by Pelaam
As they approached the thrones, Aurora could see that they were occupied by a man and woman, their clothing almost identical; golden tunics which reached to mid-shin, with bejewelled belts.
Both wore necklaces of multiple strands of precious stones and, like Lalia, had heavily kohled, pale blue eyes. The man wore a headdress that looked identical to the Atef crown of Osiris, except there were only images of feathers, not the real thing. The woman’s headdress was the image of a throne and decorated in peacock feather colours.
“You will kneel before the Nisut-bity and Princeps, rulers of the great city of Atlantis, that which was and will rise again.” Lalia held her arms up high.
“I shall do no such thing.” Dryden blustered, his flabby face nearly puce. “I am a British subject, under the protection of her Majesty Queen Victoria, and I demand the respect that deserves.”
“You will kneel. Or die.” Lalia snapped her fingers and guards armed with their fan-like axes stepped forward from out of shadowy recesses.
“I suggest you save your outrage for a time when it won’t get you killed, man. Now kneel.” Voltaire hissed through clenched teeth and dropped to one knee.
Her arm still hooked through Voltaire’s, Aurora had no choice but to do the same, but she kept her head high, gazing from one seated ruler to the other, waiting for the king, or whatever title he gives himself, to finally speak. However, it was the woman who raised her sceptre, topped with a pearl the size of which Aurora had never seen.
“Welcome to the city of Atlantis. While you are here, you will be under the protection of myself and my consort, Princeps Maximus Sa-Ra. I am the Nisut-bity Tullia Maat-hor, ruler of Atlantis. Welcome to my city; you may rise and gaze upon us.”
Adorning teeth with jewels appeared to be a trait of the Atlanteans, and Aurora twitched her nose. Not something I would consider. It hardly enhances their appearance. Then, grumbling under her breath, Aurora rose from her knees to introduce the group, but Tullia held up her hand.
“There is no need to identify yourselves to us. That has already been done by Lalia Tia-sitra. You are Aurora-Pendragon, the captain of the ship attacked by the polypus.” Tullia gazed directly at her and Aurora nodded.
“Yes, I am. And I still want to know—”
“Of your brother’s health. Naturally. It does you great credit that you care so much. Our physician Merit-Ptah has reported to us. He’s recovering well, if slowly. He was a…lucky man. Few survive the venom of a polymus.”
There was something about the way Tullia looked at her that snapped Aurora’s already fragile last nerve.
“Lucky? The only reason he’s even still here is because of the bravery of Tresilian, Voltaire’s friend. If he hadn’t moved with such speed and severed a tentacle, my brother would have been dragged from the ship. I wish you’d all stop inferring he did something to save himself. He didn’t. Another man’s heroism saved him.”
“You’re distressed. It’s natural enough.” Not only was Tullia’s tone dismissive, but her gaze was already on Voltaire. “And you, Voltaire-Crevin. As we have been told, you were the cause of the ship coming here. Is our city all you expected it to be?”
“I’m surprised you know so much already. Truly you and your consort are all-seeing.” Voltaire bowed his head, and whispered, just loud enough for Aurora to hear. “I bet she laps up flattery.”
The aside was enough to derail Aurora’s anger from spilling over. Not only that, but as she watched the Nisut-bity, it was obvious Voltaire had assessed her character to perfection. A smile curved Tullia’s artificially crimson lips.
“We are pleased you think so, Voltaire-Crevin. And our city?”
“Looks amazing. So well-preserved, so utterly enchanting.” Voltaire looked up at Tullia and smiled.
The pain of an unrecognized emotion stabbed through Aurora. It was as if she’d taken a gut punch. Not so much due to the way Voltaire smiled at Tullia, but the way she gazed back at him. How ridiculous. He cares nothing for her. Or am I wrong? And why would I even care? But she certainly cared, in a quite different way, about the way in which Maximus Sa-Ra kept looking at her, a hungry gleam in his cosmetically enhanced eyes.
“We have organised a banquet for you, as we revere all guests, and extend our hospitality to you. Follow us.” Tullia rose along with Maximus. He extended his hand as she took it. They walked, with perfectly measured steps, in a slow, deliberate manner while the men by the doors sounded the conch shells again.
