The Dead Kingdom (Seven Citadels)

by Geraldine Harris

  “A gift for you, so that you will remember Tir-Tonar.”

  "There is no danger that I will ever forget it.”

  Kerish looked at her anxiously, while Saroc healed Forollkin and Gidjabolgo's scratches.

  "Come,” said the sorcerer, “you need not endure the maze again. We will take an easier path to the outer wall."

  He stamped his foot and two paving stones slid back to reveal a descending stair. Saroc led the travellers down into a long straight tunnel, where polished walls gave back a thousand different reflections of Sendaaka's face. Walking quickly to keep up with the sorcerer's eager stride, Kerish answered only one of his brother's questions. "Yes, he gave me the key. Ask me about it later. Not now."

  It seemed to take no more than an hour to reach the outer wall. They passed through the crack in the ramparts, out onto the red sand. The travellers froze as the guardians swooped down on them, with high, excited screams. Dozens of the creatures landed close to Saroc. He walked amongst them, stroking scaled heads and pronouncing their names with strange whistles and clicks. The guardians caught at his cloak with their clawed hands, as if they were beseeching him to stay, but Saroc shook his head. He called out three times, and through the crack in the ramparts ran and loped and crawled the creatures of the maze. Grotesque or beautiful, they all crowded round the sorcerer, yelping and mewing, hissing and growling.

  Forollkin kept his hand on his sword hilt as one of the stone dancers lumbered past and Kerish flinched as the denizens of the Red Stair left Tir-Roac, but none of the creatures took any notice of the travellers. Saroc touched and spoke to all the beasts of his maze and then ordered them to move away from the shadow of the walls. The travellers soon found themselves standing amongst the creatures from the courtyard of the stone flowers, watching the sorcerer.

  Saroc raised his left hand and fire flowed from his fingers and seemed to burrow through the sand towards Tir-Tonar. As it reached the base of the walls it leapt into a great sheet of flame that encircled and engulfed the citadel. The travellers moved back, but they felt no heat and the flames burned silently. Gradually the crimson walls blackened, then glowed white and finally began to crumble. Within an hour there was nothing left but the Red Stair over the abyss.

  Then the sorcerer raised his right hand and pointed upwards. The sky began to lose its crimson glare and change to a soft blue. Kerish was the first to notice a small grey cloud forming but soon the sky was full of them. Saroc made a circle in the air and shafts of crimson pierced the clouds. Sheets of silvery rain fell and the air was filled with smoke from the smouldering ruins. Saroc pointed his right hand downwards.

  The travellers had to move quickly as a spring welled up beneath their feet. All around them, grass thrust its way through the red sands and plants grew and flowered within minutes. The creatures of the maze sniffed at them suspiciously at first and then with pleasure. Some began to browse, others rolled over on their backs, rubbing the new scents into their bodies. All of the creatures began to drift away from the ruins of Tir-Tonar.

  Saroc let his arms fall to his sides and he began to shiver beneath his sodden robe. The rain had untangled his long red hair and the brilliance of his eyes had been dowsed with the flames. Now they were smoky grey and full of human warmth. He turned to the travellers.

  "My way lies north, yours south. Lord Djezeney still waits to escort you to his Queen at Mel-Kellin. I will summon Sendaaka's horses to me, since you will not need them again.”

  “I wish you a joyful meeting with your lady,” said Kerish, but his eyes were searching for Lilahnee's grave. Close by, the stone figures had joined hands and now danced in a circle, trampling the new flowers. Something white whirled past, squeaking with excitement. The golden-haired child stroked the coils of the serpent as they lay down together beside a stream.

  "The Red Waste shall be a garden again,” said Saroc, “and a sanctuary for my creatures. Their monstrous strangeness should protect them from the cruelty of men. Your Lilahnee and my Acanoth will sleep in peace."

  Chapter 4

  The Book of the Emperors: Teachings

  "You have been commanded to love one another, but I tell you to understand one another and that is the harder task."

  When the slow barge that Djezaney had commandeered for the last part of their journey finally reached the capital, the travellers found that a royal welcome awaited them. Four courtiers had carried Pellameera's ivory chair to the water's edge and Lord Djan knelt beside it, stroking the hem of the Queen's robe. Six grave ladies-in-waiting held a silken canopy over the Queen's head but Forollkin looked only at Pellameera. Green gems crowned her lustrous hair and she was even more beautiful than he had remembered.

