Ancestors Of Avalon - Ancestors of Avalon Part 26
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Ancestors of Avalon Part 26

"I would not wish to presume," Anet replied as she settled gracefully into her cross-legged pose once again. Tiriki had a sense that whatever had motivated that salutation, it had not been humility. "The other Sea People are very ceremonious, especially with us. Very proud."

Tiriki felt the blood pound suddenly in her ears. "Sea People? What do you meana"?"

"The strangers," Anet said simply. "The priests and priestesses who came in winged boats from the sea. People of your kind."

Tiriki barely stopped herself from seizing the girl's arm. "Who were they? Can you tell us any names?"

"When they first came we thought the old shaman was their leader. The one they call Ar-dral."

Tiriki gasped. "Ardral?" she echoed. "Not Ardral of Atalan! Seventh Guardian of the Temple at Ahtarrath? Ardravanant?"

"I have heard him called that. But we do not see him so much anymore, since their princea"" Anet grimaced. "Tjalana"with his soldiers, brought the other priests to sing up the stones. But I see now that you two dress much the way some of their priestesses do. Maybe you know them too. There is Timul, and Elaraa""

"Elara!" It was Liala's turn to be excited. "Do you mean the acolyte Elara?"

"Yes, that is familiar . . ." Anet nodded slowly, eyes wide.

"And she's a healer? I knew it!" Liala exclaimed with a grin.

"That'sa"" Tiriki's voice wavered. "You said there were other priests. What are their names?"

"Oh, so manya"" The girl paused, blinking prettily. "There is Haladris, and Ocathrel, and Immamiria"many. I regret I did not get to know all their names, because my father so much wished me to marry their other prince to bring his blood into our line." Anet gave Tiriki a sidelong smile. "A tall and handsome man with hair like new fire. Lord Micail."

It was a pity, thought Chedan, that this news should come just now. Poor Alyssa had not even received their full attention at her funeral.

It did not take long to call the community together, nor much longer to hear what the Ai-Zir girl had to say about the Atlanteans and their plans to build a great circle of stones in Azan. Tiriki wanted to set off on the journey at once, and when they sought to restrain her, she had collapsed. It was ironic, considering how well she had coped with their countless perils, that she should be undone by joy. But it was often so, he remembered, after a long period of mourning.

Once Tiriki had been put to bed, and the guests settled in shelters for the night, Chedan sat for many hours before the council fire. The heavens wheeled above him, revealing both familiar and still unknown stars in the unusually clear night sky. Tiriki had been given herbs to make her sleep, but one by one the others came to join him, minds too awhirl with speculation for speech. By the time the fire had sunk to a smolder of coals and some white curls of smoke, each face could be clearly seen, for it was dawn.

"We must join them," Rendano was saying, "and the sooner, the better. These Ai-Zir tribes clearly command more resources than the natives here. We would have some hope of reestablishing our own way of living." The glance he cast toward the rude structures whose thatched roofs could just be seen through the trees was eloquent of disdain.

"I am not so sure," Liala put in. "Before Alyssa died . . . she spoke of danger from circles and stones. Now we learn our compatriots are just on the other side of those hills, buildinga"a circle of stones. Is it not possible that the danger Alyssa warned of will come from them?"

"From our own people?" exclaimed Damisa in amazement.

"Not to speak ill of the dead, but we all know Alyssa was crazy," Reidel echoed her.

At this, Chedan looked up, but he bit back the words. Reidel had made great progress, but he understood nothing about the strange forces a seeress must contend witha"no one who had not walked that path could truly understand.

"Since when did madness ever prevent one from seeing the truth?" asked little Iriel, whoa"Chedan suddenly noticeda"was not so little any more. In the past six years she had become a woman. At home, he mused, all of the acolytes would have been advanced to full priest or priestess by now.

"Alyssa lived in her own world," Iriel continued. "But when we could make sense of her ravings, there was usually some truth in them. Soa"so I think Liala's right. What if these plains people are forcing our priests to build for them? Taret says they are a powerful tribe."

