"Remember, O king! Though the last queen of Hybron was your enemy she was still of the House of Seht and of your blood. They conspired against her to side with you in the battle, my lord king. Think that they will not do the same to you?" Warned Dasheb.
"Oh yes. And remember that they conspired against King Khalit with Queen Taliat. They are not to be trusted. Treachery abounds among the Ainash. You must get rid of them if you and your sons would be safe." Teraht was thoughtful now. He never trusted the Ainash but figured he would need them to keep certain elements of society under control. They had been useful in getting him easy access to the city and a peaceful takeover of kingship. But perhaps their usefulness had come to an end. Finally, the organs had given him some useful information.
"The Royal Alchemist has said as much, too," said the king, glancing at Erol.
"Listen to him and the High Priestess. They are wise." Said Dasheb. Lord Erol, silent as death until now, cleared his throat softly.
"What do you say, Lord Erol?"
"Here is what you must do to defeat this powerful threat, my king. You must sacrifice a bull, sound in form and body to the gods of the city, to Hec, and a great sea animal to Nisrok. You must eat some of the entrails of these sacrifices to infuse yourself with power. You must have the hides dried and cured. This leather must be made into armor laid with gold and silver with the names and spells of your family name and house and honor. Give the raw hide to me and to these men here and we will make it even more powerful. Then you must put on the power and become the Black King - the King of Death, to contrast yourself with the curse of the Red King. You did it once before. Now take up the mantle again and keep it. Instead of using it as propaganda you must truly become the Black King."
"Yes, Your Greatness. Only then can the omens we cast and look for be wholly good for Your Greatness."
"I should think you men are stalling against me if not for the wisdom I have just heard about the cursed Ainash. I have the great sword. Yes, I shall become that which the false red king shall fear."
"We would have you put on the mantle of Moteth, Your Greatness." Said the alchemist. "And when you defeat this Red King, you must have his corpse skinned and this too shall become part of your battle armor."
"God of Death. Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “He wore his own brother's skin as armor in a great battle, did he not?" He thought on this. "It sounds good to me. But you men, leave me now and call for Lady Mina." They bowed before him and left. Servants came to clear away the entrails and debris and another brazier was brought.
"Set a fire. It grows cold," he said absently to a manservant. He went to the windows and closed the curtains, pulling the fat silken cords together to shut out the night air. Then he went across the room and picked up the amphora and poured two crystal glasses of arak. A servant came bringing in a large tray of meze and set it down on a small table. The table sat low in a depression pit in the floor surrounded by thick-rolled fringed pillows. Another came to dress him in his night finery.
"The green silken robe and the green and golden kilt." He was dressed thus when a solid knock was heard at the doors.
"Come." A guard stepped inside.
"Lady Mina has come, at your command."
"Let her in." She slipped in wearing all white linens and her white headdress and a moon-shaped circlet around her head. Her hair was long, touched with gray but silken and thick and she was still well formed. The top round of her breasts could be seen through the top of her dress. She lifted her robes as wide great wings around and bowed low so that the king could get a better look at them. She held his gaze with her eyes. He gave her a wolfish grin.
"Sit. Have some arak. You have a message for me." He extended a glass to her which she took and sipped. She sat across from him at the table.
"Indeed, Your Greatness. I thank you for the honor given me."
"What is it you want to tell me?" Everyone always wanted something. No matter how banal. But he was intrigued by her. He reclined against the pillows and took up the other glass of arak.
"I have come because of disturbing visions. The Ainash." He stopped grinning.
"Why do you speak to me of the Ainash again?"
"Because they are a stink in Hybron, my lord king. How can you trust these men? They jump from one ruler to the next. Do you think they will not betray you the way they have betrayed many others? Your niece for example and the king before her."
"This seems an interesting thing. First my alchemist, then my astrologers and now you. I wonder if you all have not been planning this?"
