Made fire like a string of burning thread, first attempt. It’s actually easier than the other version of the pouvra and takes less concentration. Drew everyone’s names in the air to show off my own language’s alphabet until Vorantor insisted I get down to work. Everyone annoyed with Vorantor, including his own mages. Cederic not-so-secretly amused.
Well, I did sleep, eventually, and woke clutching this book against my chest, just in time to hide it under my pillow when the servant came to rouse me. She was aghast at the vomit, which did smell horrible, and brought in a couple of other servants to clean it up and bring me water and some soft, tasteless food—they think I’m ill. I didn’t correct that misapprehension. I couldn’t face the mages again. I’ve never felt so low in my life. I was certain they were all going to be killed because I couldn’t master that one tiny thing that was so crucial to the kathana’s success, and every time I closed my eyes I still saw that woman’s face, only after that nightmare, sometimes it was Sovrin, or Audryn, or one of the other Darssan mages. I ate a little, then set the tray aside and curled up facing the wall, my hand on this book under my pillow.
The door opened, and a moment later Cederic said, “You are not asleep. And you did not tell me everything. What happened when you were with the God-Empress?”
I rolled over to look at him. He was dressed in the white robe and black trousers he still wears to work in even though, as Terrael had told me, he’s entitled to wear red as Kilios (Vorantor’s people wear brown and gold, and they always look as if they’re going to a party compared to the simple Darssan uniform). “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.
He came closer until he stood next to me. “Whatever happened is making you ill,” he said quietly, “and will continue to do so as long as you allow it to fester inside you. Tell me.”
So I sat up and told him everything, keeping my eyes on my clasped hands, managing not to break down when I described the collenna master’s murder. I think I glossed over the thing about the th’an because I was still overwhelmed, or he didn’t think it mattered, because he didn’t seem interested in that. He listened silently until I was finished and looked up at him finally. He wasn’t looking at me; he was staring out the window, his jaw clenched and his face impassive. “Tell me I’m wrong about all this,” I said. “Tell me I’m wrong that everyone’s safety depends on me.”
He shook his head. “You are not wrong.” He looked down at me and said, “Lie back,” and put the tips of his first and middle fingers in the center of my forehead and pushed a little. I lay back on my pillow, wondering what he had in mind, but he walked away and leaned on my dressing table the way he had on that table when I translated the Eddon book. “This is not a burden you should bear, but I cannot take it from you,” he said. “But I may be able to ease it.”
He came back to my side and reached for the neck of my shirt, opening it slightly to expose my throat. “This will make you sleep, and will keep you from dreaming,” he said, “and it may also clear your mind to make your task easier. Do not go wandering tonight, Sesskia. That is not a request.”
I nodded, and felt the tips of his fingers brush my chin as I did. He pressed up on my chin, baring more of my throat, and I felt the lightest pressure as he traced th’an on my skin, there and then across my forehead. I immediately felt sleepy, the good kind of sleepy where you’ve worked hard all day and your muscles are relaxing, and the last thing I felt before I dozed off were his fingers brushing against my cheek.
It was nearly dark when I woke, rested and happy as I haven’t been in days—weeks—and with the nightmares a distant memory, sad, but something I could deal with. I sat up, which drew the attention of a woman sitting on the floor next to my wardrobe, who hopped up and bowed to me repeatedly. She explained, in between bows, that she would bring me food and it was the Kilios’s instructions that I not disturb myself. Though I did use the chamber pot in the kiorka as soon as she disappeared; I doubt Cederic meant me to exercise superhuman control over my bladder. I ate sitting up in bed, and now I feel sleepy again, but I wanted to write all this down before falling asleep again. I owe Cederic a debt.
Now that I’m thinking more clearly, I realize that I took on too much responsibility for what is ultimately the God-Empress’s evil. It’s true that she expects results out of the kathana, and it’s true that as soon as I master my th’an, we’ll be able to perform it, which means that it’s also true that everything depends on me. But it’s not true that that means I hold everyone’s lives in my hand. It’s not true that I would be to blame for any deaths resulting from the God-Empress’s dissatisfaction with how her priest-mages are performing. All of that is to her damnation. I can’t do more than I’ve been doing, which is learning to use a kind of magic literally alien to me. And I haven’t given myself enough credit for what I have accomplished, which is successfully scribe a th’an in only ten days without five years of preparatory penmanship exercises first. I know I can do this. And I refuse to let the God-Empress cow me again.
