by Neal Jones
He scrunched his nose thoughtfully, cocked his head, and then nodded. "You look awesome, mother. You look like a lady princess."
She smiled again, patting his shoulders. "Thank you, son. You look like a prince."
"Mom," he said, turning to look up at her. "How come we're not living on the warship with...father?" He stumbled slightly over the last word, still not accustomed to using the familial term with a man he had met for the first time two months ago.
Vatra sat on the edge of her bed and took both her son's hands in hers. "I already explained that, Jharek. It's against military rules to have families on warships."
"But I heard that sometimes people like father can have families if they want. He's a second lovar now."
"Yes, that's true," Vatra admitted. "And, honestly, Jhar, I don't know why he's chosen for us to live on J'Vel Sonri. But it's a lovely world, and you'll have lots more boys your own age to practice Skelperi with."
He smiled, but she could see it was forced. "I guess. A warship would be way more fun, though."
A chime rang softly from the com panel beside the entrance to the bedchamber. Vatra rose to answer it.
"M'lady, it's time. The car is waiting."
"Yes, I will be out in a moment." Vatra turned and held out her hand. "Come, Jharek."
( 2 )
The hovercar glided above the city, its ebony hull glistening in the morning sunlight. Vatra laid back in her seat and looked out the window at the gleaming spires and domes of Gtheldron as they sailed by. The capital city had always been her home, and until today she didn't realize how much she was going to miss it. Gtheldron was the oldest and largest metropolis on homeworld, with a population if nearly ten million. The few times she had been allowed to go with her mother to the market were joyous occasions, for Vatra loved to walk among the crowds, listening to the dissonance of the shopkeepers calling out their wares and the customers haggling with them over prices. Children ran freely in and out amongst the throng, laughing and chattering to one another like swamp birds. Vatra, of course, was royalty, and lady princesses did not behave in such a manner. So she had contented herself with simply watching, soaking in the color and the noise, while always surrounded with a security detail of no less than seven guards, of course.
When she was older, Vatra's education had included field trips to the museum, the aquarium, the arboretums, and other educational sites that were located mostly the in the northwestern districts of the city. Her favorite excursion had been the Museum of Ther'gh when she was twelve. She had gawked for several minutes at the high, vaulted ceilings of the main atrium, the tall, thick marble pillars, and the engraved stone floors. Not even the palace had the grand, ancient architecture of the museum or the Orina'tt Library. Now, passing over the eastern districts, it never ceased to amaze Vatra of the way that the old merged with the new – the thermobrick stacks of apartments in a habitat district next to the gleaming glass and steel towers of a commerce court; the stone and darawood steeples of the Cathedral of Jha'Dar facing the newly remodeled campus of L'loun Omeress University; rows upon rows of square, squat housing units that were over three hundred years old interrupted here and there by the spire of a business tower or a newly constructed shopping center. From high above, the city appeared as a giant mass of steel, wood, stone, chrome and glass – a man-made forest lit here and there by the artificial colors of the advertising screens that streamed commercials to the masses day and night. The hovercar traffic above the city only made it seem even more chaotic, but Vatra had always loved sneaking out of the palace late at night to find a balcony somewhere where she could gaze upon the city and all of its chaotic glory.
The lady princess sighed inwardly as she tried to recall the last time she'd been able to do that – at least ten years, or was it twelve? She shook her head, trying to remember back to a time when every single entrance to the palace had not been so closely guarded and sealed. Thanks to terrorist groups like the Shouk Drigald, the monarchy had become more fearful of its citizens. When she was young, Vatra had been allowed to spend as much time in the gardens of the palace grounds as she wanted, with only a pair of guards to follow at a safe distance. As long as she was inside the high walls that surrounded the palace and the Hexagon, she was safe. Now, not even that was a guarantee of security, not since a disgruntled soldier had found a weakness in the energy grid surrounding the wall and attempted to assassinate Erengaar as he practiced Skelperi one summer afternoon. Lord Emperor Emkai Valayne, Vatra's and Erengaar's late father, had decreed that his children were not allowed outside the palace itself, and that had been the end of Vatra's field trips to the city with her tutors.
Now, being chauffeured to her wedding on the day before she was to leave homeworld indefinitely, Vatra suppressed a surge of anxiety at the thought of leaving her comfort zone, even though her position in the palace had grown more and more precarious in the last year since her father's death. While a part of her was relieved to be leaving the hornet's nest that had become the royal court since Erengaar had ascended the throne, another part of her was going to miss the tumultuous harmony of Gtheldron. There truly was no other city like it in all of the Emperium, and Vatra vowed silently that she would return to the city of her birth someday, even if it took her the rest of her life to make her way back.
Vatra blinked as a soft chime on the wall screen in front of her seat indicated that the hovercar was about to land. She glanced over at Jharek, his face pressed against his window, eagerly looking for the landing port where they would disembark. He'd been that way the entire trip, and it was a testament to his upbringing that he restrained himself from chattering about the grand view of the city as they passed over it. He looked back at his mother and grinned.
