The Complete Tamuli Trilogy: Domes of Fire, The Shining Ones, The Hidden City

Then Fontan and Oscagne arrived with the tallest man Sparhawk had ever seen. They introduced him as Atan Engessa. The word ‘Atan’ appeared to be not only the name of the people, but some kind of title as well. Engessa was well over seven feet tall, and the room seemed to shrink as he entered. His age, probably because of his race, was indeterminate. He was lean and muscular, and his expression sternly unyielding. His face showed no evidence that he had ever smiled.

Immediately upon his entrance into the room, he went directly to Mirtai, as if none of the rest of them were even in the room. He touched the fingertips of both hands to his steel-armoured chest and inclined his head to her. ‘Atana Mirtai,’ he greeted her respectfully.

‘Atan Engessa,’ she replied, duplicating his gesture of greeting. Then they spoke to each other at some length in the Tamul tongue.

‘What are they saying?’ Ehlana asked Oscagne, who had crossed to where they all stood.

‘It’s a ritual of greeting, your Majesty,’ Oscagne replied. ‘There are a great many formalities involved when Atans meet. The rituals help to hold down the bloodshed, I believe. At the moment, Engessa’s questioning Mirtai concerning her status as a child – the silver headband, you understand. It’s an indication that she hasn’t yet gone through the Rite of Passage.’ He stopped and listened for a moment as Mirtai spoke. ‘She’s explaining that she’s been separated from humans since childhood and hasn’t had the opportunity to participate in the ritual as yet.’

‘Separated from humans?’ Ehlana objected. ‘What does she think we are?’

‘Atans believe that they are the only humans in the world. I’m not sure exactly what they consider us to be.’ The ambassador blinked. ‘Has she really killed that many people?’ he asked with some surprise.

‘Ten?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘She said thirty-four.’

‘That’s impossible!’ Ehlana exclaimed. ‘She’s been a member of my court for the past seven years. I’d have known if she’d killed anyone while she was in my service.’

‘Not if she did it at night, you wouldn’t, my Queen,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘She locks us in our rooms every night. She says that it’s for our own protection, but maybe it’s really so that she can go out looking for entertainment. Maybe we should change the procedure when we get home. Let’s start locking her up for the night instead of the other way around.’

‘She’ll just kick the door down, Sparhawk.’

‘That’s true, I suppose. We could always chain her to the wall at night I guess.’

‘Sparhawk!’ Ehlana exclaimed.

‘We can talk about it later. Here comes Fontan and General Engessa.’

‘Atan Engessa, Sparhawk,’ Oscagne corrected. ‘Engessa wouldn’t even recognise the title of general. He’s a warrior – an “Atan”. That’s all the title he seems to need. If you call him “General”, you’ll insult him, and that’s not a good idea.’

Engessa had a deep, quiet voice, and he spoke the Elenic language haltingly and with an exotic accent. He carefully repeated each of their names when Fontan introduced them, obviously committing them to memory. He accepted Ehlana’s status without question, although the concept of a queen must have been alien to him. He recognised Sparhawk and the other knights as warriors, and respected them as such. The status of Patriarch Emban, Talen, Stragen and Baroness Melidere obviously baffled him. He greeted Kring, however, with the customary Peloi salute. ‘Atana Mirtai advises me that you seek marriage with her,’ he said.

‘That’s right,’ Kring replied a bit pugnaciously. ‘Have you any objections?’

‘That depends. How many have you killed?’

‘More than I can conveniently count.’

‘That could mean two things. Either you have slain many, or you have a poor head for figures.’

‘I can count past two hundred,’ Kring declared.

‘A respectable number. You are Domi among your people?’

‘I am.’

‘Who cut your head?’ Engessa pointed at the scars on Kring’s scalp and face.

‘A friend. We were discussing each others’ qualifications for leadership.’

‘Why did you let him cut you?’

‘I was busy. I had my sabre in his belly at the time, and I was probing around for various things inside him.’

‘Your scars are honourable then. I respect them. Was he a good friend?’

Kring nodded. ‘The best. We were like brothers.’

‘You spared him the inconvenience of growing old.’

‘I did that, all right. He never got a day older.’

‘I take no exception to your suit of Atana Mirtai,’ Engessa told him. ‘She is a child with no family. As the first adult Atan she has met, it is my responsibility to serve as her father. Have you an Oma?’

‘Sparhawk serves as my Oma.’

