Oracle of Delphi

by James Gurley

  “It is his way,” Simios agreed. “He likes you. I can tell. Soon, he will include you in his daily pastimes.” Simios picked up an orange and peeled it deftly. He took a bite and smiled. “Very sweet and juicy. Not at all like the small bitter fruits that we grow near the coast. It must be from the Northlands.”

  Tad ignored him as he continued complaining. “I fear he hates me.”

  Simios took another bite. “Nonsense. You will win him over. This I know.”

  Tad nodded at the thin book on the table, his journal. “I recorded all I thought worthy of comment, though precious little at that. Do you want it?”

  “No. Bring the book each week to the Watchers’ Tower and we will copy it.”

  “Should I write two copies to save time?”

  Simios smiled. “Do not bother. We have means to copy it quickly.” He finished the orange. “I must return to the Watchers’ Tower. Be wary of the Council. They will seek to use you against the king and against the Plin.”

  Tad sat up in interest. His uncle had warned him of the same thing. “How?”

  “I do not know but they will do so. Be on guard.”

  The small device the Plin had secreted on the desk had stopped functioning after half an hour. Simios had told him that the power source was limited. The devices were difficult to construct, making them very valuable. Simios would retrieve it on his next visit to the Council Chambers.

  “You allowed me to see Akalah even as you did not see him. Why?”

  The Plin smiled. “That is a wise observation. I did not want my thoughts or my emotions to color you observations. You must make up your own mind about the Chief Regent.”

  Without hesitation, Tad replied, “I do not trust him.”

  Simios nodded. “Bear this thought in mind at all times.”

  Tad shifted the conversation from the Council. “Can the Plin predict the future?”

  Simios looked at Tad. He pointed to a tapestry hanging from a wall. “The future is molded by the present, which in turn is created in part by the past. The future is a skein of threads all tightly bundled together and moving in the same direction in the loom of time. The Great Weaver separates the threads for the Weaving, but any thread may become loose or frayed. This will affect the tapestry at the end. We may glimpse in part the picture in the tapestry but not in its entirety until the Weaving is complete.”

  Tad considered Simios’s example. He knew little about Plin religion or philosophy, but it sounded to him as if the Plin preferred caution to action. “You know what might happen, but not exactly.”

  Simios smiled. “Very much like that.”

  “Then there is hope.”

  Simios scratched at his beard. “Hope? Yes, there is always hope.”

  “Do the Plin have a God?”

  “We believe in the spirit of the universe, its beginning and its end. Man barely makes his mark upon it. Our religion is to study it, understand it. By studying the divergent races of this world, we will better know the universe.”

  Tad wasn’t certain he understood, but nodded; then sighed. “I must return to the king. He should have his dinner. I must try to persuade him to eat better.”

  “It is a formidable task but one worthy of the effort.”

  As Tad rose, he grimaced.

  “You are sore from your bout with Arias?” Simios asked.

  Tad nodded. His first class in self-defense that afternoon had proven to be a challenge. “He said I would learn to defend myself but mostly he threw me to the ground or swept my feet from beneath me as I watched helplessly, unable to prevent him.”

  Simios nodded. “This, too, takes time. Your lessons with Theliolis will begin next week.”

  “I hope they do not hurt as much as Arias’s.”

  Tad went to his window and waited, watching as Simios left the Black Tower. The Watcher walked with the confidence of a man sure of his place in life. Tad wished he could be so certain of his place. He felt like a leaf rushing down a mountain stream, eyeing the rocks flash past, hoping he did not collide with them. As he looked around, he noticed two men standing in the shadows of a nearby building. One looked familiar and might have been the man he saw at the restaurant, but certainly, the second was the man who had confronted him and his uncle outside the restaurant. Were they watching him or watching the Watchers? Should he warn Simios? Tad sighed. It was likely that Simios had been aware of the pair even before he had spotted them. Simios was, after all, a Watcher.

