The courtly masque was a prevalent means of royal pageantry in the kingdom of Zeal. It was a short performance (lasting anywhere from ten to thirty minutes) of the ancient Zealan court, a highly iconic and ritualized discourse between the royal family and the members of the court, including the high-ranking Enlightened Ones. Part play, part opera, part improvisation, the courtly masque featured a give and take between members of the royal family, often cast in the roles of noble heroes or magnanimous gods. Members of the court used the masque as an opportunity to increase their standing among their fellows. The oft-scripted performances were held intermittently during the various rules of the Zealan monarchs. Highly political, a participant who questioned the monarchical rule of the Zealan royal family too often met with a bitter end, but those who managed to deftly criticize royal rule while also capitulating to it found their status risen in the eyes of the court and the monarch. For their own part, the monarch or monarchs participating also used the masque to gauge the more serious criticism to their rule, and to respond to it through ritual
From ³The Masque: Courtly Discourse in Ancient Zeal² by Maevwyn Aringail, Zealingrad Academy of Magic
* * *
newly unearthed records indicate that one of the more popular masques performed at the insistence of the Queen before the fall was the Temptation of the Lady. This masque offered a different opportunity than the other common masque, The Conclave of the Fallen. Unlike Conclave, Lady offered the royal family a chance to proclaim its own virtue and divine right while at the same time paying respect and deference to both creation and the creator of all things.
But if the Lady was allowed to proclaim her virtue (and by extension, the goodness of the royal family) it was the role of the Tempter that was allowed to most severely test that virtue and question the royal familyıs capability to rule. The Tempter, chief among the Fallen, so secure in his or her own arrogance, would not bend knee even to the highest role in the performance, the stand-in for almighty UL, the part of the Keeper of the Heavens
From ³The Masque: Courtly Discourse in Ancient Zeal² by Maevwyn Aringail, Zealingrad Academy of Magic
But if the Lady was allowed to proclaim her virtue (and by extension, the goodness of the royal family) it was the role of the Tempter that was allowed to most severely test that virtue and question the royal familyıs capability to rule. The Tempter, chief among the Fallen, so secure in his or her own arrogance, would not bend knee even to the highest role in the performance, the stand-in for almighty UL, the part of the Keeper of the Heavens
From ³The Masque: Courtly Discourse in Ancient Zeal² by Maevwyn Aringail, Zealingrad Academy of Magic
* * *
The story of the Masque is told in two parts it begins thousands of years ago, amidst the fading splendor of an ancient Kingdom in the sky
The tiles surrounding the portal shone red, swirling amidst small whirlwinds of color, until the hues shifted into a steady blue, and with a crystalline shimmer Rowena Kaije exited the platform of the Kajar skyway
and nearly ran headfirst into the Guru of Reason.
³Haste does not become us, madam,² the blue-robed Guru intoned. His face was friendly, but he did not smile. He was a serene figure, but like all the Gurus he had grown unpopular as of late due to his disapproving attitude towards the court and the Queen.
Foremost of the royal court and High Enlightened One, Rowena Kaije bit off a heated response and dipped her head ever so slightly in respect, ³My apologies, Learned One. I hurry only at the behest of the Queen.²
The Guru sighed deeply and nodded. ³Her haste will be our ruin.² Without a further word he stepped around her and into the skyway portal. Rowena paused a moment until he shimmered out of sight.
³Learned One.² She nearly spat the words. From the skyway path Rowena hurried beyond the gates of Enhasa, passing the library and the sanctuary on the way to her apartments. Passing quickly beyond the working Nu and Enlightened Ones, Rowena quelled her anger. It was not Balthasarıs fault that the Queen was demanding yet another ceremonythe fifth in as many days. Still, the Guru had staked himself a solid position in the camp of the Queenıs detractors, and his sour countenance and attitude towards progress left a bitter taste in Rowenaıs mouth. And yet the Queen herself was not without fault
Never had any ruling monarch demanded so many performances. The Queen was truly on edge, Rowena thought. The Queen, surely, was beset with some nagging doubt. There was no other explanation for her erratic behavior. The Ocean Palace was nearly completed, and now she sought solace in ceremony. Rowena did not blame the Queen for her eccentricities, but the frequent masques she demanded were beginning to wear on the younger womanıs patience. But, Rowena knew, each masque was an opportunity to further her interests among the court, and none could be dismissed or treated lightly.
Well, if that was the case, it certainly was not the place of Rowena Kaije to question her Queen. Putting the questions aside, Rowena swept through her apartments like a swift wind, retrieving the Mask of Galaxies setting it on her brow. The headdress was a bit heavy, but once lit it was stunning to behold, with planets of various colors orbiting the main spire. Ducking behind her mirror, Rowena rubbed a line crushed blue beneath her eyes, and then quickly affixed the golden chains above her ears. Standing there before the mirror, she saw an Enlightened One whose sun was rising far and fast. Her power and status within Great Zeal was considerable, and had yet a considerable ways to go.
Noticing her shaking hands, a nervous habit that she always fretted over before a performance, Rowena retrieved a small golden box from her dresser. Carefully, she removed one of the red leaves and set is beneath her tongue. The effect was instantaneousher hands calmed, and a wave of dull warmth swept though her body. The leaves were grown in the sanctuary on the Ilfas trees only with constant care and attention. At first, most Enlightened Ones had shunned their use, but now nearly all of the highborn valued the Ilfas leaves for their calming effects. Rowena noted with satisfaction that her complexion had improved, and her hands were steady.
Rowena Kaije was Cosmos, Keeper of Heavensat least, that was the part she often played in the Queenıs frequent masques. And despite the Queenıs hasty demand for a performance, by the heavens, Rowena vowed that she would look and act the part.
Removing her traditional purple robe and donning the silver one that shone with unearthly iridescence when lit, Rowena took one last look at herself. Summoning forth the magic granted to the Enlightened Ones, she lit the Mask of Galaxies upon her brow, watching as a multitude of planets blazed forth and began their lazy orbits about the spire at the crown of her head. With another word she swirled the colors of her robe, letting them dance along the curves of her body. The Keeper of the Heavens was prepared.
Dousing both Mask and robe, Rowena assumed a stately walk and left her apartments. None would bother question or detain her, so garbed as the Keeper. She passed the library again, but instead of traversing the sanctuary she took the road through the gardens, following the green paths up through the golden tower that led to the Sun Palace skyway. The skyway was nearly full with Enlightened Ones and Nu and members of the Royal Court, but all gave way before Rowena, and she barely deigned a small nod in their direction as she passed. The skyway operator bowed deeply to Rowena, and she lit the frozen flame at the pinnacle of the spire of the Mask of Galaxies in response, indicating her readiness.
The skyway operator focused his power on the tiles beneath Rowenaıs sandal-clad feet, and just as the panels reached the deep shade of blue, he released it, sending her traveling along a strand of magic beyond the confines of mere space and time and matter, until she faded back into existence upon the panel in the Sun Palaceıs gatehouse.
³Madam Keeper,² the Sun Palace skyway operator said, bowing low. ³Please proceed.²
³What is the masque of the day?² Rowena asked.
³It is the Temptation of the Lady.²
Rowena nodded. Being the most prominent among the masquers for the past year she knew the performance well, though she considered it an odd choice given the current circumstances. The King was missing, and none at the court knew where he had gone, nor why the Queen seemed not to care much overmuch about his absence. The Royal Children, Princess Schala and Prince Janus, often exchanged heated words with their mother. And perhaps worst of all, an interloper from parts unknown, the mysterious Prophet, had taken a prominent place at court. The Prophetıs uncanny ability to predict future events had earned him sole rights to the Queenıs ear.
But these things were nothing greater or more troublesome than the usual machinations of the court. Being of noble birth and considerable talent, Rowena had secured for her name a revered position in the masque as Keeper of the Heavens. The Keeper played prominently in most performances, portraying both the steward of the celestial and the dispenser of mortal virtue. Even the Queen, during the masque, was scripted to incline her head to the Keeper.
It was just this elevated status that Rowena hoped would earn her the right to Bind with one of the more prominent males. Perhaps, if her influence and power grew enough, she could even entice one of the Gurus into a Binding with her. Rowena was even willing to wait for impetuous Prince Janus to mature, though she knew she would have to rise far in order to catch his eye once he was grown. No matter, Rowena thought as she crossed the threshold of the Sun Palace and softly padded between the great golden doors: Enlightened Ones had long ago discovered the secrets of eternal youth.
The room was set as Rowena Kaije arrived. Most of the court were already present, including the Queenıs children. The younger lad would have no part in the masque, given his surly nature. Schala, ever hoping to please her mother, would play the part of the Lady.
Rowena took her place upon the levitating dais at the pinnacle of the stage and swallowed a grimace as she noticed the purple-robed Prophet standing at the left side of the stage. Grimaces did not become the Keeper of the Heavens, Rowena Kaije reflected bitterly, though perhaps she would use this performance to put the meddlesome Prophet in his place. Invoking the power of her ornate chair, Rowena hovered slightly above the stage.
A hush fell over the court, and all lowered their eyes fell to a single knee as the Queen and her entourage entered the room. They came from the rear, leading the Queen to the raised throne that overlooked the stage. Only when the Queen was seated did the court rise and the masque begin.
The tiles surrounding the portal shone red, swirling amidst small whirlwinds of color, until the hues shifted into a steady blue, and with a crystalline shimmer Rowena Kaije exited the platform of the Kajar skyway
and nearly ran headfirst into the Guru of Reason.
³Haste does not become us, madam,² the blue-robed Guru intoned. His face was friendly, but he did not smile. He was a serene figure, but like all the Gurus he had grown unpopular as of late due to his disapproving attitude towards the court and the Queen.
Foremost of the royal court and High Enlightened One, Rowena Kaije bit off a heated response and dipped her head ever so slightly in respect, ³My apologies, Learned One. I hurry only at the behest of the Queen.²
The Guru sighed deeply and nodded. ³Her haste will be our ruin.² Without a further word he stepped around her and into the skyway portal. Rowena paused a moment until he shimmered out of sight.
³Learned One.² She nearly spat the words. From the skyway path Rowena hurried beyond the gates of Enhasa, passing the library and the sanctuary on the way to her apartments. Passing quickly beyond the working Nu and Enlightened Ones, Rowena quelled her anger. It was not Balthasarıs fault that the Queen was demanding yet another ceremonythe fifth in as many days. Still, the Guru had staked himself a solid position in the camp of the Queenıs detractors, and his sour countenance and attitude towards progress left a bitter taste in Rowenaıs mouth. And yet the Queen herself was not without fault
Never had any ruling monarch demanded so many performances. The Queen was truly on edge, Rowena thought. The Queen, surely, was beset with some nagging doubt. There was no other explanation for her erratic behavior. The Ocean Palace was nearly completed, and now she sought solace in ceremony. Rowena did not blame the Queen for her eccentricities, but the frequent masques she demanded were beginning to wear on the younger womanıs patience. But, Rowena knew, each masque was an opportunity to further her interests among the court, and none could be dismissed or treated lightly.
Well, if that was the case, it certainly was not the place of Rowena Kaije to question her Queen. Putting the questions aside, Rowena swept through her apartments like a swift wind, retrieving the Mask of Galaxies setting it on her brow. The headdress was a bit heavy, but once lit it was stunning to behold, with planets of various colors orbiting the main spire. Ducking behind her mirror, Rowena rubbed a line crushed blue beneath her eyes, and then quickly affixed the golden chains above her ears. Standing there before the mirror, she saw an Enlightened One whose sun was rising far and fast. Her power and status within Great Zeal was considerable, and had yet a considerable ways to go.
