Chapter 9 The Palace of Reflections
Simone was dazzled by the Palace. Built on a vast scale, it was an artful arrangement of murals, mirrors, skylights, and miles of glass walls. There did not seem to be a solid wall in it. All around her were reflections of reflections of reflections. Within the wide halls were crowds of Lusettas. Without were flocks of them, flying or perched in the many trees, and the still waters of the wetlands reflecting all.
On the way to their living quarters they passed white, wooden columns; sunken, indoor pools; and painted murals depicting nature scenes—these latter so realistic that Simone almost wanted to step into them. Literally walking into walls was not an uncommon occurrence at the Palace, she soon discovered, since the sheets of glass or mirror produced many illusions. Fortunately, other humans preceded her, so she personally was spared the embarrassment; and just as fortunately, no glass was broken.
The Lusettas had discovered the right proportion of openings to provide ventilation and prevent the Palace from becoming a hothouse. These openings included unroofed areas and the occasional open space where a wall might have been expected. Simone tried to joke about this with the Lusetta who led them, since on the other hand, so many walls seemed to be openings. However, the guide saw no humor at all in the situation.
Simone began to wonder if Lusettas saw humor in anything. For one thing, their few murals that were not of nature were scenes of high tragedy: the dying sacrifice of Queen Pelu; the slaughter at the White Palace; the love-suicide of Princess Lefsa and young Riprew. These were all explained to her in more detail than she desired. Then also, the Lusettas were taking the perfidy of the late Lord Lamu so terribly hard. They still hinted at mass suicides, so Simone again forbade them any such thing.
When she came to her private suite, she was well satisfied. Its single mural was of nature only, and as elsewhere, its rooms full of light. Once again she was at pains to keep the other humans at a distance with all their talk and bustle. They were situated in another wing of the palace, and only her adopted Uncle Demee was allowed to come to her freely. She considered allowing Athlaz too, but thought the boy looked too disconcertingly moonstruck. Was he in love with her or just awed by her pedigree? In the end, she occupied her suite with her Ulrigs, Mald, and Misu, and reclining on a rich, human-size couch, did little for an hour but stare at the goldfish in a little pool beside her. She was not at all offended to find that Misu snacked on the fish.
Public feasting is not fashionable among the Lusettas, who consider it unrefined. Rather, food was brought to the guest rooms in the early evening, along with an invitation to the filsle, or air dance, to be performed in Simone’s honor.
Mald advised against her attendance. “I’m afraid it will wound them deeply if you don’t go,” he said, “but you don’t dare risk it. You see, it’s done outside. Hundreds of Lusettas will be flying about, and who knows but that one of them will be another ro-beast like Lamu?”
“What’s it like, the filsle?” Simone asked.
Misu stirred on her perch. “It’s pure beauty, the highest art known to us.” She sighed. “Once I myself aspired to be a sle-dancer.”
“Don’t stir up the Empress,” said Mald cautiously.
“You’ve seen it, Mald?” Simone asked.
“Yes, I’ve seen it several times.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Well, is it worth risking death?”
Mald actually paused and considered. “Some might say so, your Eminence. It is—indescribable.” He collected himself. “But of course, the risk is unthinkable.”
Simone paused to eat with her hand from a silver plate. “Mmmm! This fish is delicious. It’s so well-seasoned. What cooks they must have here!” She waved her hand through a finger bowl and, leaning forward on her couch, grinned slyly at where she judged Mald’s face to be.
“Mald, is your hair any grayer, do you suppose, since you became my counselor?”
In the midst of the wetlands behind the Palace was a small artificial hill, bare except for grass, and reached by a narrow earthen causeway. At the foot of the hill waited the musicians: Lusettas and a few Loopers. At the top stood Simone, Mald, Snag, Snart, and the two Sarr kings. Lugel wore as his mark of royalty a gold necklace set with red stones. Even as he showed them where to stand and explained about the performance, he showed signs of nervousness and embarrassment, no doubt concerned about making up for the affair of Lamu. In contrast, old Korazagel showed only typical Looper calm and good cheer. A rich crown and cape did little to offset the simplicity of his tongue-lolling grin.
