Read Online The Romance of Atlantis by Taylor Caldwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Taylor Caldwell
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her eyes and the voluptuous red of her mouth stood out in the cold pallor of her face.
Though they had seen their Empress many times, the guests stared in admiring awe. It was almost as though the goddess Sati had made an appearance. With every movement, every gesture, her person blazed like the very sun itself.
At the banquet tables, the seating was such that each man had a maiden at either hand. Salustra had arranged, with an eye to the midnight festivities, that the jaded tastes of the older guests might throb with the anticipation that the downy-haired maidens would be counted on to arouse in them; to be later gratified by more experienced females than these unsophisticated adolescents.
The older men were plainly bored with the younger men, but obviously enjoyed the young women, making a game of teasing and fondling them, as though it were an impersonal tribute from those detached by the disparity of years. The wine was weak, cooled with glittering cubes of ice. Rare pheasants, roasted in wine-flavored sauce, tongues of nightingales, sturgeon from the north, exotic fruits, olives, golden cakes, tiny fish in their own oil, and scented sweetmeats were brought in on heavily laden platters by beautiful slaves nude from the waist up.
Tyrhia sat opposite her sister at the main table, her voice a trifle shrill with excitement, as she bantered archly with a young man next to her, from time to time playfully slapping a too bold and experimental hand.
Salustra sat impassively in her chair. She smiled perfunctorily, and with a visible effort. She confined most of her remarks to Mahius, who sat at her left.
She spoke to him in an undertone, not wanting the others to overhear. “What do thy geologists and astronomers say of this cursed mist?”
“My scientists?” The minister sighed.
“Do not quibble,” she snapped.
“Frankly, Majesty, like all who are confused, they talk a lot, without saying much. Molanti, the geologist, points out that this mist appeared a few days after a mysterious earth tremor to the north, picked up by the seismographs at the Geological Institute.
“In establishing a connection between that quake and the mist, Molanti believes he may yet account for the power failure.”
She muttered darkly to herself. “Theories, always theories. Tell Molanti it is answers we need. And if he solves this mystery, I shall see that he is accorded the rare privilege of the rejuvenation chamber.”
Mahius sighed heavily. “Are you so certain, Majesty, that this prolongation of life is a proper reward for such meritorious service?”
She smiled slyly. “Molanti, though a scientist, will consider this boon of youth worth more than a dozen palaces or the greenest grove. What do scientists know of life?”
“What do any of us know, Majesty?”
She smiled practically. “We know that life will be insufferable if we do not soon learn why the electricity normally conveyed through the atmosphere has dissipated.” She drew her lips together reflectively. “What says the physicist Goleta? He already has earned nomination for the Temple Beautiful for his discovery of the health ray.”
“Majesty, Goleta reports that the atmosphere is so lacking that the experimental electromagnetic signals he sends out produce not even the slightest static.”
Salustra showed signs of mounting irritation. “Do not these fools know that we cannot long live in this primitive manner? We are not barbarians like the Althrustri.”
Mahius shrugged as he pushed away his food, untasted. “Underrate not these barbarians, Majesty. They have the nuclear atmosphere-changer, and they will use it, if they can.”
Salustra looked at him thoughtfully. “So you have said, but it may not even go off in this deadened atmosphere.”
Mahius’ face turned gray. “But can we take the chance, Majesty?”
She clenched her teeth, thinking of the treachery that had given Signar this weapon. “To turn against one’s own country, it is
Though they had seen their Empress many times, the guests stared in admiring awe. It was almost as though the goddess Sati had made an appearance. With every movement, every gesture, her person blazed like the very sun itself.
At the banquet tables, the seating was such that each man had a maiden at either hand. Salustra had arranged, with an eye to the midnight festivities, that the jaded tastes of the older guests might throb with the anticipation that the downy-haired maidens would be counted on to arouse in them; to be later gratified by more experienced females than these unsophisticated adolescents.
The older men were plainly bored with the younger men, but obviously enjoyed the young women, making a game of teasing and fondling them, as though it were an impersonal tribute from those detached by the disparity of years. The wine was weak, cooled with glittering cubes of ice. Rare pheasants, roasted in wine-flavored sauce, tongues of nightingales, sturgeon from the north, exotic fruits, olives, golden cakes, tiny fish in their own oil, and scented sweetmeats were brought in on heavily laden platters by beautiful slaves nude from the waist up.
Tyrhia sat opposite her sister at the main table, her voice a trifle shrill with excitement, as she bantered archly with a young man next to her, from time to time playfully slapping a too bold and experimental hand.
Salustra sat impassively in her chair. She smiled perfunctorily, and with a visible effort. She confined most of her remarks to Mahius, who sat at her left.
She spoke to him in an undertone, not wanting the others to overhear. “What do thy geologists and astronomers say of this cursed mist?”
“My scientists?” The minister sighed.
“Do not quibble,” she snapped.
“Frankly, Majesty, like all who are confused, they talk a lot, without saying much. Molanti, the geologist, points out that this mist appeared a few days after a mysterious earth tremor to the north, picked up by the seismographs at the Geological Institute.
“In establishing a connection between that quake and the mist, Molanti believes he may yet account for the power failure.”
She muttered darkly to herself. “Theories, always theories. Tell Molanti it is answers we need. And if he solves this mystery, I shall see that he is accorded the rare privilege of the rejuvenation chamber.”
Mahius sighed heavily. “Are you so certain, Majesty, that this prolongation of life is a proper reward for such meritorious service?”
She smiled slyly. “Molanti, though a scientist, will consider this boon of youth worth more than a dozen palaces or the greenest grove. What do scientists know of life?”
“What do any of us know, Majesty?”
She smiled practically. “We know that life will be insufferable if we do not soon learn why the electricity normally conveyed through the atmosphere has dissipated.” She drew her lips together reflectively. “What says the physicist Goleta? He already has earned nomination for the Temple Beautiful for his discovery of the health ray.”
“Majesty, Goleta reports that the atmosphere is so lacking that the experimental electromagnetic signals he sends out produce not even the slightest static.”
Salustra showed signs of mounting irritation. “Do not these fools know that we cannot long live in this primitive manner? We are not barbarians like the Althrustri.”
Mahius shrugged as he pushed away his food, untasted. “Underrate not these barbarians, Majesty. They have the nuclear atmosphere-changer, and they will use it, if they can.”
Salustra looked at him thoughtfully. “So you have said, but it may not even go off in this deadened atmosphere.”
Mahius’ face turned gray. “But can we take the chance, Majesty?”
She clenched her teeth, thinking of the treachery that had given Signar this weapon. “To turn against one’s own country, it is
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