“They certainly like pomp and circumstance.” Voltaire leaned in close, whispering in Aurora’s ear. “And flattery. Good Lord, did you see the way she lapped that up.”
The mocking tone Voltaire used helped settle Aurora. He’d never spoken to her in such a way.
The second room was every bit as grand as the last, and there were more nearly naked men sounding conch horns. But this time, they were in a banqueting hall and a long mother of pearl table dominated its centre. Atlanteans stood on either side of it, waiting to be seated, with enough chairs left for their rulers and Aurora’s group.
As she glanced around, Aurora realised that it wasn’t just their costumes and headdresses that the Atlanteans had in common, but the same deathly pale skin and washed-out blue eyes. Despite their smiles and applause as the group approached the table, Aurora couldn’t shake a feeling that she and her friends were a flock of lambs being led to a pack of wolves.
Taking their places at the table, Aurora and the others stood while Tullia and Maximus moved into place at the head of the table.
At another sound of the conch shells, more servants filed in. Each one wore the same basic tunic as Tsillah had worn and had a similar swarthier skin tone, like the conch blowers and soldiers, to the other Atlanteans. Silently, they moved the chairs as each Atlantean sat, starting with Tullia and Maximus.
There were already golden plates and goblets laid out on the table, servants brought platters containing whole and fillets of fish, a wide variety of shellfish, and bowls of what looked like a kind of vegetable.
What shocked Aurora were the jugs and amphorae brought through containing not only water, but also a sharp-tasting wine, and a thick, dark beer. The ability to produce alcohol of any kind was the last thing she’d expected.
As if reading her mind, Maximus held up a goblet.
“We learned the art of brewing when our city was still on land. Although difficult, we have managed to keep growing grain and grapes.” Maximus tilted his cup toward her in a salute to Aurora who nodded, but still chose water.
“You have certainly done well considering, Princeps Maximus. The food is excellent.” Dryden’s voice dripped honey and Aurora closed her lips firmly to avoid saying anything.
“We thank you.” Maximus inclined his head.
“How do you tell the time here?” Voltaire asked. “I don’t know if my pocket watch will work after getting so wet.”
“Let Midnight look at it when he’s back with us.” Aurora leaned forward. “He’s very good with mechanicals.”
“Indeed? How interesting.” At Maximus’s smile, Aurora’s stomach did an unpleasant flip. “We do not have the same preoccupation with time as you who live above. There are no clocks anywhere in Atlantis. Instead we have a keeper of the clepsydra.”
“A clepsydra?” What’s that?” Aurora hoped the question would distract Maximus away from her blurting out Midnight’s talent.
“It’s an immense water clock. As the water reaches a new marking a single gong will ring out, which then sounds throughout the palace. Every twelfth such change is deemed the change from our day to night or night into day. Morning is heralded by several double gongs, night by three long sounds.”
“Very practical.” Voltaire nodded.”
“Yes, the peace and tranquillity we have here, ensures we focus on what is most important to us. Naturally, we have our books and have progressed in our own way. We are also well aware of the way the land world above has developed. So many wars.” Maximus shook
his head, his expression sorrowful.
“Yes, there are, rather.” Voltaire suddenly spoke up and Aurora looked at him in surprise. “Each nation trying to find a better weapon than the next.”
“And yet, with the right one weapon, all wars may be ceased.” Maximus stared at Voltaire and Aurora was certain the temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Her skin prickled with goose flesh and she shivered.
“Just one, sir?” Voltaire shook his head. “No, no I can’t see that.”
“Of course not.” Maximus’s smile reminded Aurora of a crocodile’s. There was no humour, no warmth, just a menacing display of teeth. “Because in your world, you’re incapable of creating one.”
“But surely, in a place of peace such as your own, you can’t possibly conceive of such a superior weapon?” Voltaire cocked his head, his expression one of school-boyish innocence, but Aurora already knew that to be a façade.
He’s trying to goad Maximus into admitting about the weapon. He has to be. After all, if one exists this is the only place it could be.
“Our city is safe because we keep it that way. If we should wish to return to the upper world, we should need to ensure that did not change.”