Noticing her shaking hands, a nervous habit that she always fretted over before a performance, Rowena retrieved a small golden box from her dresser. Carefully, she removed one of the red leaves and set is beneath her tongue. The effect was instantaneousher hands calmed, and a wave of dull warmth swept though her body. The leaves were grown in the sanctuary on the Ilfas trees only with constant care and attention. At first, most Enlightened Ones had shunned their use, but now nearly all of the highborn valued the Ilfas leaves for their calming effects. Rowena noted with satisfaction that her complexion had improved, and her hands were steady.
Rowena Kaije was Cosmos, Keeper of Heavensat least, that was the part she often played in the Queenıs frequent masques. And despite the Queenıs hasty demand for a performance, by the heavens, Rowena vowed that she would look and act the part.
Removing her traditional purple robe and donning the silver one that shone with unearthly iridescence when lit, Rowena took one last look at herself. Summoning forth the magic granted to the Enlightened Ones, she lit the Mask of Galaxies upon her brow, watching as a multitude of planets blazed forth and began their lazy orbits about the spire at the crown of her head. With another word she swirled the colors of her robe, letting them dance along the curves of her body. The Keeper of the Heavens was prepared.
Dousing both Mask and robe, Rowena assumed a stately walk and left her apartments. None would bother question or detain her, so garbed as the Keeper. She passed the library again, but instead of traversing the sanctuary she took the road through the gardens, following the green paths up through the golden tower that led to the Sun Palace skyway. The skyway was nearly full with Enlightened Ones and Nu and members of the Royal Court, but all gave way before Rowena, and she barely deigned a small nod in their direction as she passed. The skyway operator bowed deeply to Rowena, and she lit the frozen flame at the pinnacle of the spire of the Mask of Galaxies in response, indicating her readiness.
The skyway operator focused his power on the tiles beneath Rowenaıs sandal-clad feet, and just as the panels reached the deep shade of blue, he released it, sending her traveling along a strand of magic beyond the confines of mere space and time and matter, until she faded back into existence upon the panel in the Sun Palaceıs gatehouse.
³Madam Keeper,² the Sun Palace skyway operator said, bowing low. ³Please proceed.²
³What is the masque of the day?² Rowena asked.
³It is the Temptation of the Lady.²
Rowena nodded. Being the most prominent among the masquers for the past year she knew the performance well, though she considered it an odd choice given the current circumstances. The King was missing, and none at the court knew where he had gone, nor why the Queen seemed not to care much overmuch about his absence. The Royal Children, Princess Schala and Prince Janus, often exchanged heated words with their mother. And perhaps worst of all, an interloper from parts unknown, the mysterious Prophet, had taken a prominent place at court. The Prophetıs uncanny ability to predict future events had earned him sole rights to the Queenıs ear.
But these things were nothing greater or more troublesome than the usual machinations of the court. Being of noble birth and considerable talent, Rowena had secured for her name a revered position in the masque as Keeper of the Heavens. The Keeper played prominently in most performances, portraying both the steward of the celestial and the dispenser of mortal virtue. Even the Queen, during the masque, was scripted to incline her head to the Keeper.
It was just this elevated status that Rowena hoped would earn her the right to Bind with one of the more prominent males. Perhaps, if her influence and power grew enough, she could even entice one of the Gurus into a Binding with her. Rowena was even willing to wait for impetuous Prince Janus to mature, though she knew she would have to rise far in order to catch his eye once he was grown. No matter, Rowena thought as she crossed the threshold of the Sun Palace and softly padded between the great golden doors: Enlightened Ones had long ago discovered the secrets of eternal youth.
The room was set as Rowena Kaije arrived. Most of the court were already present, including the Queenıs children. The younger lad would have no part in the masque, given his surly nature. Schala, ever hoping to please her mother, would play the part of the Lady.
Rowena took her place upon the levitating dais at the pinnacle of the stage and swallowed a grimace as she noticed the purple-robed Prophet standing at the left side of the stage. Grimaces did not become the Keeper of the Heavens, Rowena Kaije reflected bitterly, though perhaps she would use this performance to put the meddlesome Prophet in his place. Invoking the power of her ornate chair, Rowena hovered slightly above the stage.
A hush fell over the court, and all lowered their eyes fell to a single knee as the Queen and her entourage entered the room. They came from the rear, leading the Queen to the raised throne that overlooked the stage. Only when the Queen was seated did the court rise and the masque begin.
* * *
Princess Schala, exquisitely clad as the Lady, took her place among the shimmering trees on the stage (held in place by the Master Illusionist). Taking a few halting steps, Schala began the Ladyıs speech. ³What if truth be a woman, what then? Could the noble bearing of this tender flesh be a suitable vessel for so heavy and so heavenly a burden? Could the fleeting mind and retreating reason of the feminine race be so courteous as to hold the final meaning of all things? Oh, such fallen thoughts! Surely will the poor Lady be damned and fallen for allowing them to expand within her inner cosmos. Surely will she fall, but not before her virtue²
Rowena knew the Temptation well, but nevertheless the performance did not bore her. Each masque, though scripted, was different. Those that improvised and wove new threads of meaning throughout the performance were well received by the court. Princess Schala, for all of her shortcomings, was as talented a masquer as there was, though her bearing as the Queenıs daughter surely removed much of the pressure of the court from her. Still, her speeches as the Lady were all different. Rowena secretly suspected each new speech from Schala was actually a window into the private recess of the Princessıs own thoughts and worries. Given enough practice at reading the Princessı moods, Rowena fancied she could become as skilled and as powerful as that damnable Prophet.
Next came the Capture, wherein two lesser members of the court portrayed betrayers cast down from the Heavens, driven by their dark Master to capture a creature of such beauty and virtue that the Master himself might be redeemed by the presence of such a creature.
Falling upon the lady wielding swords and maces of blazing fire, the captors took up their graceful dance to the tune of the minstrels. The two leaped about the lady, turning on their heels and leaving trails of dying flame behind them. Holding the lady between them, they juggled their flaming weapons between each other and past her trembling form, singing,
³Part flesh, part flame
Fortune cried when yon Lady came!
Fair of birth, fair of mind
A treasure of noble kind,
Wherein virtueıs worth is our to take
Ladyıs virtue does a Lady make!²
The flaming mace and sword left the captorsı hands and swirled about the Princessthis was Rowenaıs doing. Faster and faster they went, until nothing of Schala could be seen through the heavy curtain of flame. The Master Illusionist took over, and the shimmering tress melted into fire. On the opposite side of the stage, riding a burning pillar, came the Prophet, perfectly cast (in Rowenaıs opinion) as the Tempter.
The flaming weapons around the Princess ceased their motion, as did the captors. The Prophet, almost completely hidden within his robes, came forward. His only gesture at a costume was the silver gilded crown that rested on the hood of his robe. It was hardly necessary, Rowena thought. The Prophet was utterly believable in the role of the Tempter.
Though usually lewd and lascivious, the Prophet, Rowena noted, chose to take the role of the Tempter in a different direction.
³Lady you are both fair and wise. Lending a little of both to this fallen soul will diminish neither in you. One noble act of virtue, one perfect delicious redemption, will solve the problems of creation. None but you can restore that which has lost almost every similitude of grace. Let not your virtue be disturbedaccept my flaws and imperfections and let your own nobility smother them until they are no more. Lady restore me! Raise he who has fallen!²
Rowena gasped. Never before had the Tempter put such a proposition to the Lady. Never had the plea for redemption seemed so real and possible. Truly, the Prophet was a prince among Tempters. Instead of tempting the Lady to deny her nature, to tarnish her virtue with lewd behavior, he was demanding that she fulfill her noble nature and fall at the same time.
And yet while she wondered at the performance Rowena knew that the Prophet had yet again carved for himself a firmer position within the royal court. Already he had the Queenıs ear with his short speech here he might yet gain over the Princess and half the court as well.
A small tremor shook the Sun Palace, and the Enlightened Ones looked about in confusion, part at the disturbance, and part at the fact that the Princess was taking so long to respond to the Prophetıs temptation. The Sun Palace, residing on its own island in the sky, was subject to occasional rumblings. But more important was Schala. Rowena wondered would Schala accept the Tempterıs offer? And if she did, how would it reflect in the workings of the court?
The skin of Schalaıs face seemed drawn tight over her skin, her pale blue hair falling over her shoulders in gentle curls. ³I the reason of a woman is not enough to redeem one who has chosen the darkness. Mere virtue cannot smother wickedness, for it is the weaker of the two, always in danger, and always fragile. Where it lives, it lives in fear.²
The Prophet clenched his fists, and Rowena Kaije leaned forward. Rowena hesitated should she intervene now? The Lady had rejected the Tempter, as the script called for, but the manner of the rejection was like none the court had ever seen. The actions of the court masques were highly symbolic, and Rowena could tell that the minds of the other members of the court were working as furiously as hers to decipher what had transpired. Schala had met the temptation with humility, at once submitting the virtue and righteousness of the Lady as weaker than the wickedness of the Tempter, and yet the mere rejection of the Temptation showed that perhaps her virtue was the stronger substance.
Perhaps the Prophet would be finally put in his place, Rowena reflected.
Then the Prophet spoke, ³Even as I hear your answer, Lady, I know it is the only one that can ever be. Better that the immaculate grace of yours endures than be intertwined with the shadows in my soul; better your light shine unhindered so that despair may be driven away, even from wretches such as I.²
Rowena could barely restrain herself nowwith yet another subtle twist the Prophet had taken back power for himself, allowing the Lady all of her virtue and its redeeming power, but at the same time rejecting her! It now seemed that the Tempter was the one allowing the Lady to reveal her grace, completely upsetting the structure of power.
Rowena could let this go on no longer. Nodding to the Master Illusionist, she called forth the power of the Mask of Galaxies and lit her robe as she stood. To this effect the Master Illusionist added a grand clap of thunder and gentle tremor that jostled all of the spectators. Rowena descended from her perch to this impressive display and came to stand between the Lady and the Tempter.
³Come away, fair Lady, and be cleansed. Your encounter with evil has left its taint, and only the power of the heavens can remove it from your spotted soul. Let the healing waters run free.² At the end of Rowenaıs speech the Master Illusionist summoned the image of water falling from on high, rushing from an unseen source to bath the Lady in its shimmering purity. To this illusion, though for reasons Rowena could not fathom, the Master Illusionist added yet another soft rumble.
The Prophet took a step back, the illusions surrounding his form becoming less fiery and more dark and dreary. Shadows ensconced his robed figure.
But suddenly the Queen was there, having snuck upon the stage so quickly and unexpected that Rowena had to quell her surprise and shock lest it show on her serene face. It was certainly not unheard of for the Queen to participate, but usually the Queen had no prominent role in the Temptation of the Lady.
³Come, child,² the Queen said, pulling the Princess out from under the illusionary water. ³You are in no need of purification. Let virtue be mixed with darkness, that they might form an alloy of unyielding will. For will is the only thing that drives such creatures as we, and only those who possess the strongest of it shall find salvation.²
Rowena felt a firm and on her shoulderit was the Queenıs. The grip forced her to her knees. The Prophet and the Princess also knelt. With a mix of shock and horror Rowena felt the Mask of Galaxiesstill projecting the multitude of planets in orbit around the frozen flame at its spirebeing lifted from her head. Looking up, Rowena saw the Queen calmly hold the Mask, displaying it for the court, before setting it on her head. The shimmer in Rowenaıs gown was doused immediately, and begun anew in the Queenıs own pale blue gown.
The Queen spoke, ³The Heavens hold no mysteries for the Enlightened. The Fallen fell for nothing other than the pursuit of their own will. I say now, I am the Keeper of the Will of Zeal. I am the one that moves and dictates the direction of our progressionour will, which you shall see if the same as my own, shall not be thwarted by subservience to the Heavens, nor by prejudice against the Fallen. We are beyond that.² The Queen paused, and her gown shimmered all the brighter. Everyone in the room, even those on the stage, were kneeling now. ³We are beyond enlightenment. We are beyond mortality. The word for what we are echoes in the most celestial Heavens and the in the ears of the most dastardly Fallen: Zeal. I am the Keeper of All.²
Slowly, the Queen floated beyond the stage to her throne in the center of the room, where the Mask of Galaxies upon her head increased in radiance, if that were possible. More ground quakes, more violent than before, shook the Sun Palace, and each member of the court knelt in sustained awe of their Queen.