The drink gave me nightmares. Everyone in that eating place had the dead woman’s face, with that look of confusion she wore just before she died. Then they all fell down and shattered like the plate into ruby shards that the God-Empress stitched into her clothing, except they became golden because it was a honey day—I have to remember this, I know it’s important and I can’t sleep again until I’ve written it all down—it was a honey day, and I had to dress in gold and perform a kathana by myself in worship of the God-Empress, and the kathana was to write all over Terrael’s body and
I just threw up Audryn’s drink. I’m writing this huddled in bed. I don’t dare sleep again.
Dreamed about the soldier twisting that collenna master’s head until her neck snapped. Woke in the dark and couldn’t get the see-in-dark pouvra to work, then couldn’t sleep without seeing the dead woman’s face. Cederic once again unavailable. I should have just pushed my way into the conversation, but I couldn’t bear the thought of that, of looking like I go running to him for every little thing. Another day of failures. I asked Audryn if she knew of anything that would help me sleep, some th’an or other, and she brought me a sweet, oily-tasting drink. I’ve only sipped a little of it and it’s making everything fuzzy. It should help.
Before I can scribe my th’an with fire, I have to find a way to do the pouvra so that the fire manifests as a trailing line, like ink flowing from a pen, rather than as a single mass all at once. I tried all day and failed every time. By midafternoon I was too exhausted to do it any longer, and Terrael made me sit in a corner and watch how other people create th’an, and it should have had a calming effect, but it just made me more tense, thinking that all their lives were at the mercy of a madwoman with command of thousands of armed warriors. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Cederic today; he was busy with some of the Sais doing I don’t know what. I’m not exploring tonight. Too jumpy—alertness, even a little paranoia, those things are a thief’s friends, but too much anxiety leads to carelessness.
Nothing else exciting happened, and we returned to the gate we’d started from, and the God-Empress stepped off as lightly as she had before. I stumbled a little when I reached the ground, had to catch my balance, and was about to thank the God-Empress for her generosity in giving me her time when she said, “Kill the driver.”
I whipped around just in time to see two of the soldiers lift the woman off her seat, and another take her head in his two massive hands and twist so rapidly the woman didn’t even have time to scream. The sound of her neck snapping was almost inaudible over the roar of the blood rushing through my temples. The soldiers dropped her, and the God-Empress came to stand next to the body and prod it with her big toe. “Tell the priests to train me another,” she said, and walked away, her damp shift still clinging to her perfect ass and thighs. Fortunately my body knew to ignore my shocked brain, and propelled me after her, because for all I knew I might have been next.
“Don’t worry, I have many drivers,” the God-Empress said, and to my further shock drew my arm through hers and patted my hand. “I can see you dislike waste as much as I do. But she broke the rule and acknowledged me on a rose day, and God cannot be disrespected.”
“I thought…it was the bad driving,” I managed.
“What bad driving?” the God-Empress said.
We reached her filmy red chamber, which was empty of servants, and she stripped off her shift and walked naked to a wardrobe in one corner, which she flung open, revealing richly embroidered robes in all shades of, that’s right, red, accented with gold and copper and silver. She took robe after robe from the wardrobe and tossed them on the floor behind her, held one for a few moments before wrenching at its back seam until it tore, then finally found something she liked. But she didn’t put it on; she held it out to me. “You must be rose, too,” she said, “for you are God’s chosen.”
I did not like the sound of that, but I said, “Thank you, Renatha,” and wrapped it around myself. It was far too big for me, too big for the God-Empress even, but it was wonderfully opaque and fastened high enough in front that only a hint of my cleavage showed. She beamed again, childlike, but with a body that was definitely not that of a child. She found a robe for herself and then sat on the divan with her legs crossed under her.
“I expect to see the kathana performed soon,” she said, and suddenly her voice and her features were sharp in a way they hadn’t been all day. “How soon, do you think?”