"The temple looks really neat from up here, mother!" he exclaimed, his green eyes flashing with boyish delight.
Vatra nodded, smiling. "We should have taken more tours like this, huh?"
"Yeah! That would have been awesome."
The car settled onto the landing pad with a brief jolt, and, beyond the landing port, Vatra could see a large crowd that had gathered to watch the ceremony on the portable screens set up on the grounds outside the temple. The shuttlepad, as well as the walkway leading to the temple a short distance away, was cordoned off and a line of soldiers of the Emperor's Guard stood between her and the disgruntled throng. Vatra was grateful that the mob was relatively small compared to the size of crowd that had appeared for her father's weddings. She wondered if this was another sign of the distaste for the monarchy that had grown steadily in the last three decades, or if it was because of the location. As far as she knew, she was the first royal bride to be married in this temple, and she wasn't sure whom to curse for this decision – Erengaar or R'Daak. Her brother should have been doing everything in his power at this time to curry favor with his people, but instead he was alienating them even further by having his sister's wedding held in the temple of an obscure religion whose followers shunned excess wealth and gaudy displays of power or prosperity.
The hatch opened, and Vatra reached for Jharek's hand as they disembarked. The spectators sent up a cheer as mother and son stepped onto the tarmac, but it was obvious that the sound was forced and artificial. No one dared to openly mock or deride members of the royal court, for one never knew where the eyes and ears of the Talik'Jhor were hidden, but neither would they go beyond the bare minimum required for the occasion. After all, even the Talik'Jhor would not be so ridiculous as to arrest a citizen for not cheering loud enough.
So it was with an awkward grace and poise that Vatra and Jharek proceeded past the crowd and into the plain, gray foyer of the Temple of Sh'allis. Beyond the arched doorway that opened into the wide auditorium she could see that all the seats were filled. At least Erengaar had made sure of that much. The audience was made up entirely of lords and ladies of the royal court. Many of the faces, however, were unfamiliar to Vatra, and she had no doubt that, in order to fill all the seats, her brother ha
d allowed his nobles to invite their extended relatives who had otherwise not been permitted a place in the court.
"Hello, sister," Erengaar said sweetly from behind her. He emerged from a side room, resplendent in his ceremonial suit and baldric. The tiny emeralds in his gilded crown caught the light of the ornamental candles in sconces on either side of the doorway, flashing like miniature suns. Beside him, Larewyn, six months pregnant, beamed at Vatra with smile that anyone else would have thought genuine but didn't fool the lady princess.
"Hello, brother," Vatra replied, bowing. She turned to Larewyn. "Lady empress, you look lovely today."
"As do you," she said with false warmth. "That's a beautiful gown."
"Thank you."
"Filarian silk is so nice, isn't it? Although, in a temple such as this, I feel so silly wearing all this refinement." She fingered the large, gleaming necklace that surrounded her neck.
"Yes, I do feel a little out of place myself," Vatra agreed, glancing pointedly at her brother.
Erengaar laughed, tossing his hand in a dismissive gesture. "My apologies, Vatra. Had I known that Prokal was one of these followers, I might have thought twice about joining you to him."
A movement beyond the doorway caught Vatra's eye, and she turned to see a line of men in gray cloaks with hoods file across the stage at the front of the auditorium. They were wearing masks that appeared to have been carved by hand and were painted dark shades of brown, gray and blue. Each of them wore a medallion of wood with a strange symbol on it around their neck on a leather strap. As soon as the last of them stepped onto the stage, the group began to chant softly in a foreign tongue.
"Well..." Larewyn remarked. "How quaint. Some of kind of chorus?"
"Yes," Vatra replied. "I forget their traditional name, but the masks represent the faces of their souls, of all men's souls. That's why these people don't believe in decorating themselves with jewelry or displays of wealth. It hides the true face of their souls." She glanced again at Erengaar. "A very strange religion, if you ask me."
He merely smiled. "Come, Larewyn. We should be getting to our seats. Jharek, you're going with us as well."
Larewyn took her husband's hand and nodded to Vatra. "Much joy and many blessings to you on this glorious day, lady princess." It was a traditional phrase spoken at union ceremonies, but, of course, Larewyn's tone made the blessing sound trivial and condescending.
Vatra leaned down to kiss her son's forehead. He was scratching at his collar again. "It's all right, Jhar. I don't think this ceremony will be too long, and then you may change before the feast."
He grinned. "Thanks, mother." He left quickly to catch up to his uncle.
The outer door opened and Second Lovar R'Daak stepped into the foyer. He was a tall, authoritative figure, with a distinctly aristocratic profile that reminded Vatra too much of her late father. Fortunately, the military officer bore no physical resemblance to Emkai Valayne. He had a rather narrow face with eyes that seemed a little too close together, a high forehead, and a wide mouth that always seemed drawn into some form of a disapproving frown. His dress uniform made his stern appearance even more striking, and Vatra reminded herself to keep her shoulders squared back and her gaze even with his as he examined her appearance.
"Morning sun, lady princess," R'Daak said stiffly.
"To you as well, second lovar. You look quite...handsome today."
