk about whatever you wish.” Before Barnabas could say another word, Parvenin had swept out of the room, Hannon trailing after him.
Barnabas, Darius, and Pamela stared at each other, their expressions dismayed. Marie smirked. She knew what they were thinking. They did not like the idea of staying in Sidriel’s House long-term. Short visits, fine, but Marie knew they would much prefer to spend most of their time surrounded by their bodyguards. But it was too late. The emperor had offered his hospitality, and it would be rude to refuse it.
“Well,” sighed Barnabas, slinging his bag off his back. “Let’s settle in, then. I suppose everyone can go and find a bedroom they’d prefer. Frank, Gilbert, Calvin—if you would head back to camp to retrieve our belongings. I suppose it’s time to unpack the long-term rollers.”
That caught Marie’s attention. Her head snapped up, a pleased smile spreading across her features. No more living out of a backpack!
After the three men had left, Barnabas cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him. “All right, everybody—I suppose we’ll be staying here. Go and pick out your rooms.”
What followed would amuse Marie even several days later. The group scattered, barreling down the hallways, opening doors, peeking inside them, then slamming them again. They acted like little kids searching for their room in a new house.
Marie didn’t rush. She highly doubted she would be upset with whatever room she ended up with. All of the rooms in Sidriel’s House were opulent. What was the point of fighting over one in particular?
She roamed the hallways, ignoring the people shoving past her. She opened one door and poked her head in. Hannah shot her a vicious glare from the bed. Marie rolled her eyes and closed the door. And so it went for several rooms. Marie was glared at, shouted at, and even cursed at. When Marie—somewhat warily—finally peeked into an empty room, she sighed in relief. This was it: her room. She dropped her backpack to the floor and collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the red sheets. All of the sudden, she was exhausted. Her limbs felt as though they were made of lead. She studied the canopy above her sleepily.
That’s interesting, she thought drowsily. Keeping her eyes open required great effort. They decorate the insides of canopies here—
Someone opened the door, saw her lying on the bed, and cursed loudly before slamming it shut. Marie managed to form a satisfied smile. If she didn’t ever have to get out of bed again, she’d be perfectly happy.
She rolled over, closing her eyes and inhaling a sweet scent, something very similar to a mixture of lavender and vanilla. Despite her exhaustion, however, she couldn’t fall asleep. Instead of peacefully shutting down, her mind began churning, restless thoughts flicking through it.
Where was Sidr
iel? Off in the east? What kind of ruler leaves his palace when he knows such strange visitors are coming? It didn’t match up with what she had heard of him. He was supposed to be clever, but leaving seemed rather stupid. Shouldn’t he have at least waited to meet them before going, just to make sure they weren’t a threat?
But maybe, she thought, Rheidan sent him information about us.
And he just blindly believed Rheidan?
Marie rolled over. She had to be missing a piece of the puzzle. Something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t Barnabas—?
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Goosebumps surfaced on her arms.
She was not alone.
She shot up in her bed, her head swiveling around, her heart racing. Her eyes darted frantically around the room and fell on a young man standing in the corner.
He was dressed in long amber pants with a matching amber tunic. He had tied a crimson sash around his waist, which matched the one covering his eyes. He was a laewin in a laewin uniform. Her panic faded. She slipped off the bed and approached him uncertainly. She couldn’t see much of his face, only the pale skin of his jaw and forehead, the color the result of a lifetime indoors. His brown hair had been plaited, and the plait fell to his waist.
“Um,” she started, then realized he couldn’t hear her and grabbed his hand. He immediately opened his palm, and Marie remembered what Rheidan had said about laewins responding to hand signals. She didn’t know any, so she brought his hand up to her face. His fingers found her lips, and he waited for her to say something. “If you can understand what I’m saying,” she said in halting Maretzian, “Please nod.”
He inclined his head. Marie’s heart fluttered. “Um, well,” she started, “I really don’t like the idea of slavery, so I don’t really want to treat you like a slave—but—but—I understand you have a job to do, so…” she floundered. Now that she was no longer reclining in bed, she wanted a bath. She really wanted a bath. And even though she didn’t particularly like the idea of ordering a slave around, she did need someone to help her. She didn’t know how bathtubs worked here. “I would like to take a bath. And perhaps, while I am bathing, if you could prevent someone from taking my room?” A thought occurred to her, and she turned bright red. “You don’t need to help me bathe, though! I can do that myself. Just draw the bath.”
She stepped back. He inclined his head, then turned and disappeared into a door Marie hadn’t even noticed.
“Thank you!” she called after him.
It took a moment for her to realize that of course, he wouldn’t have heard her.
Across Page 8