“I, uh, wish I knew, Renatha,” I said, “For my part, I’m working as fast as I can, but focusing on my own work means I don’t know very much about how the rest is progressing. But I know everyone is performing to their utmost abilities.” I prayed to the true God that I hadn’t inadvertently said something that would condemn every mage to a sudden, neck-snapping death.
“I see,” the God-Empress said. “Then I will allow a little more time. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. Talking to her really is like maneuvering a maze of knives blindfolded, though that might be easier. At that point I just wanted to run back to the Sais’ wing and tell Cederic that we now have a deadline—though he and Vorantor probably already know this better than I do. I’ve resolved to be more diligent and to stop complaining at Terrael, now that I understand what’s at stake.
The God-Empress just sat looking at me, and I belatedly realized I was dismissed. “Thank you again for the generous gift of your time and company, which I do not deserve,” I said, and backed out of there as rapidly as was polite and sensible. Then I ran. I only made one wrong turn before reaching the Sais’ wing, and the safety of my bedroom, and then I’m not too proud to confess that I ripped the robe off, stomped on it, then stood there in my underclothing and cried. That poor woman. All those people. Had the God-Empress decided the men and women at the eating place had paid her too much attention, and sent her soldiers back to burn it to the ground? It was just so overwhelming, all the tension of worrying about whether I was going to say or do something wrong, and could I turn the pouvrin against someone in defense of my life, because I hope the answer is “yes” and I don’t want to only find that out when my life really is in danger.
After I finished crying, I dressed in comfortable clothing and wadded up the God-Empress’s robe and stuck it in the back of the wardrobe. Then I got it out and hung it up instead. She might expect me to wear it again. I don’t want to call her Renatha again. She may not have hurt me today, but I’m convinced she is my enemy, and for me to use her praenoma…it’s degrading to my true friendships to put my relationship with my enemy on the same standing. Even the thought of it makes me feel uncomfortable and a little sick at breaking that taboo, after all I’ve done to keep those customs. But I don’t have a choice, do I? The God-Empress might take lethal offense at my rejecting the gift of her name. And she might not direct that lethality at me. But as far as I’m concerned, ‘God-Empress’ is her aenemica now, her name turned curse, and I’ll think it every time I’m forced to say ‘Renatha’ instead.
Well. I feel better now that I’ve written all of this down, but I think I won’t go exploring tonight; I’m still a little on edge. And I’ve just realized I have more to tell Cederic about what’s happened, not just the part where it sounds as if the God-Empress is losing patience with her pet mage-priests; I have to tell him about feeling like I should recognize the th’an. And I have questions for him. And I’m starving because I forgot to go to dinner, I was too busy crying. At least all I have to look forward to tomorrow is failing to work th’an with fire. No, I can’t afford to think that way. If the kathana really only lacks my part to be ready, I have to redouble my efforts or I could cost many people, some of whom I care about very much, their lives.
Around noon, the collenna stopped in front of a single-story red-roofed building (honoring the virtue of Patience) that had arched doorways opening onto a central courtyard filled with little tables, which meant it was an eating place, and half the God-Empress’s soldiers went inside. We waited for about ten minutes before they returned, trailing an elderly man who didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. The God-Empress stepped off the edge of the collenna’s seat exactly as if she expected to be caught, which of course she was, so I mimicked her and was conveyed to the ground with barely a wobble. The moment the God-Empress’s foot touched the pavement, the elderly man prostrated himself before her and said, “It is an unlooked for honor, my God, and I hope you will be satisfied with my humble offering.”
The God-Empress walked past him without a word, and I followed her into the cool darkness beyond the courtyard. Here, there was only one table, an oblong thing about six feet long with chairs set at the far ends, and it’s only a slight exaggeration to say that it was bowing under the weight of a feast that could have fed twenty. I realize now that the man knew the God-Empress was coming that day, but my first thought was astonishment that he’d pulled the meal together so quickly. We sat, and her soldiers ranged themselves around us, and more people came out from what smelled like the kitchen and began serving us. I thought it all looked delicious and only realized that I’d let myself become complacent when I was startled by the crash of a plate the God-Empress knocked out of the elderly man’s hand.
