by Martin Ash
‘You are aware of the protocol?’ said Quidpin as they passed along the corridor. He phrased the words so that they were simultaneously statement and enquiry.
Sildemund glanced uncertainly at Gully. ‘Er, no.’
‘You will under no circumstances give utterance in the Presence of the Royal Personage,’ said Quidpin. ‘Unless, of course, you are bidden to do so by the Illustrious Majesty, or the Prince or one of the Supreme Haruspices – which is thoroughly unlikely. The Majesty will, it goes without saying, not speak or acknowledge your presence in any way. Such is the Sacred Law. Her thoughts, should she desire their dissemination, will be communicated by the Supreme Haruspices. You will on no account approach the Majesty. You will remain upon your knees in the places allocated to you. When the August Presence enters, you will bow your heads and will not gaze upon her person until bidden to do so. When the audience is done, you will again bow your heads until the Majesty has departed. Is everything understood?’
‘Yes. Quite. Except…’
Quidpin shot him a sidelong stare, indignant and disdainful, as though his requiring more information than had been provided was something quite beyond the bounds of acceptability. Sildemund persisted, nevertheless. ‘I wondered, as it is already evening, what is the reason for this Audience. Surely it cannot have been convened for us alone? Does Queen Lermeone not normally conduct her meetings during the day?’
Quidpin’s lips puckered further, and his eyes narrowed, as if he had sucked upon a particularly bitter lime.
‘Of course The Presence has not been convened for you alone!’ he snapped. ‘Her Beneficent Majesty bestows Her Presence in accordance with the Law. The hour after sunset on the fourteenth day of Salmas is a designated time. Your attendance is not pertinent in any way! Remember that, and do nothing to bring attention to yourselves.’
They passed without further exchange along seemingly endless passages, through arcades and galleries, and came at last to a great bronze double door. A pair of sentries of the Palace Guard, armoured and masked, stood motionless before it. They held ceremonial glaives, beaked and fluked, which were tilted to bar access. Quidpin gave a small gesture of one hand. The guards brought their weapons erect. Quidpin stepped forward and pushed upon the doors, which swung slowly inwards, making no sound.
They entered a spacious hall of no little magnificence, set with rows of velvet-padded mats arrayed in precise rows across a floor of grey-and-white mosaic. Occupying the front rows were half a dozen or so persons, kneeling upon the mats, garbed in the same white attire as Sildemund and Gully.
Beyond them was a low, wide dais. A second, smaller dais rested upon this, a little way back, where a throne of Barulian whitewood was positioned, intricately carved and inlaid with precious gems. On the floor immediately in front of the throne was a complexly segmented circular design in red, blue and black, figured with glyphs and symbols. Brightly-coloured standards were ranged along the rear of the double dais. Along the walls at the sides of the dais Palace Guards stood at semi-rest.
Sildemund spotted Prince Enlos talking with a man in white and a masked officer at the front of the hall. Quidpin began to lead Sildemund and Gully to one side, but Enlos saw them and beckoned. He strode forward to greet them, and addressed them in hushed tones. ‘Be seated here, a short way back. Has the Under-Assistant instructed you in the protocol? Good. Did you by any chance bring the red stone with you?
Sildemund nodded with sudden anxiety. Why had he brought it? Was he in breach of the rules?
But Enlos was pleased. ‘It may interest the Queen.’
He was gone. Sildemund and Gully self-consciously took their places. The others in the hall were plainly dignitaries or city or palace officials. The two felt out of place. Quidpin was nowhere to be seen.
Prince Enlos took up a position on the first tier of the dais, kneeling on a mat and facing the throne. A few moments passed. Hurried whispers passed between those kneeling on the mats, then a pair of heralds marched forward from the rear of the dais. Each held a long, spiralled horn, hung with the Darch royal standard. They tipped horns to lips and blew out a shrill fanfare.
The guards snapped to attention. The dignitaries in the front rows placed their hands flat upon the floor before them and inclined their heads and torsos. Sildemund and Gully did likewise, though Sildemund could not resist guiltily raising his eyes.
