The Christening Quest

by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

  Rupert chewed thoughtfully on a chicken bone as he boarded the barge, and paused before he sat down to stare after the departing royalty. Timoteo and Carole were behind him and the lesser priests, followed by the High Priest, who motioned them all ahead. Suddenly, Rupert let out a “whoof” and fell into his seat coughing and thumping his chest while everyone else strove to keep their balance. One of the priests pitched overboard and had to be plucked from the river. The High Priest took the disturbance placidly, boarding the boat only after it had ceased rocking maniacally to and fro. Not until he was comfortably settled and the boat was proceeding down river did they notice the missing place on the couch.

  “Where is the scruffy fellow? What’s his name? What became of him?” he asked. One of the priests made as if to look under a cushion but thought better of it.

  The wet priest, now encased in one of the picnic cloths, said, “I didn’t see him, Your Brilliance, but perhaps he, too, was thrown overboard.”

  “Find him,” the High Priest commanded with much authority but little interest in the subject.

  The boatmen poked along both sides of the canal with their oars and the priest who was already wet was lowered again on a rope to search but no trace of the merchant was found. Carole thought of diving to fetch him, but something held her back. The merchant had always been a noisy fellow when in jeopardy. If he was so quiet now, either he had reason to be or he. was past reasoning. She had been watching the King’s departure and the High Priest’s preparations for leaving when Rupert overbalanced the boat, and had not actually noticed the merchant falling overboard. But it seemed to her that she did recall a release of pressure on the cushions beside her. She had heard not a splash, but a careful plop, as of something sliding deliberately into the water.

  After their perfunctory initial search, the priests made no further effort to locate the merchant’s body and at the High Priest’s insistence continued instead past the palace, down the river, and through the lock.

  The lock was well-named, resembling nothing so much as a giant door bar. Earth and stone jutted into the river for a cart length or so on either side, while between stretched a sheet of solid iron. Torchlight from the little hut atop the earthworks bounced off the iron, and the water slapped powerlessly against it. A man emerged from the hut, bowed, and at the High Priest’s direction gave orders to one of the great, grey beasts Carole had seen in Miragenia. The beast lumbered forward, dragging a chain that powered a cogged wheel, thereby sliding the iron barrier back into the cliff rising on the eastern side of the lock. On the earthworks sheltered by the cliffs on the western side another beast rocked back and forth, dragging its chain, no doubt waiting orders to drag the barrier back into place. In fact, there were two of the barriers, with a little valley of water trapped between them. When those slid aside, the priests’ barge rose on the flow of newly freed water and floated easily through the locks.

  They saw no more palaces, temples, or even houses for the remainder of the short distance between the locks and the harbor. Craggy cliffs soared above them on either side, studded at regular intervals by torches whose light reached the water as little more than candle flame. Nevertheless, when they gained the bay, between the three-quarter moon and the torchlight Rupert and Carole were able to view clearly the thing they had been brought to see.

  The sight of it wiped all thoughts of the priests, Effluvia, even Bronwyn’s baby from Rupert’s mind as he stared, his eyes rising slowly to take in the whole object. Carole whistled a low, unmagical exclamation of surprise. The priests looked from Rupert to the object, nodding and murmuring excitedly, and the High Priest looked even more pleased than he had when he first saw Rupert. And no wonder. There was more of Rupert to be pleased with—or at least, there was a larger edition of him. Rising from the waters was a duplicate of Rupert’s head and face, about twice as large as the drawbridge at the castle and seemingly carved completely out of crystal. The sea lapped around its chin and earlobes, wetting the curls twining toward the throat. The expression was the same one Rupert wore when he concentrated hard on some knotty problem or the other. Except that when Rupert wore that look, it made one want to pat him like a puppy and tell him not to fret. Blown up, with its crystalline angles basking in moonlight and torchlight, the same expression on the image was stern and forbidding.