  The crew of the barge jumped on to the bank, with mooring spikes and ropes. Kerish offered Gwerath a hand to help her ashore but she had overcome her initial distrust of the first boat she had ever seen. Ignoring the Prince, Gwerath leaped confidently on to the turf, followed by Forollkin and Gidjabolgo.

  Kerish-lo-Taan bowed to Pellameera and she gave him her hand to kiss.

  "Dear Prince, we rejoice to see you safe. I hear strange tales from the north that Tir-Tonar has fallen and the sorcerer is dead."

  "Saroc is not dead, your Majesty, but he has destroyed Tir-Tonar and left your Queendom. The Red Waste will become a garden again but it is full of the monstrous creatures of the sorcerer and still too dangerous to enter."

  "Unless you are as gallant as a Galkian." Pellameera smiled as Forollkin bowed before her, and even nodded graciously to Gidjabolgo. "You must tell me all about your adventures but where is Djezaney? I must hear his story too."

  Resplendent in rose silk, the Seldian knelt before his Queen, sweeping off his feathered hat.

  "There is little to tell, your Majesty. Banished from beauty, I waited in the White Hills till flames roared through the Red Waste and my four charges returned."

  "Four!" The Queen stared at Gwerath, from her shabby riding boots to the untidy braids of her silver hair. "You also had business with the sorcerer, Princess?"

  "More than I knew," said Gwerath quietly.

  "Djezaney was supposed to keep the Princess safe in camp," began Forollkin.

  "She told me she would ride after her cousins," said the Seldian, "and I am not accustomed to disobeying royal ladies."

  Pellameera smiled slightly but Djan murmured, "So you skulked in the White Hills while the Prince and his brother conquered Saroc."

  "Is hiding beneath my skirts more honourable, Djan?" enquired Pellameera and she gave Lord Djezaney her hand.

  As he kissed each finger, Forollkin suddenly stepped forward. "Madam, I have brought you something from the Red Waste."

  He slipped a crystal bracelet from his arm and knelt to offer it to Pellameera.

  "Why this is the jewel I gave to Theligarn when our first daughter was born. How . . . ?"

  "We found his body," said Forollkin grimly. "He was slaughtered by the guardians of Tir-Tonar."

  "Your gift will bring back his memory," murmured Pellameera.

  Forollkin wished he had never spoken but, after a moment, the Queen handed the bracelet to one of her ladies. Smiling brightly, she questioned Kerish. "Tell me, where is your pretty marsh cat?"

  "She died, your Majesty, fighting the guardians in the Red Waste."

  "Ah, I am sorry you have lost so rare and valuable a creature. I must find another pet to please you. I cannot have you looking so sad, now that your quest is accomplished."

  "I want no other pet," Kerish answered, "and our quest is far from accomplished. We must sail to Gannoth to ask its King for help."

  "To Gannoth? A Prince of Galkis is free to go where he chooses but I hope you will endure my poor hospitality for a few days longer. Perhaps your brother can persuade you." She smiled at Forollkin. "And you, Princess, so pale and haggard. You must rest."

  There was little Kerish could do but accept. Horses garlanded with summer flowers were brought to the travellers for the short ri
de to the palace. Four noblemen lifted the Queen's chair and she beckoned to the Prince to ride beside her.

  "I have news that may banish those sombre thoughts. The ship that brought the Emperor's Envoy is still in port."

  "The Zeloka?"

  "I believe that is the name. I will order the captain to wait on you. He has a letter for your Highness from Galkis."

  "Thank you, but I would rather visit the Zeloka myself."

  "An escort will be arranged for you. Are you fond of ships, Prince? You must come sailing with me in my new pleasure skiff. . . "

  All the way to the palace Pellameera chattered lightly of the pleasures that she could offer her guests. Kerish filled the rare pauses with polite expressions of interest.