From one side of the dais he observed two men enter in long purple robes and high conical blue hats with pendent, fringed earflaps. They walked reverently towards the throne. Each held in his hands a shallow wicker bowl.
The two seated themselves, one on each side and a little in front of the throne. They placed their bowls beside them at the edge of the circular floor design. These two were the Supreme Haruspices, highly-schooled mystic priests whose role was to interpret the thoughts of their mute sovereign, Queen Lermeone. The wicker bowls contained petals of rare gentian and crimson hesperis flowers, the agents by means of which the Queen and her Haruspices communicated. Long ago, in more barbarous times, the bowls would have contained the entrails of sacrificial victims. Over centuries, the guts of animals had gradually come to supersede those of humans, and these in turn were eventually replaced by alternative agents. Later refinements resulted in the more recent introduction of petals, the use of which had endured for longer than any living person could remember.
Under-Assistants came forward on their knees, bringing small wooden trays holding quills, ink, a soft-bristled hand-brush and sheets of vellum. These they placed upon the floor beside the Supreme Haruspices, then withdrew.
‘All hail the Queen!’ announced a herald, loudly.
Absolute hush descended. Queen Lermeone entered, tall and erect, clothed in a long gown of pure grey broadcloth. Her age was about fifty years. Her hair was grey, bunched at the neck. Her face held an expression of regal impassivity, the mouth set, downturned at the corners. The jewelled Darch crown was upon her head. The only sound was the slow swish of her heavy gown sliding on the floor as she approached the throne and seated herself.
The heralds, bowing low, now departed the dais and the members of the audience knelt erect. One of the Haruspices spoke, ‘Our Gracious Queen is here to benefit those assembled with Her Presence, in the name of the common good and the sacred heritage of our beloved nation, noble Darch. Bring forth your petitions, that Her August Majesty may apply sage wisdom to your concerns.’
An Under-Assistant moved on his knees to the fore of the lower dais. One of the half dozen white-clad men at the front of the hall rose, bowed deeply, and approached the dais. In his hand he held a rolled manuscript bound with blue satin ribbon. This he passed into the hands of the Under-Assistant.
The Under-Assistant, on his knees, rotated and made his way to the edge of the second dais. From here he was able to hand the manuscript to one of the Haruspices. The Haruspex untied the ribbon, unfurled the manuscript and examined its contents in silence. He then passed it to the second Haruspex, who likewise scanned it, then turned and gave it into Queen Lermeone’s hands. The Queen read it in silence then placed it upon her lap and gave a nod.
The first Haruspex raised his basket so that Queen Lermeone might dip her pale hand into it. She drew forth a cluster of gentian petals, inclined her body forward and gently tossed them so that the petals fell upon the segmented circle of the floor before her. Now the second basket was proffered. The Queen took hesperis petals and repeated the process. She sat back, unmoving. The two Haruspices leaned over the petals, intently studying the pattern of their fall upon the circle. Their scrutiny lasted two or three minutes, during which time they each took a quill and a sheet of vellum and hastily scratched notes.
With a nod they signalled to each other that they were done. Each took up his brush and, with studied, ritual motions, swept the petals from the circle. They put aside their instruments and sat erect once more. An Under-Assistant came forward with a short-handled, broad-headed besom and brushed the petals fully away from the
circle.
The first Haruspex spoke. ‘Your petition has been accepted. Her Majesty has viewed it and communicated her verdict in full and proper observation of the Sacred Law. Her official answer will be delivered to you tomorrow, in writing, signed and certified with the Royal Seal.’
The petitioner before the dais bowed low once more. He took three steps back and departed the hall.
This process was repeated with the remaining persons assembled at the front of the hall, four men and two women. Each was received and dealt with in like manner. The ritual took a little under an hour in all, and throughout that time not a word was spoken by the Queen. Sildemund’s legs, confined in the kneeling position, grew increasingly painful. He longed to stretch them but dared not for fear of breaching protocol.
At last all was done. The petitioners had gone, leaving only Sildemund and Gully as audience. Now Prince Enlos spoke.
‘Mother, my Queen, I beg your ear.’