  “So,” Rupert said. “I’ll be blessed. Now at last we know what became of Rowan the Recreant. How reassuring. I never did believe what they said about him.”

  “Who?” Carole asked. “What did they say about him?”

  “It is appropriate to genuflect before the Rainbow God, woman,” one of the junior priests told her, and pushed her firmly to the floor, forcing her to kneel, halfway facing Rupert, halfway facing the statue.

  She started to whistle the clod into the sea but Rupert knelt rapidly beside her. “Never mind, cousin. It isn’t important. I’ll tell you later.” He had scarcely bent his knee, however, when the High Priest caught his elbow and motioned him back onto his seat on the couch.

  “Not you, dear boy,” His Brilliance said. “You’re the god reincarnate. Hereafter you do not bow, you are bowed to.”

  Chapter IX

  “There you are,” the furious collection of flying draperies accused the boatload of priests, witch, and newly appointed God as if they were a cart full of hoodlums. “Rupert, darling, will you be so kind as to tell these provincials who I am and what would become of their teeny little economy without the buying power of my firm?”

  Rupert, who had been uncommonly quiet all the way back to the temple, still bore a stunned look, as if someone had separated his brains from his face by means of a hearty blow from a mace. He stared rather stupidly for a moment at the raven-haired lady clad in scarlet and silver, hands on hips and arms akimbo, clearly waiting for something. The witch at his side elbowed him in the waist.

  “Isn’t that the Mukbar woman? What in the name of the Mothers sweet earth is she doing here?”

  The High Priest overheard and swept in front of Rupert. “Illustrious mademoiselle, to what do we owe the honor of this unusual, and may I say unprecedented, visit?”

  “I have come to reclaim company assets,” she replied, looking straight at Rupert.

  “Could this not have been handled in some other fashion? Our agreement with your firm, mademoiselle, is that all transactions are to take place in Miragenia.”

  “And who are you to quote me trade agreements?” she asked.

  The brother in charge of patrolling the mist ended his measured rounds in a skittering run. “Your Brilliance, forgive me. This accursed woman has been braying at the door all evening. I told her to go away, and tried to force her to depart, but she flew out of reach on her wretched rug.”

  “I want that man fired for incompetence, and his pay docked,” Alireza demanded, pointing a dramatic, long, carmined fingernail at the offending person. “I did not fly through dust storms and rain, pursued by your inadequately controlled demons, to endure idiots when I’ve come to speak with someone in authority. I take it, sir, that you are someone in authority?”

  The High Priest flushed; he momentarily bore a striking resemblance to his brother. “You might say that. I am Jaspar the Deep-Veined, High Priest of the Grand Prismatic, Spiritual Father of Gorequartz.”

  Alireza took in the title with a satisfied gleam under her curling lashes and a little lick at her full upper lip before saying, “Ah, forgive me, Your Brilliance. I had no idea…”

  His Brilliance took in the seductive look and savored it, forgetting the less savory insult. “Of course not. We have never met. I last visited Miragenia before your dear, departed father joined his gods. Though I must say, I recognized you at once. The legends of your beauty and business acumen rampant among those of us who trade with your firm have not been exaggerated. We are honored. Please, please, come inside.”

  Effluvia was much less charmed by the new visitor, and didn’t hesitate to say so. Her tail rose to half mast almost invo
luntarily, and the High Priest, standing beside her, stroked her back quickly in an attempt to soothe her. When Carole left Rupert to the mercy of the embattled women and the priests, he was looking rather dazed. For once she was more than happy to be overlooked.

  The room in which she had been installed was elegant and spacious, with the moon shining in from the crystal dome as well as a bed with an optional canopy to shield those who preferred the security of a properly enclosed sleeping space to the grandeur of the natural spectacle above them.

