by Rick Shelley
"Good King Henry would sell his soul for so much splendor," Bay said under his breath. "The Pope himself might stutter over his rosary from the temptation."
Silvas ignored his horse's comments. "The rider in front is no mere mortal," he said. "He's not one of the gods, but he shares somewhat of their nature."
"Like as not the bastard get of one or another of them," Bay said.
"A half god?" Maria asked.
"Half god, demigod," Silvas said. "Their numbers must be legion here."
"Some more than 'demi,' " Bay added. "Through all of the generations here, many count seven parts of their ancestry from among the gods. Little good it does them in this place."
"Let's not insult his parentage without sufficient cause," Silvas said.
Bay snorted. "I'll mind my manners as long as he and his masters do. Likely not one whit longer, though."
"Until we can see our way out of here clearly, at least," Silvas said, partly a caution, partly a plea.
"I have a high regard for my own neck," Bay said. There was time for little more before they met the three riders.
"I am Argus mac Mikel," the leading rider, the demigod, said. His voice had a degree of hauteur that took ages of unquestioned assumption of superiority to achieve. "My father bade me accompany his sister Carillia to the place of watching."
Maria concealed the intense disgust that Argus evoked in her. She kept her face blank and waited for Silvas to respond to their guide.
"I am Silvas. This is Maria Devry. We are Carillia's heirs." He spoke softly, with no special emphasis.
"You will follow me," Argus said, giving no sign that he had noticed anything unusual in Silvas's recitation. Argus turned his horse. His companions took up positions behind and to either side of him.
Silvas looked to Maria and raised an eyebrow. A warmer welcome than I expected. She replied with a tight smile.
Argus mac Mikel kept to the exact center of the thoroughfare. There was little competing traffic, but the riders and pedestrians the company did encounter moved quickly out of the way. The group from the Glade saw little curiosity among the people of the Citadel. There were no furtive glances from doorways, no open stares from people in the streets.
It's as if they don't want to acknowledge that we exist, Maria thought. If they don't admit that we exist, then they won't be troubled if we cease to exist. It was an unsettling notion.
The ride through the Citadel took more than an hour, even though Argus kept the horses at a fast walk. The procession turned left, then right, ending up on a street that was wide enough for fifty horses to ride abreast. Thin trees with carefully cut and shaped branches flanked this boulevard. To either side, large palaces were set well back on exquisite estates with formal gardens that could be reckoned by the acre.
Silvas and his companions were led to the castle at the far end of the avenue. This palace was the most imposing yet, lording its way over the rows of palaces that lined the boulevard leading to it. This final monument was a castle of such dainty appearance that it could not possibly have existed in the mortal world where form was dependent on the strength of mundane materials. Ordinary stone would have crumbled under its own weight. Narrow towers topped by sharply peaked roofs, two dozen that Silvas could see, rose far above any supporting buttresses. The keep within the walls was also tall, with large windows and far too little stone to support its high walls and massive peaked roof. The stone used to build the palace appeared almost translucent, reflecting light with an iridescent sheen.
Argus led the way into the grounds of this impossible palace, up to the main entrance of the keep-or, more properly, manor house. A dozen stairs spanned fifty yards of the building's front. Pages hurried to hold the bridle and stirrups of Argus's horse while he dismounted. His attendants had to make do with a single page each. No one came to help Silvas or Maria dismount.
Argus clapped his hands and more servants hurried out of the palace. They went directly to the wagon, ready to carry Carillia's bier inside. Satin and Velvet leaped to their feet, arched their backs, and hissed in unison. The servants backed off and looked to Argus, more in fear than for leadership-or so Silvas judged.
"My people will bear their mistress inside," Silvas said before Argus could react to the protectiveness of the cats.
Argus hesitated for an instant while he controlled the quick surge of his anger. Then he nodded once, very curtly. "As you will."
Silvas nodded more slowly, and hid the smile he felt. It was a small victory, but it was a victory.
CHAPTER SIX
The ceilings on the first level of the manor house were more than fifty feet high at the edges of each room, with vaults in the main chambers soaring much higher. Servants directed the gurnetz carrying Carillia's bier to a large room on the east side of the great hall. A series of narrow floor-to-ceiling windows crowded the east wall. They were paired with equally tall mirrors on the west wall, making the chamber extremely bright, and making it look much larger than it actually was. The room was vast, even without the illusory aid of the mirrors, 400 feet long and nearly 300 wide, without a single interior column to hold the vaulted ceiling. At a quick glance, Silvas saw that the keep of the Glade would fit inside this one room without difficulty. And this was not the largest room the visitors had seen in the palace. The great hall was nearly twice as large.
Once Carillia's bier was in position, in the precise center of the chamber, servants came to show the visitors to their rooms. Silvas and Maria were to be quartered in the manor house. Bosc, Koshka, and the gurnetz were shown to a secondary building, back near the stables, where the establishment's "lesser" servants were quartered. Bay, of course, was shown to the stables with the other horses. Satin and Velvet finally consented to part from Carillia. They followed Silvas and Maria.