He inclined his head as a way of acknowledgement of her compliment and then held out his hand. "The ceremony will begin as soon as the chorus is finished."
Vatra joined her hand with his, grimacing inwardly at the coldness of his skin, and they faced the arched doorway. A pair of attendants appeared from another side entrance to smooth out and arrange Vatra's train, and they were scarcely finished by the time the chanting ended. Another robed figure ascended the stage and raised his hands, motioning for the audience to rise. The chorus began another chant, and Prokal stepped forward. Vatra matched her steps with his, keeping her gaze straight ahead and it seemed like an eternity before they finally arrived at the altar below the stage.
There was a cushioned bar for them to kneel upon, and they bowed their heads – along with the congregation – while the priest recited a very lengthy prayer. He spoke in the same foreign tongue as the chanters, and Vatra – who had learned to speak four languages fluently by the time she was thirteen – was baffled by the alien words and phrases. Again she cursed her brother and wondered just what the kos't kind of cult he was marrying her into.
When the recitation ended, the audience sat, the union couple rose, and the actual ceremony began. Vatra kept her gaze fixed upon the large, circular symbol carved into the wall above the stage. It was the same symbol on the medallions worn by the chorus, and a fragment of her brief research on this religion floated to the surface of her memory. Sh'allanites believed that a finite number of souls had been released into the physical realm by the goddess Sh'alla at the dawn of time, when the universe was still new. When a person died, their soul was reborn into another body, and when that person died, the cycle repeated itself. Supposedly, through much meditation and prayer, a person could access the memories and experiences of the past lives his or her soul had inhabited, going back hundreds – or even thousands – of years. The symbol that the Sh'allanites had adopted for their beliefs was a circular one, which represented the cycle of infinite reincarnation.
The only part of the ceremony that was conducted in the common tongue was the exchange of vows, and, since this was the only part that required the active participation of the couple, Vatra had researched this part well. A typical Jha'Drok wedding would have the union couple exchanging bracelets – gold for the female, silver for the male. The bracelets were made of thin, woven metal that was spun into an intricate braid to form the slender – yet resilient – hoop. The groom would fasten his bride's bracelet first, and then she would fasten his, which was a bit thicker than her own. Once the bracelets were fastened, it was against custom to remove them except in the death of either spouse, or in the rare instance of the dissolution of the marriage.
The Sh'allanites, of course, would not abide with such an ostentatious display of adornment. Instead of bracelets or some other form of jewelry, a symbol of unity was tattooed on the inside of the left wrist. This was done with a special medical instrument that the priest withdrew from somewhere in the folds of his robe. Vatra held out her wrist, dreading the brief sensation of pain, but she was pleasantly surprised by how little the process actually hurt. It was more a strange tingling feeling that spread up her arm and through her chest. She learned later that a mild anesthesia was administered around the area while the tattoo was being drawn, and it was that drug gave her a comforting, light feeling.
After Prokal received his, he faced his bride and held out his left wrist. Vatra laid her wrist over his, their tattoos touching, and he recited his vows first.
"Vatra Inehl, I take thee unto myself, into my home, under my name. I will honor you, love you, and protect you for as long as we both shall live. I will give thee my bread in times of plenty and of want, care for thee in sickness, and celebrate with thee in health, for as long as we both shall live. Roth'Ni'Asa."
"Prokal R'Daak, I give of myself unto thee, unto your home, under your name. I will honor you, love you, and accept your protection as long as we both shall live. I will partake of thy bread in times of plenty and in times of want, care for thee in sickness, and celebrate with thee in health, for as long as we both shall live. Roth'Ni'Asa."
Now it was the congregations' turn. The priest motioned for everyone to rise and they repeated each phrase after him. "We witness this blessed union in the light of the Goddess Sh'alla. May she bless these souls for this life and all other lives to come. In times of plenty and in times of want, may they always look to her face for light and peace. Her sun is giver of life for the crops, and her rain brings the xofo to harvest. Walk in the light of her being and ye shall always be blessed. Roth'Ni'Asa."
What terrified her more than anything was not knowing what he would be like tonight when they shared a bed. Would his manner be as reserved and stoic as he was in all other things, or was there passion and fire behind his cold mask? Vatra found that analogy amusing, since Prokal was a member of a religious faith that used masks in its ceremonies. From her brief study of the Sh'allanites, she knew that they had a ritual for just about everything, but no mention had been made of the proper rules for sexuality and lovemaking. Truth be told, Vatra hadn't wanted to pursue that line of research for fear of what she would find. Now, just hours away from consummating the marriage, she wished she had done a little more investigating of this ridiculous faith.
The congregation was finished, and the priest motioned for them to sit. Vatra and Prokal returned to their kneeling state and the priest launched into what Vatra assumed was a sermon. It was in the same foreign tongue as earlier, and she sighed inwardly as she stared once more at the giant monolith on the wall behind the chorus. The sedative of the krelian herbs was wearing off, as well as the tingling sensation in her wrist and arm from the tattoo. The latter was being replaced with a dull ache, and Vatra licked her lips, wishing for a glass of cold water.
