Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar v(-100

by Mercedes Lackey

  He half expected her to be insulted, but she smiled as if she understood. "Then from time to time, Karse will come to you," she said, and at that moment the servant entered with another, both bearing trays.

  Now, scent-as Alberich well knew, since he had now and again used it as a weapon-is the sense that strikes the deepest and at the most primitive parts of a man. And he had not realized just how much he missed his homeland, until the scents of the foods of his childhood arose from the dishes that the servants uncovered, and briefly-briefly-he regretted giving the answer he had.

  She must have read that in his expression, for she laughed. "Now you see how fair I am with you," she told him, and at that moment she showed her true age, which was less than this, and perhaps less than Selenay's. "For had I wished to have my will of you, I should have asked you that question with the scent of spiced sausage, dumplings and gravy, and apple cake in your nostrils!"

  The servant handed him a filled plate, which he took eagerly. "This is not the fare I would have expected in the Palace of the Sun, Holiness," he said, prevaricating, for she had come far too close to the truth with that comment.

  "Hmm. Larks' tongues and sturgeon roe, braised quail, and newborn calf stewed in milk?" She gave him a sardonic look. "My cook is appalled by my tastes, but my people know that I eat what they eat, and I have made it certain that they have heard this from the Palace servants. There has been far too much of larks' tongues on golden plates, while babies wail and children have the pinched faces of hunger on the other side of the Temple wall." She took the plate that the servant offered her; Alberich observed that both plates were of honest ceramic. "The golden plates went to replenish granaries; the furnishings and precious objects I found in these rooms bought new herd-beasts to strengthen bloodlines.

  Oh, I hardly gave all away," she admitted, and paused for a hungry mouthful herself. "Much has gone into the decoration of the Temple and I will not strip the Sunlord's sanctuary of its glory. But the wealth that I did was the loot of centuries come straight out of storehouses, and has restored, if not plenty, then at least sufficiency to my land. Plenty will come in time, Sunlord willing, and with the work of the people."

  "And the border?" Alberich dared to ask. "There are still bandits there that prey on Karse and Valdemar alike."

  She smiled grimly. "I have recalled the corrupt troops, put Guild mercenaries in their place until I can train young fighters who will serve and not exploit, and-" she paused significantly, "-I have distributed arms to the Border villages."

  Alberich was in significant shock over the news that Karse had hired Guild mercenaries. He wondered how she had managed to convince the Guild that Karse was to be trusted, and had winced at the thought of the size of the bond she would have had to post. But to hear that she had distributed arms to the common people-

  "I doubt that they will be effective; it is more a matter of improving their morale and bolstering their courage," she continued. "They'll likely be frightened of the Guild fighters until they realize that they are trustworthy, and being armed will make them feel more secure.

  Still, one never knows. They might surprise me, and take over their own defense."

  Arming the villagers- If nothing else, this was the clearest indication that the Fires of Cleansing had been extinguished. No Red-robe Priest would dare to enter a village on a mission of Cleansing where the villagers were armed.

  She ate in silence until she had cleaned her plate, then set it aside, accepted a cup of good-but common-wine from the servant and sat back. "Let me tell you the rest of my reforms, in brief. The village priests have been reassigned to new villages, unless all, or almost all, the villagers themselves protested and demanded that their priest remain with them. It might surprise you to learn that a good two thirds did just that."

  Alberich shrugged; he hadn't seen that much widespread corruption among the village priests when he'd been a Captain. Those who abused their authority were attracted to the real seat of power in Sunhame.

  "There are no more forays by troops and priests into the villages to Cleanse or to test and gather up children. If a parent wants a child tested, they must take the child to the village priest, who will call in a Black-robe Priest-Mage." She sipped her wine. "I surmise you already know that there are no more Red-robes, and no more demon-summoning."

  "And you suppose these changes will endure past your lifetime?" Which may be a short one, he added mentally.