"I think that girl did not begin to tell us all she knows," Forolin put in unexpectedly. "Her father is the kinga"if Prince Tjalan has really taken over, how does that sit with the other tribes? If one of them wanted to revolt we would be valuable hostagesa"something of the sort happened on a trade route I used to travel when younger. I am as eager as anyone here to go somewhere more civilized," Forolin went on earnestly, "but we shouldn't rush in. Things are not so bad here."

"Yes, life is hard, but we are secure." Selast laid a protective hand over her belly. "And I can hardly go a-wandering just now."

Chedan stroked his beard, thoughtful. He was willing enough to let the others speculate on danger from the natives, but Alyssa's words still echoed in his memory. She had not spoken of danger from people, but from the stones themselves.

The others had grown quiet. Looking up, Chedan realized that they had been watching him. He looked from one face to another. "I sense we may be moving toward some sort of decision," he observed, "but if experience has taught me anything, it is that someone always has a last word . . ."

Damisa's frown had been growing. "Well, no one has asked for my opinion!" she said sharply. "How can we not go? Not only are these our own people, but Micail and a lot of other Guardians are there. Surely whatever they are building is part of the new Temple, just as it says in the prophecy that everybody used to make so much noise about! Do you really believe a lot of savages could control so many adepts and priestsa"especially if Tjalan is there to guard them? Or is it Tjalan you are worrying about? He will protect us tooa"or don't you trust anybody who isn't from Ahtarrath?"

"No, no, no," Chedan said soothingly. "Dear Damisa, where does this come from? Selast and Kalaran are hardly Ahtarrans. Indeed I am Alkonan myself, you might recall . . . No, for good or for ill, my friends, we are all Atlanteans together in this new land."

"It is not Prince Tjalan we doubt," said Kalaran, "but the people between us and him."

Liala nodded. "Forolin made an important point. If Tjalan has enough men to threaten the tribes, the natives may indeed think of using us as a shield against them. And if Tjalan is not strong enough to deter thema"need I say more?"

"Why not send a few to make contact?" Liala suggested. "Some of the younger folk, who can go swiftly. If all is well, the prince can send an escort for the rest of us. After so long a separation, surely we can wait a little longer to rejoin our friends and countrymen."

"I have been thinking much the same thing." Dannetrasa nodded.

"So it seems that most of us agree," observed Chedan. "Perhaps Damisa should be one of the party, since she is familiar not only with the ways of the local wildlife, but is also Tjalan's cousin. Damisa? What do you say?"

"I will go with some of my men to guard her," Reidel offered when he saw Damisa's eager nod.

"But should we not send someonea"more senior?" asked Rendano.

"I hope you don't mean me." Chedan shook his head. "Do you wish to go? Besides, Damisa is the eldest of the Chosen Twelve, and thus under law has rank and standing in any Atlantean court or temple."

"But what about Tiriki?" asked Damisa. "She'll want to goa""

"But she should not just now, I think. She needs time to recover," Chedan responded. Alyssa's words still bothered him, and it would hardly be tactful to point out that the high priestess was not expendable . . . "But somehow I doubt that she will agree with me. I suggest that you and Reidel gather some men and supplies and leave, soona"as soon as possible," he added wryly, "preferably before she awakens. I do not wish to have to tie her up to keep her from following you."

Seventeen.

Did you hear the news? Anet is back from the Lake landsa""

The voice was that of one of the native slave women the Alkonans had recently bought to help with the work of the new community.

Micail, passing behind the kitchen hut on his way to the gate, could not help hearing them.

"Is she?" another slave said. "Did she bring her bow and arrows? That's the only way she will capture Fire-hair!"

Micail felt a slow flush burn his cheeks as the women laughed. He had been aware of his nickname, but he had not realized that Anet's interest in him was common knowledge.

The first voice spoke again. "The news is she travels with strangers. More Sea Peoplea"different ones."