Argus conducted Silvas and Maria to a suite on the second floor of the palace, up a wide, freestanding staircase that coiled from side to side. There were several landings along the way, each equipped with cushioned benches so that weary climbers could rest before they continued.
"My father will be with you shortly," Argus told Silvas and Maria when he finally left them.
"I never dreamed that any place could be as grand as this," Maria said when she and Silvas were finally alone. She walked around the three-room suite, her eyes taking in every detail of the luxurious furnishings. Satin and Velvet walked with her before taking up positions in the sitting room and curling up on the floor. Even the chamber pot was made of solid gold.
"Self-adornment," Silvas said in unusually clipped tones. "A show to awe lesser beings. Vanity and fear."
"What do gods have to fear, save each other?" Maria asked.
"Much, it seems, from the way they surround themselves with walls and towers and moats as well as glitter and extravaganza. What if a day came when no one in our world gave them any religions to flatter themselves with?"
"I'd think they could find amusement enough on their own," Maria said.
"I wonder." Silvas took a cursory look around the suite, then went to a chair and sat. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Up here, above the public halls, the rooms were on a more human scale, opulent but without the sense of overbearing size. The only unusual feature about this room, other than ornamentation, was a small round skylight set precisely in the center of the ceiling. A shaft of sunlight shone through at a slight angle, partially covering a corresponding circle of carved onyx set in the floor.
"Will we become as they are?" Maria asked, looking down into Silvas's eyes. He shuddered visibly.
"I don't think we could. I certainly hope not."
"Seeing the way they live and act may be our best protection against that." Maria sat on his lap, and they hugged-seeking reassurance from each other, not passion. Nothing about the palace or the Shining City inspired them to passion. For all its luxury, Mikel's palace seemed a cold and heartless place, as sterile as a crypt.
"When I first saw the Shining City today, I wonder
ed that Carillia had given it up for me." Silvas held on to Maria as if she were a lifeline. "Now, I see that it wouldn't be a difficult place at all to leave, for anyone who had a heart, any sensitivity at all."
"Carillia had both of those, in full measure," Maria said. She felt no sense of being in competition with Carillia.
"I wonder now that anyone who came from a place like this could ever turn out as fine as she was," Silvas said. "The difficulties she must have faced in breaking free!" There were tears in Silvas's eyes when he buried his face against Maria's breasts. She held him and stroked his hair, waiting for him to control his emotion.
There was a peremptory knock at the door, and Mikel strode in without waiting for an invitation. Satin and Velvet sat up, on alert, but they made no other move.
The Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood was dressed simply in the same sort of loose clothing that Silvas favored, long shirt over baggy trousers. Instead of boots, though, Mikel wore slippers ornamented with gold and rubies. He came into the room and took a quick look around, a master surveying his domain.
Maria was graceful as she stood and turned to face Mikel. Silvas stood as soon as Maria was off of his lap. There was no trace of distress left on his face. Silvas put a hand against Maria's back and guided her closer to Mikel.
"I think you should know Maria," Silvas said. "She shares Carillia's final gift with me."
The news obviously caught Mikel unawares. His face went blank, then he frowned as he stared more closely at Maria. Finally, he lifted his gaze to Silvas's face.
"Are you saying what you seem to be saying?" Mikel's voice was a grumble that showed no hint of possible pleasure in the news.
"I am saying that Carillia gave her final gift to the two of us, together," Silvas said evenly.
Mikel looked Maria over again, closely, clearly attempting to evaluate her against different standards. Maria inspected Mikel the same way, a conscious mimicry that he could not miss-and obviously did not appreciate. Maria stared at him with precisely the same intensity as he stared at her, and for precisely the same length of time.
"I am certain my sister thought she had her reasons," Mikel said when he finally finished his staring. His tone suggested that he could never conceive what those reasons might have been.
"I understand why she gave her gift to you," he added, meeting Silvas's eyes to make sure that the wizard understood what he was not saying as well as what he was: I don't approve, but I understand why she gave herself to you; I neither approve nor understand why this girl was included.
"I think I understand," Silvas replied, his voice growing softer, his tones bland. It doesn't matter at all whether or not you understand.
"Perchance you are right," Mikel said, responding to both the spoken and unspoken messages. His voice was neutral now, as if the subject had ceased to interest him. "Servants are bringing food for you. We will gather to say our farewells to Carillia when the sun is directly overhead."
Silvas glanced at the sun's beam showing through the skylight again, finally understanding its purpose. The shaft of light was much closer to filling the onyx circle on the floor. He also understood that the day was much longer in the land of the gods than it was on the mortal plane. There had already been enough hours in this day to bring it near sunset.
Silvas turned to Mikel and nodded. "We'll be there."
Mikel nodded once and left.
– |The room no longer contained only Carillia, but the hall was so immense that it still felt nearly empty when Silvas and Maria returned with the two cats. Satin and Velvet pawed their way out to Carillia's bier, as if to reassure themselves that she was still there, then they took up positions flanking Silvas and Maria. No seating had been provided. Those who gathered for this final ceremony for Carillia stood-gods, goddesses, demigods, and the most favored of the mortal residents of the Shining City. Silvas and Maria could readily identify the most important attendees, and they could classify most of the others.