  "Change is generational, but I intend to outlive all those who oppose me until there are no Sun-priests in Karse that I have not overseen the training of," she retorted. "I am young enough: Sunlord permitting, there should be no reason why I cannot do this."

  If you survive assassins-he thought, when Hansa coughed politely, and he met the Firecat's sardonic gaze.

  :That is why I am here,: the Firecat replied, with casual arrogance.

  :I believe that the Sunlord plans to ensure that the Son of the Sun survives assassins-and everything else,: Kantor observed.

  Since he had quite left that consideration out of his calculations, he felt a wave of chagrin, which he covered by handing the servant his empty plate and cup. The servant left with the dishes and her orders to see that Talia and Dirk were also offered a meal.

  With her attention no longer on her meal, Solaris proceeded to- "interrogate" him was too strong a word for what she did, since she was polite, interested, and deceptively offhand in her questions and remarks, but "interrogation" was what it amounted to. He had been prepared for it, and answered with all due caution, wondering if she, Hansa, or both might not consider putting the equivalent of a Truth-Spell on him.

  They didn't, though, or at least not that he could tell, and Kantor didn't say anything about it.

  She only broke it off when the servant returned with three more Sun-priests, one older than Alberich, two young, all male. "Ah, good, you managed to get away," she said genially, as the three bowed to her before taking seats at her wave of invitation. 'This is Herald Alberich; I wanted you to meet him without the other two in attendance. Alberich, this is my dear friend and mentor Ulrich, and my fellows in the novitiate, Larschen and Grevenor."

  The older man, Ulrich, smiled broadly and nodded; the one that Solaris had called Larschen widened his eyes and said, so seriously that it could only have been a joke, "I expected someone taller. With horns. And hooves."

  Grevenor tsked. "What a disappointment! His teeth aren't even pointed!"

  "And after I spent all that time filing them flat so I wouldn't alarm you!" Alberich replied, with the same mock-seriousness, and was rewarded by a smile from Solaris and a withering glance from Hansa.

  :A typical feline,: Kantor observed. :He only appreciates jokes when he makes them.: The atmosphere relaxed considerably now that Solaris' friends were here, and even though more questions came at him, he was able to ask as many as he answered, and within a candlemark or so, he had a very vivid picture in his mind of the first days when Solaris had come to power. It seemed that many of those in the temples outside of Sunhame had rallied to her after the miracle of her coronation. But before the miracle she had spent years in garnering the support of her contemporaries; Solaris was no Reulan, to come to the Sunthrone without opposition.

  And that was intensely interesting. She had been prepared for this miracle, and when it came, she had everything in place to ensure that she simply wasn't escorted off and quietly done away with so that the running of Karse could go back to "business as usual."

  Yes, that was interesting. Very interesting. So she had known, for years, that she was going to be the Chosen One, but instead of biding her time quietly, she had created a support base that ensured she could not be gotten quietly out of the way, and which gave encouragement to others to fall in with them.

  She was remarkably quiet about how she had known, however, and Alberich could only wonder. For all that she was amazingly down-to-earth among her supporters, there was still something about her, a sense that she probably d
id spend the hours in meditation and prayer that the Son of the Sun was popularly supposed to do. And that she probably always had...that here was a person for whom the service of Vkandis truly was a vocation.

  Alberich was not overly familiar with the aura of sanctity, but he thought that it surrounded Solaris.

  And therein lay her greatest difference from Selenay, although in many, many ways the two were very much alike. Selenay was warmly and completely feminine; Solaris was warmly and completely-neuter. It was very much as if some cloak of power lay lightly on her shoulders, and sent out a wordless message: I am for no man.

  In that, she was not unlike the Shin'a'in Sword-sworn; Alberich had met one, some distant relative or other of Kerowyn. Whether that was by choice, natural inclination, or necessity mattered not. That Solaris would have cut her own breasts off if Vkandis had required it of her was something that no one who sat in the same room with her for a candlemark would doubt.

