Princess of Amathar

by Wesley Allison

  I gave Malagor a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and turned to walk back to the ship. At the descending platform, several dozen tons of trade goods and supplies had been lowered. I don’t know whether this was for bargaining purposes, or if it was simply a gift to the Malagor. Also on the platform were the seven Malagor rescued from the Zoasians and now being returned to their kind. Standing beside the platform, supervising the unloading were two incredibly beautiful women— Vena Remontar and her cousin Noriandara Remontar. They both smiled at me as I stepped up beside them.

  “I missed you, pale one,” said Vena Remontar, as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

  “I have missed you too,” said the Princess. I must have looked puzzled at this, for she continued. “Even a great annoyance can be missed, once one becomes used to it.”

  The three of us returned to the ship when the great elevator made its next rise to the surface. The ship stayed hovering near the Malagor city for quite a while, it seemed like two or three days to me. I assume that Norar Remontar was using that time to forge the proposed treaty with the dog-like people. At last, when the ship was ready to resume its course for Amathar, I returned to say good-bye to my friend.

  “Keep yourself well and safe,” I said as I looked into that hairy, long snouted face.

  “Do not fear, Alexander,” he replied. “We shall meet again.”

  As I was lifted up into the air, I mused upon the fact that it is much harder to be the one being left than it is being the one who is leaving. Most of my life I had leapt forward into whatever adventure awaited me, and trusted that others would manage to keep up with me or survive on their own without me. Seldom had I been the one left behind. Of course, in reality I was still the one leaving, and Malagor was staying here, but in the more metaphorical sense, he was moving on with his life, and he was leaving me behind. I looked down at the ground below and saw him. He gave one last wave and turning, entered the forest city.

  Chapter Thirty Two: Return to Amathar

  Shortly after leaving the Malagor city, I decided to relieve my ‘something sadness’ by going to the shipboard gym. There I hoped to practice my swordsmanship, and indeed I did, with an unexpected opponent. Noriandara Remontar was going through a series of warm up moves when I entered, and invited me to join her for a bout. I accepted. As we fought the mock battle, I compared her once again to her cousin. The Princess had as much skill and grace as Vena Remontar had demonstrated but tended to attack more fiercely and with less flourish. In the end, it was I who drew first blood ending the contest, when I scratched her shoulder with my blade.

  “You are skilled,” said Noriandara Remontar.

  “Yes, you have improved,” came the voice of her cousin from the doorway.

  “I have had plenty of practice,” I said, as Vena Remontar walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  “Are you truly in love with this man,” Noriandara Remontar asked.

  “Yes,” replied the beautiful form pressed against me.

  “He is a good man,” continued the Princess, “but he is so pale.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Vena Remontar, kissing me.

  It seemed to be no time at all after we left the Malagor city, until we could spot the tremendous multi-colored landscape that was the city of Amathar. To say that it was a beautiful sight would be one of the more astounding understatements of all time. As we approached, the multi-colored pastel blur became separate sections of the city, then separate blocks, and finally separate buildings. By the time the mighty ship passed over the city wall, I could make out the individual people far below, and I could tell they were looking up at the monstrous vessel above them.

  Sun Recovery Ship 2 slowed to a halt above an airfield. It looked much like the one on which I had first landed. It was a large tarmac with a number of small flying craft parked upon it and several small buildings placed around its edge. The ship prepared its huge elevators once again to debark passengers. The recovered battle cruiser would be offloaded in one of the city’s industrial centers. Vena Remontar and I, along with the Prince and Princess of Amathar were among the first to once again step onto Amatharian soil.

  The four of us left the airfield and walked down the avenue, along with dozens, perhaps hundreds of others. Amatharians returning from an adventure first went to their home and made personal contact with family and friends, and only later filled out lengthy reports and records. We were no different. We were as happy to be returning to the great city as any citizen who had ever left it. Norar Remontar and his sister held hands as they walked along, with Vena Remontar and me following. Though I felt some small melancholy due to missing my friend Malagor, I knew that he was where he wanted to be, and I certainly felt at home returning here. But like anyone facing the move to a new home in a new city, I had much on my mind. I had to arrange a place of my own in which to live and there were tons of things about living in Amathar and about being an Amatharian of which I still knew nothing. Then there was the whole matter of my new relationship. It all had to be sorted out as well. We took a subway to our section of the city. This particular train was operated by the Clay clan, and was not as cozy and comfortable as others in which I have ridden, though it was nicely decorated and had several nice paintings hanging on the car wall. Compared to earthly subways— but then again, that’s really impossible. A better image might be created if you were to picture the waiting room in the office of an upscale lawyer. In any case, the vehicle got us where we were going— to the building in which all four of us resided.

  When we arrived at that building— I still tend to think of it as Norar Remontar’s building, even thought I know a great many people who live there— each headed for his own apartment. I followed Norar Remontar to his, with Vena Remontar’s good-bye kiss still warming my lips. I climbed into bed in the guest room, which my friend had so generously provided me so long ago, and I fell asleep. The silky smooth sheets, though made in the style of animal skins, as is the custom in Amathar, felt oh so much better. There was none of the itchiness or smelliness which I shall always associate with sleeping on animal skins.

