In soft whispers, he tried desperately to distract them as it appeared ever more likely the guard wouldn’t come to let them in.
“When El returned to the First Mother and those of His kind, He gave the Chosen all the gifts I mentioned before except for the Vassal. Some of the other gods, upon learning what El had gone through and done, also decided to spend time with the humans, but as their betters. For, though El gave up His powers to become one of them, the others didn’t want to be that vulnerable. They had no desire to feel the fear or helplessness so alien to Their natures.
“Chaos ensued. The gods didn’t see the humans as beings but as playthings. By Their keeping some of Their powers while at the same time becoming more human, the lessons El learned were harder to come by. Instead, the gods began a great competition, each trying to acquire more followers than the others. They manipulated people, They caused great wars between nations, They made Their subjects build huge monuments in Their names so They could be worshipped and praised as creators, though They knew very well the First Mother created all.”
He dredged up the story, having thought he’d long forgotten it. It frightened him a little, though he was loath to admit it to himself, how easily it all came back.
“The Chosen were safe, looking down from their islands, not understanding the foolishness going on below them. Some had attempted to help a few of those suffering below, but after being caught once or twice in violence propagated by jealousy or mistrust, they kept to themselves.
“Though it had been long enough for many of the Chosen to forget or deny their origins, El had not forgotten. He knew those humans dying because of the pettiness of His brothers and sisters were the same as the humans He’d chosen for His own. And while He could do nothing to stop Them alone, He knew who could. El begged the First Mother to interfere.
“The First Mother asked Her children to come home to hear El’s words so there would be understanding among Them, but some of Her children refused to come. When the Mother entreated Them again to return, Valem rejected Her, saying He didn’t have need of Her and even less need of El. Valem and several others had grown to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, so They had no intention of reverting back to what They’d been.
“Since the time of the Grand Creation the First Mother had never been rejected by one of Her own. It made Her angry. And Her anger was felt in the heavens, in the ground, from the lowest to the highest, as all She’d made shook with her fury. The next time She didn’t ask, didn’t entreat, but forced Her children to come home, changed them back to what They’d been, giving them no choice. No longer would They be allowed in the world, no direct contact would They be permitted with the humans. The gods were Her children and They could not do without Her yet, and She wouldn’t allow them to disavow Her or corrupt Her creations.
“But at this El protested, for He loved his Chosen, He loved all the First Mother had made and didn’t want to be forever denied them. So He opened himself to Her, so She would see what they meant to Him, how the Chosen meant as much to Him as Her children meant to Her. And so overwhelming was what He showed Her, the First Mother relented a little. So, instead of totally depriving the gods of the world, She decreed They could still see it, but They would no longer go there in a guise of flesh or even interfere with those who lived there directly.
“It was then El granted the Chosen His most heartfelt gift, His Vassal, a link through which He could indirectly guide His people and also give them a living symbol of His love.” Torren tried to look at Larana’s face, but the shadows inside her cowl were too deep. He grew silent then, turning once more to the closed gates.
Two of the moons had risen a long way into the sky before footsteps once more rang on the other side of the doors. Torren tensed, not sure of what would happen next.
The wooden doors swung wide and four guards stood there, one in silver-colored armor, the other three in bronze. The three held spears at the ready as the leader stepped forward with a light to open the metal gate.
“The Ambassador will see you,” he told them quietly.
Torren nodded, putting his arm protectively about Larana’s shoulders.
“First, however, you will remove all your weapons and allow yourselves to be searched.”
Torren’s narrowed his eyes, not liking the unusual precautions. Had someone gotten to them before they’d arrived? Flyers weren’t known for being cautious. “Why is this necessary?”
Sharp blue eyes met his own. “Circumstances warrant it.” The commander’s wings jerked once. “You asked to come in. If you don’t agree with the conditions, you don’t have to stay. It’s your choice.”
Torren exhaled slowly, telling himself this man was only doing his job. He removed his pack, then his sword, and finally the knife in his boot. He passed the two weapons to the guard through the metal gate but set the pack on the ground, as it was too big to fit through.
Once this was done, the guard removed a key and opened the gate. He grabbed the pack and handed it to his fellows then opened the gate wide and gestured for them to enter. Surrounded by the guards, Torren stood while the commander patted him down for concealed weapons.
Finding nothing, he motioned for Torren to step back and for Larana to come forward. Her features still hidden in the cowl of her cloak, she stepped through the gate.
He patted her down without removing her cloak, and as he did one of her hands sneaked out and caressed the end of one of his white wings. The commander jumped back as if he’d been slapped, startling all of them. The other three men rushed forward even as Larana backpedaled.
“I’m–I’m sorry!”
Torren prepared to step between them.
“Stop! It’s all right.” The silver-armored guard held up his hand, his voice tinged with wonder. “She just surprised me, that’s all.”
The other three stared at him for a moment then backed down.
“Please, come this way.” The leader’s voice showed a deference it hadn’t before.