Only when the Queen left, and the room dimmed with her leaving, did the court draw a collective breath and stand, speaking in low voices of what they had just seen. There was no mistaking it: the Queen had usurped all the power granted to the masquers, reclaimed it as her own. Even the Keeper of the Heavens, a higher being that even monarchs of the past had acknowledged, was no longer worthy of her respect.
None felt the loss stronger than Rowena. The absence of the Mask of Galaxies, the lack of that reassuring weight upon her head echoed the absence in her heart. All of her pride, her power, her position among the royal court, all snatched by the hand of the Queen. Rowena felt the beginning of a tear under her eyelids.
Rowena knew the Temptation well, but nevertheless the performance did not bore her. Each masque, though scripted, was different. Those that improvised and wove new threads of meaning throughout the performance were well received by the court. Princess Schala, for all of her shortcomings, was as talented a masquer as there was, though her bearing as the Queenıs daughter surely removed much of the pressure of the court from her. Still, her speeches as the Lady were all different. Rowena secretly suspected each new speech from Schala was actually a window into the private recess of the Princessıs own thoughts and worries. Given enough practice at reading the Princessı moods, Rowena fancied she could become as skilled and as powerful as that damnable Prophet.
Next came the Capture, wherein two lesser members of the court portrayed betrayers cast down from the Heavens, driven by their dark Master to capture a creature of such beauty and virtue that the Master himself might be redeemed by the presence of such a creature.
Falling upon the lady wielding swords and maces of blazing fire, the captors took up their graceful dance to the tune of the minstrels. The two leaped about the lady, turning on their heels and leaving trails of dying flame behind them. Holding the lady between them, they juggled their flaming weapons between each other and past her trembling form, singing,
³Part flesh, part flame
Fortune cried when yon Lady came!
Fair of birth, fair of mind
A treasure of noble kind,
Wherein virtueıs worth is our to take
Ladyıs virtue does a Lady make!²
The flaming mace and sword left the captorsı hands and swirled about the Princessthis was Rowenaıs doing. Faster and faster they went, until nothing of Schala could be seen through the heavy curtain of flame. The Master Illusionist took over, and the shimmering tress melted into fire. On the opposite side of the stage, riding a burning pillar, came the Prophet, perfectly cast (in Rowenaıs opinion) as the Tempter.
The flaming weapons around the Princess ceased their motion, as did the captors. The Prophet, almost completely hidden within his robes, came forward. His only gesture at a costume was the silver gilded crown that rested on the hood of his robe. It was hardly necessary, Rowena thought. The Prophet was utterly believable in the role of the Tempter.
Though usually lewd and lascivious, the Prophet, Rowena noted, chose to take the role of the Tempter in a different direction.
³Lady you are both fair and wise. Lending a little of both to this fallen soul will diminish neither in you. One noble act of virtue, one perfect delicious redemption, will solve the problems of creation. None but you can restore that which has lost almost every similitude of grace. Let not your virtue be disturbedaccept my flaws and imperfections and let your own nobility smother them until they are no more. Lady restore me! Raise he who has fallen!²
Rowena gasped. Never before had the Tempter put such a proposition to the Lady. Never had the plea for redemption seemed so real and possible. Truly, the Prophet was a prince among Tempters. Instead of tempting the Lady to deny her nature, to tarnish her virtue with lewd behavior, he was demanding that she fulfill her noble nature and fall at the same time.
And yet while she wondered at the performance Rowena knew that the Prophet had yet again carved for himself a firmer position within the royal court. Already he had the Queenıs ear with his short speech here he might yet gain over the Princess and half the court as well.
A small tremor shook the Sun Palace, and the Enlightened Ones looked about in confusion, part at the disturbance, and part at the fact that the Princess was taking so long to respond to the Prophetıs temptation. The Sun Palace, residing on its own island in the sky, was subject to occasional rumblings. But more important was Schala. Rowena wondered would Schala accept the Tempterıs offer? And if she did, how would it reflect in the workings of the court?
The skin of Schalaıs face seemed drawn tight over her skin, her pale blue hair falling over her shoulders in gentle curls. ³I the reason of a woman is not enough to redeem one who has chosen the darkness. Mere virtue cannot smother wickedness, for it is the weaker of the two, always in danger, and always fragile. Where it lives, it lives in fear.²
The Prophet clenched his fists, and Rowena Kaije leaned forward. Rowena hesitated should she intervene now? The Lady had rejected the Tempter, as the script called for, but the manner of the rejection was like none the court had ever seen. The actions of the court masques were highly symbolic, and Rowena could tell that the minds of the other members of the court were working as furiously as hers to decipher what had transpired. Schala had met the temptation with humility, at once submitting the virtue and righteousness of the Lady as weaker than the wickedness of the Tempter, and yet the mere rejection of the Temptation showed that perhaps her virtue was the stronger substance.
Perhaps the Prophet would be finally put in his place, Rowena reflected.
Then the Prophet spoke, ³Even as I hear your answer, Lady, I know it is the only one that can ever be. Better that the immaculate grace of yours endures than be intertwined with the shadows in my soul; better your light shine unhindered so that despair may be driven away, even from wretches such as I.²
Rowena could barely restrain herself nowwith yet another subtle twist the Prophet had taken back power for himself, allowing the Lady all of her virtue and its redeeming power, but at the same time rejecting her! It now seemed that the Tempter was the one allowing the Lady to reveal her grace, completely upsetting the structure of power.
Rowena could let this go on no longer. Nodding to the Master Illusionist, she called forth the power of the Mask of Galaxies and lit her robe as she stood. To this effect the Master Illusionist added a grand clap of thunder and gentle tremor that jostled all of the spectators. Rowena descended from her perch to this impressive display and came to stand between the Lady and the Tempter.
³Come away, fair Lady, and be cleansed. Your encounter with evil has left its taint, and only the power of the heavens can remove it from your spotted soul. Let the healing waters run free.² At the end of Rowenaıs speech the Master Illusionist summoned the image of water falling from on high, rushing from an unseen source to bath the Lady in its shimmering purity. To this illusion, though for reasons Rowena could not fathom, the Master Illusionist added yet another soft rumble.
The Prophet took a step back, the illusions surrounding his form becoming less fiery and more dark and dreary. Shadows ensconced his robed figure.
But suddenly the Queen was there, having snuck upon the stage so quickly and unexpected that Rowena had to quell her surprise and shock lest it show on her serene face. It was certainly not unheard of for the Queen to participate, but usually the Queen had no prominent role in the Temptation of the Lady.
³Come, child,² the Queen said, pulling the Princess out from under the illusionary water. ³You are in no need of purification. Let virtue be mixed with darkness, that they might form an alloy of unyielding will. For will is the only thing that drives such creatures as we, and only those who possess the strongest of it shall find salvation.²
Rowena felt a firm and on her shoulderit was the Queenıs. The grip forced her to her knees. The Prophet and the Princess also knelt. With a mix of shock and horror Rowena felt the Mask of Galaxiesstill projecting the multitude of planets in orbit around the frozen flame at its spirebeing lifted from her head. Looking up, Rowena saw the Queen calmly hold the Mask, displaying it for the court, before setting it on her head. The shimmer in Rowenaıs gown was doused immediately, and begun anew in the Queenıs own pale blue gown.
The Queen spoke, ³The Heavens hold no mysteries for the Enlightened. The Fallen fell for nothing other than the pursuit of their own will. I say now, I am the Keeper of the Will of Zeal. I am the one that moves and dictates the direction of our progressionour will, which you shall see if the same as my own, shall not be thwarted by subservience to the Heavens, nor by prejudice against the Fallen. We are beyond that.² The Queen paused, and her gown shimmered all the brighter. Everyone in the room, even those on the stage, were kneeling now. ³We are beyond enlightenment. We are beyond mortality. The word for what we are echoes in the most celestial Heavens and the in the ears of the most dastardly Fallen: Zeal. I am the Keeper of All.²
Slowly, the Queen floated beyond the stage to her throne in the center of the room, where the Mask of Galaxies upon her head increased in radiance, if that were possible. More ground quakes, more violent than before, shook the Sun Palace, and each member of the court knelt in sustained awe of their Queen.
Only when the Queen left, and the room dimmed with her leaving, did the court draw a collective breath and stand, speaking in low voices of what they had just seen. There was no mistaking it: the Queen had usurped all the power granted to the masquers, reclaimed it as her own. Even the Keeper of the Heavens, a higher being that even monarchs of the past had acknowledged, was no longer worthy of her respect.
None felt the loss stronger than Rowena. The absence of the Mask of Galaxies, the lack of that reassuring weight upon her head echoed the absence in her heart. All of her pride, her power, her position among the royal court, all snatched by the hand of the Queen. Rowena felt the beginning of a tear under her eyelids.
* * *
She was hoisted roughly to her feet by a pair of velvet-gloved hands. She swung her arms and protesteduntil she found that she was staring into the cold blue eyes of the Prophet.
³Gather those who will follow you and lead them to the surface.²
³I do not take orders from you, false Prophet!²
The rough hands grabbed her face and held it until it was just inches from the Prophetıs own face. ³Look deeply, and see me truly.²
Rowena, through the darkness of her own anger and despair, saw a hint of something familiar in the blue eyes. Taking a breath, she reached beyond the mask of flesh and body, searching deep and finding darkness. Terrible darkness and hatred, compounded by years and frustration. And beyond that she saw the Kajar and Enhasa. She saw the Sun Palace. She saw the golden city through the eyes of a forgotten child
³Mılord Janus?²
The Prophet nodded. ³Do as I command. There is a storm coming so violent and terrible that it will destroy the world of Zeal.²
³But, the Queen²
³Leave the Queen to me. You must lead our people to surface.²
³Surely mılord, you mustnıt mean among the Earthbound?²
The Prophet placed his hand, no longer rough but firm and supporting, over hers. ³Even so. There isnıt much time. Assemble all that you can.² The next rumble sent them both sprawling to the floor. Helping Rowena to her feet, the Prophet said, ³We may meet again, when this is over.² And with that he was gone, disappeared in the dark shimmer. Rowena felt something immense within his powerwhat he had done, no Enlightened One could do.
Rowena ran, past the confused royal court and down the golden steps to the skyway station. She could tell before she even reached the station that it was teeming with people. Amidst the confusion and the shaking ground Rowena guessed that the skyway wasnıt even operating.
Yet she did not slow. The images had flown past her mindıs eye in an instant, and she would spend a lifetime sorting them out, but she had seen the young Prince Janus come of age in some dark and strange land, among demon-like creatures that seemed strangely familiar
The Mystics! Rowena wondered could it be that wherever the young Prince ended up also had Mystics? It seemed strange. The Mystics were golem-like creatures of differing shapes and sizes that had been created in the magical laboratories of Kajar and Enhasa. Unlike the other creations of the Enlightened, the Mystics were crafted of flesh and blood. Schala had been the first to give the creations the name Mystic, after she recognized that they were indeed sentient, though they possessed the intelligence and capabilities of mere children.
Nevertheless, the Mystics were the answer to her problems now. Having created so many within the laboratories, the Enlightened Ones had employed the ones they were finished with in the hangars. Small craft were kept for recreational use among the Enlightened Ones, and tended to by the Mystics: Quickwings, they were called.
Rowena rushed past the skyway station along the docks in the air to the hangar, hoping desperately that no one had the idea before she did. She was pleased to find none but a few Mystics in the hangar, moving slowly as they went about their monotonous tasks.
³Prepare me a craft,² Rowena commanded.
