There was no introductory ceremony—a relief. Lord Muresh, it was said, disliked lengthy rituals. The chamberlain consulted a document and signalled with his clappers to Lord Mirigga hiDuIumesa, High Adept of the Temple of Hrii’ii, he of the purple dais.
Lord Mirigga was a small, gnomish man, almost buried in his stiff, richly worked robe of purple, his features concealed by the black velvet mask decreed by his sect for state occasions. He stood up.
“My Lords, let us open the matter for which we come, and let us close it as speedily. We ail have other business.” He was totally motionless, except for one slender, ivory-hued hand which made chopping gestures in the air to emphasise each point. His words were abrupt and precise, snapped off as a man bites off sections of sweet Mnosa-too. Lord Durugen had disliked him roundly for a score of years—and never remembered quite why.
Lord Mirigga now raised both arms, a histrionic gesture meant to stress his thesis. “The issue is a simple one: the Temple of Thumis holds certain ancient artifacts found at Urmish. We of the Temple of lord Hru’ii have submitted our case in writing to the Imperium to demonstrate that they belong not to Thumis but to us. You have seen our arguments and the proofs thereof. Let the Imperium decide this, so that we may all go home.”
This was much too fast a dance! Lord Durugen struggled to his feet, silently cursing his elaborate vestments and all of the ornaments and pectorals that jingled and dangled from them. He stretched out his arms for recognition, hoping that no one else managed to get the chamberlain’s attention first. The clappers clacked at him.
“My Lord! Eye of the Imperium! We protest! I urge that we look to precedent, upon which all our laws are founded, and without which we should be drowned in a clamour of yeas and nays! Has it not always been the custom that the finders of the things of the ancients should retain them? Saving, of course, occasions of great exigency, when the Imperium itself may demand them? We came by this present lot honourably: workers digging in the City of the Dead at Urmish came upon these artifacts, my Lord, and being worshippers of our good Lord of Wisdom, they turned them over to us. Our request to retain them is both proper and usual. We are distressed at the holding of this council here today.”
He would have gone on—and the High Priest of Ketengku had been primed to follow him with further urgings—but Lord Mirigga, still on his feet, interrupted. “Let the Temple of Thumis curb its eagerness, great Lord! The road is not so smooth. It is true that the contents of ancient tombs are customarily the property of him who finds them, for good or for ill. Yet the walls of this tomb bore the insignia and icons of the Fifth Form of Gyanu, a deity of the Bednalljans now acknowledged in our doctrine as a precursor and hence a Greater Aspect of our Lord Hrii’u. The articles of this burial chamber thus belong to Lord Hru’ii and to none other. We invoke the Concordat!”
“You, of all the temples, invoke the Concordat?” Lord Durugen cried. He spread a hand before his face to mime astonishment. “What offense has been given to the Temple of Hrii’u? We do not breach the Concordat but only retain what is our—”
The chamberlain’s accursed clappers cut him off. He had gone a step too far, perhaps, but the point was made. And it left room for later appeasement of his visibly righteous anger. Thus far, the ship sailed smoothly.
Lord Muresh gestured, and the chamberlain now pointed to another, the occupant of the yellow-draped dais at the far eastern end of the hall, Lord Siinum hiMraktine, newly appointed Grand Adept of the Temple of Belkhanu, Lord of the Excellent Dead. Here was an ally. A fool, no doubt, but a friend. Lord Durugen hoped he had his lines right.
Lord Siinum waved a heavy, hairless hand, beringed with stones of amber and topaz. His voice was smooth and mellifluous. “My Lords, let us consider what transpires after death. Our faith states that the soul of a man requires precisely 1,326 years to traverse the Isles of Dead, thence to pass on to the Paradises of Teretane, or to emerge into the Heavens of the Gods there to be joined with their supernal essences. It is thus as our colleague, Lord Durugen, opines: whatever may have been the faith of the occupant of this tomb in this sphere, uncounted millennia have since elapsed, and he has passed beyond our ken. The shelter of the Fifth Form of Gyanu, and hence that of great Hrii’ii, is now unneeded and inoperative.” He paused to wipe his fingers fastidiously upon his brocaded yellow robe, then picked out a saffron-dyed document from those before him. “According to the Sayings of Chi’utlena of Kheiris, therefore, ‘Such spirits are of no consequence to the living, and their worldly goods revert to their inheritors, or if long concealed from the view of these, then to those who later come upon them.’ The clause at the end is of significance here.” He sat down. He had actually done quite well.
