Islands of the Inner Sea

by L J Chappell

  The next morning, the Crown Prince sent five carriages and more soldiers to accompany them to the Azure Palace. The first carriage had no roof but was open to public view and to the elements.

  ‘I’m sure most of your fellows would rather skulk in the shadows,’ the Hierarch commented to Pireon, ‘but I imagine you’re not afraid of riding in an open carriage, are you? Of people seeing you and staring?’

  ‘Of course not, Father.’

  ‘Then ride with me.’

  So Pireon sat in the leading carriage with the Hierarch, Father Demnadias and another senior Priest. As he took his seat, he reflected on how their relationship had changed during this long trip.

  Before the Festival of the Crown, Father Ykerios had hardly talked to him, but after Dach had led a party of Neophytes to explore Darkfall at night, Pireon and Ykerios had also gone out into the city. During those few hours, as well as visiting a number of Temples, they had also tried to remove the Emerald Crown from the head of the Dead God’s statue. They had failed, of course, just as everyone who had tried down the millennia before them had failed.

  While they were there, by the Statue of the Dead God, they both witnessed what Pireon had eventually concluded must have been the theft and presumed substitution of the Emerald Crown.

  “Theft” seemed entirely the wrong word, since there were queues and a temporary scaffold set up to help visitors try to remove the Crown. But there had surely been an expectation that if anyone actually succeeded in taking it, then they would announce their success to the world rather than substitute it with a replica and disappear into the night. So it very much felt as if the Crown had been stolen.

  That early morning adventure established a much stronger bond between Pireon and the Hierarch.

  ‘So what do you think of Emindur … at least, what you’ve seen of it?’ Ykerios asked him, as the carriages left the Temple and began a slow procession towards the river and the Azure Palace.

  ‘It seems much like Corvak,’ Pireon admitted.

  The Hierarch laughed: ‘You always have a surprising answer.’

  ‘In comparison with Darkfall, I mean. I suppose the buildings are not the same as in Corvak, so it looks different. But it feels the same.’ Although the population of the city was diverse, Emindur seemed a far less alien place than Darkfall. There were fewer jangling and bizarre sounds from instruments and voices; fewer bright and exotic colours to be seen; fewer sharp and unrecognisable scents and fragrances on the air. Compared with Darkfall, the sights, sounds and smells of Emindur were almost soothingly similar to home.

  ‘I understood what you meant,’ the High Priest assured him. ‘And you’re right – in every way that matters, Emindur is very much like Corvak. It is always worth remembering that, in nine situations out of ten, the interests of the Empire and the interests of Corvak will completely align.’

  ‘How long will we stay in Emindur, Father?’

  ‘Not very long. There is very little that we have to discuss this year, particularly if the Emperor himself is away. After today’s meeting, we will invite an Imperial delegation to the Temple – the Emperor normally chooses to come the following day or the next again. That will conclude our business here, and we will likely leave Emindur the day after that. Father Ephriedis and Father Anthedon will remain in Emindur, and two Priests from here will return with us to Elagion.’

  ‘Perhaps you should make Father Ennerikos spend time in the Temple here,’ Pireon joked.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ the Hierarch asked.

  ‘He teaches me “Lay Subjects” and he surely has not left Elagion for at least thirty years – even to the neighbouring islands, never mind to any destination outside Corvak.’

  ‘Do you find fault with his lessons? Or do you feel he would be invaluable here?’

  Father Ykerios’ tone was harder than he had expected, and Pireon realised that his comment was probably badly judged. He had been trying to say something light-hearted and jocular, something that might have raised a laugh among his fellow Initiates, but what he had actually done was criticise Father Ennerikos. Even worse, his comments could easily have been taken as criticism of Father Ennerikos’ suitability for his current position, which was probably an appointment that the Hierarch had made.

  Ykerios continued: ‘It is not necessary to experience a thing in order to become an authority. You would not insist that a doctor had suffered from your particular condition before he treated you, would you?’