  The Queen's palace, and the mansions of her ladies, were built on the south bank of the dark, swift-flowing Rellendon, while north-east, across the placid Mel, lay the poorer quarters of Mel-Kellin. Even there, the wooden shacks were brightly painted and the merchants' quarter was ablaze with gaudy flags and streamers. The outer walls of Pellameera's palace were tiled in azure and rose, cream and gold. Images of the Queens of Seld, with hard bright faces, stared out from eternal gardens. Above the walls, Forollkin glimpsed the gigantic heads of birds, beasts and nodding flowers. His hands tightened on the reins and it took him a few moments to realize that he was seeing the fantastic roofs of a circle of wooden castles.

  Once inside the palace, the travellers were led through a formal garden and past a miniature lake to a wooden pavilion shaped like a fully open water flower. They were shown into a splendid suite of rooms, each tiled with patterns of fish and flowers in blue, green and white. For furnishings there were low tables and porcelain couches so fragile that Forollkin was afraid to sit down.

  Food was discreetly brought in covered dishes. When they had eaten, four pages came to help the travellers to dress for an entertainment in their honour, to be held in the palace gardens. Kerish put on his best robe and his zeloka jewels but Forollkin merely changed into his other set of travelling clothes. Gidjabolgo curled up in a corner with a pile of books that had been put out for Gwerath's amusement. "If my masters can bear my absence, I'm sure Queen Pellameera will not notice it.”

  When Kerish was ready, he tapped on Gwerath's door. Pellameera had sent gifts of clothing but Gwerath had dismissed the pages who brought them. Kerish heard a muffled answer to his knock and walked into the room. The lovely dresses lay crumpled on the floor and Gwerath was kneeling in the window seat, her face pressed against a pane of glass. Below, a boat load of musicians was being launched on to the lake and pages were climbing trees to hang up coloured lanterns.

  "Aren't you coming down?" asked Kerish.

  "I told them my head hurt," mumbled Gwerath.

  "And does it?"

  Surprised, Gwerath looked round.

  "Oh, I don't blame you," said Kerish as he crossed the tiled floor. "I'd get out of it too if I could."

  Gwerath blinked at the dazzle of his jewelled collar. "I thought you admired the Queen."

  "No. Though I am beginning to feel sorry for her."

  He sat down beside her on the window seat.

  "Well, Forollkin admires her," said Gwerath hesitantly.

  Kerish looked down at the servants scurrying across the lawn with piles of cushions.

  "He admires her and he despises her. You, he likes. Which would you prefer?"

  "Does he really like me?"

  It was the first time that Kerish had seen a glimmer of her old eagerness in Gwerath's face since they had left Tir-Tonar. During their dull journey to Mel-Kellin she had been sullen and withdrawn. `If you like a woman who talks, she talks well,' Tayeb had said; but his daughter was no longer the lively inquisitive Torga of the Goddess and Kerish was afraid for her. Forollkin kept saying that Gwerath would get over it if they left her alone but Kerish saw that she was closing herself off from them and from everything. He desperately wanted to be the one to stop her, but he knew that Forollkin's name was the key to the prison she was making for herself.

  "Oh, Forollkin likes most people," said Kerish cruelly. "Are you sure you won't come down?"

  "I'll watch from here," answered Gwerath and she pressed her face against the cool glass again.

  Pages escorted the two Galkians to a dais set up in the formal garden. Seated beside the Queen, they were entertained by displays of traditional Seldian dances. Lord Djan excelled in a dance that involved juggling with fans and knives, while Lord Djezaney, his clothes jangling with silver bells, led a troupe of noblemen in a dance that was meant to imitate a rainstorm.

  Forollkin furtively watched Pellameera, fastening in his memory the strand of copper hair that fell across her soft cheek, the folds of white silk at her slender waist, the long, dark lashes that hid the lambent green of her eyes. Kerish spent a tedious evening courteously foiling the Queen's persistent questions about the nature of his quest. Both the Galkians were glad when midnight released them.

  *****

  They slept late the next morning. It was not until noon that the two brothers were ready to leave for the harbour to visit the Zeloka.

  "Forollkin. . ." Kerish pulled on one of his gloves. "See if you can coax Gwerath to come with us."

  "That's a good idea, she ought to see a real ship."

  As he left, Gidjabolgo muttered, "We have a saying in Forgin - `Every new love brings a new hate into being.' Thank you for providing me with fresh amusement."

  Kerish pulled on his other glove before he answered. "I shall do my best to disappoint you, Gidjabolgo."