  The young king was asleep when Tad arrived in the king’s quarters. Tad used the time to pick up and de-clutter the rooms. Servants would have done it eventually, but it gave him something to do. As he traversed the room, he found pieces of fruit and food secreted in small nooks and crannies. He wondered why Karal did this. No one had ever denied him food. In fact, the servants provided him with more than he could ever hope to consume. What strange neural connections in the king’s young brain separated him from reality and drove him to create one for himself, one in which the rules seemed vague and ever-changing? If he could but understand how the king thought, he was sure he could get through to him. His own brain taxed by so much thinking, he sat on the edge of the balcony and watched the clouds, trying to divine some meaning in their shapes as the king did. He wondered idly if one of them might be Zarot, the Cloud Rider.

  “Clouds.”

  He turned to see Karal standing behind him pointing out the window.

  Tad smiled. “Yes, clouds.”

  The king crooked his finger and walked away. Tad rose to follow, remembering to announce his intentions. “I’m following you now.” They stopped before a large mural on the wall depicting some ancient battle. The king touched a spot on the mural, which withdrew into the wall. He then thrust his finger inside the hole revealed. Tad heard a muted click and, with a grating sound, a portion of the wall slid aside, revealing an open doorway. A puff of warm, stale air poured from the opening. Without a word, the king stepped through the doorway. Tad looked around, considering if he should inform someone. The guards had withdrawn from the king’s chambers after Simios had departed and had not returned, as if they had been present more to watch the Plin than to protect the king. Tad shrugged and followed.

  Inside the tunnel, small electric sconces set into the walls at intervals provided sufficient light to navigate a long, dusty corridor filled with what appeared to be centuries of tattered cobwebs and old furniture stacked along the wall as if stored there. The short corridor opened into a large windowless room, equally dusty. A canopied bed and a nightstand, along with a tall wardrobe and armoire marked the room as a bedroom, perhaps an ancient refuge for past kings. It was evident from its filthy condition that the room had not seen use in many years. A series of small footprints crisscrossed the dusty floor, indicating that this was not the king’s first visit.

  A circular tiled mural dominated the center of the floor. Tad swept aside some of the accumulated dust with his boot to reveal a once colorful depiction of an Earth eagle clutching the banner of Delphi in one talon and a sword in the other. The mural had faded over the centuries, eroded by the scuff of countless boots.

  The king moved directly to the far wall beside the massive bed. A pair of wrought iron sconces, now empty of their torches, hung on each side of the bed. He twisted one sconce sideways. Suddenly, the floor beneath Tad’s feet began to move. He leaped back in fright. King Karal laughed and clapped his hands with delight. The mural dropped into the floor several centimeters, and then slid aside to reveal a spiral stone staircase descending into darkness. Down this, the king rapidly raced before Tad could stop him. He saw only the top of the king’s head as the king disappeared into the dark opening.

  “Wait!” Tad yelled, but Karal did not stop. Tad rushed to follow. Lights sprang to life as the king passed, illuminating the stairs in a soft yellow glow.

  The staircase plunged into the depths of the Tower with neither door nor opening of any kind to mar the ebony walls. Tad counted three hundred steps
before the stairs finally ended. He followed the young king as Karal sprinted down a second long corridor. As Tad stepped through the arched opening at its end, he was amazed to find a circular chamber some ten meters in diameter more resembling a silo than a room, its lofty ceiling invisible in the shadows. Tubes the thickness of his arm climbed the walls like metal vines, disappearing in the shadows above. Electric lights, recessed into the stone walls, flooded the room.

  The king stood before a small console covered with knobs and dials with a flat, glass-covered screen inset in its center. As he moved knobs on the console, images of the sky suddenly appeared on the screen, many times magnified.

  “Clouds,” he said with delight, pointing at a cloud and clapping his hands.

  “May I look, Your Majesty?” Tad asked the king. King Karal edged to one side to allow room for Tad.

  Tad examined the console, an ancient device by its appearance. By adjusting the knobs, he could bring into view images of clouds, the triple suns of Charybdis, even the far away mountains to the north of Delphi. Smaller knobs allowed him to focus the images more precisely.