  ‘Of course not, Father.’ Pireon just wanted the conversation to end.

  ‘Besides, in Corvak, the study of books and other texts is probably the best way to learn about the world beyond our borders, and Father Ennerikos is particularly adept at the study of the written word.’

  ‘Sorry, Father, I misspoke,’ Pireon apologised. He had no idea how he could have made such a blunder. Just because Ykerios sometimes treated him like a Priest, didn’t mean he could treat the Hierarch as if he was a fellow Neophyte: the High Priest was not a friend to share Initiate grumbles and jokes with.

  ‘Indeed, you misspoke,’ Ykerios agreed. ‘A little more consideration next time, please.’

  ‘Sorry, Father,’ Pireon repeated.

  ‘You have a versatile and enquiring mind, young Kiritas, but sometimes I forget that you are only a child.’ His comment might have been intended to reassure or comfort Pireon, but actually it made him feel much worse – smaller and more stupid.

  The carriages followed an indirect route, in order to approach the Azure Palace along a processional route from the south. So, even though the Palace was only a few blocks away from the Temple compound, their journey lasted almost fifteen minutes. A number of people stopped and stared as they passed: a few cheered or clapped, presumably as much at the ceremonial uniforms of the soldiers as at the odd assortment of Priests that they accompanied.

  From this approach, the Palace’s broad, flat facade was visible from over a mile away. Painted half in white and half in the azure for which it was named, it seemed to glint and shine as the rows of large windows caught the low winter sun. A fence of black ironwork entirely enclosed the Palace at the front; armed guards opened high, arching gates as they approached, and then closed them again once they were inside.

  Their escort peeled off as the carriages were driven in a broad arc around the parade ground. They stopped when the lead vehicle reached a set of wide steps at the main doors to the Palace. At the top, a small welcoming party emerged. At first, Pireon had no idea which were servants, which were politicians or bureaucrats, and which were members of the Imperial family – they were all wearing uniforms.

  Two or three footmen stepped sharply forwards as the carriage came to a halt. They applied the handbrake on the rear wheels, rolled out a carpet from the carriage door to the front of the Palace, opened the carriage’s little door and unfolded its two fitted steps.

  A Light Elf approached the carriage with quick and fussy feet, dressed in what Pireon assumed was the immaculate black and white of a senior functionary. He nodded his head curtly and checked: ‘Hierarch Ykerios of Corvak?’

  ‘Of course it’s the Hierarch,’ a tall Madarinn walked down the steps behind him, wearing an extravagant military uniform somehow very casually. ‘I’m sure you recognise him.’

  As the functionary stepped back, the Hierarch left the carriage and took a couple of paces forwards to make room for the others behind him. ‘Crown Prince Silvendor,’ he greeted the Prince. ‘It’s a joy to be in Emindur once again and to see you looking so well.’

  ‘Welcome back to the Azure Palace, Father, albeit in the unexpected absence of my father the Emperor.’

  ‘We are all subject to the demands of the state, however unpredictable and inconvenient those may sometimes be,’ Ykerios assured him. ‘We appreciate that you remained in Emindur to greet us.’

  ‘I will be leaving in a few days to join my father in Arafel,’ the Crown Prince nodded. ‘But before we withdraw, this is Prince Jysenard,�
� he raised his left hand briefly, and a younger member of the Imperial party descended the steps to join them. He seemed about twenty years old and, like the Crown Prince, was dressed in an ornate military-style uniform. ‘He will be glad to escort the younger members of your party around Emindur while we discuss the more tedious matters of state.’

  As the older Priests were led up the steps and into the Palace, the rest of their party transferred from the delicate ceremonial carriages that had brought them to more functional and lower-sitting vehicles. In contrast to the journey from the Embassy-Temple, it seemed only natural that the oldest of the Neophyte Priests would ride with Prince Jysenard in the lead vehicle as they toured the city. Pireon sat in the third and last carriage, together with two other Initiates and two of the younger Dancers; he had hoped that Ajiila might have accompanied them, but she hadn’t been interested.