“I will have red,” she said, “red is the color of the day, you will give me red,” and the elderly man looked as if he were going to faint. A younger woman stepped forward and offered the God-Empress a new plate, on which was a slice of beef cooked nearly raw and some slices of tender beets. I breathed a little more easily—even the plate was red. This was a clever woman. The God-Empress allowed her to place it before her, then delicately began cutting her meat and chewing with pleasure. I pointed at dishes randomly and was served by people who clearly had no idea what to make of me, but were grateful I didn’t make any outlandish demands. I was so worried on their behalf I don’t remember what I ate, except that it tasted good. I do remember the final course, which was something sweet and creamy and cold topped with candied cherries, and I asked for seconds and nearly ate myself sick on it.
Afterward, the collenna took us down to the Myrnala Coell River, which has sandy shores and reeds that move with the current, which is faster than the Myrnala’s. We dismounted again and the God-Empress walked toward the river, slowly, removing pieces of her clothing as she went until she was once again dressed only in her thin shift and her ruby choker. And she kept walking. She didn’t stop until she was waist-deep in the river, swaying in part because of the water’s movement and in part because she was caught up in some reverie. I stood watching her from the shore until she said, “You are ungrateful for the river’s gift.”
“Oh!” I said. “I apologize, Renatha, I believed it was…something for God alone.” I struggled to remove my dress, hesitated about my underclothes, then decided to leave them and my jewelry on and waded out to meet her. And it felt wonderful, so cool in the afternoon heat, though I could feel my shoulders begin to burn the way my nose already had. I mimicked her swaying and wondered what else I was supposed to intuit. She could probably have had those soldiers drown me. I wonder what would happen if I tried to use the walk-through-walls pouvra on water? Nothing good, probably.
Anyway, we stood like that for several minutes. Boats went past—it’s a big river—and in the distance I could hear children shouting. I’m glad the God-Empress didn’t take offense at other people using her river, because I don’t think I could have stood by quietly and let her hurt children. But she just stood there, swaying, and I stood there, uncomfortable but at least cool for once. Then she said, “Raise the river.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I said, and that was true both on a semantic level (because she’d used really archaic language that time) and on a comprehension level. She opened her eyes and looked at me, and I took a step back, because for the first time I saw true madness there.
“Make the waters move,” she said. “I’m displeased with the river’s inability to understand my commands. It is the priest’s job to invoke power on God’s behalf. Make the waters move.”
Now I was terrified. Not just because what she wanted was impossible for me, but because she thought I was a priest the way she did her other mages, and I had no idea what kind of behavior she expected from me. So I said, “Of course, Renatha, but I apologize if my…priestliness is different from what you know. My world is very different.”
She kept looking at me with those mad eyes and said, “Do it, or I will give your body to the river.”
I looked back and saw the soldiers approaching the banks. Of course she meant it. I shut out my awareness of the soldiers, and my fear for my life, and my uncertainty, and used the mind-moving pouvra on the water parting on either side of the God-Empress’s body. There was no way I could move the whole river, but I could do something dramatic that might satisfy her mad whim. I pushed the water where it met her body, shoving it back as if it were running up against something much larger than the God-Empress, and desperation gave the pouvra strength I know I’ll never be able to duplicate. The water piled high, cresting white at the top and making a wave that built until it towered over her like a gray-green canopy flecked with white. The higher it got, the harder it was for me to contain it, and the way it strained against my pouvra felt as if it were alive and desperate to drown the woman beneath it. I was tempted. Her death would be no loss. But I couldn’t guarantee that it would kill her, and there was a part of me, the part that still can’t burn flesh, that cried out against taking even a life so cruel and terrible as hers. So I held onto the wave, and said, “The river knows that you are God,” which I hoped didn’t sound terribly sycophantic, and waited for her to see what I’d done, then I released it harmlessly to flow away to both sides of her.