“This is a private performance,” said Lugel, his weasel face upturned to Simone’s. “The name of the piece is Unforeseen Fortune. I think you’ll enjoy it more if you turn about some where you stand, and I should warn you to expect a slow start. Let’s all be silent now.”
Simone thought it a slow start indeed, as nothing happened for a few minutes. Then one Lusetta came gliding gracefully and swiftly by, its long neck arched. It disappeared into some trees at a distance, and they waited again. A second Lusetta swung near them, hovered, and moved on. Then two more. Soon several at least were always in sight and often flying so close that Simone’s heart leaped. They darted and twirled and spun around to return, in groups or singly; and gradually their numbers increased. Simone turned around slowly at the top of the hill, thrilled with it, wishing to shout out loud but afraid to mar the performance.
The music began, so slowly, so perfectly adapted to the filsle; a sort of sea music that rose in waves, reminding her of La Mer. Now hundreds of the dancers were shooting by all around her, sometimes twirling in circles, sometimes flying up and outward in sprays of white, sometimes dipping so close to the water that Lusetta and reflection were one blur. Then her eyes were opened and she saw all around her their hundreds of reflections, which she had not noticed before, like white fireworks in the dark water.
Soon nearly all the Lusettas rose together in a great, spiral ribbon, and the music swelled to match their movement. Simone’s hands flew up, she began to shout, and for all she knew, almost flew off the hill herself. For long moments she was transported, tears in her eyes, lifted above the Fold to a clear, bright place. All she could think was, ‘Let it never stop.’ For Ulrumman was there.
But the long chord ended and the Lusettas’ spiral drooped. The filsle was still heart breakingly beautiful, but something had changed. She saw that the dancers were fewer now, and fewer yet as each minute passed. The music told of endless loss and decay, the slow crumbling of an empire. Fortunately for Simone’s pride, this movement was lengthy; for when the dancers had dwindled to a dozen or so and the filsle was not yet over, she was able to stop crying.
The music was very low now and only three Lusettas remained. Two. One. The last dancer swung close to her and touched her outstretched fingers with its wingtip. Then it was gone, disappearing into the dark trees at a distance. The music was ended. A long silence followed.
Simone became aware of Mald crawling up onto her shoulder. The poor Sarree was shivering.
“Words fail me,” he said. “Magnificent.”
“Thank you,” said King Lugel. “Empress?”
Simone sniffled and coughed. “It was wonderful, thank you. I will never, never forget this till my dying day.”
Lugel turned. “And you, King Korazagel?”
The fat, old Looper looked out from under his crown with one eye and pawed at his cape. “Not bad,” he said. “You Lusettas know how to put a polish on things, I grant you. Still I prefer a Looper jig any day.’
Simone almost hit him.
On her way off the causeway, so drained that she leaned on Snag’s paw for support, Simone remembered her supposed danger. During the dance she had not given one thought to the possibility of an assassin among the dancers. ‘In any event,’ she considered to herself, ‘I would have died happy.’
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br /> The wooden furniture was so ancient it was almost crumbling; black, carved, and heavy; very out of place in the glass walled Hall of Council. But the pieces gleamed from the care given them, as the morning sun poured into the room from a thousand angles, lighting even the underside of the massive, rectangular table. On this her second day at the Palace, Simone strode from chair to chair, making faces at the strange carvings in their backs. The Misar Fijat Razaber hopped to a chair seat and from there to the table top, and so followed her around at an easy speaking level. They were alone in the great hall.
“These chairs and table are preserved from the last Great Council,” Razaber said in his rumbling little voice. “That was the Egg Loss Council of 3699 N.R., back in Lila’s day.”
“Everything happened in Lila’s day,” said Simone, who was beginning to resent her near-perfect ancestress.
“That remains to be seen. Just keep in mind that the council that has met here since February is not a Great Council. There have been only four Great Councils in all history, and we don’t call them lightly. No, this is merely a Council of the Forest, one that started in the Great Stone Tower of the Nasseelkir away west and then moved here for the convenience of a more central location.”
“What’s this?” Simone said, pointing to a lizard-like head of human size carved in the back of one of the chairs. She was feeling surly and did not mind changing Razaber’s subject.