  The three carriages were escorted by half a dozen Guardsmen on horseback in gold and white and red, with metal breastplates that glinted and shone in the light: their horses wore elaborate tack to match. Stunning sight though they were, trotting in close formation alongside the carriages, the population of Emindur barely gave them a second glance. The few who stopped and looked seemed more interested in the party from Corvak.

  Whenever they left the carriages and walked for a spell, it was the same: the Priests and Initiates from Corvak garnered the curious stares, rather than the grandly-dressed prince and his uniformed escort. In general, though, no-one showed any interest in them at all.

  Pireon found their tour around Emindur rather disappointing: his initial impressions of the city as a sprawling mix of the old and new, the broken and the repaired, the poor and the rich were largely confirmed. There were a number of immense and impressive buildings, of course, but he was used to impressive buildings at home – the Library, the University buildings, some of the Temples – and in Corvak the buildings seemed somehow more elegant; less jagged, less dark.

  The parks were pleasant and large, certainly compared with Corvak where the available space within the cities was so limited. At this time of year, though, the branches were bare and there were few flowers, so they offered little more than expanses of wet grass punctuated by paths, fountains and occasional ponds.

  Pireon had assumed that the secular would dominate here rather than the religious, but he was struck by the multitude of temples in the city. He wondered whether the people of the Imperial Capital were really so religious, or so superstitious. Perhaps, as citizens of the Empire they found the ritual and repetition comforting and familiar – the reassurance of something larger and stronger than themselves. Or perhaps it was more abstract than that, and they simply felt a companionship with something that could walk with them in their long journey down the centuries, something that would endure: similar to the vague sense of solidarity that many in Corvak felt towards the Empire.

  An unexpected highlight was the Imperial zoo. He already knew what many of the animals looked like, but to see living examples was immeasurably better than reading about them. He found himself with far too much to write for Iera, trying to capture how the various creatures behaved, how they moved and which of the Fathers they most reminded him of. It also occurred to him that the way they behaved in their natural state was probably different from here, where their food was provided without effort and their daily experience included being gawped at by crowds of visitors. So he started looked for behaviours that might be learned or conditioned by their current state.

  ‘Come on,’ the others called, as he lagged behind them.

  In Corvak there were animals in the parks of course, but no zoos like this. As they left, he wondered why that was – the idea, surely, was just like a library: to bring things to you, instead of having to go out into the world to see them. That struck him as precisely the kind of thing that would appeal to his own people. Corvak was overflowing with libraries.

  Other than making notes, he also kept a look out for Mages or Dragon Lords in the streets, though he wasn’t entirely sure what a Dragon Lord looked like. And he spent a lot of time watching Prince Jysenard. He had tried to conceal it, but the Prince had been bored and annoyed at the start of their tour. He had gradually warmed to his task, perhaps because of the attention he was receiving. The two younger Dancers seemed more interested in flirting with him than in seeing any sights that the city had to offer. After a couple of stops, the Dancers rode in the first carriage with him.

  At first, Pireon had assumed that the Prince’s life was the complete opposite of his own. It was obvious wherever they stopped that his Imperial signet ring and his escort not only meant that the population were deferential and attentive but that he had only to command, or simply suggest, and things happened. Pireon, on the other hand, was used to being ignored: being a small brown shape on the fringes. On Elagion, his life was strictly regimented and he had very little scope for spontaneity. The only times anyone noticed him were when he was wearing ceremonial robes and taking part in a ritual or sacrament, but then he wasn’t being noticed for himself, but as a part of the whole. He had a role to play, and anyone who looked his way saw only the role and not the person.