She beamed at me, happy as a child. “Of course I am,” she said, and waded out of the river. She left all her clothes on the shore, so I did the same, and we got back into the collenna in our underclothing and continued our tour of the city. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life, nor so grateful that the Empress’s insanity dictated that no one pay attention to us. Oh, and incredibly grateful that I was wearing the stupid breast band. I’ve decided never to be without one again.
to be continued…
Surrounded by a detachment of ten armored and helmeted guards, we left the palace grounds through an unattended stone arch tall enough that we passed through with a good five feet of headroom to spare. I immediately began to sweat. I don’t know if I stayed comfortable until that point because the cooling kathana extends to the palace grounds, or if it was all in my head, but Colosse was hot and the dress I was wearing, while comfortable enough, was still too heavy to be the right kind of clothing for this climate. I’m sure it was just me and my acclimation to a much more temperate climate, because it was still morning and could not possibly be as hot as I remember, and if I think about it, that was true. Once we were some distance from the palace, and people began filling the streets, I could see that everyone else dressed sensibly in short trousers and sleeveless tunics, or loose-fitting dresses, and wore the same kind of sandals everyone wore at the Darssan. Of course, looking at how comfortable they all seemed made me sweat more. I discovered when I returned to my room, much later, that my nose was burned red, which makes me look ridiculous. The God-Empress looked as if she were still in her cool, breezy chambers, despite her wearing many more layers than I was. All right, now I’m a little jealous of her. Just a little.
Our collenna took up most of the street, but no one paid any attention to us. Everyone from pedestrians to those people pulling the wheeled carts simply stepped out of our way, as if the collenna was shrouded in a concealment pouvra. The God-Empress just stared straight ahead, her hand raised and moving in a strange, complicated wave at the unseeing passersby, thinking who knows what. It seemed so out of character that I finally said, “Do they always ignore you like this?” and then cursed myself for using the word “ignore,” which made them sound disrespectful.
The God-Empress said, “It is a rose day. I am invisible. It would be disrespectful if they acknowledged me when I don’t choose them to.”
Rose day. Rose-colored collenna. “May I ask what other kinds of days there are?” I said.
The God-Empress never once turned her head to look at me during this conversation. When she spoke, her voice sounded as if it were coming from far away. “Honey days, when I am accompanied by the mages and all must bow before God’s presence and that of her priests.” (Mages as priests. I keep having more questions for Cederic.) “Moss days, in which all must present God with tokens of faith. Sky days, in which the streets are cleared entirely and those found outside are punished.”
“I see,” I said, and then couldn’t think of anything else to say. And tried not to imagine what punishment that might be.
The collenna lurched to a halt. “My God, I am sorry—please accept—I will be more diligent—” the master babbled, turning around in her seat, and this time I could see the th’an. It was far more complex than the ones on the loenerel and the war wagon had been, and I was struck so hard by the feeling that I ought to recognize it that I felt a little dizzy in addition to my fear for the collenna master’s life. But the God-Empress said nothing, still staring off into the distance, and soon the collenna moved on. I breathed more easily; I’d been afraid I was about to witness some of that punishment first-hand. I relaxed too soon, but that’s a different part of the story.
The God-Empress seemed completely sane all morning. She lost her distant look after a while and began pointing out landmarks, and I began enjoying myself. Colosse is almost as old as the disaster, and has grown up in much the same way as the palace, if less haphazardly; the palace has the disadvantage of being seen by its possessors as an outward representation of their divine power, and being frequently rebuilt accordingly. Colosse is just a big city that’s adapted to the needs and desires of its residents over the centuries. And it’s nothing like anything I’ve seen in my travels, but then I don’t think anything in my world is as old as Colosse. There are tall domed buildings where mages perform kathanas for those who can pay (and sometimes for those who can’t, depending on the mage) and buildings containing nothing but swimming pools and facilities for exercising, as if people don’t get enough exercise walking around and doing manual labor, but I suppose if you have magic readily available a lot of the manual labor is done for you.