  And perhaps, after all, this was why she now sat in the Sunthrone. Perhaps this was why Vkandis had taken so long to manifest Himself to His people. Someone like Solaris was rarer than someone with the special Gift that qualified her as Queen's Own.

  Someone who had that much raw faith and still remained human and humane was rarer still.

  Only a God would have the patience to wait for such a servant to be born-but a God could afford to take a very long view indeed.

  * * *

  Alberich and Dirk sat silently, side by side, high above the crowded sanctuary, in a concealed alcove that no one below would guess existed. The cunningly pierced carving gave them an excellent view without revealing that there was anything behind it. The air in here was cool and a little dank, enclosed entirely in stone as they were. Even the cunningly-pivoted door was stone. It was also dark; any light would show through the stone lacework of the panel behind which they sat. The Temple sanctuary beyond that screen was a blaze of white, red, yellow, and precious gold. Sun gems winked from the centers of carved Sun-flowers, gilding was everywhere, and there were so many windows (besides the great skylight over the altar) that the place seemed as open as a meadow.

  Down there, arrayed in a semicircle in front of the altar, were the Novices about to be made Priests. Only a few were ever endowed with their holy office standing before the Sun Throne. Fewer still were granted the honor of one of the major Festivals. And of hose few, only the highest took their vows on the Summer Solstice, the day when the sun-disk reigned longest in the sky. Four and twenty of those stood down there today; Talia was the last, and the others-who knew each other by sight at least-must surely be wondering who she was and why she was among them. Censers fuming incense-perfectly harmless, undrugged incense of a pleasant spice scent-stood at either end of their semicircle. The incense drifted up to Alberich's hiding place, relieving the slightly stale scent of the air.

  One and all, the Novices wore simple robes of black, without ornamentation. One by one by they were summoned before Solaris, who administered their vows-surprisingly simple vows-and arrayed them in their black-and-gold vestments. Solaris herself was a glory in her robes of office and crown, covered with bullion, medallions, even plaques of gold, and what wasn't sewn with gold was embroidered with Sun gems. Alberich couldn't imagine how she could stand under the weight of it, yet she moved effortlessly, calling each Priestly candidate forward, taking his-or her, for half of the candidates were women-vows, and with the aid of two acolytes, arraying them in their new vestments. So far there was no sign that Solaris had made any special announcement about Talia-her core group of supporters knew, of course, but no one else seemed to. Why was she keeping it all so secret, if this was supposed to be the start of a new alliance?

  :Perhaps she's had-advice,: Kantor suggested. His tone suggested that the advice might have come from a higher authority.

  Well, that was certainly possible, but Alberich worried that she had been left to her own devices to orchestrate this, and was playing her game too close.

  Or perhaps she didn't intend to announce Talia's origin at all.

  That actually made him feel a lot less nervous about this.

  Perhaps she just intended to invest Talia without making any fuss about where she was from, and only after they'd gone home would she announce it. There would be no prospect of enraging anyone while the Heralds were still in Karse that way.

  That plan would make Alberich a great deal happier than facing the possibility of a riot in the Temple when Solaris announced just what Talia was.

  Dirk was equally edgy, actually fidgeting, peering through first one then another of the pierced holes in the stone screen that covered their hiding place. Alberich wished he could fidget, but discipline was habit now, and there was nothing he could do to relieve the tension that made him feel as if he vibrated in place. The narrow stone bench on which they sat bit into his thighs, and he wished devoutly that this was all over...

  One by one, the candidates approached, said their few words-and he was grateful that nothing in that vow interfered with Talia's pledges to Valdemar and its throne-were bedecked with their heavy trappings, and departed again.

  And now, at last, it was Talia's turn.

  The sun was at its zenith, and the rays poured down through the skylight above the altar. This was the holiest moment of the holiest day of the calendar and now

  "I summon the last candidate," Solaris called, in that peculiar, carrying voice of hers that sounded no louder than a simple conversation and yet could be heard in the last rank of worshipers at the rear of the Temple, even though there was a steady murmur of praying and talking. "I call Herald Talia of Valdemar."