Lord Durugen extended a hand for permission, but the clappers snapped again at Lord Mirigga. He began softly, a logician patiently explaining a point to his students. “Specious, my Lords, not worthy of rebuttal! Once the shadow of Lord Hrii’ii falls upon a thing, it is his for all eternity! The portrayals upon the walls of the tomb chamber are there for just this purpose: to show the faith of the occupant and to command the attention of the patron deity for all time to come! The texts, the symbols, the prayers—all are there to call upon the protection and holy sanctity of Lord Gyanu, and hence of Lord Hrii’ti, whose Aspect He is! No, we must appeal to the Concordat, my Lord, which stipulates that no temple may attach or confiscate the goods of another. Without this, we would soon return to the Time of the Wrath of the Gods, when priest slew priest, and the land ran scarlet with blood.” The extended hand made a sharp slashing motion, and his voice rose. “If we are wronged in this, shall we not once again see such days?”
This time it was Lord Durugen who was allowed to interrupt.
“Were this to become precedent, my Lord, chaos would rise up like an Akho, ‘the Embracer of Ships,’ from the ocean deeps! We know of things emblazoned with the emblems of Thumis in the treasure-houses of the temples of Change.” He smiled and pointed a rhetorical finger. “Ohe, then, would the priests of Sarku give up the trove they uncovered in the ruins of the city of Hmakuyal?” The occupant of the earth-brown dais bent down to confer urgently with those below him. “Would the priesthood of Vimuhla, Lord of Fire, hand over the booty they excavated from the catacombs beneath Tumissa?” Now it was the turn of the priest on the flame-orange dais to mutter with his subordinates. “No? Then I think my point is made, my Lord.” He resumed his seat with the pleasant air of one who has just relished a good dinner. “When one bird flies up, all others look to their own nests,” he thought. That ought to toss Mirigga’s specious arguments out upon the dungheap! Too many pots belonging to others would be broken if the Temple of Hrii’u were allowed to smash this one!
Several others were on their feet. The chamberlain singled out the woman who sat upon the emerald green dais of Lady Dlamelish, Mistress of Demons.
Until now Lady Timuna hiReretlesa, High Priestess of the Goddess in Bey Sii, had seemed to pay no attention to the debate, instead extending a slender foot to caress the bare back of the pretty priestess on the step below her, or to rub the shaggy upcurving ears of the great doglike beast that squatted by her side. Lady Timuna wore little to conceal her middle years: a girdle of silver chain about her thickening waist, from which depended strips of silky green Giidru-cloth. Some of these latter were attached by links to her jingling wristlets. Her thick, oiled, black hair was bound with silver wire, and its braids hung down over her broad collar of green jade and her heavy, rouged breasts.
What, Lord Durugen wondered, could she have to add? Her Goddess served the ephemeral, physical pleasures of the moment, the hedonism of the “now.” She had no more place in this debate than her Renyu-beast did!
“The Tunkul-gongs will call us all to the noon rituals—and to lunch—if we do not make an end of this.” Her voice was a throaty whisper. “Let those who wish be convinced of precedents, theology, and learnedly logicked arguments. We of the Goddess agree with our colleague, Lord Mirigga; yet the r
ule-parsers of the temples of Stability raise such a storm of paper and quotations that naught can be come at. Let us therefore propose a compromise. Lord Durugen’s precious relics relate to the Llyani and thus to the powers of the ancients: things of import to the Imperium and hence to all of us, for it is from the breast of the Empire that we suckle the milk of prosperity.” (The priestess below her strove to repress a giggle.) “Therefore, as in the tale of the Kuruku-beast and the Renyu,” (she reached back to caress the tapering snout of the beast on the dais) “let us throw the bone to neither but give it to the third party, the Mnor of the story—in this case, the Imperium. Give over these relics to .the High Chancery at Avanthar!”
Lord Durugen was on his feet. Who, by all the Pearl-Grey Aspects, had put this into her head? He doubted whether she had the wit to come to it herself. Was it the Imperialist Party in Avanthar, mayhap? The Temple of Dlamelish was no bedfellow— Lord Durugen repressed a smile at his own unspoken gibe—of Prince Mridobu. Not unless the Temple of Lord Ksarul, the backers of that Prince, was in league with Dlamelish’ sensuality-loving devotees! As unlikely as rain in the month of Firasul! Lord Ksarul’s doctrines centred upon the acquisition of knowledge, much like those of his counterpart, Lord Thumis, save that the black-robes wanted that wisdom for themselves alone, to gain personal power and mastery, and not for the prosperity of the land. No, Lady Dlamelish would not sit willingly at Lord Ksarul’s feasting. There was something else here!