  “Mountains,” Tad pointed out on the screen. The king looked at them for a moment, squealed an objection, and turned the knob until he found more clouds, this time just above the sea. He pounded one hand on the console.

  “Clouds,” he repeated.

  While the king marveled at the clouds, Tad backed away to examine the room, some kind of observatory designed to view the local countryside, as well as the stars. Did kings of the past use it to spy on their kingdom? This was something he thought he should report to Simios, but a nagging doubt held him back. By betraying the king’s confidence, he might lose young Karal’s trust. For now, it would remain his and the king’s secret.

  The king turned to Tad and crooked his finger. Tad returned to the console and experimented with the knobs, delighting the king by finding more clouds and making them dance on the screen, flip upside down and change colors as if seen through various colored filters.

  After a while, afraid someone might notice their mysterious absence, he persuaded the king to return to his chambers, but after noticing the king’s filthy hands, made a mental note to find broom, dustpan, mop, and water bucket to tidy up both the observatory and the hidden bedroom.

  To his delight, over the next few days the king began to open up to him after their journey to the observatory as if they now shared some common bond. The king included him in some of his games, named items in the room for him, and ate most of the foods Tad presented to him without protest, though he continued to fill his pockets and stash food in his hidden larders. Even more amazing, Tad found that he no longer had to announce every move in advance. The king had finally included him in his private world. He no longer stood at the periphery observing passively. He knew Simios would be pleased with his small triumph. Surprisingly, Tad felt good about his accomplishment. He was no longer Watcher and companion; he was the king’s friend.

  One evening, as they sat on the floor by the fire, Tad decided to entertain the king with some of his magic tricks. Karal clapped wildly as Tad made small toys disappear from his hand and pulled them from behind the king’s ear or juggled three small balls. When he performed his smoke trick, spinning a ball of smoke, the king followed the spinning balls until his eyes glazed and spittle ran down his chin. He froze in place and began to whimper. Startled, Tad let the smoke shapes dissipate. The king’s face turned deathly pale. Tad reached out to touch the king, hesitated at placing hands on him, and then decided he had no choice. Gently, he eased the king to the floor. Just as he was about to call for the guards, the king began to speak. His voice was lower in register than normal, but he spoke slowly and clearly. It took a few moments for Tad to realize that the king was reciting a poem:

  “Shadow comes; shadow goes

  From hidden chambers we once arose

  Blind we see; deaf we hear

  Stars fade out as end draws near.

  Fight the Veil with tooth and nail

  The answer lies beyond the sail.”

  After pronouncing the last word, King Karal’s eyes cleared and he acted as if nothing had happened. He sat up, yawned, and said, “Nighty night.”

  Tad tried to fix the words of the poem in his memory as he helped the king prepare for bed, wishing he could write it down in his book immediately, but the king’s elaborate ritual for bed would not wait. First, the king had to be dressed in his nightclothes, no easy task when he resisted. However, this time he cooperated fully, yawning several times as if his recitation or his strange trance had exhausted him.

  Once dressed, he made the rounds of his quarters, checking on his hidden caches of food, first waiting until Tad turned his back and pretended not to notice. Then, the young king did what children have done since the beginning of time; he carefully checked beneath his bed for monsters. Satisfied that he was safe, he hopped into bed.

  “Good night, Your Majesty,” Tad said as he pulled the covers over the king. The king reached out a hand, laid it atop Tad’s and frowned.

  “Bad dream,” he said; then rolled over and closed his eyes.

  Tad stood beside the bed and watched until the king was asleep. The king’s oracular vision disturbed him as it clearly had the king. Was he speaking of the Veil’s return or about mankind’s earlier demise five centuries earlier? As he wrote the poem in his book, Tad wondered if he should report the poem to Simios immediately. It seemed more a part of his duty than reporting the king’s secrets, especially if it concerned all of Charybdis. He decided it could wait until morning.