"Where do they come from?" someone asked.

"Somewhere in the marshes. They have been there for years, they say. I hear they don't look much like the new masters; they dress like marsh people. But taller, so maybe."

"Say, I heard one of them isa""

"Hush," a new voice interrupted, probably a supervisor. "Anyone could hear you shrieking. We will know all about it soon enough. No doubt the Falcon lords will want to see them." The scrape, scrape, scrape of the grinding stones never ceased, but otherwise, there was deafening silence from within the kitchen hut.

Presently Micail turned away and began to walk back toward the central court. With a detached curiosity he realized that his heart was still pounding heavily, though he had been standing still. Perhaps, he thought, I had better stop in and see Tjalan . . .

By the time Anet and her traveling companions arrived, everyone in the community had heard that they were coming. Rumors flew wildly, some less absurd than others. Mahadalku and most of the senior priesthood declined to join the crowd waiting on the commons, but Haladris was there.

A second drop of water struck Elara's head and she frowned up at the sky. More clouds were rushing in to blot out the morning's fragile blue. The natives counted the beginning of summer from a point halfway between equinox and solstice, but one shouldn't try to tell the season by the weather, Elara thought grimly. She pulled her shawl up over her head as the first spatterings turned into a light rain.

Someone at the front was pointing, and Elara realized that she had arrived just in time. A group of people was approaching across the plain. Even at a distance she recognized Anet's dun hair and her easy way of moving, and the two Blue Bull warriors that always escorted her. Behind them she could see a knot of tall, bronze-skinned men in wool and leather, and gleaming from among them, one head of long auburn hair that had never been born to the tribes.

"Who is that?" asked Cleta, stretching on tiptoes beside her and wiping rain out of her eyes. "Can you see?"

"They are Atlanteans, that's for sure . . . Heart of Manoah! I think it's Damisa!" Elara blinked, trying to reconcile her memories of a gawky adolescent with the young goddess who was striding toward them.

As Anet's group reached the crowd, Micail stepped forward from his place beside Prince Tjalan as if unable to stand still any longer. Some of the stiffness seemed to leave his shoulders, but there was still tension in his stance. Elara felt her heart wrench with pity, then noticed that Anet was watching Micail as well, her expression like that of a fox who eyes a cock pheasant, wondering whether it will be able to fly away. You still do not see he is not for you, Elara thought grimly. Or for me . . . she reflected ruefully. His rejection of her offer had been polite, but clear. If Tiriki lives, he will go to her. And if she does not . . . I think he will remain as he is.

Tjalan, too, stepped forward now, all smiles. Seeing him, Damisa bent in the salutation due a reigning prince, her face radiant. She then performed the proper obeisances to Ardral and to Micail, as lords of the Temple, but her gaze, it seemed, could not quite tear itself away from the Prince of Alkonath.

"Why, it is my little cousin!" exclaimed Tjalan. "Praise to the God of Roads for your arrival! Now enter in a good hour, and let no fear trouble you while you are in my domain. Welcome! Welcome indeed, cousin. This is joy beyond imagining."

As Damisa straightened, her blushes barely contained, Elara saw her surreptitiously tug down the skirts of her gown and suppressed a grin. She has grown taller, too!

"My prince," Damisa was saying, "I am grateful indeed to find you here. I bring greetings from the Summer Country, and from the leaders of our communitya"the Guardian Chedan Arados and the Guardian Tiria"Eilantha."

As Damisa spoke her gaze had gone to Micail. Help him, someone! thought Elara as she saw the color leave his face entirely. And Ardral stepped forward, his hand gripping Micail's elbow.

"We rejoice to see you, O acolyte. Your message of hope heals our hearts." Ardral's words flowed smoothly, but was there an unaccustomed roughness in his voice? Eyebrows quirking, his piercing gaze darted to the young man who stood behind Damisa.