  Reaction rippled over the crowd like a wave. Dirk went rigid, and Alberich gripped the stone with both hands. A silence fell that was as heavy as a blanket of lead. Hundreds of heads suddenly swiveled up and forward. Hundreds, thousands of wide, shocked eyes stared at Solaris, at Talia, as the latter bent her head calmly and accepted the vestments of a Priestess of Vkandis. Shock still held them, as Solaris took Talia's hand and turned her to face the crowd so that all of them could hear her take her vows-and could see the Firecat pace slowly down from behind the altar and place himself protectively at Talia's feet, purring, the sound being the only thing other than the two voices that pierced that silence. It did not escape Alberich that Hansa was between Talia and the crowd of worshipers.

  Then Solaris spoke, and Hansa muted his purrs. Up until this moment, there had not been real silence in the Temple. Now there was, an empty, hollow silence, waiting to be filled. The few words of the vows, spoken in a tone hardly louder than a whisper, echoed at the farthest corners of the Temple.

  Then, as the last of Talia's words died away in the awful silence, Solaris spoke again before the silence could be filled by any other.

  "The time has come," Solaris said, in a voice like a clear, silvery trumpet call, addressing Talia, but also the crowd. "The time has come for the ancient enmity between our land and Valdemar to be burned away. It is time for hatred, death, and the taint of spilled blood to be burned away. Will you come with me, and trust to me and to the God to whom you made your vows, Herald Talia?"

  "I will," Talia replied, in a voice as firm, if not with the same clarion sound. And she put her hand in the one Solaris stretched out to her. Together they turned to face the altar.

  As they turned to the altar, flames sprang up upon it all in an eyeblink with a roaring sound; golden flames as high as a man and seemingly born of the rays of the sun falling on the white marble.

  The crowd gasped, then stilled again.

  No one had been there to kindle those flames. There was nothing there to feed it: no wood, no coal, no oil, and yet the flames leaped and danced and even from here Alberich could feel the heat of them, hear the crackle and roar. Solaris and Talia approached the altar, hand in hand, as Dirk shook like an aspen leaf.

  There were stairs built onto the side of the altar. Had they always been there? Alberich hadn't noticed them before, but now Sol
aris led Talia toward them-toward the flames-They were climbing the stairs.

  They were standing in the flames!

  The golden flames lapped around them, and Alberich stared, waiting for Talia to start screaming, waiting for their robes to burst into flame, waiting, with his throat closed with horror-The flames enclosed them gently, like loving hands, or a shower of flower petals. The flames caressed them but did not consume them.

  Talia was smiling.

  Solaris was not smiling, but on her face was an expression that Alberich could not put a name to. Some-thing ineffable-something beyond his understanding.

  And the same stillness that filled the Temple entered Alberich's heart.

  Wait. Watch. All will be well.

  Feelings, not words; a peace deeper than anything he had ever felt before, even when in profound communion with Kantor. From Talia? Perhaps; she was a projective Empath, and strong enough to have sent this out to the entire Temple if she thought it needful.

  Or Talia might be the channel for something else.

  His tension vanished, and something else took its place. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dirk's hands drop from the stone screen, and knew that his fellow Herald felt it, too.

  Cradled lovingly in the heart of the flames, Solaris remained unchanged in her golden robes, but something was happening to Talia.

  No, not to Talia, but to her robes, he vestments. They were changing.

  He couldn't say they were bleaching, because there was nothing in the transition to suggest the process of bleaching. There was no fading to gray-no, Talia's robes were lightening, not fading, they were becoming full of light, growing lighter and lighter until they glowed with a white intensity that outshone the flames.

  Then, all at once, the flames were gone.

  Solaris and Talia stood atop the altar, Talia looking a little embarrassed, as if she had been given some incredible honor all unlooked-for that she felt unworthy of.

  Talia's priestly vestments, the robes of a Sun-priest, were no longer black and gold.