“A Silb,” he said patiently. “Their species lives far to the north, and they’ve pretty much kept to themselves this last twenty-five hundred years or so.”
“And this?” The next chair’s carving was of a hideous bat face, again as large as Simone’s own face.
“Ah, the Vults,” Razaber responded. “We hear less of them than we do of the Silbs. They’re dormant, you see, like death, for many hundreds of years and then come to life again. We haven’t heard of a Vult sighted since about 3890 N.R.—that’d be about 1590 A.D. in your reckoning. Gone into some cave to sleep again, I suppose.”
Simone passed by the familiar images of a Dragon, an Ulrig, and a Lusetta on the next three chairs and, coming to the head of the table, saw a human face in the back of the throne-like chair.
“This is where you’ll sit tomorrow night,” Razaber said, scrabbling his way across the table to her. “Only one member of each species actually sits and debates, and only one turn each. That simplifies things. Others are in the room, but only as advisors to the chair holders. No other human will speak unless you give up the chair.”
“Gladly,” said Simone in her most teenager-ish manner. She passed the image of a Looper on the other side of the table and came to a sort of glorified highchair, sturdy as the others but with a raised seat. It’s carved image was small, long snouted, and toothy, with leaf shaped ears. “Fijat?” she guessed.
“Yes, we weren’t yet invisible when these chairs were made.” “How did that happen that the Fijats became invisible?”
“It’s a long—”
“Yes, a long story. Everything is in this world. And Lila had something to do with it, right?”
“Young lady—” Razaber began rigidly.
“Empress,” she corrected.
He sighed a small Fijat sigh. “I don’t think you sincerely want to know, but yes, Lila comes into that story too. However, to my knowledge she neither created the earth nor sent the great flood.”
Simone did not respond to the Misar’s humor. She came to the next chair, the back of which was uncarved. Black drapings were laid over the arms and seat.
“Somebody die?”
Razaber took his time in responding. “Yes, they are all gone, all dead for ages. We have no carving here because even the memory of what they looked like is lost. Ah, I see that affects you. Us all the more. We Sarrs slaughtered these Hagards to extinction in a great war before humans ever came to the Fold. The Ten Species are no more. The Sarrs will never again be more than nine. Lost, irreplaceably lost, and all for nothing.”
“That must be some story,” said Simone encouragingly.
“Well, you won’t hear it,” said Razaber, who was beginning to be surly himself. “It’s our great shame and loss; you humans have nothing to do with it.”
“Fine. Who cares?” She moved on to the last two chairs, which had images of cat-like faces, large and small, but she did not hear Razaber follow. He stayed in front of the black draped chair.
“Everything,” he said, and mumbled something more.
“Everything what?” she asked, coming back to him.
“Everything that is happening now has its roots in what happened then. No one can truly understand unless—unless you know, Empress, that we Sarrs bore this burden of guilt for centuries, and so we were called the Litt Narva, the Burden Bearers. Only the true and great Sisskame could free us; that would be the human who would go from the Fold back to the Old World and lift the humans there out of darkness. Only then would our mission be complete and we become the Litt Goloth as we are today.”
“The Burden Eased,” said Simone thoughtfully.
“Yes, but the scars remain. Prince Kuley—that was Lila’s half brother—proved to be the Sisskame we looked for, but the needed healing did not all take place in his day, or even now. That’s why you are here, you and your brother.”
“I’m sick of responsibility,” said Simone.
“Something else is troubling you, my dear. Mald says you aren’t sleeping well.”
Simone considered whether to ask this wise old Fijat about Ulrumman. After all, his sister Raspberry had died serving this Lord and Maker (as Simone translated the name), so Razaber must know if it was right for Simone to worship Him. She had just made up her mind to ask, when a Dragon appeared at one of the door openings. She pressed herself back against a glass wall and stared. Crouched on its hind legs, it stood ten feet tall under the high ceilings of the Palace. It was green with yellow eyes, and real smoke ascended from its nostrils. A wingless, sawtooth back.
“Dramun, meet the Empress,” said Razaber pleasantly.
“I’m honored,” said Dramun, entering the room. “Lady of Lucilla, we wait eagerly to hear your views on the human depredations in southern Eschor. No doubt Razaber has told you that many Ulrigs and Dragons are suffering there?”