  Once Tad had tucked the king in for the night, he returned to his own quarters, exhausted from his day’s activities and heavy-laden with secrets. He slept, but it was a sleep troubled by dreams of all-encompassing darkness and terror.

  10

  SIRA

  THE NEXT MORNING, A SERVANT, AN OLD TERRAN NAMED Wasson, awoke Tad early.

  He gently tapped on the door and walked in wearing the house colors of red and green, a long feather protruding from his soft cap. He walked with a limp, half-dragging his twisted right foot behind him. Tad tried not to stare at the man’s infirmity.

  “The Council wishes me to inform you that young King Karal is to meet with them within the hour. He will then spend the day touring the city and inspecting the garrison. The Royal carriage will be full. After you help the young king to dress, you may have the day off.”

  Tad was confused. Simios had said to stay at the king’s side always. “But I am to remain with him at all times,” he protested weakly.

  Wasson shrugged his bony shoulders. “The Council has spoken.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Tad leaped out of bed. “What if the king needs me?”

  Wasson smirked. “He is the king.” He limped out the door, shutting it behind him.

  “The king,” Tad said. He knew how much trouble it took to dress the king. Immediately, he went to the king’s chambers. Karal was already awake, staring out the window at the clouds.

  “We must get dressed,” Tad told him. “The Council wishes to see you.”

  King Karal looked at him, smiling. He pointed out the window. “Fly.”

  Tad noticed a bird, floating on a thermal above the courtyard, glancing up briefly as he gathered what he thought would be appropriate attire for the king. “Yes, yes, fly. We must fly to get you ready.”

  The king shouted shrilly. Tad turned to look at him.

  “Fly,” he repeated, pointing.

  Tad looked closer. In the distance, two Triocs flew lazy circles above a third who seemed to struggle under a heavy load suspended below its torso. He knew that Triocs formed three-member families with two females and one male. Since his arrival, he had learned from Simios that Trioc males battled for dominance in an elaborate, non-lethal ritual that entailed both flying skill and perseverance with the stronger, more adroit male winning the contest. Rarely, three defeated males formed their own triad but this group appeared t
o be a family unit with the more colorful one being the male, but what were they doing out in full daylight and what burden was the male carrying?

  As they soared closer, Tad could see a device slung from the male’s shoulder just beneath the wings. Light reflected from it as if it was made of glass or shiny metal. A cold chill emanated from Tad’s lower spine and crawled slowly up his backbone. An inner alarm sounded in his mind at the same time he noticed the Triocs seemed headed in their direction. Without thinking, he grabbed the young king by the arm.

  “Back away, Your Majesty,” he urged.

  Screaming, the king tried to pull away. “Fly,” he whined. Tad gripped his arm tighter.

  “Please, Karal,” he pleaded. He new he had broken protocol by calling the king by his first name, but fear had begun to set in. The Triocs were definitely getting closer, shrieking to one another in their undecipherable language. The king looked up at him, his eyes wide. Perhaps sensing the alarm in Tad’s demeanor, he relented and allowed Tad to back away from the window, leading him. The device the male Trioc carried began to glow. The first beam of vermilion light struck beside the window against the outside wall of the Tower, sending a cascade of ebony stone chips flying in all directions. The room shuddered under the impact. Tad threw his arm over his eyes, but the brilliant flash blinded him. He threw the king to the floor and covered him with his body. A rush of hot air and the acrid odor of superheated rock rushed into the room with a billowing cloud of smoke.

  Falling to the floor had saved both their lives. The second beam entered the window and hit the wall opposite, setting the bed on fire. Flakes of red-hot stone landed on Tad’s back, burning him. However, he was afraid to move lest the king suffer injuries. Shouts from the courtyard below grew louder. The sound of rifles and pistols firing broke the stasis into which time had fallen. He stood, wobbly at first, and began to slap at the hot stone chips stuck to his flesh. He blinked his eyes several times to clear them. They stung, but through the billowing smoke, he could just make out the door.