Lords of Rainbow (26 page)

By “minion,” Deileala had meant Ranhé. Both Elasand and Ranhé chose to ignore her meaning, and Ranhé in fact took a minuscule step even farther behind his back.

Elasand was furious with this turn of events, but responded in a calm voice, “Very well, I shall inform Beis of their honor personally.”

He was well aware that this turn of events was a means of buying time for the Grelias. They were desperate enough to implement absurd delay tactics, stalling before the ominous unknown, and he had to grudgingly agree that it was reasonable under the circumstances. Everyone was playing a game, the end goal of which was the indefinite postponement of the truth of what Lord Vorn represented. But then, this had always been the way of the Grelias and their Court—ridiculous convoluted cowardice, and underneath, impotence.

But in the Regentrix, it was something else, for she was no coward, ever. “Well,” Deileala said, turning her gaze back to the dark Lord Vorn. “Is there anything else you want to convey that your
Feale
would like us to know?”

If such a thing was possible, then Lord Vorn cringed at the sound of the name “Feale” spoken with such lightness.

“
No, O lady,” he responded, however, his low voice calling forth a hiss-echo from the stones of the chamber, “I am merely his emissary, and come before him to make way.”

“
Enough said, lord,” said Deileala, staring at him insolently. “You are beginning to repeat yourself. You will attend the Wedding tomorrow as our Guest, for we want the emissary to enjoy himself as much as the one who will come after.”

Few read the irony in her words, but Vorn was one.

And only a few of those present noticed the thin, terrible smile forming on his dark stone mouth.

From a few feet away, the man with sun-hair noticed that smile.

“
Beautiful one,” said Lord Vorn irreverently to Deileala, without using her title, and boring into her eyes with a gaze of intensity and darkness. “This emissary will attend your Wedding feast tomorrow, and will enjoy himself more than you think.”

And with that and a short nod of the head to her only, he turned, never again acknowledging Hestiam, not waiting for a dismissal, and left the chamber, followed by his two dark silent guards.

“
Well!” said Deileala. “The insolence!”

Everyone in the chamber took a big breath of relief, while Hestiam urged Chancellor Lirr after the departed. “Go in haste!” whispered the Regent, rubbing his beard nervously, and not caring that others saw him thus. “Go, and don’t let him out of your sight! Show him the sights of the City, make any excuse to accompany him and keep him busy, and if all else fails, be his shadow and watch him.”

Designated thus to be an involuntary buffoon, Chancellor Lirr hurried away in pursuit.

“
Hestiam, now that I consider it, no need for such extreme drama. Let the man be; after all, he will not go far. No one will mistake someone of such unusual size and—darkness.”

Grelias threw a vague look of fear at his sister, before turning to Elasand and the other ministers that were present. “So? Do you think it went—well?” he inquired.

“
I suppose well, for the moment, Your Grace,” said the Minister General, Raelin Barsadt, watching with consternation the face of the Regent grow infantile in fear.

What a strange turn of events. Barsadt, like all the others, had come here to marginally support the Regent, full of unresolved grievances against him. They were all this way, filled with complaints and ideas of the Guilds Council, ready to plunge into the everyday City politics. But now—as of this morning all grievances aside, they were finding themselves fellow conspirators with this weak man who stood as the last insecure bastion of City unity against a quickly approaching unknown.

“
All shall be well,” said Elasand meanwhile, his optimism appearing insincere to himself at least, but it was enough to again allow the Regent his self-delusion.

Hestiam took him by the sleeve in a familiar gesture, drawing Elasand closer to him, and then again spoke in a near-whisper, “Elasand-re, I am sorry to have complicated things by involving your kinswoman’s Wedding, but you must understand why we did this, why—”

“
It is all right, I do understand,” said Elasand, pitying the man, though not half so charitable toward his sister.

Elasand decided not to bring up after all a certain matter that he had planned to mention, choosing to postpone the discussion of the Guilds Council. Instead he said, “I will now go inform my kin of the change in Wedding plans, and of the honor bestowed upon them. In the meantime, Your Grace, this Vorn shall be watched closely.”

