'Duty,' Astron repeated slowly. 'I know of duty- or at least I thought I did. I come to your realm in search for the answer to a riddle because my prince demands-'
'Come.' Nimbia touched her finger to Astron's lips. 'The human is right. We must get underhill before Prydwin's sentrymen return.'
For what would be hours in the realm of men, Nimbia led Astron and the others through the darkness of the brush. They encountered no sign of Prydwin's followers and eventually emerged on the edge of a clearing similar to the glen in which they had first arrived. Rather than slope down to a stream, however, the grass-covered ground rose from where they stood. From all sides of the open space, at first gently and then with increasing slope, the soft greenness underfoot tilted upward to form a high hillock in the very center. Like a great upside- down bowl thrust against the ground, the bulge dominated the landscape; its broad, flat apex stood higher even than the crest of the bushes which edged the clearing.
As Nimbia moved out into the open, the ground underfoot began to vibrate with a great rumbling. The music of pipes and lyres filled the air. Astron saw the hillock shudder slightly and then begin to move. The ground parted with a clean horizontal slit. On dozens of stout pillars, the central portion of the hillock rose slowly into the air.
Brilliant lights, laughter, and music sweet and pure poured out of the opening. Astron saw long banquet tables groaning under piles of glistening fruit and heavy flagons coolly sparkling with a patina of dew. Scores of lithe dancers pirouetted in complex patterns. Laughing jugglers kept dozens of small objects whirling above their heads.
'Nimbia, Nimbia,' dozens of joyful voices called out.
'Our hillsovereign returns.'
'She has triumphed at last.'
'Finvarwin has been pleased. Look, he gives her three changelings as prize for her great worth.'
'Alert the scribes and the tellers. There will be work for all.'
Astron saw a throne of polished stone being pushed into a position of prominence on a dais bathed with colored lights. Two long lines of what looked like pages formed on either side. Small girls began strewing delicate flower petals from the base outward onto the grass of the clearing. Stout-cheeked pipers stuck long-stemmed pipes into bowls filled with nearly solid gels. With straining lungs, they forced upward bubbles of air that burst and sprayed all those about to their laughing delight. Fragrant odors tickled Astron's nostrils and beckoned him forward.
Nimbia said nothing. With a grim smile, she walked on the path laid for her and beckoned Astron and the others to follow. Accepting a cape richly embroidered and encrusted with jewels, she mounted the steps and sat on her throne. Nimbia looked about the gaily decorated surroundings and Astron saw her face sadden. She breathed out a deep sigh.
'I do not return in triumph,' she said simply. 'And those that accompany me are responsible that I return at all.'
The music stopped as did the clank of flagon and flatware from those who prepared the feast. Smiles fell from the faces of those nearest. Eyes lowered. Many of the faces looked away. For a long moment, the silence filled the hilltop; even the creak of boots and rustle of tunics against one another was stilled.
Then, from the periphery of the hillock, a single piper began playing a slow, sad melody. Others caught the tone and added to it. One of the females close to Nimbia choked on a small sob. Tears began to glisten on the faces of a dozen more. In barely an instant, the infectious joy transformed into a chilling sadness.
Nimbia nodded in apparent acceptance of the changing mood. She motioned over the heads of those nearest and Astron felt the ground begin to vibrate as it had when they approached. He saw the narrow band of pale blue sky start to shrink into nothingness. Like a great piston sinking into a cylinder, the surface on which he stood descended into the earth. In an instant, the hilltop again rested firmly on the ground.
The bright lights reflected by the jeweled panels and mirrors shone with undiminished intensity. Even though Nimbia had retreated underground, the area around her throne remained far brighter than the daylight outside. As the descent halted, Astron saw dimly lit passageways radiating in all directions. Great bins lined the hallways, like the walls of Phoebe's cabin. From some spilled the powders and woods that Astron recognized as essential for the summoning of great djinns. Others bulged with strange prickly spheroids, covered with sharp barbs or intricate lattices of thorns. In the distance were rows of doors and dark cross corridors radiating farther into the earth. The extent of the queen's underhill could not easily be judged.
Two of the pages, taller than the rest, pushed each other timidly from the crowd that had gathered about the throne. Each wore a tunic embroidered with the same designs as those on Nimbia's cape. Their copper daggers were sheathed on belts inlaid with gold.
'Might not what you have wrought survive despite Finvarwin's judgment?' the first one asked.
'My creation will live on unaided for a lifetime or more.' Nimbia nodded her head. 'Such strength am I sure that it possesses. But without the thoughts of others, it will not expand to be more than what it is now. Eventually, it will grow sluggish and decay.'
Nimbia paused and looked over the heads of the assembly. She closed her eyes and seemed to absorb the mood of the piping which now swelled to a persistent resonance that could not be ignored. Tears appeared from fluttering eyelids. She slumped into the folds of her cape.
'The penalty is a severe one.' She opened her eyes again at last. 'Servitude to Prydwin for us all-this underhill to become one of his, rather than our own. We will be toiling to carry his baskets of pollens, blowing on the pipes as long as he commands, plucking the blossoms that he decrees, whether they are part of our harmonies or not.'
'You should not have attempted it without a mate,' the second page said. 'All of us regard your craft to be of the greatest quality, as strong as your own great beauty. But forgive me, my queen, even so, the challenge was far too great.'
Nimbia looked for a long time at the second page before speaking.
'You knew of the risk as well as any other,' she said softly. 'You and every other page underbill. Almost any would have sufficed, provided that he had the strength of heart.'
'But it could not be me.' The page stepped back suddenly. He waved his arm about those who clustered around the queen. 'Perhaps someone else,' he muttered, 'someone more worthy. Your beauty is too great. One such as I would never have a chance.'
'A single page,' Nimbia repeated, 'and yet not one came forward. Not one chose to accompany his queen, despite what decorum demanded. I do not understand. Can the prize be of so little value?'
'A prize has greater value the less it is shared.' A third voice, deeper than the first two, sounded from the rear. Astron saw a male slightly more heavy-set than the rest push his way forward, the lines of a frown etched into his forehead. Dark black ringlets of hair curled above deep-set blue eyes. He appeared slightly older than the other pages, and Astron noticed that several of the females followed him with keen interest.
'This is not the time and place to air old accusations, Lothal.' Nimbia stirred slightly on her throne. 'They are no less true now than they were when the two of us-'
'The rages have cooled, my sovereign.' Lothal bowed deeply with an almost jeering smile on his face. 'I do not come forth pressing a suit that you have more than adequately demonstrated I can never win. I speak merely as another loyal and concerned subject for the benefit of us all.'
Astron saw Nimbia stiffen, but the queen said nothing. She motioned for Lothal to continue.
The courtier bowed a second time and then stood facing Nimbia with his hands on his hips. 'Your wit is a sharp one. Despite everything else, I will always have admiration for that. Perhaps, from what you see happening again and again, you can finally deduce a basic truth for your conduct.' He paused and turned to face the others, extending his arms slowly in great arcs.
'The queen can have anyone here she chooses.' He looked at several of the females who wore bands about their waists with the same markings as those of a nearby male. 'Even ones already bound can hardly resist the great persuasion of her beauty-we all know that in our hearts.'
Lothal whirled abruptly and again faced Nimbia. 'Any one she chooses, that is, so long as her choice is for one only.' His cheeks flushed suddenly. Veins stood out in his neck. 'I did not submit to share with another; and by all that lives of its own volition, neither will any other here. Amend your ways, Nimbia. Change the greed for more
