She moved closer to where he stood. Her scent reminded Chtomio of vanilla and roses.
“Let me tell you something, chrome,” she hissed. “The Seer decides who she sees and who she doesn’t. You cannot have her eyes just because you want them.”
In truth, I’d want something more than just the eyes of the Seer, thought Chtomio admiring her sleek, perfect body. What in Adio’s name is the matter with me? She’s an Orange! He blushed inside his mask.
“Er, look, I’m sorry we started off on the wrong foot. Allow me to introduce myself.” He bowed and said, “My name is Chtomio. I am heir to the throne of the Red Kingdom.” And as he said this, he felt embarrassed at his own level of pompousness. Heir to the throne? He had never ever introduced himself as the heir to the throne. His heart was pounding and… and the truth was that he really wanted to impress her and be invited inside.
“I know who you are!” snapped Sybilla. She was about to let him in but then she fretted, Wait! What if he’s lying? What are the odds of having two royals come visit me on the same day? But then again, if the news of a new Seer has spread … what if he is truly the heir to the Red throne? There was only one way to find out.
“Tell me, how is your father, the King?”
Chtomio stepped back. “You know… my father?” he asked, surprised.
“How could I not?” she said, continuing her bluff.
“Then, I must ask you. Will I become like him?”
His worried tone seemed sincere and now he was completely at her mercy.
“Come inside,” she said. Chtomio followed her and removed his mask. When she turned around she saw the face of a handsome male chrome staring at her with languid eyes. His long blonde hair almost reached his broad shoulders. She had never seen a male without a mask before. And she was quite sure that she had never been this close to a male who was, more or less, her own age. She felt her stomach flutter, something she had also never experienced before. Maybe it was all this talk of butterflies.
“Are you going to remove your mask?” asked Chtomio.
She looked at him, unsure what to do. Then, experiencing a sudden rush of boldness, she took off her heavy mask, slowly, without losing eye contact.
Chtomio watched Sybilla’s perfect, oval face emerge. She had a small, delicate nose, and gorgeous, wide set eyes. She placed the mask on the table and tossed back her golden brown hair. To Chtomio, it was the most beautiful gesture a female chrome could make.
Sybilla felt uneasy. Part of her wanted this Red chrome to immediately go away and another part wanted him to stay. Control yourself! She reminded herself.
“Your father is in you, as you are in him,” she stated, “this cannot be undone.”
“My father kills innocent chromes,” growled Chtomio. “That is the reason why I left Samaris. I don’t want to be like him! I’ll never be like him!”
Sybilla was about to throw salt into the fire, a trick she often used to gain more credibility during her sessions in Crodya, but then she decided against it. She really wanted to learn more about this chrome. “Tell me then, who is it that you’d like to become,” she asked, gently.
“I’d like to be a good ruler; a fair ruler. I’d like to change the way chromes of different color interact. I’d like more freedom from the Collective Laws. I’d like peace and justice to be the guiding light for all rulers, not just me.” Chtomio gazed earnestly into her eyes while he talked and Sybilla remained impressed by his words. She had never heard someone speak so candidly about all chromes and territories, not just his own.
“Those who seek noble goals shall be rewarded,” she intoned. Their eyes met over the fire and remained fixed on each other for a longer time than one would expect.
“Tell me, do you always speak this way?” asked Chtomio.
“I speak the way of the Seers,” she replied. Her tone betrayed a slight uncertainty. And she was angry with herself for this. She had never shown uncertainty with her sisters.
“I meant, do you ever speak like a normal female chrome?” he grinned.
“I am not like other female chromes.” Sybilla looked at him maliciously as she said it. What am I doing? What am I saying?
“Yes, I can see that,” said Chtomio smiling.
As much as she tried not to observe him too much, Sybilla thought that the Red chrome had a nice, sincere smile. For the first time in her life, a male chrome had flattered her and she wasn’t used to it. “The day retreats and the night approaches,” she commented as she returned the smile.