A few of the smaller blue skinned Mystics with tiny bodies and large heads leapt to do her bidding. Within moments the Quickwing was outfitted for travel and set upon the ramp leading down into the open sky. The craft had room enough for threeRowena fretted over the choice but made it quickly: she pulled the two blue skinned Mystics into the craft as released the brake.
³You will attend me this flight,² she told them as they plummeted. She ignored the panic in their eyes and focused her powers on pulling them out of the dive until they were gliding safely. Then came another massive quakenot felt by those three on the Quickwing but definitely heard and seen. The clouds swirling above grew dim and dark, and Rowena could see the teeming masses on the island of the Sun Palace milling about frantically.
As they pulled farther away from the island, holding a course for Enhasa, the sky opened. Clouds thicker and darker than Rowena had ever seen parted and shafts of brilliant yellow light rained from the sky. The first heavy drops of rain struck Rowena upon her naked brow.
The Quickwing buckled as a shaft of light fell close to it, and Rowena focused her power on righting the craft. One of the beams struck the Sun Palace, and Rowena watched in shock as the golden domes crumbled and a piece of the island broke away.
The words of the Prophet came back to her: ³There is a storm coming so violent and terrible that it will destroy the world the Zeal.² She had barely believed the words then, and but the full weight of them hit her as she watched the pieces of Zeal crumble from the sky and fall. Tiny bodies scrambled for purchase on the falling stones, but Rowena knew there was nothing for them but doom.
The wind suddenly picked up, lifting the craft a good hundred feet with a single gust, and this was followed by heavy rain and still more of the murderous shafts of light. They were striking the outer islands and the main continent with increased ferocity now.
Rowena forced the Quickwing along with more speed, making for the westernmost hangar on the main continent, the one that kept the Blackbirds. The wind tore her long hair from its bun and whipped it about the sides of her headbeside her, the small blue Mystics were holding onto their seats. They stared at Rowena with large eyes. If they could only reach the main continent, she would gather all that she could and take them down among the Earthbound. If there was still time. And if any of the Enlightened still remained.
The thought chilled her. Which was worse to die, or to live among the Earthbound? Another beam of light came perilously close to hitting the Quickwing, and Rowena pushed the thought from her mind.
Her lord the Prince had already made the decision for her.
³Gather those who will follow you and lead them to the surface.²
³I do not take orders from you, false Prophet!²
The rough hands grabbed her face and held it until it was just inches from the Prophetıs own face. ³Look deeply, and see me truly.²
Rowena, through the darkness of her own anger and despair, saw a hint of something familiar in the blue eyes. Taking a breath, she reached beyond the mask of flesh and body, searching deep and finding darkness. Terrible darkness and hatred, compounded by years and frustration. And beyond that she saw the Kajar and Enhasa. She saw the Sun Palace. She saw the golden city through the eyes of a forgotten child
³Mılord Janus?²
The Prophet nodded. ³Do as I command. There is a storm coming so violent and terrible that it will destroy the world of Zeal.²
³But, the Queen²
³Leave the Queen to me. You must lead our people to surface.²
³Surely mılord, you mustnıt mean among the Earthbound?²
The Prophet placed his hand, no longer rough but firm and supporting, over hers. ³Even so. There isnıt much time. Assemble all that you can.² The next rumble sent them both sprawling to the floor. Helping Rowena to her feet, the Prophet said, ³We may meet again, when this is over.² And with that he was gone, disappeared in the dark shimmer. Rowena felt something immense within his powerwhat he had done, no Enlightened One could do.
Rowena ran, past the confused royal court and down the golden steps to the skyway station. She could tell before she even reached the station that it was teeming with people. Amidst the confusion and the shaking ground Rowena guessed that the skyway wasnıt even operating.
Yet she did not slow. The images had flown past her mindıs eye in an instant, and she would spend a lifetime sorting them out, but she had seen the young Prince Janus come of age in some dark and strange land, among demon-like creatures that seemed strangely familiar
The Mystics! Rowena wondered could it be that wherever the young Prince ended up also had Mystics? It seemed strange. The Mystics were golem-like creatures of differing shapes and sizes that had been created in the magical laboratories of Kajar and Enhasa. Unlike the other creations of the Enlightened, the Mystics were crafted of flesh and blood. Schala had been the first to give the creations the name Mystic, after she recognized that they were indeed sentient, though they possessed the intelligence and capabilities of mere children.
Nevertheless, the Mystics were the answer to her problems now. Having created so many within the laboratories, the Enlightened Ones had employed the ones they were finished with in the hangars. Small craft were kept for recreational use among the Enlightened Ones, and tended to by the Mystics: Quickwings, they were called.
Rowena rushed past the skyway station along the docks in the air to the hangar, hoping desperately that no one had the idea before she did. She was pleased to find none but a few Mystics in the hangar, moving slowly as they went about their monotonous tasks.
³Prepare me a craft,² Rowena commanded.
A few of the smaller blue skinned Mystics with tiny bodies and large heads leapt to do her bidding. Within moments the Quickwing was outfitted for travel and set upon the ramp leading down into the open sky. The craft had room enough for threeRowena fretted over the choice but made it quickly: she pulled the two blue skinned Mystics into the craft as released the brake.
³You will attend me this flight,² she told them as they plummeted. She ignored the panic in their eyes and focused her powers on pulling them out of the dive until they were gliding safely. Then came another massive quakenot felt by those three on the Quickwing but definitely heard and seen. The clouds swirling above grew dim and dark, and Rowena could see the teeming masses on the island of the Sun Palace milling about frantically.
As they pulled farther away from the island, holding a course for Enhasa, the sky opened. Clouds thicker and darker than Rowena had ever seen parted and shafts of brilliant yellow light rained from the sky. The first heavy drops of rain struck Rowena upon her naked brow.
The Quickwing buckled as a shaft of light fell close to it, and Rowena focused her power on righting the craft. One of the beams struck the Sun Palace, and Rowena watched in shock as the golden domes crumbled and a piece of the island broke away.
The words of the Prophet came back to her: ³There is a storm coming so violent and terrible that it will destroy the world the Zeal.² She had barely believed the words then, and but the full weight of them hit her as she watched the pieces of Zeal crumble from the sky and fall. Tiny bodies scrambled for purchase on the falling stones, but Rowena knew there was nothing for them but doom.
The wind suddenly picked up, lifting the craft a good hundred feet with a single gust, and this was followed by heavy rain and still more of the murderous shafts of light. They were striking the outer islands and the main continent with increased ferocity now.
Rowena forced the Quickwing along with more speed, making for the westernmost hangar on the main continent, the one that kept the Blackbirds. The wind tore her long hair from its bun and whipped it about the sides of her headbeside her, the small blue Mystics were holding onto their seats. They stared at Rowena with large eyes. If they could only reach the main continent, she would gather all that she could and take them down among the Earthbound. If there was still time. And if any of the Enlightened still remained.
The thought chilled her. Which was worse to die, or to live among the Earthbound? Another beam of light came perilously close to hitting the Quickwing, and Rowena pushed the thought from her mind.
Her lord the Prince had already made the decision for her.
* * *
...the fall of great Zeal saw the end of the use of the courtly masque, thought it was reinstated for a brief time in Medina under the despotic rule of Janus Cage. Seeking to reconstruct the iconic display of ancient Zeal, eyewitnesses report that the staging of these masques was quite elaborate, with the dictator Cage himself often taking a primary role
From ³The Masque: Courtly Discourse in Ancient Zeal² by Maevwyn Aringail, Zealingrad Academy of Magic
From ³The Masque: Courtly Discourse in Ancient Zeal² by Maevwyn Aringail, Zealingrad Academy of Magic
* * *
Modern times. The year was 2320, or 37 WR as it is reckoned among the free peoples of the Web. Two travelers found themselves traveling on foot through the northern woods of Medina, on a risky mission of reconnaissance: a Jidoor-trained actor and his commander, a deposed tyrant nursing hatred in his heart
³Skull was dead, in the first place.
³His body, not yet cold in the ground, lay ensconced in the shadow of the Grand Palace of Medina, warming a patch of unmarked earth that it would not be disturbed by those who would seek to lessen memory of the noble imp.²
³Honestly. Must you recite that now?²
Sander ignored the protest, and continued his narration. ³The imp fallen, the nation leaderless, and the very timber of the land cried out, lamenting the order lost in the exchange. The wood was dry and ready, the keg set with steady hand and sturdy wick, and all at once seemed ready to plunge into the oblivion of turmoil and war³
Tyurin Cage cuffed Sander on the back of thespianıs head. ³Enough. I know how it went down.²
³But you must know how it is being told, commander,² Sander rubbed his head where he had been struck. His pale blond hair looked almost white in the sunrise. ³When nations dissolve and mass media departs, the bardic tradition returns!²
Tyurin Cage kicked dirt over the fire at his feet and spat. ³Foolishness.²
³Youıre responsible for our transportation and lodgings during this dismal affair, so Iıll hear no protests over my recitation!² Sanderıs voice was booming, his pale eyes intent.
Cage was the shorter of the two men, his torso thicker, and his bearing stern. Despite the fact that Sander towered over him, there was no mistaking where the true power lay between the two men. For a moment, Cageıs arm was tense, as if he was about the strike his companion again. The moment passed. ³Fine, my dear fellow. Letıs hear your tale as we travel. It is as false and fanciful as your shallow art, but even fancy things can take ones mind off the road.²
Sander brushed himself off and straightened his jacket. He took a deep breath, and then began again. ³Skull was dead, in the first place²
The woods north of the Grand Palace were dense, littered with smaller villages and outlying towns of Mystics and dark-skinned humans, taking refuge and fortifying themselves for the coming winter. Since landing two days ago Sander and Tyurin Cage had avoided these, keeping to the deeper woods and staying off the main roads. They were armed, to be sure, and a vessel secretly waited in shallow orbit ready to whisk them away at a momentıs notice should Cage make the call, but all in all, they were alone in a harsh land. Bandits and masters of the shadow magics roamed freely about the lands, impressing Mystics and humans to their cause and eradicating their enemies.
As they moved south from Zealingrad toward the Palace the bulwarks of the old government became harder to find. A small police force still roamed the lands outside of Zealingrad, but farther south there were none, just roving bands of refugees and those that preyed on them. Tyurin Cage took no notice of them, but Sander, staunch Esperian that he was, felt the sting of pity as they passed the disheveled Mystics and humans barely clinging to life.
³ And lo! From the very darkness of the past came the man who laid claim to the mantle of Magus! Bright was his cape, and his hair shone a brilliant blue. This was Janus Cage, son of the missing Prime Minister Tyurin Cage!²
Tyurin Cage grunted, but did not speak.
³In his hand he held the Sickle of Doom, and he commanded the Mystics to himself with the air of great and divine authority, until all who served him called him Magus. Such were his deeds, so mighty his bearing, that those who had luck enough to catch sight of him stood away rubbing their eyes and proclaiming him the Dark God reborn!²
³Weıll see about that.²
Sander looked back at his companion. ³Donıt interrupt He gathered them, the Mystics of Medina, unto himself and led them against the Dark Barons, destroying each in turn, until at last all the land fell under the shadow of his rule.
³And deep from his palace outside of capital city, in the very womb of darkness, the Magus Cage proclaimed in Medina the coming of a new age: Great Zeal reborn! And amidst the ruins of ancient kingdoms past he commissioned the rebuilding of cities long destroyed: in the southeast, the mystical hospice of Enhasa, and in the west, the refuge of Kajar!²
Tyurin Cage trod along, the rage within him simmering. The boy was madthat much was sure. The boyCage thought bitterlymy son. No, Cage corrected himself: he was never my son. Not this creature that ruled the land with a might and a power that the man who claimed to be his father had never known. His infantile attempts to rebuild Zeal, if he could emerge long enough from out behind his cape to behold them, had met with terrible failure. In the west bandits had raided the builders of New Kajarı and stolen their equipment and materials. In the southeast, at New Enhasa,ı the city had been built just long enough for one of the more vicious of the Shadow Barons to claim it as her own: Margaruitte Aringail. New Enhasaı now bore her name.