One of the guards stayed behind to close the gate and the doors as well as appropriate Torren’s possessions. Stepping out of the deep entryway into the walled grounds, they were escorted down a winding walk to the columned porch of the opulent embassy. The gurgling of a fountain could be heard somewhere off to the right. The scent of flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air. Torren studied the two-storied building before them.
It was purported to be an amalgamation of Lander and Chosen construction styles, a gift from the emperor in an attempt to solidify relations with the Chosen. The porch’s columns were in the Flyer style, starting out with a broad base, narrowing down to half the width not far above, and then slowly widening to match the base at the top. The portico and part of the roof were in the Lander style, thick, bracket-shaped tiles lapped over one another.
Larana stared up at the building, the cowl of her cloak falling back to reveal her curious face in the lamplight. He thought he heard an indrawn breath from the silver-armored man.
The square doors were opened for them, and they were led inside. Their footsteps echoed as they followed a short hallway to a set of double doors on the right.
Two of the guards opened the doors wide, while the commander removed his helmet as he stepped in. Curling golden-blond hair glinted in the light; and it was a young man, possibly no more than twenty, who watched them as they followed him in.
The doors closed quietly behind them, the two guards who’d opened them remaining outside.
The room wasn’t as well lit as the hallway, shadows falling across several plush chairs with the narrow backs so common to most Flyer furniture. Standing by a small, lit brazier was a winged man wearing ruby-colored robes. He turned to face them as they moved farther into the reception room. His deep green eyes in a lined face studied them as he sipped a cup of mulled wine.
“Uncle, I’ve brought them as requested.”
The ambassador nodded, his eyes not straying from the strangers.
“It is
my understanding you desired to see me?” His accent was less pronounced than the guard’s.
Torren blinked, saying nothing, caught off-guard by the ambassador’s bored tone.
“Well?” he prompted impatiently.
Torren bowed. “Yes, sir, such is the case.”
The ambassador’s brow rose at the gesture. He turned to face them fully for the first time. “And what has brought you to me at such an hour?”
Torren stared into the ambassador’s eyes and trapped them with his own. “I’ve brought someone in need of your protection, someone you’ve been seeking for a long time.”
A look of incredulity flashed on the older man’s face. “And just who might this be?”
Torren motioned Larana forward. She stared at the ground.
“Hmph, I see a typical Lander child. Why would we be seeking her?”
He said nothing, only nodded to Larana, who meekly removed her cloak. Without a word, she turned around and removed her vest. Torren stepped forward to sweep her thick braid out of the way and pulled down carefully on her collar to the right. The tip of one of her birthmarks came into view.
The ambassador’s gasp filled the room as his goblet fell forgotten to the floor.
“Uncle?” The young man sprang forward, not sure of what had startled the older man. As he turned to look at what his uncle had seen, he stopped, his eyes growing wide. “By El’s will!”
Torren released Larana’s collar and stared at the two men. The girl turned around and watched them, too, her eyes filled with both excitement and fear.
“After all the impostors…how?” The ambassador took half a step forward and stopped. He shook his head, as if trying to bring himself out of a dream. “It will have to be fully verified. We can’t afford to make a mistake, not with this.”
The young guard stared at his uncle. “But if it’s her…”
Two similar smiles flashed momentarily on their faces.
“Yes, Micca, we would all be vindicated. Things would be set right again after all this time.” The ambassador glanced in Larana’s direction, his eyes bright. “My name is Rux. How are you addressed, miss?”
There was a strange expression on his face as he asked this.
“La–Larana.” She tried to give him a curtsy and only botched it a little.
Rux’s expression darkened for a moment, though it was hard to tell if it was due to her clumsiness or something else. “It is my privilege to meet you, Larana. I thank you for coming. And if you wouldn’t find it too impertinent of me, I’d like to request a favor.”
She blinked, caught off-guard by the evident change in attitude. “Of course.”
Torren stood back to lean against a wood-paneled wall in the shadows, knowing what would come next. Soon there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind as to who she was.
“We need to inspect the marks on your back,” Rux told her. “To do so and not embarrass you, I’d prefer to lend you one of our robes.” He half-turned, his strong wings lifting apart to give her a view of his back. “The way they are made, once folded over the body they leave free the area around the wings. This would easily allow us to study your markings and nothing else.”
The girl frowned, staring at his garments, then nodded. “Okay.”
“Micca.”
The young guard nodded, sending a friendly glance in Larana’s direction. “I’ll get it at once.”
He almost ran to the double doors.
Torren said nothing in the intervening minutes. The ambassador seemed unaware of his presence, all of his attention focused on the girl. Larana fidgeted at the attention, her eyes roaming the room in curiosity.
Micca returned presently, half out of breath, carrying a folded garment the color of eggshells.
“It was the smallest I could find.” He handed the bundle over to his uncle.
“Thank you.” Rux turned to Larana. “My office is through that door.” He tilted his head toward a single unassuming door on the right wall at the end of the room. “You can change there.”
Larana threw a glance at Torren; and when he did nothing and said nothing, she took the robe.
“You might wish to show her how it’s worn—she won’t know how.”
Both Micca and Rux glanced at him in astonishment at the unexpected words.