‘Send him to me, and he and I will discuss the matter. May I call you friend, Domi?’

‘I would be honoured, Atan. May I also call you friend?’

‘I also would be honoured, friend Kring. Hopefully, your Oma and I will be able to arrange the day when you and Atana Mirtai will be branded.’

‘May God speed the day, friend Engessa.’

‘I feel as if I’ve just witnessed something from the dark ages,’ Kalten whispered to Sparhawk. ‘What do you think would have happened if they’d taken a dislike to each other?’

‘It probably would have been messy.’

‘When do you want to leave, Ehlana, Queen of Elenia?’ Engessa asked.

Ehlana looked at her friends questioningly. ‘Tomorrow?’ she suggested.

‘You should not ask, Ehlana-Queen,’ Engessa reprimanded her firmly. ‘Command. If any object, have Sparhawk-Champion kill them.’

‘We’ve been trying to cut back on that, Atan Engessa,’ she said. ‘It’s always so hard on the carpeting.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I knew there was a reason. Tomorrow then?’

‘Tomorrow, Engessa.’

‘I will await you at first light, Ehlana-Queen.’ And he turned on his heel and marched from the room.

‘Abrupt sort of fellow, isn’t he?’ Stragen noted.

‘He doesn’t waste any words,’ Tynian agreed.

‘A word with you, Sparhawk?’ Kring said.

‘Of course.’

‘You will serve as my Oma, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Don’t pledge too many horses.’ Kring frowned. ‘What did he mean when he was talking about branding?’

Sparhawk suddenly remembered. ‘It’s an Atan wedding custom. During the ceremony the happy couple is branded. Each wears the mark of the other.’

‘Branded?’

‘So I understand.’

‘What if a couple doesn’t get along?’

‘I imagine they cross out the brand.’

‘How do you cross out a brand?’

‘Probably with a hot iron. Are you still bent on marriage, Kring?’

‘Find out where the brand goes, Sparhawk. I’ll know better once I have that information.’

‘I gather there are places where you’d rather not be branded?’

‘Oh, yes. There are definitely places, Sparhawk.’

They left Darsas at first light the following morning and rode eastward toward Pela on the steppes of central Astel. The Atans enclosed the column, loping easily to match the speed of the horses. Sparhawk’s concerns about the safety of his queen diminished noticeably. Mirtai had very briefly – even peremptorily – advised her owner that she would travel with her countrymen. She did not precisely ask. A rather peculiar change had come over the golden giantess. That wary tension which had always characterised her seemed to have vanished. ‘I can’t exactly put my finger on it,’ Ehlana confessed about mid-morning when they were discussing it. ‘She just doesn’t seem quite the same.’

‘She isn’t, your Majesty,’ Stragen told her. ‘She’s come home, that’s all. Not only that, the presence of adults allows her to take her natural place in her own society. She’s still a child – in her own eyes at least. She’s never talked about her childhood, but I gather it wasn’t a time filled with happiness and security. Something happened to her parents, and she was sold into slavery.’

‘All of her people are slaves, Milord Stragen,’ Melidere objected.

‘There are different kinds of slavery, Baroness. The slavery of the Atan race by the Tamuls is institutionalised. Mirtai’s is personal. She was taken as a child, enslaved and then forced to take her own steps to protect herself. Now that she’s back among the Atans, she’s able to recapture some sense of her childhood.’ He made a wry face. ‘I never had that opportunity, of course. I was born into a different kind of slavery, and killing my father didn’t really liberate me.’

‘You concern yourself overmuch about that, Milord Stragen,’ Melidere told him. ‘You really shouldn’t make the issue of your unauthorised conception the central fact of your whole existence, you know. There are much more important things in life.’

Stragen looked at her sharply, then laughed, his expression a bit sheepish. ‘Do I really seem so self-pitying to you, Baroness?’

‘No, not really, but you always insist on bringing it up. Don’t worry at it so much, Milord. It doesn’t make any difference to the rest of us, so why brood about it?’

‘You, see, Sparhawk,’ Stragen said. ‘That’s exactly what I meant about this girl. She’s the most dishonest person I’ve ever known.’

‘Milord Stragen!’ Melidere protested.

‘But you are, my dear Baroness,’ Stragen grinned. ‘You don’t lie with your mouth, you lie with your entire person. You pose as someone whose head is filled with air, and then you puncture a façade I’ve spent a lifetime building with one single observation. “Unauthorised conception” indeed. You’ve managed to trivialise the central tragedy of my entire life.’