Such a sweet, innocent girlTyurin Cage almost regretted what had been done to her, but only because she was proving to be so meddlesome now. Better the woman had never come to so much power, as it only placed another foe staunchly in the elder Cageıs path.
³Quite finished?² Cage asked Sander, who had fallen silent.
³Quite,² the actor returned. ³For the moment. I can add to the tale once we see the boy for ourselves.²
³He is erratic and mad,² Cage said, though he had gone over this with his companion before. ³I am counting on your quick wits to divert his attentions. He may be powerful, but he has no sense. Our spies in the palace report he has two trusted servants that guard him zealously and do his dirty work, a human woman and a black-hided gangle creaturewe avoid these and give our performance.²
³I know the plan, commander. But I need remind you: the masque he has resurrected from ancient Zeal is a highly temperamental beast. Its such a malleable thing that it can be improvised any number of ways, to credit or discredit any member of the performance.²
Cage nodded. ³I leave the acting to youlet us not be discredited so much that we cannot escape once we see him. My part will be small. I have no skill at this foolishness.²
³For once, commander, I agree.² Sander realized, too late, that the comment was close to earning him another cuff on the head, but Tyurin Cage seemed too preoccupied with his own thoughts to respond.
Throughout his thoughts a single question echoed: A god? Cage knew it was not possible, though the mere thought of such a claim thrilled him with a passion that he had only felt when he was Prime Minister. He was still rightfully Prime Minister, he reminded himself, despite the fact that he lacked the arms or the followers to reclaim his land. Still, he was mildly content to let Janus Cage rule Medina in his stead, though the boyıs claims to godhood were disturbing, at least. If he could not change what had come to pass, he could at least move forward with his own plans as best he could.
Sander and Tyurin Cage made camp along the banks of a cold and muddy river twenty leagues north of the Grand Palace, the same Palace that he had once called home, just as Skull had before him. It seemed odd for the Prime Ministerıs to occupy the same Palace that Ozzie had ruled Medina from for so many years, but Skull had set the precedent, and Cage found the power and might that the palace exuded fitting and useful. Or at least, he had, until he was told to leave as his flagship reentered Gatespace those many years ago.
Since then things had not gone well for Cage. Deserted by the majority of his followers, he was forced to recruit useless halfwits like Sander and rely on his oldest and staunchest allies for financial support. By the same rights, he was a wanted man, and returning to Medina was a dangerous proposition. Weeks in one of the gamma-tanners on the Mana IV colony had turned his skin as black as coal, and a shaggy beard now hung from his dark face. A quick operation on Alter-Dragon had replaced his original fingerprints with a dead manıs, and the injection of certain hormones had allowed his torso to bulk and altered the timber of his voice. All that was left of Tyurin Cage was his name, which he stubbornly refused to leave behind, insisting only when he traveled abroad to be addressed as commanderı by his followers.
A bleak dawn followed, and Sander was roasting a meal of sausages and bacon when Cage awoke to the roar of JetBikes.
³A gang?² Sander asked.
The other man nodded. ³Turn that off,² Cage told Sander, indicating the omni-stove. ³If they have a scanner with them, theyıll pick up on it.²
Sander complied quickly and crested the rise of the hill to join Cage overlooking the road below. A troop of fifty or so JetBikers were speeding to the east.
³Look,² Tyurin Cage said, pointing.
Beyond the JetBikers, approaching from the west, were the boxy forms of JetTanks. They hovered three feet from the ground, but swayed erratically as they gave errant pursuit. ³Theyıll never catch the bikers with those,² Sander said. ³The tanks are too slow.²
³So they are, but I think the leader of the tanks is counting on something stopping them.²
Sander said, tilting his head dramatically, ³Or someone?²
Cage nearly batted the fool boyıs head off. Damned actor. ³What do you mean?²
³Look there.²
Standing just before a line of swaying trees was a man, caped and holding the haft of a massive scythe in his black-gloved hand.
³Itıs him,² Tyurin Cage breathed.
The JetBikes plowed ahead, taking no notice of the figure standing in their path. Their engines shone red beneath the enameled chrome of their undercarriages, and their riders, an assortment of humans and Mystics, shouted loudly as they rode closer to the trees. The figure barring their way raised his hand and held the scythe above his head, and their shouts turned to screams.
It was as if the sun went outall went to darkness, so black that it seemed they were lodged in the deepest of caves where not a hint of light could travel. Tyurin Cage fought the panic that threatened to rise in his gut. It was a powerful spell the boy was weaving, and they were merely caught in its radius
³Commander?² The voice, a mere whisper, was Sanderıs.
³Stay still, the spell will lift in a moment.²
³You know it?²
Cage did not reply, but he did know the spell. Margaruitte Aringail herself had explained it to him. Screams and the sound of clashing metal lifted through the brisk air to their ears.
True to Tyurin Cageıs word, the darkness did lift, as if a thick cloth had been removed from their eyes. The JetTanks in pursuit of the bikers had stopped and hovered unsteadily at the bend in the road.
³Commander?!²
³Be still!²
The JetBikers were no more. From the looks of it, Tyurin Cage guessed that the boy saved his magic and done the dirty work all with his massive scythe. Bodies and limbs lay strewn about the muddy road, the blood mingling with brown and viscous water. The scythe had cut through both flesh and steel: many of the JetBikes were in pieces.
With a dark flash, Janus Cage was gone.
³Well,² Sander said gruffly, masking his fear. ³That pretty much takes it, doesnıt it? After that display even Iım willing to bend knee to the new Dark God of Medina.²
³Iım not,² Tyurin Cage replied. ³The spell was a powerful one, but not beyond a mortal. I know one other who could duplicate it. The scythe could be outfitted with a vibro-blade, and he could be using one of those blasted phase-shifting devices that Eusic Mori was so fond of.²
³Teleportation?² Sander said. ³But, such a thing is unheard of, and, if I daresay it, unlawful!²
Cage grunted. ³Such were the rumors. But the fact remains: what was just done could have been done by a mortal.²
³The chances of that are seeming less and less likely.²
³Weıll know for sure once weıre in the palace.²
³Skull was dead, in the first place.
³His body, not yet cold in the ground, lay ensconced in the shadow of the Grand Palace of Medina, warming a patch of unmarked earth that it would not be disturbed by those who would seek to lessen memory of the noble imp.²
³Honestly. Must you recite that now?²
Sander ignored the protest, and continued his narration. ³The imp fallen, the nation leaderless, and the very timber of the land cried out, lamenting the order lost in the exchange. The wood was dry and ready, the keg set with steady hand and sturdy wick, and all at once seemed ready to plunge into the oblivion of turmoil and war³
Tyurin Cage cuffed Sander on the back of thespianıs head. ³Enough. I know how it went down.²
³But you must know how it is being told, commander,² Sander rubbed his head where he had been struck. His pale blond hair looked almost white in the sunrise. ³When nations dissolve and mass media departs, the bardic tradition returns!²
Tyurin Cage kicked dirt over the fire at his feet and spat. ³Foolishness.²
³Youıre responsible for our transportation and lodgings during this dismal affair, so Iıll hear no protests over my recitation!² Sanderıs voice was booming, his pale eyes intent.
Cage was the shorter of the two men, his torso thicker, and his bearing stern. Despite the fact that Sander towered over him, there was no mistaking where the true power lay between the two men. For a moment, Cageıs arm was tense, as if he was about the strike his companion again. The moment passed. ³Fine, my dear fellow. Letıs hear your tale as we travel. It is as false and fanciful as your shallow art, but even fancy things can take ones mind off the road.²
Sander brushed himself off and straightened his jacket. He took a deep breath, and then began again. ³Skull was dead, in the first place²
The woods north of the Grand Palace were dense, littered with smaller villages and outlying towns of Mystics and dark-skinned humans, taking refuge and fortifying themselves for the coming winter. Since landing two days ago Sander and Tyurin Cage had avoided these, keeping to the deeper woods and staying off the main roads. They were armed, to be sure, and a vessel secretly waited in shallow orbit ready to whisk them away at a momentıs notice should Cage make the call, but all in all, they were alone in a harsh land. Bandits and masters of the shadow magics roamed freely about the lands, impressing Mystics and humans to their cause and eradicating their enemies.
As they moved south from Zealingrad toward the Palace the bulwarks of the old government became harder to find. A small police force still roamed the lands outside of Zealingrad, but farther south there were none, just roving bands of refugees and those that preyed on them. Tyurin Cage took no notice of them, but Sander, staunch Esperian that he was, felt the sting of pity as they passed the disheveled Mystics and humans barely clinging to life.
³ And lo! From the very darkness of the past came the man who laid claim to the mantle of Magus! Bright was his cape, and his hair shone a brilliant blue. This was Janus Cage, son of the missing Prime Minister Tyurin Cage!²
Tyurin Cage grunted, but did not speak.
³In his hand he held the Sickle of Doom, and he commanded the Mystics to himself with the air of great and divine authority, until all who served him called him Magus. Such were his deeds, so mighty his bearing, that those who had luck enough to catch sight of him stood away rubbing their eyes and proclaiming him the Dark God reborn!²
³Weıll see about that.²
Sander looked back at his companion. ³Donıt interrupt He gathered them, the Mystics of Medina, unto himself and led them against the Dark Barons, destroying each in turn, until at last all the land fell under the shadow of his rule.
³And deep from his palace outside of capital city, in the very womb of darkness, the Magus Cage proclaimed in Medina the coming of a new age: Great Zeal reborn! And amidst the ruins of ancient kingdoms past he commissioned the rebuilding of cities long destroyed: in the southeast, the mystical hospice of Enhasa, and in the west, the refuge of Kajar!²
Tyurin Cage trod along, the rage within him simmering. The boy was madthat much was sure. The boyCage thought bitterlymy son. No, Cage corrected himself: he was never my son. Not this creature that ruled the land with a might and a power that the man who claimed to be his father had never known. His infantile attempts to rebuild Zeal, if he could emerge long enough from out behind his cape to behold them, had met with terrible failure. In the west bandits had raided the builders of New Kajarı and stolen their equipment and materials. In the southeast, at New Enhasa,ı the city had been built just long enough for one of the more vicious of the Shadow Barons to claim it as her own: Margaruitte Aringail. New Enhasaı now bore her name.
Such a sweet, innocent girlTyurin Cage almost regretted what had been done to her, but only because she was proving to be so meddlesome now. Better the woman had never come to so much power, as it only placed another foe staunchly in the elder Cageıs path.
³Quite finished?² Cage asked Sander, who had fallen silent.
³Quite,² the actor returned. ³For the moment. I can add to the tale once we see the boy for ourselves.²
³He is erratic and mad,² Cage said, though he had gone over this with his companion before. ³I am counting on your quick wits to divert his attentions. He may be powerful, but he has no sense. Our spies in the palace report he has two trusted servants that guard him zealously and do his dirty work, a human woman and a black-hided gangle creaturewe avoid these and give our performance.²
³I know the plan, commander. But I need remind you: the masque he has resurrected from ancient Zeal is a highly temperamental beast. Its such a malleable thing that it can be improvised any number of ways, to credit or discredit any member of the performance.²
Cage nodded. ³I leave the acting to youlet us not be discredited so much that we cannot escape once we see him. My part will be small. I have no skill at this foolishness.²
³For once, commander, I agree.² Sander realized, too late, that the comment was close to earning him another cuff on the head, but Tyurin Cage seemed too preoccupied with his own thoughts to respond.
Throughout his thoughts a single question echoed: A god? Cage knew it was not possible, though the mere thought of such a claim thrilled him with a passion that he had only felt when he was Prime Minister. He was still rightfully Prime Minister, he reminded himself, despite the fact that he lacked the arms or the followers to reclaim his land. Still, he was mildly content to let Janus Cage rule Medina in his stead, though the boyıs claims to godhood were disturbing, at least. If he could not change what had come to pass, he could at least move forward with his own plans as best he could.