  I didn’t feel that I had slept a particularly long time, but when I got up, Norar Remontar had already left. He had his family to see, not the least of whom was his grandfather, the Overlord of our clan. I grabbed a snack cake, which is called a knalla and is not really too different from a doughnut without a hole, and set down at the desk to write out the reports of my adventures. Amatharians preferred to see everything written out. Families appreciated seeing details of their loved one’s death in written form. Superiors expected to see lost or damaged equipment detailed in writing. This had nothing to do with liability or legality. An Amatharian’s word was his bond, and material wealth was paid far less attention than I had been used to on another world. They simply preferred the written word in so many ways. I had many things to write down. I had to write the family of Tular Maximinos and describe the details and the heroics of his last moments of life. I needed to write the families of those who had served with me and for me during the battle of Zonamis, whether they had lived or perished. It was expected. I had to write a detailed account of each new life form, plant or animal or whatever, that I had encountered. Finally I was impelled to write a long and detailed account of my entire adventure for Nevin Lorrinos. When I was done, my wrist and fingers ached. I looked down at my penmanship and was disappointed. The little predators and prey, which made up the letters in the Amatharian alphabet looked so inanimate. They looked as though they had gorged themselves and were no longer interested in hunting or in escaping the hunt. I carefully folded each, and stepping to the mail station, located on the wall next to the desk, I pressed the button which called an empty tube from the pneumatic shoot. I placed the first document in the tube, and spoke its destination into the microphone located on its side. Once the destination had been programmed, I placed the tube into the shoot, and with a “thwuck” sound it was on its way. I repeated this until all the
documents had been sent.

  “Nevin Lorrinos is waiting at the door,” said the mechanical voice from seemingly out of nowhere— one of the few mechanical voices acceptable in Amatharian society. I hurried to the door, for it was a relatively rare occurrence that the Overlord of the Sun Clan arrived on one’s steps. Opening the door, I beckoned him in with a flourish.

  “Greetings kinsman,” the Amatharian nobleman said. His dark skin and flowing black robe made him seem like a great looming shadow, even more so because he was a head taller than me.

  “Overlord,” I replied. “Please come in. May I offer you some refreshments?”

  “No,” he sat down on the Amatharian equivalent of a sofa.

  “I just sent out my report. It should be arriving in your office right about now.” I informed him. “I am afraid that neither my writing nor my penmanship will be up to the level of quality that you are used to.”

  “I am sure that it will be acceptable. In any case that is not why I have come to see you. You are a Kurar in my clan and you must have an appropriate place. You need not continue to live as a guest in my grandson’s home.”

  “I was planning to find a place of my own, though I haven’t really discovered how one is supposed to go about that yet,” I admitted.

  “In Amathar, our Kurar decides where we live. In your case, where you are Kurar, I shall decide a place for you.”

  “Alright,” I said, rather hesitantly if truth be known. I didn’t really know Nevin Lorrinos very well, and it seemed that he wouldn’t be as good a judge of what type of home I would prefer, as one of my friends in the city. As if guessing my hesitation, he smiled.

  “Come with me. If you do not like the place that I have selected for you, then you do not have to take it.”

  The Overlord stood up and led me out of Norar Remontar’s apartment. I fumbled with the door for a moment, then noticing Nevin Lorrinos’s puzzled look, I remembered that door locks were something completely unknown in Amathar. We took the escalators down the forty-five stories to the street. Stepping out into the sunshine, we walked to the end of the block, stepped onto the moving sidewalk and doubled our walking speed. After traveling about two miles, we made our way down another tree-lined path between great skyscrapers.

  The entire trip, Nevin Lorrinos apparently felt little compelled to pass idle conversation. Amatharian people as a whole, while not exactly tight-lipped, don’t spend a lot of time talking about nothing, like so many people on Earth are wont to do. But the Overlord of the Sun Clan made no unnecessary conversation at all. We talked of neither the weather nor philosophy. Our only conversation consisted of whether I had received all of the material goods which were necessary for a knight— new clean tabards, replacements for equipment lost, etc. I for the most part, not being yet a proper Amatharian, had not yet even thought to look into those details. I was home. I had my sword and my soul. That was all I had taken care to see to.

  “Here,” said the Overlord, with a sweep of his hand, indicating the building in front of which we had paused. “I have decided that this is to be your family’s building.

  The building was fairly typical of those in this part of the city. It was about one hundred stories tall, and covered an entire city block at its base. In the way of Amatharian architecture, it was smooth over most of its surface, with the corners covered in highly detailed, carved stone. It had numerous balconies looking down on us. It was a rich coral color, and was just a shade lighter than the edifices to either side of it.

  “Come inside.”

  I followed Nevin Lorrinos into the lobby of the building. There was quite a bit of activity going on around. The building was evidently just being finished. Workers in green-yellow jump suits were finishing walls, running thick wire cables through the walls, and painting ceilings. The escalators were operational, and we walked up them to the seventieth floor. By the time I stepped off the moving stairway, I was puffing a bit, but the old Amatharian seemed completely unaffected. He led me to a balcony looking out over the city.