There are three buildings that look like that giant’s building blocks dropped out of the sky, completely unadorned, that the God-Empress said contain books, and if you pay money you can go in and look at any of them you want. I don’t know if I believe her. They’re bigger than the biggest libraries we have in Balaen—the size of even one of those buildings would be enough to contain thousands, tens of thousands, of books, and that there are three of them…! Though that was another thing I learned; buildings that perform a particular function all look alike. So the libraries look like rectangular blocks, and the mage buildings are all domed, and some of them are smaller than the others but they all have the same shapes. So there are almost no signs anywhere, even marking the streets. It’s expected that you’ll know what services are offered based on the shape of the building. I don’t know if this is laid down by law, or if it’s just tradition, and I really couldn’t begin to guess. But since there are only so many types of building, even this otherworlder woman felt familiar with the city after only a short time. I saw a few shadowy people, but only three or four, and all of them were dressed and laden like travelers. I suppose if nothing occupies this space in my world, it makes sense that there wouldn’t be many things to be shadows in this one.
to be continued…
I walked around after a bit, admiring the courtyard. It was open to the outside on two sides, and the sunlight even at seven o’clock in the morning was blinding thanks to the white stone paving the paths that led away from the courtyard to some other part of the palace. Ahead of me, with respect to where I’d entered, was another archway that led to a short hallway identical to the one we’d come in by, but I couldn’t see very far thanks to the sunlight. I went to stand at its entrance, glancing at the guards for some hint, but they ignored me. That was when I became angry. I was so afraid of what the God-Empress might do that I’d forgotten how far I’ve come, how many dangers I’ve faced, and I was ashamed of my cowardice. The God-Empress might decide to have me killed no matter what I did, so I decided to hell with her, and set off down the hallway. When I think back on how defiant I was, it makes me feel sick.
This area, too, was completely empty of people. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought the palace was abandoned, and I wondered how its population could disappear so thoroughly. I suppose the servants, not being otherworlder women with strange powers that fascinated the God-Empress, would take every opportunity to stay out of their mistress’s sight. I wandered the broad, frescoed halls, mentally keeping track of my route, until I reached an actual door. It was unlocked, so I pushed it open and found what I can only call a boudoir. The walls were invisible thanks to all the filmy draperies that shrouded the room, most of them moving lightly in an intangible breeze; the floor was so soft it was like walking on a pillow, every step throwing me a little off balance. Cushioned, backless chairs stood at random throughout the room, some of them canted due to the pillowy nature of the floor. Everything was in shades of red, from deepest maroon to lightest pink, and the God-Empress, who was reclining on a divan at the center of the room, was dressed in a thin shift of pale red—not pink, but pale red, there’s a difference—so sheer I could see her nipples. Not that I was looking. They were impossible to miss.
“You are late,” the God-Empress said, and here I should probably admit that I’m making up almost everything I write her saying in this conversation. Not the intent or meaning, and I’m not doing it to make myself sound impressive and clever. When we were in her pavilion, she spoke in very straightforward language, but every time I’ve met her privately, she’s used what sounds to me like formal or archaic words. Understanding her put a strain on my aeden-acquired language skills, and I found I couldn’t remember her exact words most of the time. So this conversation is more extrapolated even than most of what I write. I really do think there’s a pouvra for memory. If I ever have time, maybe that’s the one I’ll try to invent.
Anyway, she said, “You are late,” but she didn’t sound angry. I said, “I apologize, but your palace is too beautiful for me to rush through it. And I didn’t realize how constraining this dress would be.”
“You dislike my gift,” the God-Empress said.
“It’s beautiful. I meant only to indicate my ignorance of Castaviran clothing,” I said, trying not to panic. Insulting her before half a minute had passed was not a good beginning to this day.
“You chose well. It is an old-fashioned cut that shows you appreciate tradition,” she said. “I would have been displeased if you had appeared in the other.”
Already I was navigating the twisty maze that was her mind. Even my wardrobe was a test. “Thank you for the honor of the gift, which I do not deserve,” I said.
“Sit,” the God-Empress said, and I found a slightly canted chair and settled into it. “Drink,” she said, and a servant emerged from a door hidden by the draperies and handed me a squat golden cup with two handles; I drank, and discovered that it was lukewarm water, tasting slightly of minerals but welcome after the rapid walk I’d had. The room itself was comfortably cool, and I think I’ve mentioned that the palace has some kind of cooling kathana that I’ve been grateful for. Balaen is quite a bit more temperate than Castavir despite occupying much of the same territory. I wonder if Cederic knows why the same places in each world can have vastly different climates.