“Is that so?” Again the strange look flickered over the ambassador’s face. Quickly hidden shock reflected on the younger man’s. “We shall have to remedy that.”
Signaling to Micca to help him, Rux unfolded the robe. The cut was distinctly unusual. The main body was a single large piece, but at the top was a long strip of cloth with a hole for the head, while from the sides of the main body flared four strips at an angle, two from each side.
Using Micca to demonstrate, Rux placed the hole over the former’s head. The rest of the strip was allowed to hang down the back while the main body hung on the front. Next, Rux took the left side of the garment and draped one of the lengths over the wing on that side while the other went beneath it. The lower was then draped over the opposite shoulder and the higher beneath the other wing.
The same process was repeated on the right side, the cloth overlapping. In the front, the lengths were wrapped yet again and then tucked into one another.
Going slowly, Rux repeated the pattern backwards. He then handed Larana the robe. She stared it, looking unsure, then gave Torren a final sideways glance before heading off toward the office.
As soon as she was gone, Rux stepped over to a chair and fell into it. Micca stared the way Larana had gone, an irrepressible smile fighting to fill his face. “The Vassal.”
“We will find out soon enough,” Rux said quietly. “There have been others before her.”
“Yes, but none have ever known about the marks!” Micca added eagerly.
Rux slowly shook his head. “But she seems to know nothing…”
“It’s her, it’s got to be!” Micca stared at the closed door.
“It appears there was more validity to the rumors Valerian spoke of to the council than I’d at first believed.”
Torren frowned. They’d known she was here from rumors? How was this possible?
“None of that matters now. She’s the one. I know it.” Micca’s voice dripped with conviction.
“We will see.”
After a couple of minutes, Larana meekly emerged from the office. She’d gotten the robe on, but the coiled lengths lay somewhat akimbo. Her face turned red as the two men eagerly looked her way.
“Here, let me help.” Micca approached her with a winning smile and tucked the lengths away properly. Larana’s blush deepened as he helped her; but by the time he was done, she gave him a return smile.
“Thank you.”
Micca’s smile grew even brighter.
“Sit here, please, Larana. Facing to the side, if you would.” Rux stood up and brought the chair he’d been sitting in. He set it close to the brazier so there would be plenty of light.
She did as she’d been bid. Small gasps were heard from the two men as her marks were revealed.
“I mean no disrespect, but I will need to touch them. Is it all right?” Rux asked quietly.
“Yes.” Larana’s answer was little more than a squeak.
The ambassador’s hand shook as he reached to touch the colored birthmarks. He traced their outline with his finger, his eyes growing wider by the moment.
“El is a kind god.” Rux stood back his face filled with awe. “There is no doubt, you are El’s Vassal. Thank you for coming back to us.”
He took Larana’s hands; and then, as one, both he and Micca dropped to one knee before her.
Torren watched all this from his place by the wall, noting the flush of embarrassment coloring Larana’s face at their highly unusual behavior.
“Micca, I know it’s late, but the council must be told of this at once. With things as they are they will need to wait until tomorrow to see her, but they will at least be able to begin preparations for he
r return.”
Micca gave a quick nod. “Leave it to me.”
He bowed in Larana’s direction, his bright smile back on his face, before rushing from the room.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can have the cook prepare you anything you wish.”
Larana said nothing, for a moment looking completely overwhelmed by his attentions. “I–I’m fine.”
“You’ll have the use of my room for this evening. It is in the Lander style, but not uncomfortable.” Rux’s wings fluttered back and forth.
Torren pushed away from the wall. “I’ll leave her to your care, then.”
Two pairs of eyes stared at him in startled surprise, the ambassador’s face then darkening with suspicion. Torren looked at neither one as he headed in the direction Micca had gone, not caring what any of them made of his abrupt departure. He’d finished doing what he’d set out to do. It was time to get away from this place and get on with his life.
“You can’t!”
He half-turned at the panicked protest. Larana rushed toward him, almost tripping over the too-long robe. “Please stay. Only one more day. Please.” Tears filled her eyes as she pleaded with him. “You’re the only person I know here.”
Her obvious need bothered him, though he tried not to show it. The sooner he cut away from her the better it would be for both of them.
Rux stepped forward, standing protectively behind Larana. “It…it is somewhat unusual, but if the Vassal desires you to be here, you’re welcome to stay.”
Torren regarded the tense lines on the man’s face and realized how hard this had been for him to say. It spoke volumes of the need the Chosen felt for the Vassal that Rux would even consider allowing a grub to stay at what was, for all intents and purposes, land of the Chosen of El. Letting out a slow sigh, he gave in.
“As you wish.”
Larana almost collapsed from relief. “Thank you.”
“Vassal, let me show you the room. I’ll have your clothes and other items brought up to you there.” Rux opened the door to his office. “This way.”
The office was large and filled with shelves full of books and scrolls. A number of large maps were affixed to the walls, pins and lines covering a lot of them. Two chairs faced a rich, polished desk, a painting of the Chosen’s ascension covering the back wall. Rux crossed the room and opened a small door on the left. It revealed a short hallway and a flight of stairs.
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