The sound of a dish dropping stopped all conversations and all attention focused on a female servant who looked up with fear in her eyes.
“Clumsy fool.” Lalia stormed from her seat, removing a whip from her waist and lashing the cringing woman with it.
“Stop that at once!” Aurora was on her feet before Tsillah’s warning came to her mind, but she wasn’t alone. Dru and George were also on their feet.
“Enough.” Tullia held up her hand. “Send her to the kitchen, she is not to come back and serve us.”
“That was unnecessarily cruel and extreme punishment.” Dru’s face was pale and she was shaking. “She only dropped a platter. It’s not even broken.”
“You need not fear that these feel pain as you do. However, out of respect for your distress, we will take no further action with this slave. But she will no longer be a server.” Tullia waved her hand and the woman scuttled away.
“I’ve lost my appetite; Dryden, please take me back to my room.” Dru looked across the table to her fiancé, but he shook his head.
“Don’t be so foolish. We punish our servants. This is no different. Do sit down, Drusilla, you’re causing a scene. You, too, Brown.”
“I’ve lost my appetite, too, sir. I’d like to be excused.” George’s face remained impassive, but his tone had changed, and even Aurora noticed it.
“If you’ll excuse those of us who wish to leave, Nisut-bity Tullia Maat-hor, Princeps Maximus Sa-Ra, I would be very grateful.” Aurora decided she should take charge before the situation deteriorated any further.
“I’ll be along in due course.” Voltaire waved and Aurora nodded, she didn’t even give Dryden a look.
“Of course.” Tullia waved a hand, her lips curving into a smile. “You are guests and are yet to learn our laws and our ways. But you will.” Tullia stared straight into Aurora’s eyes.
“You are most gracious hosts.” Aurora gave a quick curtsey. “We thank you. Come along, Dru, George, we’ll go back to our rooms.” The urge to shiver at the coldness in Tullia’s gaze was almost overwhelming, but Aurora weathered it. She was threatening us. I know it.
Chapter 12
Tresilian had barely been gone a moment when Midnight looked up to see Merit-Ptah returning. The physician greeted him with a gem-enhanced smile.
“I thought that while your friend was gone, I could check your leg.”
“Uh, sure.” If he were honest, Midnight would have preferred Tresilian to be present, but he could hardly admit it. I don’t know why, but they make me extremely uncomfortable.
Instead he stared up at the ceiling as the physician pushed back the sheet and began to unwind the bandage which covered him from knee to foot. Midnight kept his hands firmly on the sheet, pinning it to the bed and ensuring it couldn’t be moved higher than mid-thigh.
He glanced down as the physician bent over him. His lower leg was dotted with small blisters and Midnight frowned. I only felt a few pinpricks.
“It’s looking better.” Merit-Ptah touched his leg and Midnight grunted. “Painful?”
“Burns. But only when you touch it.” Midnight swallowed. “It’s not going to stay like that is it?”
“No. It will heal. It takes time. You need to learn patience. Something we Atlanteans are blessed with. Now, tell me when it doesn’t hurt.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” The physician’s pale-eyed gaze made Midnight so uncomfortable that he shuffled slightly to hide his shudder as the physician ran their hand up his leg, onto his thigh, closer to where he held tightly to the sheet.
“It’s fine as soon as you don’t touch the blistered area.” Midnight couldn’t stop his shiver as they scratched their nails lightly down the inside of each leg.
“And you have no loss of feeling, no strange tingling sensations above? The pain is limited to the blistered area?” Merit-Ptah made no attempt to move their hand.
“No-no.” Midnight’s shivers intensified and finally, the physician sat back.
“You’re cold?” Merit-Ptah cocked their head. “I’ll redress this, and you can have a hot drink. Some fish broth, I think. Help strengthen you.”
“Thank you.” Midnight couldn’t think of anything worse than fish broth, but he didn’t want to incur the physician’s wrath either. He sighed his relief when they left the room. Even being here alone is preferable. They make me feel like a specimen on a dissecting table rather than a patient. I didn’t think another person’s touch could feel so…so repulsive.
