about their long necks, arms, and wrists… even their ankles. They laughed and sang and danced along flowery lanes as the five Princes and their retinue marched toward the palace. Children gathered on street corners in loincloths or white smocks, watching them with wide ivory eyes. Dromedaries draped in myriad colors and strings of bells carried riders and baskets of green produce. A few noblemen rode purebreed horses of brilliant black or creamy white, caparisoned in strings of gold and gems. The buildings gleamed, dazzling as white sand.
Andoses breathed in the drifting smells of the city. The fragrance of a dozen blossoms borne on the sea wind, the scents of roasting meats and simmering garlic. At times a whiff of camelmusk distracted him from these goodly smells, but always the sweet odors returned. They mingled and merged into a delicious scent, the perfume of Mumbaza. His mouth watered, and he craved wine. After that climb it would be sweeter than water on his tongur o gardene.
The palace was a white eminence of terraced gardens, opalescent arches, sculpted cupolas, and towers of white marble glazed with beryl and topaz. Marshall Antuu gave orders in the local tongue, and the five Princes entered a vaulted corridor. Jade pillars here were carved into twisting Feathered Serpents, their heads supporting the arches of the roof. At the end of the wide hall rose the dais of the Opal Throne. A brace of soldiers lined each wall, white plumes rising from golden helms, spears hung with horsetails. The sun blazed through high windows, and the Boy-King of Mumbaza looked upon his guests.
Undutu was twelve years old, yet he sat with all the grace of a full-grown King on the throne that dwarfed him. Andoses noticed first the brown bottoms of his bare feet, which hung over the lip of the great chair. A single massive opal gleamed behind and above his tiny head, and a crown of diamond and ruby – sized perfectly – sat upon his small brow. A crimson cloak hung from his shoulders, and although his chest was bare, his kilt was cloth- of-gold. A sleepy lion yawned on either side of the Boy-King’s throne, collared by gilded bronze.
At Undutu’s side, in a lesser throne of silk-lined gold, sat his mother Umbrala, a woman of middle years and considerable beauty. She wore no crown, but needed none. The power of her position radiated from her sharp eyes. Her hair rose tall and sculpted behind a conical headdress of wire and jewels. Her dress was a one-shouldered affair similar to others Andoses had seen in the city, but made of costlier fabric. Jewels sparkled along her brown fingers and toes. She smiled toward the procession as it drew near, while the Boy-King stared in his best imitation of the marble statues lining his hall.
Marshall Antuu announced the Princes one by one. Andoses’ men carried their ten chests to the foot of the dais, unlocking and flinging back the lids. The splendor of their jeweled contents cast brilliant hues across the hall. The queen seemed impressed, but the Boy-King held his stone face. No doubt he had been well coached and had plenty of chances to practice.
“Great King,” said Andoses, speaking to the boy but addressing the mother, “we come with this tribute of wealth to show our high regard for you and your kingdom. We represent four nations allied in the cause of justice. We would speak with you of adding Mumbaza’s might to our alliance.”
The Boy-King nodded. “I accept your tribute,” he said. His reedy voice was that of a typical boy, yet weighted with the iron of responsibility. “We hold all your nations in high esteem. We will speak of this alliance as we eat and drink together in this hall. You shall enjoy the hospitality of my roof as long as you like. Your retinues are likewise welcome here. But before we speak of alliances, there is a messenger for you, Prince Andoses.”
The Queen Mother turned to a robed functionary. “Send for the Sharrian,” she said, her voice smooth and deep. Andoses thought her twice his age, but still he marveled at the smoothness of her thighs, the deep color of her cheeks, and the fullness of her hips. These Mumbazan women had splendid hips. It took a moment for him to realize what she had said.
“A Sharrian?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Queen Umbrala. “A herald from your homeland arrived thirteen days past. Thus we knew of your conew/p›ming. He bears a personal message from your father’s court.”