"Perhaps it is only that we are riding the same wave, for we see the signs. Priestesses, alchemists of the Black and astrologers all have the power of Sight. We warn because of their danger to you, Your Greatness."
"So I have been told. Do not think I plan to do nothing. Especially after the banquet feast. However, I know that there is some sort of separation among them."
"There has been an offshoot from them. Schismatics, I have heard them called. They do not follow the Ainash. However, all of them, the traditionalists, the schismatics and their priesthood are all Aishanna-La. They all seek another king. A message has come to me, Your Greatness that will seal your rule and stamp out all threats from these people." Lady Mina's eyes brightened with focused intensity. Teraht watched her with interest.
"From Nimnet?"
"From Elyshe, She who sees the dark visions. She has told me that she desires the blood of an Ainash priest. If you cannot get to this imposter who styles himself king that everyone speaks of, find some relation to him, to his god, O king."
"An offering? A sacrifice?"
"Blood and fire is needed, Your Greatness."
"Why an Ainash?"
"Why not? They are your enemies. The blood of your enemies, especially powerful ones, can only help you." She said slyly but she was all fervor inside, he could tell. He sat back and studied her and then took a drink of arak and took up a thin slice of goat meat and ate it, chewing thoughtfully all the while never taking his eyes from her. His wolfish grin returned.
"The blood and the skin. I am having new armor made from skins. Hides. You have given me an idea that I like. In fact, I have heard quite a few things today that I like." He put his glass down. "Between you and the alchemist, I may live forever. Will you have something to eat? Dine with me tonight and then later. . ." he tugged at her thin gown, "we will talk more of skin and flesh." Her smile was just as wolfish.
. . .
Teraht rose early the next morning. The High Priestess had gone from his bed a few hours earlier. His mind was always reeling, running. Even when having his way with the priestess last night he was thinking. Putting himself into this prophecy of the Red King. He had not done enough to thwart it. And if there were other threats from this imposter he would need an alliance. In fact, he had started up talks of an alliance with Zapulia before he had come into Hybron. Marriage talks about the young Zapulian princess. He would send gifts to the aging protector of the realm, her guardian, and to her. Marriage would have to be swift.
After his morning ministrations and bath and after the morning meal he commanded the alchemist to be brought to him. After some time Lord Erol came in and bowed low.
"It is a good day, Lord Erol."
"It is indeed, Your Greatness. And what is the honor of this request?"
"I wanted you here because of the omen during the banquet. It still bothers me. It falls like a pall upon my house and the city. They simply vanished! How could the man do such a thing without being a known thaumaturgist? I do not understand it. Send poisoners after them Erol. Do something to find them. Your devices may be far more efficient in finding where they may be hiding than human spies."
"Where else would desert rats go but to their kin? The tribal peoples?"
"Which tribe? The Gilphaens? Nalianites? Holamites? Raea?"
"That would have to be ascertained through spies which we do not have in place in the desert, yet."
"
Your mind works in excellent ways." Said the king. "I have heard the High Priestess's counsel again last night. The astrologers have given some wise counsel. Now, I would hear your counsel once more. Speak. What do you say?" He asked. Lord Erol stroked his medallion for a few moments.
"May I ask what other counsel she has given you, my lord king?"
"No. I would hear it pure, from you without influence of others."
"That is well, Your Greatness. I have thought on it after the meeting yesterday. I have heard of these prophecies of the imposter. In fact, I built you a great sword likened to the holy sword of Ishuye. We must remember that the killing of the High Priest's father at the banquet is only known to those in the palace. The common people do not know of it, yet, in any mass capacity. You still have your sword, a powerful symbol in the eyes of the people and a powerful object in and of itself. You must build a special place so that the people can see it and be assured that the only true Red King or any king is you, Your Greatness."
"No Black King then?"
"You must be both."
"And how should I display my fine sword?"
