The giants put me and Elana in one room, and led Derrek away to another. Not a room, I realized quickly. A suite of four rooms: the antechamber in which we had been left with a lack of ceremony that surprised me almost as much as the lack of security, two bedrooms, and a bathing chamber. It was not luxurious, exactly – the stone walls had been plastered, but were not decorated except for a bit of geometric flourish to the baseboards and the doorways. The furniture of the antechamber and bedrooms was beautifully crafted and polished, but the flourishes were in form rather than detail.
“I can get us out of this room, your grace,” I said. “Though I cannot promise we will make it out of the building, let alone the city.”
“No,” Elana said, shaking her head and collapsing onto one of the anetechamber’s chaise lounges. “And, please, Khanaarre. Do not retreat to formality now.”
“Of course, Elana. I’m sorry,” I said, sitting down beside her and taking her hand. She was trembling.
“Do you think …” She swallowed. “Do you think he’ll live? Or is it just the three of us, now?”
I sighed.
“The creature that stung him is a native pest,” I said. “The people who live here will have treatments for its venom. He is getting the best care that can be had.”
In that moment, I could not recall if it was Vencari custom to pretend that bad things could not happen. So I spoke to her as I would to an elf whose husband was at his sickest: the possibility of death need not be spoken, but it could not be denied. His fate was in the hands of our captors, and of the gods. For the moment, we needed to look to our own fates.
Something about the rooms bothered me, but it took me a few minutes to identify it. The doors and the rooms were massive in scale. Even the tallest of the giants we had seen so far would need to stretch to touch the ceilings. But the beds and the chaises were built to the scale of someone my size, or Derrek’s. And for every chaise lounge there was a cushion half again as large.
My blood ran cold with the truth I could barely bring myself to even think, let alone speak. It was a disservice to Elana to keep that truth to myself, but fear paralyzed me. If she had asked, I do not know what I might have said. In that hour, though, her mind and heart were united in grief.
“Poor Orland,” she said. “I already miss him so much.”
I squeezed her hand.
“Would you like to tell me about him?”
She choked back a sob, then nodded.
“He was like a father to me,” she said. “And to Rennin, too, sometimes. We…”
She was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. We were stunned into silence. After a pause, the door opened. Two armored guards entered, followed by two more giants in what looked like livery. The first of those carried an octagonal table which they unfolded in front of us. The second carried a tray of strongly-scented food. They left the food on the table and departed as quickly as they had come, the guards included.
Elana and I stared at the meal laid out before us. In the giant’s hands it had looked like very little, but on closer inspection it was a feast. Hot flatbread that smelled strongly of garlic. Fluffy rice with a floral scent to it. A heavy orange sauce or stew, thick with cubes of meat and vegetables, that smelled so, so strongly of spices that I couldn’t even name. A cut glass decanter of wine and a heavy ceramic pot of a hot drink that appeared to be made of milk and tea and cardamom and still more spices that I could not immediately name.
“Suppliants,” Elana said, slowly. “Derrek said that we would be treated like suppliants. And that we will be brought before the archons in the morning. Archons is the word we use for the governors of the ancient Rasyri city-states. More independent than the Illustrian provincial governors, but answering directly to the Golden Kings.”
“He knows more than he has said,” I muttered.
She laughed, a little bitterly.
“And you don’t?”
I shrugged, and avoided the accusation for a moment by filling one of the provided plates with food.
“I suspect,” I hedged. “I suspect and I fear. I know nothing.”
I took a bite. It was alien. It was delicious. It felt like I had bitten into an ember.
I reached for a drink, only to realize that there were no cups. That didn’t fit with anything else that I had seen so far. Looking around the room, again, I realized that I had overlooked a small cabinet with – sweet ancestors! – clear glass doors, full of cut glass tumblers and painted porcelain teacups. I quickly retrieved one of each for both Elana and myself, noting again that the glassware was available in two distinct sizes.
“Here,” I said. “What does this tell you?”
“That we are more guests than prisoners,” she said. “Prisoners would not be permitted anything so fine, let alone something so easily broken into weapons. Not that we would need to, as they let us keep our arms and armor.”
I nodded. All true.
“Look closer,” I said. “Can you imagine that enormous woman who brought our table drinking out of these?”
Elana laughed, this time with real humor. Then choked and paled.
“You think the giants are still ruled by the people who enslaved yours,” she said.
“I fear it, yes,” I said. “And find myself wondering if there are llamenan or rrotran who did not escape. Or if the sao`ashan have enslaved some new folk of our size to tend to the things too miniscule for the giants.”