Queen Lermeone settled sombre grey eyes upon him and gave a stately nod. Her face showed no expression, though Enlos’s tone and term of address had eased the formality of the proceedings a little.
‘Mother, I mentioned to you yesterday that I had renewed acquaintance with an old friend. Do you recall Gully, Radath Gully, who fought so bravely at my side and helped save my life during The Treachery?’
A small furrow formed fleetingly on the Queen’s brow, then was gone. A lightness came to her features. She gave another brief nod.
‘Two days ago fortune brought Radath Gully and I together again. He has returned with me to Dharsoul. He is here now, with a companion. I would present him to you, if that is your will.’
Again the slight nod. Prince Enlos turned to Gully. ‘Gully, my friend, come forward please!’
Gully rose, stiff and awkward. He made his way towards the first dais and bent before the Queen.
Lermeone surveyed him for long moments. Her eyes held a glow and it seemed that the tightness at the corners of her mouth had gone, so that the lips no longer drooped. Indeed, she almost smiled.
The two Haruspices, eyeing Gully, turned to regard the Queen. They lifted their wicker bowls. Queen Lermeone took petals from each and let them fall upon the circle. The Haruspices bent over them, nodded to one another, and carefully brushed them away. The first spoke.
‘Radath Gully, Her Beneficent Majesty expresses her extreme happiness at setting eyes once more upon the man who saved the life of her only son and heir to the Darch throne.’
Gully shifted uncomfortably. He glanced nervously from the Queen to Prince Enlos, then to the two Haruspices. Prince Enlos spoke up. ‘I think Gully wishes to speak.’
Queen Lermeone gave a nod of acceptance. In a halting voice Gully said, ‘Your Majesty, I am greatly honoured to be in Your Presence again. But I am unworthy of your praise. I did what any loyal soldier would have done, and no more.’
‘Ah, Gully, you understate the case,’ Prince Enlos chided gently. ‘You greatly imperilled your own life to preserve mine. Lesser men would have deserted. Many would have been pleased to hand me to the enemy to save their own skins. You stayed at my side and fought on, with but a handful of others, even though death seemed your most likely end.’
‘Death is unquestionably my end, sire, as he is everyone’s,’ Gully replied, discovering boldness in levity. ‘But on that day he was before his time and was sent home empty-handed.’
‘Ha! That’s how it was, Gully! You’re right, that’s how it was! We beat him, Old Master Death, did we not?’
Prince Enlos laughed. He ushered Gully back, not to his place beside Sildemund, but to the first row of padded mats where the petitioners had formerly knelt. Then he spoke again to the Queen. ‘If I may, I would introduce Radath Gully’s companion, Mother. A young man, Master Sildemund Frano, from Volm. He has something I would like you to see. I and others are intrigued by it.’
Queen Lermeone gave her imperious nod. Enlos signalled Sildemund forward. Sildemund rose, his heart in his mouth. His legs were numb from kneeling; he was barely able to walk. Keeping a tight grip on his satchel he somehow made his way to the dais and performed an awkward bow.
Prince Enlos spoke a few more brief words of introduction, then: ‘Master Sildemund, will you allow us to see the stone?’
‘Of course, sire.’ Sildemund took the bound stone from the satchel. He held it out, uncertain to whom it should be proffered. ‘Your Majesty.’
An Under-Assistant advanced on his knees across the dais. He took the bundle and kneel-walked towards the second dais. He laid the stone upon the floor before Queen Lermeone and the two Haruspices. At a signal from the Haruspices he unbound the cloth. The stone was revealed, large, purple-red, with its dark shadows and yellow-white filaments.
The Haruspices inclined their upper torsos forward to inspect the stone. At the same time there came a queer sound from above them. All eyes turned to the Queen, for she had pushed herself up and back, half out of the throne. Her face was a shocking sight. It was contorted into a fearful grimace, her mouth open, lips trembling, her eyes transfixed by the sight of the exposed stone. That she should show emotion was profound and disturbing in itself. That her reactions should be so uncontrolled and forceful was unexpected beyond belief.
But worse was to come.