Sander and Tyurin Cage made camp along the banks of a cold and muddy river twenty leagues north of the Grand Palace, the same Palace that he had once called home, just as Skull had before him. It seemed odd for the Prime Ministerıs to occupy the same Palace that Ozzie had ruled Medina from for so many years, but Skull had set the precedent, and Cage found the power and might that the palace exuded fitting and useful. Or at least, he had, until he was told to leave as his flagship reentered Gatespace those many years ago.
Since then things had not gone well for Cage. Deserted by the majority of his followers, he was forced to recruit useless halfwits like Sander and rely on his oldest and staunchest allies for financial support. By the same rights, he was a wanted man, and returning to Medina was a dangerous proposition. Weeks in one of the gamma-tanners on the Mana IV colony had turned his skin as black as coal, and a shaggy beard now hung from his dark face. A quick operation on Alter-Dragon had replaced his original fingerprints with a dead manıs, and the injection of certain hormones had allowed his torso to bulk and altered the timber of his voice. All that was left of Tyurin Cage was his name, which he stubbornly refused to leave behind, insisting only when he traveled abroad to be addressed as commanderı by his followers.
A bleak dawn followed, and Sander was roasting a meal of sausages and bacon when Cage awoke to the roar of JetBikes.
³A gang?² Sander asked.
The other man nodded. ³Turn that off,² Cage told Sander, indicating the omni-stove. ³If they have a scanner with them, theyıll pick up on it.²
Sander complied quickly and crested the rise of the hill to join Cage overlooking the road below. A troop of fifty or so JetBikers were speeding to the east.
³Look,² Tyurin Cage said, pointing.
Beyond the JetBikers, approaching from the west, were the boxy forms of JetTanks. They hovered three feet from the ground, but swayed erratically as they gave errant pursuit. ³Theyıll never catch the bikers with those,² Sander said. ³The tanks are too slow.²
³So they are, but I think the leader of the tanks is counting on something stopping them.²
Sander said, tilting his head dramatically, ³Or someone?²
Cage nearly batted the fool boyıs head off. Damned actor. ³What do you mean?²
³Look there.²
Standing just before a line of swaying trees was a man, caped and holding the haft of a massive scythe in his black-gloved hand.
³Itıs him,² Tyurin Cage breathed.
The JetBikes plowed ahead, taking no notice of the figure standing in their path. Their engines shone red beneath the enameled chrome of their undercarriages, and their riders, an assortment of humans and Mystics, shouted loudly as they rode closer to the trees. The figure barring their way raised his hand and held the scythe above his head, and their shouts turned to screams.
It was as if the sun went outall went to darkness, so black that it seemed they were lodged in the deepest of caves where not a hint of light could travel. Tyurin Cage fought the panic that threatened to rise in his gut. It was a powerful spell the boy was weaving, and they were merely caught in its radius
³Commander?² The voice, a mere whisper, was Sanderıs.
³Stay still, the spell will lift in a moment.²
³You know it?²
Cage did not reply, but he did know the spell. Margaruitte Aringail herself had explained it to him. Screams and the sound of clashing metal lifted through the brisk air to their ears.
True to Tyurin Cageıs word, the darkness did lift, as if a thick cloth had been removed from their eyes. The JetTanks in pursuit of the bikers had stopped and hovered unsteadily at the bend in the road.
³Commander?!²
³Be still!²
The JetBikers were no more. From the looks of it, Tyurin Cage guessed that the boy saved his magic and done the dirty work all with his massive scythe. Bodies and limbs lay strewn about the muddy road, the blood mingling with brown and viscous water. The scythe had cut through both flesh and steel: many of the JetBikes were in pieces.
With a dark flash, Janus Cage was gone.
³Well,² Sander said gruffly, masking his fear. ³That pretty much takes it, doesnıt it? After that display even Iım willing to bend knee to the new Dark God of Medina.²
³Iım not,² Tyurin Cage replied. ³The spell was a powerful one, but not beyond a mortal. I know one other who could duplicate it. The scythe could be outfitted with a vibro-blade, and he could be using one of those blasted phase-shifting devices that Eusic Mori was so fond of.²
³Teleportation?² Sander said. ³But, such a thing is unheard of, and, if I daresay it, unlawful!²
Cage grunted. ³Such were the rumors. But the fact remains: what was just done could have been done by a mortal.²
³The chances of that are seeming less and less likely.²
³Weıll know for sure once weıre in the palace.²
* * *
³The Magus has been expecting you.²
Sander and Tyurin Cage inclined their heads to the creature. Though the older man would not admit it, he felt some small pangs of fear looking upon Janus Cageıs manservant, the creature that his spies had reported was called Scullo.
The name, Cage reflected, was fitting. The rough black face in those robes was filled with hard lines and crags, like a living skull hewn from a slab of black granite. The creature did not appear to be armed, but Cage would take no chances around such an odd beast.
³He is pleased that actors of such repute have answered his call for masquers,² the thing called Scullo went on. ³Of late we have found the company of the Magusı court somewhat lessened.²
Beside Tyurin Cage, Sander rubbed his hands together uneasily. The Grand Palace was nothing like it had been those years ago when Tyurin was Prime Minister. The halls were no longer lit with light powered from without, but held a flaming torch every so often along the corridors. In addition to the darkness was the smellmusty and filthy with decay. If Janus Cage was seeking to recreate conditions from the seventh century, he was certainly doing a fair job of it.
³If I might ask, sir,² Sander spoke up, addressing Scullo, ³Which masque will the Magus be desiring?²
Scullo lead them through another winding and shadowy corridor before answering. ³His mood has grown dark of late; as such, he much desires to see The Conclave of the Fallenı as it is interpreted from actors beyond our borders.²
Tyurin nodded slightly to Sander: this was as they expected. Sander had insisted that Cage be prepared for any number of roles, but the older man had banked on the fact that Janus Cage would want to see Conclave.
³The Magus himself plays the part of Kattas, Prince of the Fallen.²
Sander raised a single blond eyebrow. This was not expected. Cage put a firm hand on the actorıs arm to keep him from responding.
³Which roles does the Magus desire for us?²
Scullo did not respond but led them through a final portal into what was once the Great Hall of Ozzie, which now looked must as it must have when the first Ozzie ruled from its confines. Heavy iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the room was cold and wet. The oddest thing to behold were the broken remnants of technology strewn about from the last administration: broken computer screens, twisted energy rifles even what appearing to be remains of a JetTank turret. Perched just atop the turret, in fact, was an ornately carved chair.
And seated there was Janus Cage. They had only seen him from a distance before, but he appeared much more than a boy. Purple lines crawled under his eyes on his pale face, and lank brown hair fell over his shoulders. He wore a heavy silver amulet about his neck, resting on top of his black leather vest that was fitted with jagged silver discs.
Along the sides of the hall fluttered a number of Mystics, Janus Cageıs court,ı Tyurin assumed. Many were as oddly dressed as their master, adopting fashions that could not be described as anything but medieval. There were no humans among them, and for the first time Tyurin Cage felt a throb of fear in his throat.
Controlling some unseen mechanism, Janus Cageıs tank-turret-throne turned until he was facing the interlopers to his court, the barrel of the gun pointed directly at Tyurin Cage.
Sander and Tyurin Cage inclined their heads to the creature. Though the older man would not admit it, he felt some small pangs of fear looking upon Janus Cageıs manservant, the creature that his spies had reported was called Scullo.
The name, Cage reflected, was fitting. The rough black face in those robes was filled with hard lines and crags, like a living skull hewn from a slab of black granite. The creature did not appear to be armed, but Cage would take no chances around such an odd beast.
³He is pleased that actors of such repute have answered his call for masquers,² the thing called Scullo went on. ³Of late we have found the company of the Magusı court somewhat lessened.²
Beside Tyurin Cage, Sander rubbed his hands together uneasily. The Grand Palace was nothing like it had been those years ago when Tyurin was Prime Minister. The halls were no longer lit with light powered from without, but held a flaming torch every so often along the corridors. In addition to the darkness was the smellmusty and filthy with decay. If Janus Cage was seeking to recreate conditions from the seventh century, he was certainly doing a fair job of it.
³If I might ask, sir,² Sander spoke up, addressing Scullo, ³Which masque will the Magus be desiring?²
Scullo lead them through another winding and shadowy corridor before answering. ³His mood has grown dark of late; as such, he much desires to see The Conclave of the Fallenı as it is interpreted from actors beyond our borders.²
Tyurin nodded slightly to Sander: this was as they expected. Sander had insisted that Cage be prepared for any number of roles, but the older man had banked on the fact that Janus Cage would want to see Conclave.
³The Magus himself plays the part of Kattas, Prince of the Fallen.²
Sander raised a single blond eyebrow. This was not expected. Cage put a firm hand on the actorıs arm to keep him from responding.
³Which roles does the Magus desire for us?²
Scullo did not respond but led them through a final portal into what was once the Great Hall of Ozzie, which now looked must as it must have when the first Ozzie ruled from its confines. Heavy iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the room was cold and wet. The oddest thing to behold were the broken remnants of technology strewn about from the last administration: broken computer screens, twisted energy rifles even what appearing to be remains of a JetTank turret. Perched just atop the turret, in fact, was an ornately carved chair.
And seated there was Janus Cage. They had only seen him from a distance before, but he appeared much more than a boy. Purple lines crawled under his eyes on his pale face, and lank brown hair fell over his shoulders. He wore a heavy silver amulet about his neck, resting on top of his black leather vest that was fitted with jagged silver discs.
Along the sides of the hall fluttered a number of Mystics, Janus Cageıs court,ı Tyurin assumed. Many were as oddly dressed as their master, adopting fashions that could not be described as anything but medieval. There were no humans among them, and for the first time Tyurin Cage felt a throb of fear in his throat.
Controlling some unseen mechanism, Janus Cageıs tank-turret-throne turned until he was facing the interlopers to his court, the barrel of the gun pointed directly at Tyurin Cage.
* * *
³Weary travelers from afar, I bid you welcome to the court of Magus!² Janus stood and executed a swift bow, his tattered cape falling over his shoulder.
³We are honored to be so magnificently received by the Magus,² Sander responded, bowing in kind.
³Scullo tells me that you are spies,² Janus Cage said quickly, his hands crossed in front of his chest. ³But he is ever paranoid about outsiders, and I fancy sweet Scullo a traitor himself sometimes.² He grinned at his servant, leaned over and kissed Scullo upon the rough hide of its cheek, but the creature did not move or show any indication of being mentioned. ³But in the court of Magus we are all loyal or traitors at any given moment.²
³Commander,² Sander whispered to Tyurin by way of a warning. ³Be on your guard: the masque has begun.²
Tyurin began to mouth a question but held his tongue. The eyes of Janus Cageor at least, the crazed individual that bore the name of his sonwere on him.
³You,² Janus said, leaping down from the turret throne, ³You have a familiar look to you.²
Tyurin knelt as Janus approached. He looked up briefly only to notice that Janus was now holding the massive Doom Sickle loosely in his left hand. Despite the weight of the weapon it appeared that the young man was wielding it as if it were light as air.
More of Eusic Moriıs gadgets, Tyurin thought bitterly.
³Perhaps you are a spy from the Celestial Dome, sent to know the will of this Conclave!²
³My Prince!² Sander said quickly, stepping between the father and his crazed son. ³Mortrix and myself have always been the foremost of your loyal angels.²
Tyurin stared a moment, until he at last realized that Sander had quoted a line from the masque. But there was no denying it: Janus Cage was insane, utterly devoid of any rational though or memory. It was as he feared. But still, the question remained was he a god?