“
I trust you, Elasand-re,” repeated the Regent again, in his wake. “Remember, I trust you, that is why I do what I do.”

Elasand bowed, and made his way out of the chamber, with Ranhé following—silent and self-effacing a few steps behind.

“
Wait!” came a demanding female voice.

And before they crossed the room, Deileala was at his side, running practically, and taking him by the elbow. “I’ll walk with you, Elasand-re,” she whispered, looking up at him, the pupils of her eyes swelling with an odd receptiveness.

She ignored Ranhé as though the other were a column. At the exit, just as they entered the marble corridor, the Regentrix drew Elasand into a small shadowy niche which housed a pale statue.

Here, as Ranhé watched wide-eyed from only a couple of steps away, the Regentrix drew up her arms, and placed her fingers around the tall man’s neck, brushing away the long midnight hair, and drawing him down to her face, so that their shape mingled in the twilight of the alcove into one hazy form of monochrome.

There was a feeling like stones grinding slowly. Like marble coming to lie on her diaphragm, as Ranhé watched the momentary embrace. At that instant she too was a statue, a stone basilisk.

But a heartbeat later, Elasand drew away. His voice carried clear to Ranhé as he said, “I am afraid I cannot—my lady.”

And something—a demon maybe—made Ranhé draw forward, and stop being his invisible shadow for one instant, in order to say, “Begging pardon, but we must be on our way, Lord Vaeste! Come!”

“
What’s this?” spoke Deileala, as for the first time she glanced toward Ranhé and deigned to notice, “Who is this? How dare you?”

“
It is merely a loyal retainer of mine, Your Grace,” said Elasand gently, throwing an unreadable look at Ranhé. “And my retainer is right, I must be on my way.”

And Ranhé lowered her head in a bow, cast her gaze to the ground, remaining vague and androgynous, and repeated softly, “I beg pardon, Your Grace.”

Deileala looked at her, longer than before, and then said, “You are a woman. What are you? Why do you dress like a man?”

Ranhé slowly raised her eyes and gazed down at the Regentrix, who was impossibly shorter than her. Deileala was startled for the second time this day to see eyes of strange intensity meeting her own.

“
It is very perceptive of Your Grace,” said the tall masculine woman with the intense eyes. “But I remain a woman to your knowledge only. In truth, I am a man-servant before the Lord Vaeste, here to do his bidding, and to be his shield.”

Deileala turned to Elasand. “Are you in danger from someone, Elasand-re?” she whispered. “I had no idea. Is that the reason for such an unusual bodyguard?”

It was no use pretending with the Regentrix.

“
Unfortunately, there is such a need,” admitted Elasand grudgingly. “There have been—attempts upon my person.”

“
How terrible, Elasand-re! Would you like me to grant you extra bodyguards out of my own elite?”

Elasand smiled. “I thank you, but this one is quite adequate. She had protected my life twice already, and is always at my side. But, enough said! Truth is, I must be on my way to perform a number of important tasks, none of which can wait. Your Grace must therefore excuse me.”

He bowed to Deileala shortly, and headed with determination toward the corridor. Ranhé glanced back once only, bowing also before the Regentrix.

And in doing that, she caught Deileala in an odd expression.

T
hey had arrived at the Beis Villa within the half-hour, and found the household in an uproar. Apparently, a number of Wedding “gifts” from the Grelias had preceded them. Dame Molhveth Beis found her residence inundated with inexplicable luxurious objects and people, none of which could offer her a better explanation than the fact that they had been sent here by Their Graces the Regents, and were to assist with the preparations for the Wedding
tomorrow
.

Dame Beis stood in the middle of her Guest hall, holding her head, when Elasand finally entered the room. Upon seeing him, the older woman wailed in relief.

“
Elas, my boy! What’s all this, what is going on? Why are all these people here, claiming the Regents sent them? What are they talking about? Why do they speak of my daughter’s Wedding as though it is to take place tomorrow?”