Elana nodded slowly. Her mind had clearly pushed past grief and begun to truly grapple with the possibilities.
“The Illustrians traded with these sao…”
“Sao`ashan,” I provided. “Though one is certain they call themselves something else.”
“Sao`ashan,” Elana repeated. “The Illustrians never dealt in slaves, that we know. That was the vice of a’Rasyr. But that does not mean that none of them were enslaved.”
She stopped and her eyes grew wide.
“Derrek?”
I shrugged.
“I suspect,” I said, again. “I fear. I know nothing.”
We ate. We bathed. We slept.
Come morning, another trio of giants knocked and admitted themselves. Of the four sets of giants we had seen, three of them had come in this configuration: a man and a woman, so alike in feature that I was tempted to guess them twins, led by a one-eyed giant. The pairs were usually taller, but not always. The first two cyclops we had seen had been pale, with long braids down their backs; this one was darker and her head was shaved bald.
“One hour breakfast,” she said, in a strange accent that reminded me uncomfortably of Shadow’s first magically augmented attempts at the language of the Compact. “Bathe. Clean clothes. Leave weapons here.”
Another pair of the broader, curly haired giants appeared, this time in livery. Again, they looked nothing like the pair of guards, but nearly exactly like each other. One carried a bundle of pale blue and silver robes, which they placed on an unoccupied chaise lounge before gathering up the remains of dinner. The other carried a fresh platter of food, which they placed before us as soon as the table was clear.
Then the giants left – first in, last out – without another word.
Elana looked at me, wide eyed. Then her face closed a little, and she repeated my words back to me.
“I suspect. I fear. I know nothing.”
I nodded.
We ate. Breakfast was milder than dinner had been, a sweet and savory mix of rice and egg and spices. The milk tea was stronger and thinner. Both were alien and delicious.
We bathed. It wasn’t strictly necessary, we had both bathed last night, but after months of bathing in streams, if ever, carefully rationing our soap, we could not resist the luxury. There was no time to deal with my hair properly, but at least I could wash the dust off and make it … less of a disaster.
We dressed. The robes we had been given consisted of three layers: a long-sleeved, floor length tunic; a long cloth that was clearly intended to be draped somehow; and a shorter, narrow cloth with a ring at one end that looked like it was intended to go over one or both of the layers like a belt. We guessed as best we could, winding the long cloth around our bodies and draping a loop of it over our heads like a Vencari stola, then belting it in place with the narrow cloth and ring.
There was exactly enough time.
The bald cyclops returned with a different pair of swarthy giant twins, this set apparently unarmed and unarmored. Either we had done a very good job of guessing how the garments were to be assembled or all three giants were excellent diplomats, for their faces gave no hint of judgement.
“Come,” she said.
We stood, and began to follow, but Elana stopped just inside the threshold.
“Where is our companion,” she demanded.
The cyclops turned and looked at her, taking her measure.
“She waits,” the cyclops said. “Come.”
Did the giants’ native tongue default to feminine grammar, as mine did, or had they mistaken Derrek for a woman? We did not have time to interrogate that point. The cyclops had already turned and left, leaving Elana and I to follow or be pushed. We followed.
There was a palanquin waiting for us on the road, its four walls ornately carved and pierced with intricate patterns. An exceptionally large liveried giant leaning at each of the four corners, each watching with carefully restrained curiosity as we were led down the stairs. One opened the door for us with a deep bow and murmured greeting that we, of course, could not understand, and closed the door after us.
The inside of the palanquin was dim. The carved holes gave us but glimpses of the city. I was sad for that, but grateful to be spared the walk.
“Do you have any idea what we should expect?” Elana asked.
“None,” I admitted.
We were carried for about an hour, and released from the palanquin at the foot of a palatial building that looked like nothing so much as a step pyramid made out of gleaming stone lace. The first levels were cut from shining white stone; toward the top, the walls glittered like gold. At the very peak, the pyramid appeared to be capped with a gargantuan glowing crystal. Massive doorways opened in the center of each face, flanked by stairs leading up to the next tier. Each pair of stairs was cut to two different scales: one for people our size, one for giants.
We were led in through the great door on the first level, through a series of rooms, each dimmer than the last, until we passed through near-absolute darkness into a central chamber that appeared to be directly below the crystal crown of the palace, brightly lit in prismatic hues directed down from the sky overhead. If the purpose were to overawe us, that purpose was achieved.