  She did not mind that her magic was so little regarded that the lock which snapped shut behind her as she entered was neither iron nor apparently warded against her, but the absence of wash water and a bit of stiff grass with which to clean her teeth did impress her as sloppy. Perhaps while everybody was entertaining themselves watching the High Priest and his powerful female associates torment poor Rupert, she could slip out and find some, and lock her door back behind her with no one the wiser. Later that night she intended to slip out again and find a clear spot from which she would be visible. There she hoped to be spotted by Grippeldice. She would feel much better about the whole situation once the dragon knew where they were.

  The lock gave easily after she hummed two bars. She peered out into the hall, wondering where the water containers were kept. In the kitchen, no doubt, but where was that? She watched for wandering members of the household, glad for the protective coloring of the hooded robe. Rounding a corner, she saw a flash of white as a lay brother slapped barefooted down the hall ahead of her. He left behind him an open door and she walked toward it, praying he had been returning from a late snack.

  He had not. Reaching the room’s open door, she saw that it was another bedroom, but an extremely luxurious one, with crystal bedposts and a canopy colored like the rainbow, golden walls, and a fountain, which at least solved the water problem. Then she spied Rupert’s cloak draped over a chest in the corner and realized the brother had been readying the room for the temple’s most illustrious guest. Well, Rupert wouldn’t mind if she washed up and borrowed a bit of water. She would do her washing here and tote a basinful back to her own room for use in the morning. She would need to look fresh if she spent most of the night waiting for the dragon to appear.

  She washed quickly in Rupert’s basin, dumped the water back in the pool, and held the bowl under the fountain. That was when the quartz-studded wall behind the pool creaked open and a woman peeked around the corner. Seeing Carole she started to retreat again, but Carole whistled her to a shrill stop and slowly jigged her forward.

  When the woman had done a little bransle step around the edge of the fountain and was standing in the center of the room, the witch confronted her.

  “I beg your pardon, mistress,” the girl said, her feet still shuffling in the dance and her face full of guilty confusion. “I knew not that this was your place. I was looking for the god.”

  “The god is out right now,” Carole said, patiently. “Perhaps I could take a message?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the girl said, drawing herself up a little and trying unsuccessfully to stare Carole in the eye. “The god is all-knowing.”

  “In that case I don’t see why you need to be sneaking around through fountains to find him.” The girl lowered her eyes, more confused than ever, and Carole recognized her. “You’re the nurse to the Queen’s daughter, aren’t you?”

  “I—no, I mean—who are you? You were with him and the priests, weren’t you?”

  “I hardly thought you noticed.”

  “Are you his handmaiden?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Carole muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I said, I suppose you could say that I am. Are you quite sure I can’t help you?”

  “Perhaps. It’s about the Princess.” Carole kept quiet and tried not to appear to be holding her breath.

  “Well,” the girl said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s just not fair. I know the god is all-knowing but probably he wouldn’t even think to question Her Majesty if she chooses to claim a baby is hers. But the Princess isn’t, you know. She’s not even from Gorequartz.”

  “No!” Carole said. “You don’t say.”

  “Oh, yes,” the girl said. “You see, the Queen sent me to fetch her from the Miragenians.”

  “All alone?”

  “One of the priests went with me.”

  “Really? Then they knew about the exchange.”

  “Certainly. There’s nothing goes on in this city they don’t know about—and arrange.”

  “But the High Priest seemed only to be suspicious of the Queen this evening.”

  “He was just twisting the knife,” the girl said. “I wish you would speak to the god about him. He’s not a nice man at all and I don’t think he’s truly dedicated. When the Queen first married His Majesty, His Brilliance sent for her. I know. She had me come with her, through the secret passages, which is how I learned of them. His Brilliance doesn’t know I know because I stayed hidden. But I heard him propose that she betray the King with him. She never really refused him but after that she started eating heavily and not letting her hair be brushed except once a day. I think she was just frightened. If she betrayed the King and he found out, she was doomed, and if she didn’t accept the High Priest, she was also doomed; she made herself undesirable so she would not need to choose. It worked well except that she never conceived a child. His Brilliance proposed the plan to her, told her that there would soon be a baby available.”