"Why, at the games, of course. The next bout of arena games. It is fall but who says games have to only be held in summer and spring? In fact, the weather is usually unbearable then. Have it displayed before all the people at the arena. Hold the great games and show your majesty before the people. Hybronians love their games. They are nearly sacred to them."
"An altar built? For the sword? I like this. I will do this in celebration of the new wife I plan to take."
"The Zapulian girl?"
"Yes. I shall display the sword there in the arena upon a great new altar. And with my marriage will come vast wealth. Enough to reward competent, loyal subjects. Tell me, what do you say of your secret school you have wanted for alchemy opened here in Jhis?" In Erol's eyes grew fiery pin-points of light.
"That would be very generous of you, my king." His voice was all cool smoothness and grace but Teraht knew better.
"And if I should do this I would also open up a way for you to continue your work unmolested. The laws in Hybron shall be amended."
"Only, if I may, my lord king. Taxes and strict laws upon White and Gold should be written and enacted. My black brothers are put upon and given much grief back home. There are some guild brothers who even suggest that the foundational black art of Mannimalomancy must be outlawed."
"Do not trouble yourself over it Erol. The Black Guild, the one that helped me, will rule supreme over the other guilds here and in Egi soon."
"So backward they are in this land." Said Lord Erol looking pleased with himself.
"Alchemy will come back to Hybron, to stay. I must admit, insane as she was, my niece had foresight in allowing alchemists into the land. It was she who took the first step, though she did not know what to make of it. We have a great work ahead of us. Hybron is backwards. I mean to bring progress to this land."
"As sure as the sun, Your Greatness knows exactly what must be done. Your wisdom is unmatched."
"When I have need of you, I will send for you again."
"Yes, Your Greatness."
. . .
The king was soon married to the young Zapulian princess, his fourth wife, and he made her queen. The great sword of the king was displayed in the middle of the arena for the celebration after the marriage and they had extensive games, each more bloody than the one before. The sword burned bright like a great light wreathed in flame and the people began to shout: "The Red King! The Red King!" to the king, to his new bride's confusion. She seemed perplexed by the entire thing but remained meekly quiet. The other wives stared daggers at her, especially the first wife. The second wife had been put aside for bearing a monstrous looking child. A deformed thing that did not live past one month. She was ostracized and died alone, embittered from grief for her child.
The King closed the schools for girls that Queen Taliat had opened and turned them into brothels and many of the girls learning there were forced into prostitution in a perverse turn of events; a last, ugly vengeance against his niece.
But the king was not finished. He had his own thoughts that he did not divulge to anyone. This imposter king was his nephew, his own blood. He hated to admit it, but there it was. Of the House of Seht. There were a number of ways he could turn this. He could reach out to him, influence him, bring him into the family fold, at least for a while. Such a connection had uses. He was of half-noble blood, after all. Maybe if any one of his sons displeased him this one could take their place. He mused on that briefly. But there were other uses too. He would send one of his sons, already seasoned warriors in battle who had led armies. Had this imposter done so? Not that he'd heard. He heard nothing about him except rumors, and sketchy ones at that. He would send a large armed party to find this nephew and bring him to heel. If need be he would ravage the luti out in the deserts for it was they who fueled this sentiment against him in the cities among the Aishanna-La. He gazed at his sword.
The sword never burned. It was a symbol of his power, a rule that was strong and would never end. After a particularly bloody battle down in the arena the king raised his hand with the white silk and the crowd finally quieted. The more he thought on it, the more it angered him that his counselors were speaking together to persuade him. Perhaps they were plotting against him too. Including the alchemist. Cardith was a trust-worthy man. Perhaps he would put him in among his trusted counselors. His mind raced and the more it ran free the more he hated everyone and everything around him.
"Bring in the elephanta!" He demanded. Two elephanta came into the arena goaded with spears. Sitting atop each one was a huge litter and in each one a group of fighters all armed with long spears, bows and arrows. The elephanta were chained to one another, slightly drugged so they could not attack their tormentors. The arena guards then ran from the west end of the arena. From that door came out several packs of jackals and the fight began with each group of arena fighters trying to knock the others off. Any who fell were immediately descended upon by the jackals.