  He realised that he had fallen into the same trap: whenever he looked at Jysenard, he was seeing “the Prince” – the role, rather than the person. Perhaps he and Jysenard were more similar than they were different. Like him, the young Prince would have a rigidly-defined position and role within his family: a family within which the Emperor’s position was probably just as nuclear, authoritative and focal as the Hierarch’s was within the Priesthood. At a time like this, with the Emperor potentially ill or behaving oddly, they would feel nervous and threatened just as the Priesthood would if the Hierarch was unwell.

  He also presumed that the Prince had simply been commanded to show them around the city, with no notice or regard for any other plans or activities that he might have previously arranged. Perhaps he also had very little personal freedom. A day out such as this, spontaneously interacting with other people of a similar age, might actually be the main reason that he became more cheerful as the tour progressed.

  Rhoxyn, who was a student of the Oracle, transferred to the last carriage after a couple of stops. She was older than Pireon, and he didn’t know her well, but she knew Iera – the Oracle school was far smaller then the Seminary so they all knew each other.

  ‘I’m under instructions to tell her everything,’ Rhoxyn said.

  ‘Yes, me too,’ Pireon admitted: ‘I’ve been keeping notes.’

  ‘Notes! I wish I’d thought of that. I keep seeing things that I know she’d be interested in, but I’ve forgotten half of them already.’

  ‘I’m sure she won’t mind.’

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ Rhoxyn disagreed, and they both laughed.

  ‘It’s such a pity she couldn’t come. She would have enjoyed this journey more than anyone.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t think she’d have managed. It’s been strenuous at times.’

  Iera was shorter and weaker than the other girls at the Oracle school, and she carried a number of infirmities which made her life more difficult. She limped on account of having one withered leg, and saw only poorly in her milky eye. Her upper torso was twisted, and that sometimes pained her – she tried to disguise it with tight strapping under her clothing. The doctors who saw her when she was very young, in addition to those on Elagion, believed that her condition was likely to deteriorate as she grew older.

  People sometimes said she was “touched by the Gods” as if that was a good thing, but it seemed more like a curse to Pireon.

  After a couple of hours, another rider joined them briefly and passed a message to the officer in charge of the escort: he, in turn, caught Prince Jysenard’s eye at a convenient moment. This was presumably a signal that the talks at the Azure Palace had concluded, or were about to, and that their tour should finish soon. Sure enough, seemingly unhurried and unprompted, the Prince wrapped up his commentary and indicat
ed that they should return to the Palace.

  Their arrival at the courtyard was timed to perfection. Father Ykerios and his party had just emerged from inside and were standing at the top of the wide front steps. The ceremonial carriages that had brought them from the Temple were already waiting, with an escort. For the journey back, they rode in the same positions as before, which meant that Pireon sat with the Hierarch again. On this trip, however, Ykerios talked exclusively with Father Demnadias.

  As they rode out through the gates, the Priest-Consul asked: ‘You saw how tense he is?’

  ‘Indeed,’ the Hierarch agreed. ‘Prince Silvendor seemed almost nervous and ill at ease: not nearly as level-headed and relaxed as I’ve seen him before. So much so that I wonder if there might not be more on his mind than the situation with his father.’

  ‘Perhaps there is. A little after the solstice I heard a rumour that there had been a problem with one of the hostages: one of the sacrifices in Darkfall. The news came by messenger bird, but if it’s true, then the Palace will have had confirmation by now – the main delegation returned to Emindur over a week ago.’

  ‘If there was a problem then they hid it well in Darkfall. We didn’t notice any difficulties or hear of any problems, and we were among the last to leave. Of course, if there was some difficulty that resulted in a loss of face then someone will have to accept responsibility.’

  ‘If it becomes public, yes,’ Demnadias agreed. ‘The Imperial Family and Court will all be positioning themselves to express the greatest outrage, to reduce the likelihood that they will become the scapegoats.’

  ‘Given the Emperor’s current distraction, this might even cause something of a political crisis,’ the Hierarch said. ‘Even if they try to keep it quiet, anyone who believes the rumours will expect some kind of Imperial response.’