“That’s a glum look. Is everything all right?” Tresilian returned into the room, his expression creased into a frown and Midnight shook his head quickly.
“Oh no. No problems. Not really. The doctor said I’d have to be patient. Still burns to the touch. They’ve gone for fish broth.” Midnight couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the thought, and Tresilian chuckled. The sound sent pleasurable shivers through Midnight.
“Yes, I’d look unhappy about that, too. Seems their diet is mostly fish, and some sea vegetables they harvest. Very salty. Wait until they say you’re fit to try the beer or wine. Think porridge or vinegar.”
“Uh…maybe I’ll claim to be temperance.” Midnight grimaced. “It goes from bad to worse.”
“Can’t say I’d blame you.” Tresilian laughed out loud, then came and sat beside Midnight, reaching to take one of his hands and held it. “I was worried about you. You looked so ill and fever-ravaged.”
“I feel better. Not that I remember much. Well, to be honest, nothing from when the tentacle hit me.” Midnight reached up to his head where there was a large bump. “What about Aurora and the others? Are you sure that everyone all right?”
“Only you were injured. I suppose we should be very thankful. It could have been so much worse. I’m sure that creature we dealt with could easily have dragged the ship beneath the water. That it seemed to go as quickly as it came was a strange phenomenon. And of course, you missed a ride into Atlantis. Not that I paid it too much attention.” Tresilian shrugged.
“Why not?” Midnight cocked his head and the way Tresilian smiled at him heated Midnight’s blood.
“Because I was watching over you. I’m pleased you feel so much better. I expect I shouldn’t still do this.” Tresilian glanced down to where he still held Midnight’s hand.
“No, please.” Almost without conscious thought, Midnight tightened his grip, not wanting to lose the connection. “I…I feel better…like this. But if you’d be more comfortable…I mean…I don’t…I want…”
Slowly, Tresilian leaned closer, until his lips brushed gently over Midnight’s.
“Then I shall stay. Talking can wait. Until you feel better.”
His lips still tingled from the touch of Tresilian’s and Midnight was beyond being able to speak. He nodded, his gaze never
leaving Tresilian’s face and the comforting warmth of his smile.
“Ah, you’re back, Tresilian-Hawke.” Merit-Ptah walked sinuously toward them, a golden bowl in their hands. “I have some fish stock, with some small pieces of fish in it. Nothing too taxing. I’ll leave that with you.” They handed it to Tresilian. “If Midnight-Pendragon cannot feed himself, I’m certain you’ll help him.”
“How much longer will he need to be here?” Tresilian asked as he glanced down into the bowl.
“We shall see how well he tolerates the food. The venom can leave a victim’s stomach uneasy. If he manages, then he can leave sooner, rather than later. If you need anything, ring the bell.” Merit-Ptah indicated a length of plaited cloth. “I won’t be too far away, but I also have assistants who can deal with more minor issues.”
“Thank you.” Tresilian inclined his head.
“Yes, thank you, Doctor.” Midnight decided he’d best add his gratitude as well.
“I prefer to be called Swnw or Physician.” Merit-Ptah fixed Midnight with a stare. “But you are most welcome.”
His gaze briefly locked with theirs, and Midnight nodded, then waited for Merit-Ptah to leave before sagging back into the bed with a sigh of relief.
“I can’t explain it, and I’m sure you’ll think me mad, but they make me feel extremely uncomfortable. As if…as if I’m only seeing a veneer of a person.” Midnight looked up at Tresilian. “Ignore me. I must be rambling.”
“No. I don’t believe you are. I think you’re very intuitive.” Tresilian set the bowl down. “I’d be inclined to put my trust in your intuition.”
For a moment, Midnight studied Tresilian’s face, looking for any indication that he was being mocked, or patronized, but he saw nothing of either.
“Thank you.” Midnight coughed as his voice was husky with pent-up emotion. “My family accepts me as I am. Others are far less forgiving.”
“I see a highly intelligent and intuitive man. You’re courageous, competent, and caring. And I don’t say any of this lightly, or to flatter you. Just ask Voltaire. I’m not that kind of man. I’m a plain man, who speaks plainly.”