And yes, it did occur to me that the water might be poisoned, but there was nothing I could do about that. There’s only so much I can protect myself from, and refusing to drink on the slight chance that the water might kill me would only be trading the possibility of danger for the near-certainty that the God-Empress would have me executed for insulting her.
We sat and drank in silence, me mindful of the instruction not to speak unless spoken to. The God-Empress had a cup matching mine and drank with both hands on the handles, which gesture I mimicked. Eventually she set the cup down and said, “I will show you my city. You should know what it is you are going to defend.”
“Thank you, Renatha,” I said, only barely remembering to use her name, and she stood up, which was a sign for servants to come rushing out of hidden doorways to dress her in tunic and robe and another tunic and a sash that went around her waist three times, all of it in shades of red and decorated with rubies, and a matching ruby-studded silver choker. The God-Empress is unusual in preferring faceted stones to cabochons, which is probably the only thing we have in common. That and being female. She was gloriously beautiful, and I felt dowdy next to her, which was probably the idea.
Once she was dressed, and her golden hair (which was freshly dyed) was piled on her head with ruby-studded hair clips, we left the room and went by a completely different route back to the courtyard, where the God-Empress went down one of the brightly-paved paths to where a strange-looking collenna waited, its thumping higher and more rapid than that of the loenerel. It was…I can’t even think of anything to compare it to. It reminded me a little of a tortoise’s shell, if tortoises were dusky rose; its base was circular, and two seats surrounded by a silver rail were perched in a depression on its back, which was about five feet high. The seats were shaded by a canopy of rose velvet fringed with silver, and the seats themselves were upholstered in the same colors. At the front (what I guessed was the front, which guess was later proven correct) was another seat, this one black lacquered wood, with a smallish bucket to the right of where the master would sit and a tray of brushes above it. The plate containing the th’an engraving was silver rather than brass, or it might have been steel, and I couldn’t see the th’an because a woman dressed in a master’s uniform, but in rose pink, was standing at attention near the collenna, blocking my view.
“Lift me,” the God-Empress said, and a pair of tall and muscular men actually put their hands on her and raised her to where she could step into the collenna. I was watching her settle herself when I felt those hands on me, and I squeaked, but managed not to fight them. My ascent was considerably less graceful than hers, but I eventually got my dress arranged around me and gripped the rail of the seat as the collenna lurched forward. I’m not afraid of heights, but there was something about the movement of the collenna, and being just far enough off the ground that falling would hurt, that made me nervous. Then again, it might have been the company.
to be continued…
My first entry in my beautiful new book, and I feel like I’m defiling it from what I have to write. I’m tired, but not from physical exertion, and I wish I were back in the Darssan, where I could sink into a hot pool and let the water soak away the tension that’s making my back and neck hurt. Of course, if I were back in the Darssan I wouldn’t have spent the day with the God-Empress, which is the reason for the tension. Having to constantly monitor my words and actions put me on edge, especially since for the first part of the day it didn’t seem I needed to. It wasn’t until later that I was reminded of the kind of person she is.
One of the wardrobe servants came for me in the dining hall, before I was half finished with my breakfast. He used a lot of polite words, but the gist of it was that it was going to take some time to attire me properly, and if I was late, he and his fellows would be punished. The God-Empress definitely enjoys manipulating people by threatening others. I think it gives her pleasure to know that it’s a form of persuasion that would never work on her, because she doesn’t give a damn what happens to other people. It works all too well on me, and I abandoned my half-eaten meal, exchanged despairing glances with Sovrin, and went back to my room. They didn’t strip me this time, but allowed me to take off my own clothes down to my undergarments (still wearing the breast band; I’ve become accustomed to it, and thank the true God for that) before presenting me with an actual choice between two of my dresses, one full-skirted with short sleeves and a fitted waist, the other tight through the hips and knees but flaring out a little below that, so my stride would be seriously constrained. Neither of them would be good for running in, and I had to leave both books behind, hidden more or less in plain sight (wrapped loosely in my discarded clothes), but I noted the loose seams of the second dress and decided I could tear them open if running did become necessary. Paranoid, remember? The servants seemed pleased by my choice, which in addition to being impractical was a shade of brown that wasn’t particularly flattering to me, and I remembered how the God-Empress didn’t like being outshined by anyone. And I certainly wouldn’t be doing any shining in that thing.