A lone, small figure knelt in the center of the room. Just beyond them rose five thrones like mountain peaks. Atop each of those thrones was an elegant creature dressed in shining cloth-of-gold that nearly perfectly matched their metallic golden skin. They had no hair on their heads, no eyebrows that I could see. Instead, they had three glowing white eyes: two where you would expect them, and a third in the middle of their brows.
Sao`ashan.
For a moment, I could not force myself to take another step forward. A firm but gentle hand at my back, perhaps not knowing its own strength, forced me forward by nearly toppling me over. Instinctively, I stopped at the kneeling creature’s side. Elana, on the other side, followed my cue.
“Kneel,” the figure prompted softly. I was startled to recognize Derrek’s voice. His head had been shaven, and he had been dressed in robes of black trimmed in white. His whole posture and demeanor had changed.
I knelt. So did Elana.
Silence reigned for too long. Then the creatures on the thrones spoke, each in turn. There was a ritualized rhythm to it. Their voices were clear and musical. For some reason I had expected demonic howls.
“The Archons of Khrigo City greet you,” Derrek translated quietly, “in all dignity and respect. They regret that they did not know of your coming, and apologize if your accommodations were not befitting your station. With your permission, I will introduce you.”
A pause. Possibly too long.
“Proceed,” Elana said.
Derrek stood.
“Your Grace Elana Traiana,” he said in a voice that almost wasn’t his, “Master Khanaarre, I present to you the Archons of Khrigo City: Lord Shendazi, Sorcerer of the Winds; Lord Ororomoi, Sorcerer of the Steel; Lady Rhylee Rhee, Priestess of the Mother; Lady Ingmatmar, Priestess of the Flame; and Min Su Shi, the High Crown Exile.”
He paused, and began to speak in their tongue, but the figure on the central throne – High Crown Exile Min Su Shi, if I had followed the introductions, a voluptuous creature whose title made precisely no sense unless it somehow related to the gender-neutral grammar, barely used in the Compact, almost vestigial, that Derrek used for them – raised their hand.
“We know the tongue of your mortal empire,” they said. “Speak so that your companions may understand you.”
Derrek bowed low.
“Honored Archons,” he said. “My companions are the Crown Prince Elana Traiana of Vencar and the Master Wizard Khanaarre of the Order of the Black Mask. In the care of your healers is the heroic knight Sir Rennin Ösh. Resting on a bier in the Hall of the White Lady is our hero and dear friend Lord Sir Orland Borgon. I am Yma Rinlo, Priestess of the Stars.”
I almost vomited when Derrek introduced himself by another name. I almost laughed when he introduced himself as a priestess. My stomach heaved again when he was not rebuffed. The worst things that I had feared were all true. The priestesses who had raised him – her? – were before us. Somehow, Derrek Rowan of Handar, Great Wizard of the Vencari Obsidian Cabal, Master blacksmith of Georg, a man who I thought that I might love, was a child of the sao`ashan. Not just a child. A peer. A priestess.
“Hail and well met, your grace,” said the Archon Lord Ororomoi, Sorcerer of the Steel. “We welcome the Crown Prince of Vencar to Khrigo City and our Holy Empire.”
Elana stood and bowed. She did not kneel again.
“Hail and well met, master Khanaarre,” said Archon Lady Ingmatmar, Priestess of the Flame. Then, to my shock, horror, and confusion, she offered a greeting in archaic, almost unrecognizable elven: “May your ancestors never be forgotten.”
I stood and bowed as well. Bowing hid my face. Was it a deliberate insult, a reminder that her people kept mine as property? Was it a well-intended if misguided courtesy? I kept my head bowed long enough to regain my composure. It was more obsequious than I wanted to be, but better than giving insult.
Now we were all standing. What came next?
Liveried giants appeared behind us, like magic, with chairs.
We sat.
“An ocean of courtesies and formalities remain between us,” said Archon Lady Rhylee Rhee, Priestess of the Mother. “To say nothing of ancient hostilities and fears. Let us cross them as swiftly as we dare. You come before us as suppliants, strangers lost in the desert. Let us be good hosts to you. Come, Yma Rinlo, what would you and your companions ask of the Archons of Khrigo City?”
Derrek – Yma Rinlo – stood again and bowed low. My heart trembled. I had no idea what he would ask. When he straightened, his posture shifted in some way I couldn’t describe. His shoulders squared, yes, but there was more to it than that: the way he held his head, the way he crossed his hands behind his back. When he spoke again, it was in the voice I knew.
“We beg your hospitality,” he said. “We beg treatment for our wounded, and proper rites for our dead. We beg you for provisions, and for safe passage across the Holy Empire that we might descend the Great Ice Wall and return to the mortal world.”
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