Janus Cage threw back his head and laughed. ³Of course you have been. Now dance me the dance of loyalty, that your Prince might know your willingness to throw your fallen bodies upon the spears of heaven when he commands it!²
The Mystics that had been waiting at the sides, the Magusıs royal court,ı sprang to life, forming rows on either side of the turret throne. Sander lifted Tyurin Cage to his feet and pushed the older man to the opposite line while Sander took a place for himself among the members of the closer one. Somehow Janus Cage was back upon his throne, with one booted foot leaning alongside the barrel of the turret, the Doom Sickle twirling in his hands.
The hall darkened even as a cascade of blue and red lights began to dance among the iron chandeliers on the ceiling above. The lights swirled like fireflies and descended to the masquers, who followed their lead. Twirling their arms to the sound of some unheard beat, the Mystics formed a moving circle around Janus Cage and his throne, a circle that included Tyurin and Sander.
It was only after the third or fourth time he circumnavigated the throne that Tyurin realized that there was a low rumbling sound emanating from somewhere in the Hall. He looked to Janus, but the crazed boy was standing on the tip of the barrel of the tank-gun, twirling to the same unheard beat that his Mystics were dancing to. Janusı eyes were closed, and the corners of his lips twitched, like he was feeling some hidden and unseen ecstasy.
After another pass Tyurin knew where the sound was coming from: the Mystics were moaning. Deep and lacking any melody, the chant was steadily increasing in volume, and the elder Cage could not make out any of the words. He continued the dance, afraid to miss a step and risk bringing Janus out of his joyful reverie.
The chanting continued until Sander suddenly sang out, his voice rising high above the Mystic moaning with a lilting melody:
³Cries in the dark stitch of night,
Fly lofty to the ears of the lord.
In haunted depths, conclave assembles,
The gates of heaven above give pause and tremble!²
The dancing came to an abrupt halt. It was clear that the Mystics had never heard the words they were moaning sung with such melody and splendor. Atop his throne, Janus Cage opened his eyes and grabbed the Doom Sickle from the tepid air before him.
³Marvelous, Malastair!² Janus cried, clapping his hands excitedly. ³You and Mortrix are indeed the most honored of all my fallen angels! You have given shape and form to the slobbering adulation of my paltry court.² Janus pointed the tip of the Doom Scythe until it was but an inch from Sanderıs nose. When next Janus spoke, the words filled the entire hall with their resonant bass: ³Now. Dance.²
The Mystics took up the dance again, this time with Sander leading to the beat and the melody he had sung. To Tyurinıs surprise, the Mystics took up Sanderıs melody until the hall echoed with the fervor of their words. The song of loyalty, Tyurin remembered, had three more verses, but he did not remember them over the clamor of the hall. He merely mouthed the words in the hopes that Janus was not watching him too closely. Indeed, Janus Cage reassumed his position on the throne, his eyes closed. Before him, the Doom Sickle rotated and the ensuing breeze compelled his cape and lank brown hair to billow out behind him.
³Sick in the depths of this dreary plane
Conclave gathers to their beloved prince.
Revenge for the betrayal of the skies,
The fallen again shall rise!"
Tyurin danced, following the Mystics and Sander. His legs ached. He was a squat and powerful man, but unused to this manner of exertion. Sweat dripped from his forehead and ran through the narrow strands of his beard. Janus Cagehis son no longerbegan to radiate with an unearthly light. The shimmering globes of red and blue now encircled him, until he was barely visible amidst the twirling lights.
³Give yourself to the colors of the Prince,
Kattas binds souls with eyes of red,
Hair of blue reveals his birthright bold,
And the splendor of his cities shines with brilliant gold!²
The infernal dance would not end! Tyurin was drawn into the madness of it, the deliberate loss of sanity that followed the motions of twisting and turning about the rusted throne. The lights of blue and red blended and ran like silver water and blood into his eyes, dancing there, an unsought cure to his deepest malady. Tyurin felt himself slipping away. In the recesses of his mind he wondered how Sander managed to keep up with song, but then that part of his mind was gone, washed away with blood and silver, bathed in gold, until he felt that he was floating naked in the cold air before Janus. The eyes the eyes of this creature (his son?!) were still closed. Tyurin clamped his eyes shut.
³Born in sin and trained in shadow,
Raised among excess of divine authority,
Our Prince shall gainst the giver use the power given,
And with his toil shall demon-Mystics be risen!²
To the final verse Janus Cage added his own slow, haunting counterpoint, issuing from his pale and withered frame a melody that intertwined with the words sung by Sander and Mystics, until both verses blended and no words could be heard:
³Floating in a world
Not my ownthree there were,
Cunning, magic, and sword,
And the last carrying
The frail shadow of love.²
With his last word Janus threw his arms down to his sides, scattering the shimmering lights in all directions. He was no longer the sickly and pale boy Tyurin had seen when he entered the cocoon of light: he stood taller than he had been, the Doom Sickle light in his hands. His cape no longer hung in tatters, but was a whole and marvelous purple. But his eyes Tyurin forced himself to look.
The eyes were whiter than cold corpses resting in winter snow, shallower than the surface of the moon on a clear night. The pupils were rimmed with red, but beyond the eyes Tyurin felt rather than saw the brilliant locks of blue hair that had replaced Janusıs normal brown.
The dancing finally ceased, the Mystics halting and falling still.
³Mortrix!² Janus thundered.
Tyurin could not help but fall to his knees at the sound of that voice.
³Who am I?²
³You are Kattas, Fallen Prince.² The words tumbled over Tyurinıs lips. It felt as if the entire weight of the palace was bound up in Janus Cageıs overpowering gaze.
³Who am I, Mortrix?²
³You are the Fallen Prince.²
Before Tyurin could react Janus stepped down from his throne and the blade of the Doom Sickle was at his neck. Mere tricks: more vile magic and contraptions of Eusic Mori! The sharpness of the blade pressed against his bare skin; he felt the warm trickle of blood on his neck at the same time he felt warmth flood his trousers.
³The Prince has risen again, dear Mortrix. Say my name.²
³ Kattas.²
³Speak my right name!²
Tyurin Cage lost it: the tears dripped from his eyes, mingling with the sweat that was already stinging the open cut at his neck. ³You are Magus.²
³We are honored to be so magnificently received by the Magus,² Sander responded, bowing in kind.
³Scullo tells me that you are spies,² Janus Cage said quickly, his hands crossed in front of his chest. ³But he is ever paranoid about outsiders, and I fancy sweet Scullo a traitor himself sometimes.² He grinned at his servant, leaned over and kissed Scullo upon the rough hide of its cheek, but the creature did not move or show any indication of being mentioned. ³But in the court of Magus we are all loyal or traitors at any given moment.²
³Commander,² Sander whispered to Tyurin by way of a warning. ³Be on your guard: the masque has begun.²
Tyurin began to mouth a question but held his tongue. The eyes of Janus Cageor at least, the crazed individual that bore the name of his sonwere on him.
³You,² Janus said, leaping down from the turret throne, ³You have a familiar look to you.²
Tyurin knelt as Janus approached. He looked up briefly only to notice that Janus was now holding the massive Doom Sickle loosely in his left hand. Despite the weight of the weapon it appeared that the young man was wielding it as if it were light as air.
More of Eusic Moriıs gadgets, Tyurin thought bitterly.
³Perhaps you are a spy from the Celestial Dome, sent to know the will of this Conclave!²
³My Prince!² Sander said quickly, stepping between the father and his crazed son. ³Mortrix and myself have always been the foremost of your loyal angels.²
Tyurin stared a moment, until he at last realized that Sander had quoted a line from the masque. But there was no denying it: Janus Cage was insane, utterly devoid of any rational though or memory. It was as he feared. But still, the question remained was he a god?
Janus Cage threw back his head and laughed. ³Of course you have been. Now dance me the dance of loyalty, that your Prince might know your willingness to throw your fallen bodies upon the spears of heaven when he commands it!²
The Mystics that had been waiting at the sides, the Magusıs royal court,ı sprang to life, forming rows on either side of the turret throne. Sander lifted Tyurin Cage to his feet and pushed the older man to the opposite line while Sander took a place for himself among the members of the closer one. Somehow Janus Cage was back upon his throne, with one booted foot leaning alongside the barrel of the turret, the Doom Sickle twirling in his hands.
The hall darkened even as a cascade of blue and red lights began to dance among the iron chandeliers on the ceiling above. The lights swirled like fireflies and descended to the masquers, who followed their lead. Twirling their arms to the sound of some unheard beat, the Mystics formed a moving circle around Janus Cage and his throne, a circle that included Tyurin and Sander.
It was only after the third or fourth time he circumnavigated the throne that Tyurin realized that there was a low rumbling sound emanating from somewhere in the Hall. He looked to Janus, but the crazed boy was standing on the tip of the barrel of the tank-gun, twirling to the same unheard beat that his Mystics were dancing to. Janusı eyes were closed, and the corners of his lips twitched, like he was feeling some hidden and unseen ecstasy.
After another pass Tyurin knew where the sound was coming from: the Mystics were moaning. Deep and lacking any melody, the chant was steadily increasing in volume, and the elder Cage could not make out any of the words. He continued the dance, afraid to miss a step and risk bringing Janus out of his joyful reverie.
The chanting continued until Sander suddenly sang out, his voice rising high above the Mystic moaning with a lilting melody:
³Cries in the dark stitch of night,
Fly lofty to the ears of the lord.
In haunted depths, conclave assembles,
The gates of heaven above give pause and tremble!²
The dancing came to an abrupt halt. It was clear that the Mystics had never heard the words they were moaning sung with such melody and splendor. Atop his throne, Janus Cage opened his eyes and grabbed the Doom Sickle from the tepid air before him.
³Marvelous, Malastair!² Janus cried, clapping his hands excitedly. ³You and Mortrix are indeed the most honored of all my fallen angels! You have given shape and form to the slobbering adulation of my paltry court.² Janus pointed the tip of the Doom Scythe until it was but an inch from Sanderıs nose. When next Janus spoke, the words filled the entire hall with their resonant bass: ³Now. Dance.²
The Mystics took up the dance again, this time with Sander leading to the beat and the melody he had sung. To Tyurinıs surprise, the Mystics took up Sanderıs melody until the hall echoed with the fervor of their words. The song of loyalty, Tyurin remembered, had three more verses, but he did not remember them over the clamor of the hall. He merely mouthed the words in the hopes that Janus was not watching him too closely. Indeed, Janus Cage reassumed his position on the throne, his eyes closed. Before him, the Doom Sickle rotated and the ensuing breeze compelled his cape and lank brown hair to billow out behind him.
³Sick in the depths of this dreary plane
Conclave gathers to their beloved prince.
Revenge for the betrayal of the skies,
The fallen again shall rise!"
Tyurin danced, following the Mystics and Sander. His legs ached. He was a squat and powerful man, but unused to this manner of exertion. Sweat dripped from his forehead and ran through the narrow strands of his beard. Janus Cagehis son no longerbegan to radiate with an unearthly light. The shimmering globes of red and blue now encircled him, until he was barely visible amidst the twirling lights.
³Give yourself to the colors of the Prince,
Kattas binds souls with eyes of red,
Hair of blue reveals his birthright bold,
And the splendor of his cities shines with brilliant gold!²
The infernal dance would not end! Tyurin was drawn into the madness of it, the deliberate loss of sanity that followed the motions of twisting and turning about the rusted throne. The lights of blue and red blended and ran like silver water and blood into his eyes, dancing there, an unsought cure to his deepest malady. Tyurin felt himself slipping away. In the recesses of his mind he wondered how Sander managed to keep up with song, but then that part of his mind was gone, washed away with blood and silver, bathed in gold, until he felt that he was floating naked in the cold air before Janus. The eyes the eyes of this creature (his son?!) were still closed. Tyurin clamped his eyes shut.