The Sharrian messenger entered through a far door and approached down the corridor. The Boy-King ordered wine brought for his guests. Andoses had forgotten his thirst. He recognized the man in the blue-and-white livery of Shar Dni.
“Prince Andoses!” called the Sharrian, rushing to bow before him.
“Dyartha the Swift,” Andoses said. “I did not expect to see you so far from home.”
Dyartha was chief herald in service to the throne of Shar Dni. He carried messages to Uurz and Udurum, but Andoses had no idea he traveled this far. He must have ridden south to Allundra at the eastern end of the Earth- Wall, then west along its fringe all the way to the steppes. Hard riding for weeks, leaving behind a string of spent horses. Only a single rider with a good supply of strong mounts could travel so fast. Only a skilled warrior could survive the dangers of such a journey.
The smile fell from Dyartha’s face as he took a tube of white bone from his belt. He withdrew a curled scroll from within and handed it to Andoses. The King’s Hall grew quiet as Andoses read the message on the parchment. His knees grew weak, and his legs abandoned him. Dyartha caught him as he fell, and helped him to a cushioned divan between pillars. A murmur of concern rushed like a momentary wind through the hall.
“What is it, Cousin?” asked Vireon, leaning over him. Andoses slumped on the couch, his fingers numb, his heart shattered like a glass globe. His stomach churned, and he gasped for air. Someone handed him a cup of Mumbazan wine… the wine he had so anticipated. He quaffed it to the dregs but tasted none of it.
“Speak, Andoses,” said Tyro. “What is the message?”
“My father is dead,” he said. The words sounded distant, faraway syllables spoken by someone else. “I am to come home at once… and be crowned King.”
“What happened?” asked Lyrilan. “What else does the scroll say?”
Andoses handed it to Lyrilan. The world spun about him, and he held his head in his hands. His father could not be dead… not Ammon the Strong… he was still hearty and full of life. Tears welled, but Andoses wiped them. He would not blubber in the hall of the Boy-King. It was bad enough that the five Princes gathered about him now like a group of maids about a vexed housewife. He forced himself to stand.
“According to this,” said Lyrilan, as the Princes’ eyes fell upon him, “it was Fangodrel. He came into the palace and unleashed some kind of sorcery, killing everyone in the royal hall. Ammon, his seven sisters, and a Duke named Dutho, Son of Omirus…”
“My father’s brother,” said Andoses, regaining his composure. There would be time for grieving later. Not now. “My Uncle Omirus holds the throne as Regent until I return.”
“You are King of Shar Dni,” said D’zan.
“Not until the Sky Priests have performed the Rites of Coronation.”
“I am sorry for the loss of your father,” said Tyro, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Not here,” said Andoses in a low voice. “Remember our goal.”
Vireon simmered silently. Alua whispered something in his ear, but the Prince of Udurum held murder in his eyes. Ammon had been the brother of Vireon’s mother. Anot her victim of his mad half-brother.
Andoses swallowed his pain.
Use it, use it all. Hide the sorrow, the tears, the hate.
Use it to guide you. It is a dark power… See it burning in Vireon’s eyes.
The Princes returned to their formation before the Boy-King.
“The tragedy of your loss is felt in our hearts also,” said Queen Umbrala. “Please accept our condolences. Tonight we will feast in honor of King Ammon’s memory, and you will know the comforts of our palace.”
“I thank you, kind Queen… great King,” said Andoses, bowing.
This, too, can work in your favor.
It must. Otherwise it could destroy you.
“We accept your gracious offer. There is much to discuss before I depart to claim the Sharrian throne.”
The Queen Mother clapped her hands, and robed servants came to attend the Princes. The hall became a bustling scene of activity, and the guests were led to their individual chambers to prepare for the feast.
Andoses was given a vast room of hanging silks and jasper murals. A tall window overlooked the brilliant sea. When the servants left, he ordered his personal guard to stand outside the door. Then, alone at the window, caressed by a cool sea breeze, he wept.
None heard the sound of his sorrow carried away on the fragrant winds.