“
Because it is,” said Elasand, taking his aunt’s hand. And then in a calm voice he proceeded to explain all that happened, meanwhile seeing a dozen expressions pass over the dame’s face—shock, trepidation, and even an excitement of sorts.

“
Gracious!” she exclaimed finally, nearly tripping over a bolt of fine silk. “It is such a strange honor, indeed! But how wonderful of the Regentrix to offer all of this to Lixa—and why? What have the Beis done to deserve this?”

Elasand said nothing to that, not wanting to point out that this was not exactly a royal favor, rather they were presenting the Grelias with a political advantage.

At that point, Lixa came downstairs, trailed by half a dozen seamstresses. Her eyes were ambivalent. “Is it really true, cousin?” she said softly. “I am to be wed tomorrow?”

“
Ah damn!” exclaimed Elas then, not seeing the intensity of his cousin’s expression. “I must hurry and speak to Daqua, for he doesn’t know any of this either!”

At which, Dame Beis once more went into a great panic, beginning to run about, while Lixa remained like a statue at the foot of the stairs.

Ranhé followed Elas out the door, leaving this madhouse behind on their way to the Daqua estate, and blinking at the gray brightness of the day outside.

The rest of the day promised to be devoted exclusively to frenzy, but hardly the kind that anyone could truly desire.

CHAPTER 10

S
oon, the first breath of dawn would settle like vapor over the City of Dreams. But for the moment, all was darkness.

In the Sacred Quarter of the City, gray torchlight filled the predawn hours with a thousand silver eyes, as the Ten aristocratic Families came to witness a Wedding in the Temple of Eroh.

At the same time, discreet crowds were forming outside the Temple, for others came to witness a brawl.

“
Come, wager!” insolent voices periodically called from the outside. “Place your wager on the Ten and see which Family will draw first blood!”

The streets of the Quarter were alive with such cries. Urchins went running with wager baskets rapidly filling with coin as more onlookers gathered to place their bets. For never had there been a public coming together of all the Noble Ten which did not end with tragedy.

Eroh was a gentle deity, the goddess of Love and Intimate Eyes, and her Temple was smaller and less imposing than any other in the pantheon. The walls of the Temple were formed of precisely cut sections of veined marble, polished to shine like ebony mirrors. They reflected the gray torchlight and the fiery jewels of the nobility rather than the slender pale statue of the goddess—twice life-size—that shyly graced, in a niche, the northern wall.

The eyes of Eroh were rare twin opals, shaped exquisitely to mimic a woman’s soft expression during the act of love. Eroh’s face was pale marble, except for the eyelids, brows and lips, which were burning monochrome gold, and her headdress of twisted gold braid. Underneath the stone folds of clothing, Eroh’s body was voluptuous, with lightly outstretched hands. The stone drapery was arranged so that her protruding breasts and navel were left nude. The breasts were fertile, perfect hemispheres and their pointed tips were also polished metal. In her navel rested a blossom with a dark oblique jewel set in its core. The jewel appeared to consume light only, and reflected back nothing, like a stone womb.

The Regent Grelias had ordered his whole Court to witness the ceremony of joining between Beis and Daqua.

All of
Dirvan
was here, each man or woman holding a small candle or a torch, and in the center, on the first stair of three before the statue of the goddess was a lit tripod. Before the tripod, on the second stair, with his back to the crowd, stood the priest, Preinad Olvan. His head was raised to the goddess, and he remained as yet silent.

On the third, lowest stair, at the left hand of the goddess, shimmered a pale heavily veiled shape of a woman, and at her right hand, a dark form of a man.

And before the Bride and Groom, in a semicircle, stood their Families.

The Grelias brother and sister sat along the west wall in the two regal Chairs. Next to Deileala, in a lesser seat, was a young pale boy, the Grelias Heir. And alongside the Regent himself sat a tall giant, strange and dark as night.