‘Can you ever forgive me?’ Her eyes were wide and dishonestly innocent.

‘I give up,’ he said, throwing his hands in the air in mock surrender. ’Where was I? Oh yes, Mirtai’s apparent change of personality. I think the Rite of Passage among the Atans is very significant to them, and that’s another reason our beloved little giantess is reverting to the social equivalent of baby-talk. Engessa’s obviously going to put her through the rite when we reach her homeland, so she’s enjoying the last few days of childhood to the hilt.’

‘Can I ride with you, Father?’ Danae asked.

‘If you wish.’

The little princess rose from her seat in the carriage, handed Rollo to Alean and Mmrr to Baroness Melidere and held out her hands to Sparhawk.

He lifted her to her usual seat in front of his saddle.

‘Take me for a ride, Father,’ she coaxed in her most little-girl tone.

‘We’ll be back in a bit,’ Sparhawk told his wife and cantered away from the carriage.

‘Stragen can be so tedious at times,’ Danae said tartly. ‘I’m glad Melidere’s the one who’s going to have to modify him.’

‘What?’ Sparhawk was startled.

‘Where are your eyes, father?’

‘I wasn’t actually looking. Do they really feel that way about each other?’

‘She does. She’ll let him know how he feels when she’s ready. What happened in Darsas?’

Sparhawk wrestled with his conscience a bit at that point. ‘Would you say that you’re a religious personage?’ he asked carefully.

‘That’s a novel way to put it.’

‘Just answer the question, Danae. Are you or are you not affiliated with a religion?’

‘Well, of course I am, Sparhawk. I’m the focus of a religion.’

‘Then in a general sort of way, you could be defined as a clergyman – uh – person?’

‘What are you getting at, Sparhawk?’

‘Just say yes, Danae. I’m tiptoeing around the edges of violating an oath, and I need a technical excuse for it.’

‘I give up. Yes, technically you could call me a church personage – it’s a different church, of course, but the definition still fits.’

‘Thank you. I swore not to reveal this except to another clergyman – personage. You’re a clergyperson, so I can tell you.’

‘That’s sheer sophistry, Sparhawk.’

‘I know, but it gets me off the hook. Baron Kotyk’s brother-in-law, Elron, is Sabre.’ He gave her a suspicious look. ‘Have you been tampering again?’

‘Me?’

‘You’re starting to stretch the potentials of coincidence a bit, Danae,’ he said. ‘You knew what I just told you all along, didn’t you?’

‘Not the details, no. What you call “omniscience” is a human concept. It was dreamed up to make people think that they couldn’t get away with anything. I get hints – little flashes of things, that’s all. I knew there was something significant in Kotyk’s house, and I knew that if you and the others listened carefully, you’d hear about it.’

‘It’s like intuition then?’

‘That’s a very good word for it, Sparhawk. Ours is a little more developed than yours, and we pay close attention to it. You humans tend to ignore it – particularly you men. Something else happened in Darsas, didn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘That shadow put in another appearance. Emban and I were talking with Archimandrite Monsel, and we were visited.’

‘Whoever’s behind this is very stupid, then.’

‘The Troll-Gods? Isn’t that part of the definition of them?’

‘We’re not absolutely certain it’s the Troll-Gods, Sparhawk.’

‘Wouldn’t you know? I mean, isn’t there some way you can identify who’s opposing you?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not, Sparhawk. We can conceal ourselves from each other. The stupidity of that appearance in Darsas certainly suggests the Troll-Gods, though. We haven’t been able to make them understand why the sun comes up in the east as yet. They know it’s going to come up every morning, but they’re never sure just exactly where.’

‘You’re exaggerating.’

‘Of course I am.’ She frowned. ‘Let’s not set our feet in stone on the idea that we’re dealing with the Troll-Gods just yet, though. There are some very subtle differences – of course that may be the result of their encounter with you in the Temple of Azash. You frightened them very much, you know. I’d be more inclined to suspect an alliance between them and somebody else. I think the Troll-Gods would be more direct. If there is somebody else involved, he’s just a bit childish. He hasn’t been out in the world. He surrounded himself with people who aren’t bright, and he’s judging all humans by his worshippers. That appearance at Darsas was really a blunder, you know. He didn’t have to do it, and all he really did was to confirm what you’d already told that clergyman – you did tell him what’s happening, didn’t you?’