She did not wait for him to ask. "I present to you Reidel, son of Sarhedran, formerly captain of the Crimson Serpent, and consecrated now to the Sixth Order of the Temple of Lighta"" Under the shocked stares of the clergy, Reidel's weathered face grew even more impassive, but he managed a fairly graceful bow.

Cleta leaned close to Elara, murmuring, "If they've taken a commoner in, their group must be even smaller than ours."

"Come now," said Tjalan warmly, reasserting control of the situation with a gesture. "You shall come in from the rain and claim the rewards of your journey. And when you are refreshed and fortified, perhaps you will tell us something of your adventures in the Lake lands."

Atlantean tradition required that new arrivals be welcomed with food and drink. Micail was reminded of the feast after Tjalan had brought his ships to Ahtarrath, another occasion on which the superficial courtesies had been like a lid on a cauldron seething with unspoken agendas. Damisa was quick to list those who had found safety at the Tor and to assure Micail that Tiriki was well. But once or twice in her account of how they had discovered the Tor and founded the settlement she showed a certain hesitance or made an overly hasty reply that led Micail to suspect that there might also have been a few things that they had been instructed not to speak of.

Tiriki was alive! Micail's mind seethed with questions he could not ask here. Had Tiriki felt as empty all these years as he had? What pains and sorrow had she suffered when he was not there to comfort her? Damisa said she was in good healtha"why had she not come with them? It was all he could do not to rush off in search of those Blue Bull warriors and demand that they take him to the Summer Country immediately. But they were with Anet. At the thought of asking her to take him to the woman she must see as a rival, he quailed. Perhaps it would be better to see what Tjalan intended to do.

Tjalan's cheerful summary of events was even less candid. Good manners prevented Micail from interrupting to ask about Tiriki; he waited impatiently for a moment when he could speak with Damisa alone. But before he could do so, the prince effectively ended the session by suggesting that the newcomers might wish to go to the dwellings that had been made ready for them and rest. Reidel seemed unhappy about being separated from Damisa, but once Damisa realized that the facilities included a proper Atlantean bath, she allowed herself to be led away by Tjalan's servants without a backward glance.

Meanwhile, the prince insisted that Ardral and Micail accompany him into the innermost chamber of his fortress, where the other Guardians already sat waiting on benches with richly carven backs ranged around a blazing hearth. Micail had not been in this room before, but he found it entirely unsurprising that even here in savage Azan, where there was a floor of packed dirt under the mats and carpets, Tjalan had somehow managed to surround himself with luxuries. There was even a sort of throne, a good-sized chair, whose posts were carven falcons.

As the servants of the prince bustled about the room, making sure that everyone had a drink or food to eat, Micail allowed Ardral to guide him to a seat closer to Naranshada than to Haladris.

"I am glad we could have this meeting," Mahadalku was saying, her smile as chilly as the rain that was battering the roofs. "Chedan Arados is reputed a very strong singer, and I have heard much the same of your princessa"" She nodded to Micail. "They will be most welcome additions, and I do not doubt we will find use for many of the othersa"although I am not so certain about this . . . sailor . . . Reidel."

"He seemed a pleasant young man," offered Stathalkha.

"Yes, he was pleasant enough," rejoined Mahadalku coldly, "but he has not been Temple-trained since childhood. How can he hope to channel any real power?"

Naranshada shrugged. "There are always a few among the Chosen Twelve who did not have lifelong training, and they have done well enough. This new land is not exactly overpopulated with Atlanteans of any caste. We will face the same problem eventuallya"even if we find a dozen lost shiploads. And I for one cannot imagine that Master Chedan Arados, of all people, would allow anyone to be initiated who had no potential."

"I can assure you he would not," Ardral put in, and there were more than one or two other mutters of assent, for Chedan's fame had been no small thing.

"They have been there all this time," Micail said suddenly, "just over the hills. Why didn't you see them, Stathalkha? I was assured that your sensitives had searched near and fara"why didn't you find them?"