Each of the gods and goddesses attracted a group of lesser beings-dependents, relatives, and honored retainers-as entourage. The groups kept themselves separated. By gauging the distance and interactions between one group and another, it was possible to estimate the political winds within the Citadel. Even as outsiders, Silvas and Maria could catch at least the main trends, though both recognized that they were certainly missing the nuances. Politics among the gods could be quite subtle at times.
Gavrien, the musician, held sway in the farthest corner. His entourage was the largest of those who had come for this ceremony. Gavrien had been one of Mikel's closest supporters in the White Brotherhood. His relationship to the Christian faith went back to biblical times, when he and Mikel had contented themselves with occasional appearances as archangels. Gavrien had been the first of Carillia's siblings to arrive for the vigil, entering the chamber even before Silvas and Maria. And as soon as Carillia's heirs took up their positions, Gavrien came to them-alone.
"I was closer to her than any of the others," he said without bothering to introduce himself. His voice carried more bitterness than sorrow. He stared at Silvas's eyes-if not with hostility, at least with no undue civility.
"Carillia never spoke of her relatives, not even of you and your music," Silvas replied, as neutrally as possible.
For a moment more, the two stared at each other. Then, with the slightest nod of his head, Gavrien turned and went back to his entourage.
Gioia, the huntress, twin to Gavrien, took up her position closer to the center of the room, within a few dozen yards of Carillia, full in the light of all of the windows. Gioia wore the guise of an intense yet sensuous woman, small and dark. She had few companions around her, but those who were, stayed extremely close to their mistress. Several times during the vigil, Silvas turned toward her. Each time, Gioia was staring at him. When Silvas met her stare, she held it for a moment, then turned away without acknowledging him. Her alliance with Mikel had had nothing to do with religion.
Barreth stood on the side of the room fairly near the exit, where everyone who came or went would have to pass him. Barreth liked being a god of war. He had played that role for countless tribes and peoples through time. A particular joy for him seemed to be to bring different tribes and people who both worshiped him together to fight each other, lending his support first to one side and then to the other, forcing them to clash until one or both was destroyed. The followers who stood with him were all armed and armored, the only ones in the hall who were. They had provided much of the White Brotherhood's might in the recent conflict.
Desmanic was known as an outsider, even among his siblings. The White Brotherhood was the only one of their coalitions that he had ever supported, and then only marginally. He had been the last to commit to the cause-and the first to walk away. He had taken no part in the great battle. He had never taken part in any of the battles of the others, and only once had he even felt the need to fight in his own defense. Generally, he contented himself with a self-imposed exile-as had Carillia. Except for extremely rare visits to the Shining City, such as this one, Desmanic kept his activities and whereabouts concealed from his brothers and sisters.
Maentus the Sage, known as the wisest of the gods, stood alone, closer to the main door than Barreth even, with only one companion. He too had remained aloof from the fighting, as had Sonolorem, who stood now with a few close adherents, all dressed in orange robes. Maentus was the oldest. His days of glory had come and gone, and he showed no displeasure at their passing. The Greek philosophers had been the culmination of his interest in the mortal world. When their sway had weakened, he had retreated to an almost hermit-like existence in his palace in the Citadel. Sonolorem had wandered far afield, to Cathay and India. He was a rare visitor to the halls of the Citadel.
Vilariema, known to the Greeks as Aphrodite and to the Romans as Venus, surrounded herself with sensuous women to emphasize that even the most beautiful of mortal or semi-divine women could not begin to compete with her own bea
uty. When she entered the room, she walked first to the center, to look down on the body of Carillia, long her competitor, as if to reassure herself that Carillia were truly dead. Vilariema had also stood apart from the fighting between the White Brotherhood and the Blue Rose. She delighted in causing feuds, not in fighting them.
Mikel was the last of the gods to enter the room. A half dozen of his children, including Argus, preceded him. More followed along with a large contingent of other demigods and mortals, enough to finally give the room some feeling of being occupied.
The other four surviving gods and goddesses of the original twenty would not be attending this gathering. The lone survivor of the five who had backed the Blue Rose feared to come, in case Mikel and his allies felt like wringing their last bit of vengeance on him. Three others who had taken no part in the fighting would also stand aloof from this final scene of that confrontation.
Beginning with Mikel, the gods spoke. The victory had, temporarily at least, made him preeminent among them. There was little sense of ceremony about any of the speeches. These gods felt little need for ritual among themselves. The remarks were generally brief, and scarcely memorable. They spoke of themselves or of Carillia. They spoke of the others who had died in the great battle just finished: Ornavius, who had also fought for the White Brotherhood; and the four who had died fighting against it. Those other dead had been destroyed so completely that there had been nothing left to hold ceremony over. References to feuding among the brothers and sisters were minimal and veiled. Equally cryptic were remarks about powers higher than their own, about what might almost amount to a religion for these gods. Certainly, they acknowledged some power or force that gave minimal constraints to their activities.