Shuddering, the Queen raised a finger and pointed at the stone, still pressing herself back as if repulsed by it.
And then she spoke.
From the mouth of Darch’s Silent Queen, whose voice had never been heard in public, came words, strangled and hoarse, delivered in a near-hysterical tone: ‘It is the Heart! You have brought the Heart of Shadows!’
XII
For long moments nobody reacted. The event was unprecedented. Even the rigidly disciplined Palace Guards were seen to shift uneasily, casting troubled glances from behind their masks.
Stunned silence reigned, until Enlos leapt suddenly to his feet and barked an order: ‘Clear the Hall!’
Instantly four guards dashed forward and seized Sildemund and Gully by the arms, marching them briskly from the Hall of Receiving. Outside, they released their grip but stood tensely, and Sildemund understood that he was not free to walk away.
An officer appeared, tautly polite. ‘You will be escorted back to your chambers.’
Two guards accompanied them through the Palace to their apartment. Sildemund wanted to ask questions, was bursting to do so, but the guards’ presence was inhibiting.
The Queen had spoken!
The stone!
What was it? What had happened back there?
Sildemund’s thoughts whirled hectically inside his head. The moment they re-entered their rooms and the door was slammed shut behind them he wheeled on Gully. ‘What’s going on, Gully? What does this mean?’
Gully ran his hands through his long fair hair and thrust himself down onto a seat, shaking his head. ‘More than I’m able to contemplate just now.’
‘Is it of such great consequence that Queen Lermeone spoke, publicly?’
‘It is.’
‘The Law forbids her from ever voicing her thoughts?’
‘That is it.’
‘It struck me back there in the Hall, Gully, that if the Queen may not speak, nor even physically demonstrate her opinion in any way, but is wholly reliant on the Haruspices interpretations of her thoughts via the patterns formed by the petals on the circle… if that’s the case, what would happen were the Haruspices to misinterpret her thoughts, by error, misreading or even dishonesty? She’s powerless to refute them, isn’t she?’
‘That’s a sacrilegious thought, Sil.’
‘But it’s true, isn’t it! Queen Lermeone is our sovereign, yet it’s the Haruspices who speak her mind.’
‘Maybe so, but just now that’s the least of our worries.’
Sildemund gave a start. ‘Gully, I’ve left the stone. In the confusion I forgot all about it.’
‘Damn the stone!’ Gully snapped, standing suddenly.
&nb
sp; Sildemund was absorbed in his thoughts. ‘She knew it, Gully. Queen Lermeone knew the stone. She called it the Heart of Shadows. Do you know that name?’
Gully stepped forward, his features tense, and grasped Sildemund by the shoulders. He shook him fiercely. ‘Sildemund, you have not taken in what has happened here tonight! Think, lad! The Queen spoke! What does that mean?’
Sildemund stared at him, nonplussed. ‘The Law – the Sacrosanct Law forbids her to speak in public.’
‘Yes, upon pain of death!’
‘Death?’
‘That is the mandatory penalty.’
‘For the Queen? No, surely that can’t be. They wouldn’t execute her, would they? For those few words?’
Gully gave a great, exasperated sigh. ‘Sil, you still haven’t grasped it, have you?’
‘What, Gully? What are you saying?’
‘The Silent Queen spoke, aye. And for that she faces death. But who was there? Who witnessed her words?’
Sildemund shrugged. ‘Prince Enlos, the Palace Guards, the two Haruspices, a couple of Under-Assistants…’
‘And who else?’
‘There were no others, besides us.’
‘Precisely! Us!’
Sildemund shook his head in perplexity. ‘I don’t follow you, Gully. What’re you saying?’
‘I am saying this: if it is known that the Queen has spoken in public, her life will be forfeit. That is the Law. If it is known!’
‘So providing none of us who were present ever speak of this incident, her life will be spared?’
Gully gave a cynical laugh. ‘Sil, you have the body of a man but you view the world with the eyes of a child. Listen again: if it is known that she has spoken, she will die. But do you think that the powers that rule Darch will allow that to happen if there is a means to avoid it? No! Of course not! They will instead take the necessary steps to ensure it can never be known.’