³Born in sin and trained in shadow,
Raised among excess of divine authority,
Our Prince shall gainst the giver use the power given,
And with his toil shall demon-Mystics be risen!²
To the final verse Janus Cage added his own slow, haunting counterpoint, issuing from his pale and withered frame a melody that intertwined with the words sung by Sander and Mystics, until both verses blended and no words could be heard:
³Floating in a world
Not my ownthree there were,
Cunning, magic, and sword,
And the last carrying
The frail shadow of love.²
With his last word Janus threw his arms down to his sides, scattering the shimmering lights in all directions. He was no longer the sickly and pale boy Tyurin had seen when he entered the cocoon of light: he stood taller than he had been, the Doom Sickle light in his hands. His cape no longer hung in tatters, but was a whole and marvelous purple. But his eyes Tyurin forced himself to look.
The eyes were whiter than cold corpses resting in winter snow, shallower than the surface of the moon on a clear night. The pupils were rimmed with red, but beyond the eyes Tyurin felt rather than saw the brilliant locks of blue hair that had replaced Janusıs normal brown.
The dancing finally ceased, the Mystics halting and falling still.
³Mortrix!² Janus thundered.
Tyurin could not help but fall to his knees at the sound of that voice.
³Who am I?²
³You are Kattas, Fallen Prince.² The words tumbled over Tyurinıs lips. It felt as if the entire weight of the palace was bound up in Janus Cageıs overpowering gaze.
³Who am I, Mortrix?²
³You are the Fallen Prince.²
Before Tyurin could react Janus stepped down from his throne and the blade of the Doom Sickle was at his neck. Mere tricks: more vile magic and contraptions of Eusic Mori! The sharpness of the blade pressed against his bare skin; he felt the warm trickle of blood on his neck at the same time he felt warmth flood his trousers.
³The Prince has risen again, dear Mortrix. Say my name.²
³ Kattas.²
³Speak my right name!²
Tyurin Cage lost it: the tears dripped from his eyes, mingling with the sweat that was already stinging the open cut at his neck. ³You are Magus.²
* * *
³The Magus is well pleased with your performance.² Scullo held a torch in his black hand.
The light of the torch was too bright for Tyurin Cagehe wanted to be gone. He could barely control his trembling.
³He bids you take whatever you wish as your reward.² Scullo brought them to a dark and cluttered room near the exit of the palace. Piled there were works of gold and silver and dreamstoneartifacts from Medinaıs plundered museums, Tyurin Cage recognized.
³The time spent in the Magusı presence is reward enough for us,² Tyurin said, putting a restraining hand on Sanderıs arm.
³So it is,² Scullo said thinly. ³Follow me.²
He led them to the exit, where Mystics stood at attention. In the towers above the gatehouse, he felt rather than saw the form of waiting sharpshooters. And yet Tyurin Cage did not fear themremembering those white eyes in the face framed with blue hair made him wonder if he could ever fear anything so commonplace and normal as mere sharpshooters again.
Sander and Tyurin Cage left the palace hurriedly, rushing towards the forests in the north.
³He knew me,² Tyurin Cage muttered. ³He saw through the skin and the beard and the voice. He knew it was me.²
³There is no question,² Sander said between pants. ³He is a god.²
Before, Tyurin would have slapped the actor fiercely. But now he merely coughed and waited for the spasms racking his body to subside. ³The creature we saw within that palace was not my son,² was all Cage offered.
³Perhaps it was, commander.² Sander shook his head. ³I donıt know what to believe.²
A god? It hardly seemed possible, given all the boy had been through. Tyurin Cage felt his doubts swell. ³I believe only this, actor: gods can be created.² Tyurin Cage took control of his body through sheer force of will. He put a stern hand on Sanderıs shoulder. ³And they can be destroyed.²
He turned away quickly, so that Sander would not read the fear and uncertainty in his eyes.
The light of the torch was too bright for Tyurin Cagehe wanted to be gone. He could barely control his trembling.
³He bids you take whatever you wish as your reward.² Scullo brought them to a dark and cluttered room near the exit of the palace. Piled there were works of gold and silver and dreamstoneartifacts from Medinaıs plundered museums, Tyurin Cage recognized.
³The time spent in the Magusı presence is reward enough for us,² Tyurin said, putting a restraining hand on Sanderıs arm.
³So it is,² Scullo said thinly. ³Follow me.²
He led them to the exit, where Mystics stood at attention. In the towers above the gatehouse, he felt rather than saw the form of waiting sharpshooters. And yet Tyurin Cage did not fear themremembering those white eyes in the face framed with blue hair made him wonder if he could ever fear anything so commonplace and normal as mere sharpshooters again.
Sander and Tyurin Cage left the palace hurriedly, rushing towards the forests in the north.
³He knew me,² Tyurin Cage muttered. ³He saw through the skin and the beard and the voice. He knew it was me.²
³There is no question,² Sander said between pants. ³He is a god.²
Before, Tyurin would have slapped the actor fiercely. But now he merely coughed and waited for the spasms racking his body to subside. ³The creature we saw within that palace was not my son,² was all Cage offered.
³Perhaps it was, commander.² Sander shook his head. ³I donıt know what to believe.²
A god? It hardly seemed possible, given all the boy had been through. Tyurin Cage felt his doubts swell. ³I believe only this, actor: gods can be created.² Tyurin Cage took control of his body through sheer force of will. He put a stern hand on Sanderıs shoulder. ³And they can be destroyed.²
He turned away quickly, so that Sander would not read the fear and uncertainty in his eyes.
* * *
The Blackbird craft smoldered in the forest of cold and frost. The smoke, once thick and black, had become wispy and gray, until at last it died away and left no trace in the brisk air above the makeshift village. There was nothing in the forest except the frozen dead and the errant shards of the broken kingdom.
Rowena knelt nearby an ice-crusted stream, hammering the ice with a heavy rock. She could have melted the entire stream and brought it to a boil with her power, but dared not try it. Since the fall and the storm the strands of magic have been far too volatile to tap intomore than one Enlightened One had expired by trying to channel to whirling powers that had torn their kingdom asunder. Rowena steeled herself against the temptationif she must act as an Earthbound to survive, then she would do just that. The blood of the Enlightened Ones must persevere; there were far too few Enlightened survivors as it was.
At her side, one of the snake-like Mystics joined her in the labor, striking and chipping the thick ice away. Rowena quelled the bitterness that threatened to rise in her chestin Enhasa those who worked with the elements could draw water from the very air itself.
But Enhasa was no more. Kajar and the Sun Palace had met with the same fate, and though the Enlightened Ones would gaze skyward longingly, hoping to see a floating island, or the golden shimmering band of a skyway, Rowena knew there was no going back.
³The Queen angered the heavens by proclaiming herself Keeper,² Rowena said bitterly, striking the ice harder. The snake-like Mystic simply stared at her. ³She upset the balance by failing to show proper respect to the power of the cosmos. And now the fallen Enlightened must toil among the Earthbound, performing penance for the Queenıs sin.²
Ice chunks flew as Rowenaıs arm came down harder, until small rivulets of water bubbled forth from the gash.
³Not forever.²
Rowena and the Mystic turned at the sound of the voice.
³Mılord Janus!²
The Prophet knelthe fell to Rowenaıs side. His purple robes were torn, and blood was crusted at his forehead.
³The cities, my Prince, they are²
³Be silent,² the Prophet commanded. ³The Queen could not be stopped, but she will meet her end by another means. The strands of time are playing a terrible trick on our country; we shall play their game by rules of our own.² Suddenly his powerful hands were locked to her temples, pushing so hard Rowena thought her head must explode under the pressure. So great was the pain that she could not summon the power to scream.
³My lord² she gasped, afraid that she was dying.
³I shall travel the strands of time,² the Prophet said between clenched teeth, ³But I leave on you the mark of the Enlightenedthe mark of Magusthat should I fail, there will yet be hope for Great Zeal. Should I fall, fate will look to your line for Zealıs redemption!²
The hands released her, and Rowena Kaije let out a scream, so shrill and terrified that the Mystic at her side dropped her water pail and slithered away quickly, leaving a long smooth gouge in the snow.
³My grace now lives through you and your offspring,² the Prophet said, standing. ³Do not fear companionship with the Earthbound you bear the mark of Magusthe Enlightened will come again. Zeal will rise again.²
Rowena could not look upshe heard the soft crunch of snow under his boots as he walked away. Tears swelled in her eyes. She lay there in the snow for a long time, waiting for the noises in her mind to subside, waiting for the burden the Prophet had placed on her to lessen, at the same time knowing with bitter certainty that it never would.
Finally she rose, wiping the tears on the sleeve of her gown. Rowena Kaijeıs hair fell over her shoulders, with streaks of brilliant blue lancing out from her temples. By the time she reached the Earthbound village, the blue had faded under her dominant brown locks.
Coming at last to her new home, the Earthbound village, Rowena brushed from her gown the last careless flakes of snow.
Rowena knelt nearby an ice-crusted stream, hammering the ice with a heavy rock. She could have melted the entire stream and brought it to a boil with her power, but dared not try it. Since the fall and the storm the strands of magic have been far too volatile to tap intomore than one Enlightened One had expired by trying to channel to whirling powers that had torn their kingdom asunder. Rowena steeled herself against the temptationif she must act as an Earthbound to survive, then she would do just that. The blood of the Enlightened Ones must persevere; there were far too few Enlightened survivors as it was.
At her side, one of the snake-like Mystics joined her in the labor, striking and chipping the thick ice away. Rowena quelled the bitterness that threatened to rise in her chestin Enhasa those who worked with the elements could draw water from the very air itself.
But Enhasa was no more. Kajar and the Sun Palace had met with the same fate, and though the Enlightened Ones would gaze skyward longingly, hoping to see a floating island, or the golden shimmering band of a skyway, Rowena knew there was no going back.
³The Queen angered the heavens by proclaiming herself Keeper,² Rowena said bitterly, striking the ice harder. The snake-like Mystic simply stared at her. ³She upset the balance by failing to show proper respect to the power of the cosmos. And now the fallen Enlightened must toil among the Earthbound, performing penance for the Queenıs sin.²
Ice chunks flew as Rowenaıs arm came down harder, until small rivulets of water bubbled forth from the gash.
³Not forever.²
Rowena and the Mystic turned at the sound of the voice.
³Mılord Janus!²
The Prophet knelthe fell to Rowenaıs side. His purple robes were torn, and blood was crusted at his forehead.
³The cities, my Prince, they are²
³Be silent,² the Prophet commanded. ³The Queen could not be stopped, but she will meet her end by another means. The strands of time are playing a terrible trick on our country; we shall play their game by rules of our own.² Suddenly his powerful hands were locked to her temples, pushing so hard Rowena thought her head must explode under the pressure. So great was the pain that she could not summon the power to scream.
³My lord² she gasped, afraid that she was dying.
³I shall travel the strands of time,² the Prophet said between clenched teeth, ³But I leave on you the mark of the Enlightenedthe mark of Magusthat should I fail, there will yet be hope for Great Zeal. Should I fall, fate will look to your line for Zealıs redemption!²
The hands released her, and Rowena Kaije let out a scream, so shrill and terrified that the Mystic at her side dropped her water pail and slithered away quickly, leaving a long smooth gouge in the snow.
³My grace now lives through you and your offspring,² the Prophet said, standing. ³Do not fear companionship with the Earthbound you bear the mark of Magusthe Enlightened will come again. Zeal will rise again.²
Rowena could not look upshe heard the soft crunch of snow under his boots as he walked away. Tears swelled in her eyes. She lay there in the snow for a long time, waiting for the noises in her mind to subside, waiting for the burden the Prophet had placed on her to lessen, at the same time knowing with bitter certainty that it never would.
Finally she rose, wiping the tears on the sleeve of her gown. Rowena Kaijeıs hair fell over her shoulders, with streaks of brilliant blue lancing out from her temples. By the time she reached the Earthbound village, the blue had faded under her dominant brown locks.
Coming at last to her new home, the Earthbound village, Rowena brushed from her gown the last careless flakes of snow.