Lady Timuna’s argument had to be refuted, of course. The Imperium could not be allowed to gain the right to confiscate temple properties whenever the Emperor so decreed!
“What have the purveyors of the pleasures of the body to do with this?” he asked. “Were we to hand over to the Imperium all those items in our treasuries which might be of interest, we should all be paupers in a trice! Moreover, it is through our study and our scholarship that these things are made useful; a curio-cabinet at Avanthar is no place for artifacts that may contain knowledge otherwise lost to us since the Time of Darkness!” “Then go to Avanthar and study them there.” This, drily, from Lady Timuna.
“Such has never before been demanded of us!” This was becoming ridiculous. She’d have him tricked out as a traitor to the Emperor if this went on! “Oh, it is true that the Imperium does at times request items of import from private persons—but never from the temples or the clans! Precedent—”
Voices drowned him out. There were others whose ships would founder if the woman brought this one of hers into port! The chamberlain clacked his billets once, twice, thrice, before silence was restored. Ignoring those who had spoken before, he pointed now at the occupant of the green and purple dais in front of that of the Goddess Dlamelish: a woman little more than a girl, Misenla hiQurrodu, High Priestess of Hrihayal, the Dancing Maiden of Temptation, Dlamelish’ Cohort.
Like the Lady Timuna, she was clad in a girdle of silver chain, but her diaphanous skirt was of emerald and purple. Her face was round, fine-boned and small-chinned, with high cheekbones and long eyes made even longer by the artful application of black Tsunu-paste. Her small, hard nipples were brushed with irridescent green powder. A line of tattooed glyphs ran down each sinuous arm from shoulder to wrist, and similar lines followed her youthful curves from bare hip to braceleted ankle.
“My Lord, let me show Lord Durugen that we of the ‘fleshly persuasion’ can con these casuistries as well as he.” She extended a delicate hand, thumb touching index fingertip. “Firstly, the issue begins with certain relics found in a tomb bearing the icons of one of the Greater Aspects of Lord Hrii’ii, and hence under his protection.”
Thumb to middle finger. “Secondly, they are discovered by those who serve Thumis. His priests—and their allies—make their case for retention upon grounds of theology and precedent.”
Thumb to ring finger. “Thirdly,—and now I mince no words but say plainly what our sources report to be so—the temple of Thumis has winnowed its harvest for someone who can comprehend the use and meaning of these relics, and all they have come up with is a beardless boy from their monastery in the Chakas.” She flashed a cool glance at Lord Durugen. “Scholars there are aplenty in other temples, but the wise men of Thumis entrust this task to a youth who has just submitted his Labour of Reverence for admission to the Second Circle.” On the grey-draped dais of Thumis faces turned up to look at Lord Durugen. He sat impassive and silent; she must come out into the open before he could pounce.
Thumb now to little finger. “Fourthly, we are also informed—as all of you must be, if your agents are not as brainless as Chlen-beasts—that the Baron Aid of Yan Kor intrigues with the Red-hats of Mu’ugalavya and with the Ebon Palace of Salarvya to invade this land, and his spies are as thick as Chri-flies upon a honeypot. Have we not heard rumors of his ‘Weapon Without Answer?’ Indeed, which faction here has not had reports of the great black-swatched box being trundled along the Makhis roaii from the Baron’s fortress of Ke’er to the city of Hlikku? Might not his servants seek to purloin such items as hold ancient powers of use to us?—And the temple of Thumis is no guard-girt fortress immune to such as they may send: men—and others— who can scale its walls like a Chnehl, or wriggle through holes like slippery Nenyelu-fish."
Misenla spread her hand, tapered fingers outstretched. “No, my Lord; agree with the Lady Timuna and command the giving over of these relics to Avanthar.” She resumed her seat, smoothing the swinging strips of her skirt about her thighs.
It was now as clear as Lord Hnalla’s Purest Light. Lady Timuna had been well schooled in her little song; it was no more than a prelude for Lady Misenla’s concert. And why? Lord Durugen had to admire the pretty melody—and the choice of musicians! This Misenla hiQurrodu was mistress to Prince Eselne, the Emperor’s second son, the shining protege of the Military Party and of the temples of the war-gods, both Lord Karakan of Stability and Lord Vimuhla of Change.