“Then let tonight be special. Let your goddesses sleep and leave you free until the sun rises again.”
“They never sleep,” she said disappointed. “Now, let my eyes see your future.”
“I’m all ears,” said Chtomio, “although the sound I would like to hear first is that of your name.”
“Who I was does not matter. What matters now is who I am. And I am the Seer.”
“Well, it matters to me. So please, Seer, make this chrome happy and tell him who it is that will predict his future.”
Her eyes were proud, but Chtomio noticed another mischievous little smile on her face. “They called me Sybilla,” she said softly.
“Sybilla,” repeated Chtomio, savoring the name like a precious wine, “What a beautiful name.”
Sybilla closed her eyes, pretending to concentrate. “I see… that you are hungry from your long journey.” She giggled.
Then they both burst out laughing. Throwing caution to the winds, she locked her arm in his, and led him deeper inside the temple.
“Aren’t you afraid of being all alone here?” Chtomio asked her genuinely worried. The thought of this beautiful young chrome living all by herself in a decorated cave made him sad. It was like giving someone a precious jewel and then telling them they could never wear it. What a waste.
“No, I have learned to live well with solitude ever since I was young… as for fear, I have learned to conquer it and not be conquered by it. Fear can win over the strongest of chromes and the most powerful of kings if you let it have its say.”
The more he heard her speak, the more Chtomio admired her. He was sure she was his age and yet it seemed she had lived more life than he ever would. And to think that all this time he had thought badly of the Orange!
Sybilla guided him to the room where she had recently discovered a larder. It was stuffed with dry salted meats, kept cool by the stone shelves. The two young chromes helped themselves to the food and returned to the main temple hall.
Sybilla told Chtomio that the temple had many rooms, all carved out of the cliff face.
“And you know them all?” asked Chtomio.
“Of course,” she lied. She didn’t want to tell him that she had arrived only days before and that the temple was still as much as a discovery to her as it was to him. “Some rooms are full of gifts to past Seers, their old personal belongings… things that go back for ages.”
“Past Seers uh? So you’ll spend your entire life here? Just like them?” asked Chtomio.
Sybilla nodded.
“What if you change your mind? What if you get tired of this?”
“Will you change your mind once you become King of the Reds? Will you get tired of it?” rebutted Sybilla.
“No, I suppose not,” said Chtomio, turning gloomy.
Sybilla had been observing chromes’ expressions long enough to understand when something was wrong and she quickly understood that talking about the Red Kingdom was a touchy subject for her new friend, so she offered a distraction.
“Want to see some other chambers?” She knew that by saying this she was breaking every rule conceived for Seers but there was something about this chrome’s company… it just felt right.
Chtomio nodded happily. Taking Sybilla’s hand, he helped her up.
“You choose!” She laughed and darted ahead of him. “I decree it as Seer. The room you choose will give us a sign.”
“Of what?” He cried, running after her.
“I have no idea.” She shouted. “Yet!”
Sybilla led the young cadet on a merry chase, deeper into the rock. It was a maze of roughly cut hallways inside the cliff and Chtomio could see which rooms Sybilla had already gone through, because she’d left their doors open. Some of them had been carved out of the rock by chromes, but there were also many natural caves whose doors were odd asymmetrical shapes that had been custom built to cover their rocky entrances.
Sybilla bolted ahead and Chtomio lost her in the darkness. He paused to take out his flint and light a torch. He admitted to himself that he really admired this bold female, who ran like the wind, so sure-footed in the dark. Yes, he concluded, a jewel such as her certainly would be put to much better use seated by a ruler’s side for an entire nation to admire, rather than locked away to be forgotten by all but a few old female chromes.
Chtomio took a good look at the door his torch revealed. “Sybilla!” He called, his voice echoing throughout the underground passages.
“Address me as Seer!” her voice echoed back.