  “This is a fine building, is it not?” he said.

  “It is beautiful,” I replied truthfully.

  “I ordered construction started here the day that I became Kurar Ka.”

  I had already come to understand the Amatharian fascination with creating things that last. In this great city, every building, every feature was planned to last an eternity. Perhaps it was because of the Amatharian’s lack of understanding of time which made them so concerned with permanency. This building had been under construction for a long time, and now it was to become the newest addition to the Sun Clan and the city.

  “Did you design it yourself?” I asked.

  “No. This was the last architectural project of Kennis Berrontar. I knew that our fortunes would be expanding, and we needed additional room to grow. In fact, we have grown more than I had expected, and this is just one of several new Sun Clan buildings which I have added. Some of the others are smaller and, though they were begun after this one, are already productive parts of the organization.”

  “What is it that I am supposed to do here?” I asked.

  “Live,” he replied. “You will live here and when your family expands, they will live here as well. And whatever business concerns your family acquires will be run from this building too. I have already made arrangements for the shops and restaurants on the lower levels to be staffed by other families in the clan— your extended family. After several generations, your immediate family will be large enough to assume those operations.” When he said ‘my immediate family’, I of course understood it to mean all of my descendants.

  “Well, thank you for arranging all of this for me,” I said, “and I do have to live somewhere, don’t I?”

  “I must get back to a meeting,” the Overlord said, then pointed to a doorway just down the corridor from the balcony. “That is your apartment.”

  After watching him depart down the escalator, I walked toward my new home. Like all the doors in the great city, this one slid open to the side, and had no locking mechanism at all. It opened into a small foyer, which in turn, led into a beautifully spacious living room. It was even larger than Norar Remontar’s, though there were some similarities. It had a high vaulted ceiling with a balconied upper level facing a two story window which looked down upon the building’s courtyard. I climbed the spiral staircase to the balcony, the walls of which were covered with book shelves, and I poked my head into each of the rooms adjacent to it. There was a study with a writing desk and a mail station. And there were two guest rooms, each with a large bathroom attached. Making my way back downstairs I found an immense kitchen and a formal dining room capable of seating several dozen. A hallway led to a lounge and four more bedrooms, again each possessing a bathroom as large as itself. The last room left for me to examine was the master bedroom. After seeing the opulence of the rest of the apartment, I was expecting something particularly grand. In one way I was disappointed. To Amatharian eyes, the Kurar slept just the same as any other member of the family, and require no additional space. The master bedroom, if one may refer to it as such, was no larger than any of the other bedrooms in the home. It was just large enough to contain a wash basin resting on a stone pedestal, two Amatharian dressers with their open cubby-hole arrangements in place of drawers, and a large Amatharian bed, sunken into the floor and covered with faux animal skins. In a second, and more important way, I was not at all disappointed, for laying upon the bed, smiling warmly at me, was Vena Remontar.

  “What do you think of my new home?” I asked her.

  “More importantly, what do you think of it?”

  “It’s pretty impressive,” I admitted. “I never imagined that I would one day be living in any dwelling as fine as this, let alone in the city of Amathar.”

  “It is an important home, as befits an important member of the clan,” she said. “This indicates that you have achieved a high status among our people. Nevin Lorrinos thinks highly of you, and I know
a great many other people who do as well.”

  “Are you one of those people?” I wondered.

  “Which people?”

  “Those who think highly of me.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Of course not.”

  My heart sank.

  “Still,” she continued. “I have decided that I will have you.”

  “Huh?”

  “I have decided that you will be my husband,” she said, rising to her feet, walking toward me, and touching my face with the palm of her hand. “Who else would want you?”

  “I don’t care if anyone wants me,” I said, “as long as I have you.”

  “And you shall.”

  Chapter Thirty Three: Relations

  Vena Remontar and I sat on the sofa in my new living room and talked for what I am sure were many long hours, though she insisted that it had only been a moment. I was not inclined to argue the issue with my betrothed. My betrothed. What a wonderful sound that had in my mind. I said it silently to myself over and over again. At last she stood up and announced that she was off to serve her turn of duty at the airfield. I smiled as I recalled that it was the airfield where we had first met. She kissed me tenderly, and all too quickly, was gone.

  I fixed myself a bowl of fruit for lunch, or dinner, or breakfast, or I really didn’t know what, and had just finished, when the disembodied voice of the door announcer chose to speak.

  “Neela Esponar and Nona Montendro are waiting at the door.”

  I opened the door to find my two young kinsmen were waiting. Each was carrying a large clear crate full of assorted articles which I recognized as mine.

  “Greetings kinsman,” said Nona Montendro.

  “Greetings cousin,” said Neela Esponar. She used the term four fourth cousin once removed.

  “Greetings to you, my aunts,” I replied teasingly. “What brings you so far from home.”

  “We are not very far at all,” said Nona Montendro.

  “We are old enough to go anywhere in the city,” said Neela Esponar. “Besides, Norar Remontar instructed us to bring your things over.”