The generals, the war-gods’ clergy, and the old aristocratic clans had their hopes set upon Eselne’s becoming Emperor—and upon the glorious conquest of Yan Kor, Milumanaya, and the rest of the smaller states of the north, lost hundreds of years ago through the foolishness of a weak ancestor of the present Emperor. If the relics discovered at Urmish were weapons (and Lord Durugen had seen nothing yet to indicate that they were), or if they led to further caches containing weapons of the ancients, then Prince Eselne and his Legions would desire them more than any other faction here. If given to the Imperium gracefully, they might gain the Temple of Thumis some consideration from the Prince’s adherents. But to hand the relics over as meekly as a clan-girl gives her hand in marriage violated every tradition, every precedent!
Perhaps it would be best to compromise, at least for now. The Temple of Thumis bore no ill will toward the adherents of Karakan—nor toward Prince Eselne—although certain political manoeuverings must come later, and these might not sit so well with the Prince! Lord Durugen could not help but glance down at his entourage. His master-sorcerer there turned to face him and shook his head; no spells or mental probings were being attempted—or if they were, his wardings still held. Lord Durugen smiled with outward cordiality. He signalled to the chamberlain that he wished to say no more.
No more speakers arose. Several conferred with those below them; some looked to the occupants of other daises. The buzz of conversation drowned out the humming of the Cfcn'-flies. Attendants sped from dais to dais bearing hastily scrawled notes. Outside, the great droning boom of the Tunkul-gong of the temple of Karakan announced the midday rituals, and this was answered from across the river by the higher, sweeter note from the Tmkul-towe.T of the temple of Avanthe. On his dais Lord Muresh spoke with earnest hand gestures to his chamberlain. At length the latter turned back to the room and called for quiet with his clappers.
“Worthy priests! The Ever-victorious, Ever-living Emperor, Seizer of Kingdoms, Follower of the Paths of Glory, He of the Petal Throne, the mighty Lord Hirkane hiTlakotani, speaks through me, his humble mouthpiece in
this place!” He paused to clear his throat. The long Classical Tsolyani formula demanded stamina as well as eloquence. “It is our decree that the items found at Urmish shall remain within the precincts of the Temple of Thumis, for such is ancient custom and precedent.” (This was much better than might have been expected after Misenla’s charming performance. There were smiles and soft finger-snappings upon Lord Durugen’s dais; silence upon the purple.) “Yet here do we break with tradition. We further command that these articles shall be guarded by soldiers of the Imperium, men of the military arm of our Omnipotent Azure Legion. Furthermore, these relics shall be open to study by those properly deputed by the other temples of this realm.” (Now it was Lord Durugen’s turn to be still, but there were excited whispers among the black-masked priests upon the purple dais.) “As we have decreed, so let it be.” The chamberlain struck his clappers together.
Lord Muresh arose and swept down from the blue and gold dais, followed by his retinue of scribes, servants, and officials.
Lord Durugen, frozen-faced, descended from his seat too, briefly saluted the priests of Hnalla and the High Priestess of Avanthe, who would have stayed him, and slipped away through the rear passage. Across the room, the knot of purple around the dais of Hru’u mingled first with the black and silver of Ksarul, then the flame-orange of Vimuhla, and finally with the brown of the priesthood of Sarku. The centre of the chamber was bedlam as scribes, priests, and attendants all strove to gather up their papers and paraphernalia and depart. Of the emerald of Dlamelish and the green and purple of Hrihayal there was no sign, for those delegations had left immediately in the wake of Lord Muresh.
It was clear that the compromise had settled nothing and pleased no one.
As he stalked through the gilded hallways of the Palace of the Priesthoods of the Realm, miserable in his stuffy grey vestments, Lord Durugen fumed. This had not been a total defeat, of course—there was that consolation—but it had been no victory either! Lord Mirigga had been discomfited, a matter of considerable satisfaction, but to have rival temples sending their scholars into the Temple of Eternal Knowing was not a pleasant prospect! To have them prying into the relics—within his own sacred precincts—was unbearable! The Temple of Thumis would have to break up this cluster of plottings. Nothing, less than the hammer of a real revelation could do that, and one was needed that would take all of Thumis’ foes by the ears! A certain hidden Imperial heir might have to be revealed, somewhat in advance of what they had planned for him.
The Man of Gold Page 4