  Gwerath agreed to come, so she and the two Galkians rode borrowed horses towards the main harbour, flanked by an escort of Seldian soldiers. Their route took them past the high garden fences of the great mansions and through the quietest part of the city. Quiet, at least, in the noonday heat, when most Seldians were sleeping or taking meals in the privacy of inner rooms, but everywhere there was evidence of a restless passion for change. Many buildings were being altered to fit new and ever more fantastical fashions. Workmen and craftswomen dozed amongst the heaps of broken tiles and discarded statues at each street-corner, while scaffolding surrounded half-demolished towers and the wooden skeletons of dangerously frail mansions.

  Kerish and Forollkin hardly noticed the city; they were looking ahead, eager for their first glimpse of the Zeloka. At last, they rounded a corner and saw the Galkian ship, agleam with purple and gold, rocking on the dark waters of the Rellendon. Kerish stared at it as if he could hardly believe that it was real and Gwerath's face filled with wonder. Forollkin smiled at her involuntary tribute to the stately beauty of the jewel of the Galkian fleet. He swung her down from her tall horse.

  They were escorted aboard to receive a joyful welcome from Captain Engis, who hurried to kiss the Prince's hand and clasp Forollkin's.

  "Your Highness, my Lord . . . I never thought I'd see you again. I cursed myself for trusting a Frian. No-one could give me any news of you and I feared . . ."

  "Zeldin was with us," said Kerish. "Gwerath, may I present Engis, Captain of the Zeloka. Captain, this lady is my cousin, the Princess of the Sheyasa."

  Armed with a dagger and dressed in shabby boy's clothing, Gwerath looked nothing like Engis's idea of a princess but he knelt and stammered a welcome.

  Forollkin quickly suggested that they all go below to talk. When the Prince had persuaded the rest of the crew to stop prostrating themselves, Engis led the travellers to his cabin and sent for the best Galkian wine. Kerish and Forollkin drank it with delight but Gwerath took one sip and wrinkled her nose at its dryness.

  "Now, Captain," Kerish leaned back in his chair to look up at the Galkian symbols carved on the beams: the starflower and the winged circle, the silver horse and the horned moon of Imarko. "Now, Captain, we should be glad of any news from Galkis."

  "I'll tell your Highness all I know."

  "And all that you conjecture," added Forollkin.

  "Ah, I'm no courtier," said Engis "
and a man must be more careful of his tongue now that the Emperor Ka-Litraan, may his soul rejoice with Zeldin, is dead."

  "When he announced his death, did he seem ill?" asked Kerish. "Or in pain?"

  "The Envoy who had been at the ceremony said that the Emperor had seemed well and strong, Your Highness, and very calm. Yet afterwards, His Majesty refused to go to the Chamber of Darkness. He waited for his end somewhere deep in the gardens of the Inner Palace." Engis lowered his voice. "It's even rumoured that he wanted to be buried there."

  "Rimoka would never allow that, " murmured Kerish, knowing that his father would have wanted to share Taana's tomb.

  "I suppose," began Forollkin, "that the coronation will have taken place by now."

  "Yes, my Lord," agreed Engis. "When I left Ephaan, the Crown Prince had already begun his journey to Hildimarn, to be crowned by the High Priestess and Prince Im-lo-Torim."

  "By Im-lo-Torim!" said Forollkin sharply, "but the High Priest . . ."

  "Our good Lord Izeldon has been grievous ill," answered Engis, "unable to move hand or foot. Perhaps by now Our Lady Imarko has led him through the dark."

  "No," whispered Kerish," I would have felt him go. My sister, Ka-Metranee, how is she?”

  "The High Priestess has not left the sanctuary of Our Lady's temple for months now," began Engis cautiously, "and there are rumours . . ."

  "That she is mad?" asked Forollkin bluntly.

  "Oh no, my Lord; only that she weeps day and night and speaks of nothing but darkness and defeat."

  To fill the silence Engis poured out more wine.

  "There is one more piece of news, your Highness. Just after the Emperor announced his death, he pardoned the Princess Zyrindella. She is no longer a prisoner in her own palace."

  "The Empress must have been furious!" exclaimed Forollkin.

  "I would not know, my Lord," Engis studied the table, "but the impious do say that the late Emperor wished to anger her with his last breath.”

  "It is the custom for the Godborn to forgive their enemies before death," murmured Kerish.