“Seer… I’ve made my choice!” He heard the sound of her approaching footsteps. When she reached his side he held up his torch. The light revealed two entwining feathers, surrounded by precious stones that had been cut to resemble eggs. “What do you make of this?”
Sybilla looked at the door, aghast. She knew exactly what the feathers symbolized: The dreaded pygma! She glanced at Chtomio, blushing and ready to berate him, but there was no missing the genuine look of ignorance she read in his features. “It’s… mm… a symbol of chastity.” She stammered.
Chtomio chuckled. “I hope that’s not what fate has in store for me.” He pushed open the door and bowed. “After you, Milady.” Sybilla held her head high and entered the room.
To her relief, there were no embarrassing carvings or birthing instruments that revealed what the symbol truly meant. Instead, the room was empty save for a simple wood table, upon which rested two boxes and a scale. “This is getting very interesting.” Said Chtomio. The pair approached the table. “What now?” He asked. He moved to open a box but Sybilla instinctively put out a hand.
“Wait!” She said. An idea niggled at her brain. The idea of showing off her ‘oracular powers’ was irresistible. “I don’t think you’re supposed to look inside the boxes. You’re supposed to reach your hand in and blindly pull something out.”
“I don’t think so! Something bad could be hiding in there. What if I get bit by an Orange dart adder?” Chtomio said.
“Oh my, what a whimpering little sister you are,” Sybilla teased. She reached inside the box nearest her and felt around – quickly. Her hand brushed something round and metallic. She pulled it out. To her surprise it was a small crown.
“Odd.” Said Chtomio. “You’re not a royal.”
Not to be outdone in bravery, Chtomio stuck his own hand inside his box and withdrew…. a tiny mannequin.
Sybilla and Chtomio examined it. The little puppet had been crafted out of wool and was rather heavy, having been stuffed with sand. It wore a multicolor outfit of Red, Green, Orange, Black, Yellow, Blue and Violet. “It’s a Harlequin.” Sybilla declared in disgust.
“What a smug devil.” Chtomio said, delighted by its mischievous painted expression. “But look, the mask he wears is red. I wonder what that means?”
“Have you ever seen real Harlequins?” Sybilla asked.
“No, although I hear some are found and killed on the spot in other territories,” Chtomio said.
Sybilla stifled a smile. “Well I hope you never get to meet one; they say they are demons.”
Chtomio and Sybilla gazed at each other. Unspoken, they moved as one to place their objects on the scale. The pans moved up and down but then settled, perfectly balanced. “The Harlequin should weigh more than the crown.” Chtomio said. “Obviously, this scale is broken.”
Sybilla removed the objects and replaced them with two of her rings. One had a heavy sapphire; the other was a delicate fretwork of pearls. The scale immediately became unbalanced, reflecting the proper disproportion of their weights. Chtomio raised an eyebrow at Sybilla.
She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.” She repeated. But they both did… on some level. Chtomio took her hand and they quietly left the room. “Feathers… what a strange choice for a chastity symbol.” Chtomio remarked, as they passed by the door.
They walked back to the main hall and exited the temple.
“It is a dark night,” said Chtomio, looking up at the heavens.
“And cold too,” added Sybilla, also looking at the sky.
“I’ll probably get lost in this maze of canyons,” the young prince said, trying his best to be dramatic.
Sybilla smiled and turned to him: “You can sleep in one of the chambers for the night, if that’s what you are asking.”
Chtomio turned to face her as well and his grin spoke more than a thousand words.
“I’ll be gone with the new day. I promise!” he reassured her as they re-entered the temple.
But Chtomio’s promise was quickly forgotten by both the next morning. They began their day just where they had left it the night before, visiting the insides of the temple, talking, laughing and having time pass by amusing each other as if they were the only two chromes in the territories. They never bothered to put their masks back on. And at the end of each day, either Chtomio or Sybilla made up some weak excuse for why the Red prince shouldn’t leave. Soon, they felt so comfortable in each other’s company their excuses stopped. Their connection had been instant and it was hard for them to believe they had not known each other all their lives.