Sparhawk nodded.

‘We really need to get to Sarsos and talk with Sephrenia.’

‘You’re going to speed up the journey again then?’

‘I think I’d better. I’m not entirely sure what the ones on the other side are doing yet, but they’re starting to move faster for some reason, so we’d better see what we can do to keep up. Take me back to the carriage, Sparhawk. Stragen’s probably finished showing off his education by now, and the smell of your armour’s beginning to make me nauseous.’

Although there was a community of interest between the three disparate segments of the force escorting the Queen of Elenia, Sparhawk, Engessa and Kring decided to make some effort to keep the Peloi, the Church Knights and the Atans more or less separate from each other. Cultural differences obviously made a general mingling unwise. The possibilities for misunderstandings were simply too numerous to be ignored. Each leader stressed the need for the strictest of courtesy and formality to his forces, and the end result was a tense and exaggerated stiffness. In a very real sense, the Atans, the Peloi and the knights were allies rather than comrades. The fact that very few of the Atans spoke Elenic added to the distance between the component parts of the small army moving out onto the treeless expanse of the steppes.

They encountered the eastern Peloi some distance from the town of Pela in central Astel. Kring’s ancestors had migrated from this vast grassland some three thousand years earlier, but despite the separation of time and distance, the two branches of the Peloi family were remarkably similar in matters of dress and custom. The only really significant difference seemed to be the marked preference of the eastern Peloi for the javelin as opposed to the sabre favoured by Kring’s people. After a ritual exchange of greetings and a somewhat extended ceremony during which Kring and his eastern cousin sat cross-legged on the turf ‘taking salt together and talking of affairs’ while two armies warily faced each other across three hundred yards of open grass. The decision not to go to war with each other today was apparently reached, and Kring led his new-found friend and kinsman to the carriage to introduce him all around. The Domi of the eastern Peloi was named Tikume. He was somewhat taller than Kring, but his head was also shaved, a custom among those horsemen dating back to antiquity.

Tikume greeted them all politely. ‘It is passing strange to see Peloi allied with foreigners,’ he noted. ‘Domi Kring has told me of the conditions which prevail in Eosia, but I had not fully realised that they had led to such peculiar arrangements. Of course he and I have not spoken together for more than ten years.’

‘You’ve met before, Domi Tikume?’ Patriarch Emban asked with a certain surprise.

‘Yes, your Grace,’ Kring replied. ‘Domi Tikume journeyed to Pelosia with the King of Astel some years back. He made a point of looking me up.’

‘King Alberen’s father was much wiser than his son,’ Tikume explained, ‘and he read a great deal. He saw many similarities between Pelosia and Astel, so he paid a state visit to King Soros. He invited me to go along.’ His expression became one of distaste. ‘I might have declined if I’d known he was going to travel by boat. I was sick every day for two months. Domi Kring and I got on well together. He was kind enough to take me with him to the marshes to hunt ears.’

‘Did he share the profits with you, Domi Tikume?’ Ehlana asked him.

‘What was that, Queen Ehlana?’ Tikume looked baffled.

Kring, however, laughed nervously and flushed just a bit.

Then Mirtai strode up to the carriage.

‘Is this the one?’ Tikume asked Kring.

Kring nodded happily. ‘Isn’t she stupendous?’

‘Magnificent,’ Tikume agreed fervently, his tone almost reverential. Then he dropped to one knee. ‘Doma,’ he greeted her, clasping both hands in front of his face.

Mirtai looked inquiringly at Kring.

‘It’s a Peloi word, beloved,’ he explained. ‘It means “Domi’s mate”.’

‘That hasn’t been decided yet, Kring,’ she pointed out.

‘Can there be any doubt, beloved?’ he replied.

Tikume was still down on one knee. ‘You shall enter our camp with all honours, Doma Mirtai,’ he declared, ‘for among our people, you are a queen. All shall kneel to you, and all shall give way to you. Poems and songs shall be composed in your honour, and rich gifts shall be bestowed upon you.’

‘Well, now,’ Mirtai said.

‘Your beauty is clearly divine, Doma Mirtai,’ Tikume continued, warming to his subject. ‘Your very presence brightens a drab world and puts the sun to shame. I am awed at the wisdom of my brother Kring in having selected you as his mate. Come straightaway to our camp, divine one, so that my people may adore you.’