  “And she accepted?” Carole asked, her anger rising. “Knowing that the baby would eventually be killed?”

  “Not necessarily,” the girl defended her mistress.” Normally she would have until the girl is seven years old to bear the King a boy. Should that happen, she and both children would be safe. However, I fear His Brilliance only proposed the plot to expose it, to get revenge on her for depriving him of enjoying her beauty.” Even with such a euphemistic finish, the girl lowered her lashes again, no doubt blushing, if only the light were sufficient to register it.

  “Well, it seems she fell for it, didn’t she? I still don’t understand your part in all this however. Why should you care what happens to the child?”

  “Oh, mistress, I am her nurse. She feeds at my breast. How can I not care? Perhaps it is wrong of me, but I feel that the god sent her to me for taking my own little one, the one I lost these three months past at the summers-end sacrifice, when my beloved Selig was mur… was chosen as delegate to the god. Seeing the god today, I knew I must be right, for he is not so stern as his image, but kindly in appearance, and caring. I know now that my Selig is eternally happy with him, that he has had compassion for my loss and will help me to preserve the little one he sent to comfort me.”

  “My, you do have a lot of faith, don’t you?” Carole said.

  “I never did before I saw him today with my own eyes. I thought he was as hard and cruel as his priests but—”

  Her worshipful look as her eyes lingered on her memory of Rupert was almost embarrassing. “I do see,” Carole said quickly. “And you are absolutely right. The god is a very pleasant sort of deity and I am positive he’ll be glad to help you with this matter but—”

  A scuffling noise overrode her voice from the hallway beyond, followed by the slapping of feet.

  “Is there room in there for me, too?” Carole asked.

  “Its very narrow here, I—” the girl began.

  “Never mind then. Back in you go, quickly.” She had long since released the spell, but the girl’s movements were swifter than any dance step as she disappeared back into the wall. Just in time, too, for the slapping footsteps reached the room and a lay brother scowled at Carole from the doorway.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for my cousin,” she said innocently.

  “He’s still with His Brilliance,” the brother said. “And I think it would be a good idea if you were, too.” With th
at, he waited with stiff spine and stern countenance until she meekly stepped around him and allowed him to forcibly escort her where she wished to go anyway.

  * * *

  Rupert almost wished he were the god everybody felt he resembled. Then he could smite the lot of them and be done with it. Both of the women seemed to feel that they had some claim to him. In the case of Alireza Mukbar, he was not surprised, since he had allowed her to seduce him and believe that he endorsed her plans for their so-called future together in order to extract necessary information from her. But Effluvia’s counterclaim both baffled and repulsed him. The High Priest’s proud look in the skunk-woman’s direction bothered him even more.

  Moreover, the High Priest positively gloated over the venomous darts shooting between the women and the outrageous things they said to each other. He stroked Effluvia as if she were a house cat, only partially to keep her tail under control. The rest of the motivation for the petting seemed to Rupert rather unwholesome. Meanwhile, the High Priest’s eyes drank in Alireza’s heaving bosom and gesticulating limbs, his fingers fondling Effluvia’s hair.

  Rupert did have to admire one thing about Alireza, however. Impassioned as her speech and gestures were, she was not totally out of control. She pointed out that Rupert had a prior commitment to her and her firm and that arrangements could still be made for the people of Gorequartz to lease his services. She also pointed out that any attempt to try to retain him would cancel out a rather large debt still owed by the Miragenians for the last shipment of crystal bottles.

  “Speaking of the bottles, your quality control is way out of line these days. That abominable witch who attached herself to my fiancé was able to release practically the entire last shipment. The bazaar is still in an uproar and my uncle has taken to his bed. If the creature who has the audacity to claim that she is entitled to any consideration where His Highness is concerned had been doing her proper job as a guardian, the witch would never have escaped us. I demand her return.”