"Perhaps we did." Stathalkha's faded eyes blinked at him, and she wrenched her withered body around a little so as to confront him more directly. "We found several points of power in use where the energy felta"familiar. I believe that a hill such as the girl described figured prominently at one of them. But we were looking for a place to build our Sun Wheel. Mahadalku and I felt that if more of our people were here we would locate them in time. And now, you see, we have!" she finished triumphantly.

Micail realized that Ardral was gripping his shoulder, and his fingers slowly unclenched. To strangle the fragile Tarissedan priestess would do no one any good.

"Yes, indeed," Tjalan murmured thoughtfully, his strong features glowing bronze in the firelight. "And now that we know where they are, we ought to bring them here."

"If I might say so," observed Ardral, "it is never good to move too quickly. There might be some virtue in developing another port on the opposite coast. They are plainly somewhat closer than Belsairath."

"I doubt it would be suitable," Haladris countered. "From everything I have heard, conditions there area"primitive, at best. What use could such a place be?"

Ardral smiled grimly. "A refuge, if things go wrong here?"

Tjalan frowned. "What do you mean? It is true that the tribes are restless, but they will not be able to organize any move against us for some time. By then the Sun Wheel will be ready, and we will be able to direct a lethal strike to any point on the plain, and beyond. The Ai-Zir will fall into line fast enough then."

Micail felt suddenly dizzy. "What do you mean? The power is to be used to build the Temple."

"Of course, of course," said Delengirol gruffly, "but we can hardly build anything else without an increased labor force."

Haladris added coolly, "And the power of the circle may need to be demonstrated . . . in order to suitably impress the tribes."

"To impress?" Micail's skin prickled as if lightning were about to strike from the clouds. Ardral straightened, eyeing him with concern.

Mahadalku nodded vigorously. "Yes, surely you recognize that we must be able to keep the natives under control. At least, until they havea"achieved their potential." Her practiced grin was heavy with condescension.

Micail fought down rage, his consciousness quivering. Astonished, he recognized the familiar firea"not in all the empty years since he had fled from dying Atlantis had his inherited powers awakened within hima"but there was a strange twist to everything that was not the same.

How could he touch powers that were hisa"not as a Guardian of Light but as Prince of Ahtarratha"when the island was gone? As he struggled for control, the tension in the room grew palpable. From outside, the heavens echoed the thunder within and a gust of wind slammed rain against the walls.

Of all those gathered in that room, only Tjalan, unfamiliar with the tradition of Ahtarrath, did not understand the meaning of that distant roll of thunder. In the eyes of the other priests amazement mingled with speculation as they too realized that the powers of Ahtarrath had been restored.

As the Guardians stared at Micail, Tjalan took a sip of wine, and his smile was indulgent. "I know, I know, it seems so contradictory. In the name of Light, we impose a burden of sweat and suffering. But it is a temporary burden. As they see what we are truly capable of, they will acclaim us. For indeed, how else do you suppose the temples of Atlantis were built, cousin? As you have witnessed, even the greatest mages require the assistance of ordinary men."

It is Tiriki, Micail thought, scarcely hearing Tjalan. Simply knowing that she lives makes me a whole man once more. I thought my powers came from my land, yet I have carried them with me. But I will have to be careful.

Mistaking Micail's silence for assent, Tjalan continued, "Micail, old friend, after all this time do you not sense the infinite possibilities in this land? With its resources, its populationa"this place could become greater than all the Sea Kingdoms combined!"

Micail sat motionless, his pulse still racing as he restored control. At the moment, it was not the potential in the land that concerned him, but his own. But perhaps coming here had changed it somehow. His joy chilled.

Tjalan added persuasively, "All of the temples of Manoah, even the one that you served in Ahtarrath, were modeled after the first Temple in the city of the Circling Serpent in the Ancient Land. You were born there, Micaila"surely you remember the marble pillars, the golden stairs? It is your destiny to rebuild that Temple in all its glory. In this place you and I can rekindle all the greatness of the Bright Empire!"