They piled my hair on my head and secured it with far too many pins, which is to say that it’s heavy enough it needed almost all the hairpins I’d been given to keep it up, and even then if I did end up running, it would probably fall down anyway. Then I was allowed to wear some of my new jewelry, so I chose a very nice necklace of gold filigree with dark red rubies and had to struggle not to laugh at the servants’ consternation at discovering my ears aren’t pierced. No need, when I would never wear earrings that might catch the light at the wrong time, but they were so upset I think if we hadn’t been pressed for time they’d have pierced my ears right then. They settled for bracelets of amber and gold I could quickly shed and shoes that pinched my toes but would come off as easily.
As I read over this, I realize that I do sound paranoid, but given my experiences today, I think everything I did and planned for was reasonable. If anything, I might have underestimated the correct level of paranoia. But everything in its time, and at this time in my account I was dressed properly and ready to be escorted to the God-Empress’s chambers.
The last time, I was taken through the palace by the woman who’d met us when we first arrived, and handed off to some kind of steward when we reached the public wing of the palace. This time, four soldiers dressed in the uniform I’d seen beneath the tower, complete with chicken falcon helmets, were standing outside my door when I left my room. Their appearance was so unexpected I nearly shut the door in their faces, which were as impassive as Cederic’s ever is, but I recovered in time and just waited for them to indicate what I should do. They turned to face the stairwell, spreading out a little, and I realized they wanted me to stand in their center, so I did. Then I had to hobble rapidly to keep up with their longer, unconstrained strides as they marched away. It felt exactly as if I were being marched to the gallows, assuming they have those here, and that was when I first began feeling tense. The shoes became uncomfortable after only a few flights of stairs, the dress made me feel as if I were going to trip and fall and tumble to the bottom, hopefully carrying some of those soldiers with me, and my mind insisted on coming up with scenarios in which this was a death march and I was cooperating far too readily. The soldiers didn’t speak, and I didn’t have anything to say, and we saw no one at any of the landings and halls we passed, and I think now that maybe they’d cleared the halls so no one could see us. I’m glad I didn’t think of that at the time, because that would have bolstered my death march theory, and while I like to think I’m disciplined enough not to panic in stressful situations, I can’t say that I might not have made excuses and tried to run. Which would likely have been fatal.
The route they took me by was different from the first; it went through the mosaic chamber, which was every bit as impressive now as it was when we first arrived, and that reminds me that I still haven’t gone to look at the floor in daylight. We went through one of the archways I’d never been able to explore, the one between the God-Empress subduing a dragon and the God-Empress laying the foundations for a vast city—funny, she’s giant-sized in that one, maybe my fantasy about Colosse being built by a giant wasn’t so absurd—and into a very different part of the palace. The mages’ wing is all narrow passages with low ceilings that seem more suited to catacombs than a palace (everywhere except the hall in the Sais’ wing) and old, pitted stone. This place had wide halls with arched ceilings painted blue and walls plastered with abstract frescos in cool colors, and arched doorways instead of doors. The hall we entered by terminated in a courtyard with a glass roof very high above, revealing a circle of cool blue sky that looked as if it hung above some temperate landscape not blasted by the heat of the sun, which heat I could feel coming off the breeze that swept through the courtyard from both sides. A fountain fifteen feet tall at the center of the courtyard kept it from being too hot, and the breeze carried a faint mist toward me that was beautifully cooling. My awkward dress was surprisingly comfortable; court brocades would have been awful in this heat.
My honor guard, or whatever they were, separated and went to stand at the four corners of the courtyard, still silent and impassive, leaving me clueless as to what to do next. So I went forward to the fountain and inhaled the cool, damp air coming off it. I thought about taking a drink, but decided it might be taboo, or poisoned, or something. Of course that only made me thirsty, but I clasped my hands together in front of me to keep them from being stupid and waited.
And waited.
to be continued…