‘My goodness,’ Ehlana breathed. ‘Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me.’

‘We just didn’t want to embarrass you, my Queen,’ Stragen told her blandly. ‘We feel that way about you of course, but we didn’t want to be too obvious about it.’

‘Well said,’ Ulath approved.

Mirtai looked at Kring with a new interest. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this, Kring?’ she asked him.

‘I thought you knew, beloved.’

‘I didn’t,’ she replied. Her lower lip pushed forward slightly in a thoughtful kind of pout. ‘But I do now,’ she added. ‘Have you chosen an Oma as yet?’

‘Sparhawk serves me in that capacity, beloved.’

‘Why don’t you go have a talk with Atan Engessa, Sparhawk?’ she suggested. ‘Tell him for me that I do not look upon Domi Kring’s suit with disfavour.’

‘That’s a very good idea, Mirtai,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself.’

Chapter 14

The town of Pela in central Astel was a major trading centre where merchants and cattle-buyers came from all parts of the empire to do business with the Peloi herders. It was a shabby-looking, unfinished sort of place. Many of its buildings were no more than ornate fronts with large tents erected behind them. No attempt had ever been made to pave its rutted streets, and the passage of strings of wagons and herds of cattle raised a cloud of dust that entirely obscured the town most of the time. Beyond the poorly-defined outskirts lay an ocean of tents, the portable homes of the nomadic Peloi.

Tikume led them through the town and on out to a hill-top where a number of brightly-striped pavilions encircled a large open area. A canopy held aloft by poles shaded a place of honour at the very top of the hill, and the ground beneath that canopy was carpeted and strewn with cushions and furs.

Mirtai was the absolute centre of attention. Her rather scanty marching clothes had been covered with a purple robe that reached to the ground, an indication of her near-royal status. Kring and Tikume formally escorted her to the ceremonial centre of the camp and introduced her to Tikume’s wife, Vida, a sharp-faced woman who also wore a purple robe and looked at Mirtai with undisguised hostility.

Sparhawk and the rest joined the Peloi leaders in the shade as honoured guests.

The face of Tikume’s wife grew darker and darker as Peloi warriors vied with each other to heap extravagant compliments upon Mirtai as they were presented to Kring and his purported bride-to-be. There were gifts and a number of songs praising the beauty of the golden giantess.

‘How did they find time to make up songs about her?’ Talen quietly asked Stragen.

‘I’d imagine that the songs have been around for a long time,’ Stragen replied. ‘They’ve substituted Mirtai’s name, that’s all. I expect there’ll be poems as well. I know a third-rate poet in Emsat who makes a fairly good living writing poems and love-letters for young nobles too lazy or uninspired to compose their own. There’s a whole body of literature with blank spaces in it that serves in such situations.’

‘They just fill in the blanks with the girl’s name?’ Talen demanded incredulously.

‘It wouldn’t really make much sense to fill them in with some other girl’s name, would it?’

‘That’s dishonest!’ Talen exclaimed.

‘What a novel attitude, Talen,’ Patriarch Emban laughed, ‘particularly coming from you.’

‘You aren’t supposed to cheat when you’re telling a girl how you feel about her,’ Talen insisted. Talen had begun to notice girls. They had been there all along, of course, but he had not noticed them before, and he had some rather surprisingly strong convictions. It is to the credit of his friends that not one of them laughed at his peculiar expression of integrity. Baroness Melidere, however, impulsively embraced him.

‘What was that all about?’ he asked her a little suspiciously.

‘Oh, nothing,’ she replied, touching a gentle hand to his cheek. ‘When was the last time you shaved?’ she asked him.

‘Last week sometime, I think – or maybe the week before.’

‘You’re due again, I’d say. You’re definitely growing up, Talen.’

The boy flushed slightly.

Princess Danae gave Sparhawk a sly little smirk.

After the gifts and the poems and songs came the demonstrations of prowess. Kring’s tribesmen demonstrated their proficiency with their sabres. Tikume’s men did much the same with their javelins, which they either cast or used as short lances. Sir Berit unhorsed an equally youthful Cyrinic Knight, and two blond-braided Genidians engaged in a fearsomely realistic mock axe-fight.

‘It’s all relatively standard, of course, Emban,’ Ambassador Oscagne said to the Patriarch of Ucera. The friendship of the two men had progressed to the point where they had begun to discard titles. ‘Warrior cultures almost totally circumscribe their lives with ceremonies.’