On the seventh day, their spell was interrupted by a gruff voice, shouting outside the temple.
“Chtomio! Your Highness! Are you here?”
It was a familiar voice to Chtomio: The Red captain. Chtomio quickly donned his mask and hastened outside. The captain dismounted from his horse and Chtomio saw he was accompanied by two Ashi soldiers. They knelt when they saw him.
“How did you find me?” asked Chtomio, surprised and worried at the same time. After all, he had deserted his duty.
“I bring bad news, Your Highness. Your father… he is dead,” replied the captain in a grave tone.
“My father dead? What are you talking about?” said Chtomio feeling suddenly dizzy.
“Unfortunately, it is true. And now, all of Samaris eagerly awaits your return… the return of their new king.”
48. A New King
Chtomio still shocked, felt disoriented. “Father…” Then he turned toward Sybilla, who had just exited the temple. “Did you… know of his death?”
She shook her head. For the first time since she could remember, she did not want to give a deceptive response. Chtomio leaned on one of the pillars and turned to the Captain.
“Did he suffer?” he asked.
“They told me he passed away while sleeping; that is all I know.”
“When exactly did he die?”
“Two days ago. The Council has decided to bury him tomorrow at dusk. Therefore, we don’t have much time.”
“I shall decide when and where to bury my father, not the Council!”
“All the more reason to leave now, Your Majesty.” Then, turning to one of his soldiers, he fired off a command: “Finian, bring the King’s horse!”
Chtomio felt a slow rage build up inside him. He was angry with the Council. He was angry with his father for leaving him like this. But most of all, he was angry with himself for not having been there for the king in his time of need. He had never been close to his father, but he did have unfinished matters with the king of Samaris and that included asking him why he had chosen to rule the way he did. What had driven him to such cruelty?
“I wish you a safe journey back home, Red king,” said Sybilla. She felt sorry for Chtomio, but the sadness went deeper then that. She felt sorry for herself too, because she knew she would never see him again.
Before moun
ting his horse, Chtomio took Sybilla’s hand and whispered: “I will return… for you.” Together with the other Reds, he quickly made his way through the narrow passage that led out of the Orange mountains.
––-
Chtomio was convinced the gods were against him and he hated them for it. First he had lost his best friend Keiran, and now his father. He felt a sense of loneliness pervade him. His head was spinning. The fact that his father had died and that he would become a king, or rather, that he already was the king, only made him uneasy — even though it was something he had often longed for.
He had never dealt with the court, or with the Council for that matter. He despised them and their old ways; their arrogance and blindness to the world outside Samaris. And then his thoughts turned to Sybilla. Her eyes had still been fixed upon him when he’d turned in his saddle for his own last look, and were filled with tears. He felt desperate and would have gladly stayed with her, but he knew it was impossible. He remembered what the Parabathai warrior Turan had told him — how she would have died for Coon, her companion, and he wondered whether he would ever be as strong as a Parabathai warrior if he had to sacrifice himself for someone else. He felt he could do so for someone like Sybilla, for now he understood the Parabathai’s remarkable devotion… And then, something else dawned on him.
“Captain, if I’m the king, why have you come here without the royal guard? Where are the Parabathai?”
The captain didn’t answer.
“Captain?”
“I’m just obeying orders, Your Majesty.”
“What orders? By whom?”
“Everything shall be explained back in Samaris,” replied the captain coldly.
Perhaps it was fate, or instinct, or maybe it was the tone of the captain’s response. The fact of the matter was that Chtomio’s reaction changed his life forever. “I am the king now, captain! And if I ask you a question, by Adio, you will answer me!”
The captain stopped his horse, taken aback by Chtomio’s commanding voice. “You’re not my king. You’re a weakling who couldn’t even kill a Janis.”
The Seer Page 8