Simone nodded tensely. All she really remembered was Mald’s instruction not to trust Dramun of the Dragons. She decided she did not need the warning. The room was hotter with Dramun in it.
“And what do you propose to do?” Dramun asked.
“We’ll discuss that at the formal meeting,” Razaber said.
“Ah, but you Fijats discuss everything with Simone in private, while other species are barred from her.”
“Her bodyguards are Ulrigs. That should please you,” Razaber answered easily.
“It does. But what about the Dragons?”
“Which Dragons? Zeeba’s Dragons or the old Dragons of the Pons?”
Dramun hesitated for a moment. “Zeeba’s, of course.”
“The minority,” Razaber rumbled. “No, the Empress prefers a representative of the Pons Dragons. One may yet show up to unseat you before the Council meeting.” Razaber hopped to the floor. “If you’ll excuse us, Simone wishes to see more of the Palace.”
“The Lady’s wishes seem known to you before she speaks,” replied the Dragon pointedly. “Perhaps she should decide for herself, both in this and other matters.” But he bowed and made way for them.
Simone was glad enough to get away from Dramun, but felt a bit sorry for him. Why, she wondered, should she be his political enemy? Because somewhere humans and Dragons were at war? Because he perhaps did not want her to be acknowledged as Empress? She did not care much about either point. Besides, she had already learned to appreciate Ulrigs, Lusettas, and Fijats, and to love Loopers; so why should she not find something to like about Dragons too? To help herself along she gave Dramun the
nickname Old Scale Tail.
The next evening Simone sat at chess with Misu in one of the library rooms of the Palace. Small, Lusetta-size books filled one wall, the rest being of glass, so that the room was as well lighted as any of the others. The chess table and chairs were also of glass, as were the board and pieces. Misu played with a clear set of men and Simone with a smoky, dark set. Snag and Snart watched impassively while Misu tentatively shifted the position of an iron house to a safer square.
Simone rather enjoyed the game, for Clay had taught her a few things, and Misu was not very good. However, even her opponent’s imminent checkmate could not drive away Simone’s anxiety over the coming Council meeting to which she would be summoned at any time.
Misu tried one last trick at the board, one Simone had been watching for, and Simone quickly played the correct reply.
“Excellent, your Eminence,” said the Lusetta. “I resign.”
Standing on one talon on her chair bar, she reached out with the other and delicately laid her king down.
“You weren’t letting me win, were you?” Simone asked. She found Misu’s weasel face hard to read.
“No, your Eminence, but I am distracted. I’m worried about the Council—and another matter.”
“What’s that?”
“Your gown, Empress.”
“My gown? What about it?” Simone was arrayed splendidly in cloth-of-gold with matching slippers and a green belt—gifts of King Lugel. “I’m dressed like a queen.”
“Just so, Simone; that is, like a queen and not an empress. King Lugel puts subtle thought into his gifts. He knows that a genuine empress wears purple.” In her nervousness, Misu stepped back and forth on her glass bar. “So without consulting Lugel, I’ve had a suitable robe made up by my own household, secretly and at my own expense. You must wear it tonight, Simone, no matter how I anger the king.”
Simone leaned forward earnestly. “If I wear it, how will he punish you?”
“Perhaps not too badly,” sighed Misu. “Lugel is not cruel natured. At the least, I will lose my place in the Palace, and I may also be banished, along with my servants.”
Simone picked up one of her dragonfighter pieces from the board and examined it while she thought. “Abram says that a friend is like a glass goblet: handle gently. Thank you, but I won’t wear your present, Misu.”
She was surprised to hear Misu’s slight exhalation of relief. “And you’ll command your Ulrigs to silence?” asked the Lusetta. Simone nodded to Snag and Snart. “Thank you, Empress. I’m afraid I’m not so brave as I thought. I’ve flown alone over the Vulture’s forest at night and never flinched, and yet the thought of losing my place here chills my wings. Is that strange to you?”
Simone had no chance to answer. Several noble Lusettas appeared in the doorway.
“Empress, you are humbly requested to take the chair of greatest honor at the Council of the Forest.”