The games went on clear into the night with much feasting and festivities, with the king's mood growing bloodier and more violent along with the games. And the fires, unbeknownst to the people, had grown higher and hotter.
. . .
The fire-tenderers were fearful for it was a frightening sight and they knew the time had drawn near for something terrible to happen. Even for men who handled and worked near the fires, it was an ill omen.
"What do you think is causing this?" Asked one of them.
"The end for the city and the end for us if we stay." Said the eldest.
"Look! Look, there! What is that!" Cried one of the men.
"What is it?"
"A man! Except it is not a man! He is wrapped in fire and looks like a son of the gods!" Cried one of the young tenderers.
"You lie! Stop your crazy talk!" Said another.
"No, but look, he speaks truth. There is someone there!" Said the eldest. There was a large figure of what seemed like a man walking toward them in the eternal fires. It was night but the fires were so bright and high they blotted out the stars, the smoke from them creating a thick gloom. The figure was outlined in white fire that emanated out into orange and scarlet. Finally it emerged from the fires. The tenderers were frozen in fright. It was as if something prevented them from moving. The figure, a messenger, emerged from the fire holding waterskins bursting with water. Even in the blistering heat water droplets streamed and fell like cold rain. They fell to their knees.
"Get up. I am only a messenger. Take these waterskins and leave this place. This water shall quench your thirst and relieve your hunger should you choose to heed my warning. There is not much time left. Jhis will burn soon. Go! Escape with your souls!" He then spread his great wings that were even brighter than the fire and he then retreated back into the fires. They looked around at one another, dumb-founded at first. The eldest broke the silence.
"Come, let us
go!"
"But where will we go?"
"I do not know. For me, I am old and have nothing but clearly we cannot stay here," he said. He lifted a waterskin and took a long drink. It refreshed him in a way he had not expected, curing his thirst and hunger. Even in the face of the eternal fires it cooled him. He looked them all over and then at the obscured sky.
"This is no ordinary water! Come. Or not. But I will go."
"He comes again! Look, there are more!" One of the other men said, pointing. This time his voice was more reverent. They saw several figures walking in the fires. The fire-tenderers were shown an out through the fires themselves by the messengers and they all left in the night.
The messengers then went to the wall and stationed themselves there for the night as silent watchers.
Chapter Twelve
The month of Kiphaz, the end of the month, 1701 A. T. V.
Aldeberg was the most prosperous city in Northern Dyrland, named after the fortress castle at its center. Aldeberg had been the royal seat of the kings of Dyrland since the beginning of the Twilight Age. King Baldric and his queen, Cimbri, reigned over Dyrland and in their younger years the court was youthful, spirited and full of life. Now in the twilight of their reign, Queen Cimbri, racked with grief and many illnesses over the years with no surviving children had become a recluse and was rarely seen outside her own apartments. The king's constant companion some years ago had become a mysterious Man In Black, recently gone from the court, banished, most people thought. But no one spoke of the matter publicly.
A council of chieftains had been called. Uwain, one of the foremost in the land was heading a large company of warriors and chieftains. Wrapped and bundled in heavy cloaks, Rapheth and his men still had a difficult time dealing with the weather. Yet, even in his growing melancholy Rapheth could still appreciate the beauty of the northerly world. They were following the Black River and it was early morning. Heavy mists clung just above the surface of the water like slow boiling foam off a cauldron. Long wisps rose from the river and crept along the forest floor. Torches and lanterns, carried by warriors on foot glowed like tiny moons in the fog. Baudolino, who did not know how to ride a horse well and had a hard time sitting on one, rode sideways in back of Parso's horse. He had grumbled of preferring a wagon or a chariot for some time and then fell silent as his complaints fell on deaf ears.
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