as I do, and say nothing."
Suddenly nervous, Hem gulped and nodded, and Saliman bowed his head to the two palace guards, who opened the doors and admitted them.
Hem paused involuntarily at the threshold, blinking with dazzlement. Saliman was striding forward, so he rapidly collected himself and followed. He cast covert glances around the room, doing his best not to look as overwhelmed as he felt. The rest of the palace was, he realized, merely a rehearsal for the throne room.
The Ernani sat on a wide, low dais at the far end, on a throne of black enameled wood carved in filigree patterns with a marvelous delicacy so that, despite its size – its back stretched high behind the Ernani – it gave an impression of weightlessness. Behind the throne, reaching up to the ceiling, was a giant golden sun like those embossed on the doors, which cast a golden glow about the whole room. The walls, which were pierced by long, narrow windows that ran from floor to ceiling, were faced with plain panels of dull gold punctuated by murals painted with an exquisite delicacy, each framed in the same black enameled filigree of which the throne was made. They depicted, Saliman told Hem later, famous stories of the Suderain: one was of the Battle of the Dagorlad Plains, in which the Ernani of Turbansk had held back the forces of the Nameless One in the days of the Great Silence; another was of the meeting of Alibredh and Nalimbar, who were fabled lovers, in the water gardens of Jerr-Niken.
Hem and Saliman walked toward the throne on a path of black onyx tiles that bisected a wide and shallow pool stretching for the width of the throne room and half its length. The pool, filled with flowering water lilies, was stepped in three shallow terraces, and water spilled over the lips of the higher levels into the lower pools so the room was filled with its constant music, and the lilies gave off a subtle perfume.
To Hem, it seemed to take a very long time to walk the length of the pool, and then across the plain expanse of polished black stone that stretched before the dais. About the throne were set several low stools, of the same marvelous filigree as the throne itself, on which sat five people. They turned and watched as Saliman and Hem approached and Hem recognized, with a flutter in his stomach, Alimbar, whom he had last seen outside the door of Saliman's house. He also recognized Juriken, the First Bard of Turbansk, and II Hanedr, whom he knew was the captain of the city soldiers, the Guardians of the Sun. A tough-looking, thin woman – the chief guard, Menika – stood silently by Har-Ytan's right shoulder in Turbansk battle gear, and another woman he did not recognize, dressed in formal robes, sat nearby, her head bowed.
The Ernani sat very still on the throne, watching their progress. Hem dared a swift glance, although by this time he was so awed he scarcely knew where to direct his eyes. The Ernani was the most regal human being he had ever seen.
She must have been fully Saliman's height, and her body was at once voluptuous and strong; if she had been less tall, he might have thought her stout. She wore a close-fitting dress of silk dyed craftily in many shades of red and orange, which shimmered against her black skin as if she were sheathed in a living flame, and her long hair was braided in tiny plaits in the style of Turbansk, beaded with rubies and gold so it fell in a glittering fountain down her back. A huge ruby blazed on her brow, and on her breast she wore a torque of gold emblazoned with the sun. Her powerful arms were bare, apart from bands of plain gold about her wrists, and a naked sword lay across her lap, in token of war.
When they reached the dais, Saliman genuflected on one knee and bowed his head, and Hem hastily copied him, wishing he had half of Saliman's grace. He was glad that he had been told not to speak; his mouth had gone completely dry, and he was sure that if he had said anything it would have come out as a
Suddenly nervous, Hem gulped and nodded, and Saliman bowed his head to the two palace guards, who opened the doors and admitted them.
Hem paused involuntarily at the threshold, blinking with dazzlement. Saliman was striding forward, so he rapidly collected himself and followed. He cast covert glances around the room, doing his best not to look as overwhelmed as he felt. The rest of the palace was, he realized, merely a rehearsal for the throne room.
The Ernani sat on a wide, low dais at the far end, on a throne of black enameled wood carved in filigree patterns with a marvelous delicacy so that, despite its size – its back stretched high behind the Ernani – it gave an impression of weightlessness. Behind the throne, reaching up to the ceiling, was a giant golden sun like those embossed on the doors, which cast a golden glow about the whole room. The walls, which were pierced by long, narrow windows that ran from floor to ceiling, were faced with plain panels of dull gold punctuated by murals painted with an exquisite delicacy, each framed in the same black enameled filigree of which the throne was made. They depicted, Saliman told Hem later, famous stories of the Suderain: one was of the Battle of the Dagorlad Plains, in which the Ernani of Turbansk had held back the forces of the Nameless One in the days of the Great Silence; another was of the meeting of Alibredh and Nalimbar, who were fabled lovers, in the water gardens of Jerr-Niken.
Hem and Saliman walked toward the throne on a path of black onyx tiles that bisected a wide and shallow pool stretching for the width of the throne room and half its length. The pool, filled with flowering water lilies, was stepped in three shallow terraces, and water spilled over the lips of the higher levels into the lower pools so the room was filled with its constant music, and the lilies gave off a subtle perfume.
To Hem, it seemed to take a very long time to walk the length of the pool, and then across the plain expanse of polished black stone that stretched before the dais. About the throne were set several low stools, of the same marvelous filigree as the throne itself, on which sat five people. They turned and watched as Saliman and Hem approached and Hem recognized, with a flutter in his stomach, Alimbar, whom he had last seen outside the door of Saliman's house. He also recognized Juriken, the First Bard of Turbansk, and II Hanedr, whom he knew was the captain of the city soldiers, the Guardians of the Sun. A tough-looking, thin woman – the chief guard, Menika – stood silently by Har-Ytan's right shoulder in Turbansk battle gear, and another woman he did not recognize, dressed in formal robes, sat nearby, her head bowed.
The Ernani sat very still on the throne, watching their progress. Hem dared a swift glance, although by this time he was so awed he scarcely knew where to direct his eyes. The Ernani was the most regal human being he had ever seen.
She must have been fully Saliman's height, and her body was at once voluptuous and strong; if she had been less tall, he might have thought her stout. She wore a close-fitting dress of silk dyed craftily in many shades of red and orange, which shimmered against her black skin as if she were sheathed in a living flame, and her long hair was braided in tiny plaits in the style of Turbansk, beaded with rubies and gold so it fell in a glittering fountain down her back. A huge ruby blazed on her brow, and on her breast she wore a torque of gold emblazoned with the sun. Her powerful arms were bare, apart from bands of plain gold about her wrists, and a naked sword lay across her lap, in token of war.
When they reached the dais, Saliman genuflected on one knee and bowed his head, and Hem hastily copied him, wishing he had half of Saliman's grace. He was glad that he had been told not to speak; his mouth had gone completely dry, and he was sure that if he had said anything it would have come out as a
Similar Books
The Bitter Road to Freedom: The Human Cost of Allied Victory in World War II Europe
William I. Hitchcock
