whipped up the dust on the mountainside where it had landed.
Gilliam waited until stinging clouds settled before jamming her favourite brown suede hat on to her head and moving off.
The Palace of the First Queen of Kr’on Tep had been one of the grandest structures on the planet in its day. But its day was long gone and now it was only a series of cracked and broken slabs of granite-like rock littered across the hillside. Only the centre of the palace remained standing, a cluster of buildings which had once been the royal apartments. It was for this that Gilliam had abandoned her royal duties. As she slipped out of the heat of the day and into the cool shadows of the ancient palace, she prayed that what she hoped to discover was going to be worth it.
Gilliam set up camp in the Chamber of the First Queen. The room was large, and still almost completely intact. The desert sun forced itself into the room through long cracks in the ceiling, casting streaks of light across the jagged and uneven floor. It took a few minutes to erect her thermo-tent in one of the corners of the room. Gilliam unfolded the heavy canvas sheets with care; maintaining the tent’s integrity was vital. The palace was close to the planet’s equator, and the temperature fluctuated wildly between day and night. The hot desert outside would cool quickly once night came – she would need the protection of the tent’s regulated environment if she were going to survive the night. Only when she was certain that the tent was functioning did she allow herself to begin her investigation in earnest.
According to her research, the palace had been a wedding gift to the first queen of Kr’on Tep, a woman scientist named Petruska. She was the bride of the first and most famous of all the kings in Kr’on Tep’s history: the man-god, Moriah. Several thousand years before, Moriah had arrived from the depths of space to conquer Kr’on Tep and turn it into one of the most powerful civilizations in this part of space. According to the ancient history of the planet, Petruska had been unfaithful to Moriah and, in his anger, he had killed her and then fled Kr’on Tep, never to return.
At least that was the official version of the story. Gilliam cracked open a small flask of wine, and took a long swig from the bottle. She had long suspected that there was more to the story of the first royal couple than this legend of betrayal and murder. And so she had decided to abandon her royal duties and engage in a little bit of historical detective work. Her suspicions centred around the small symbols which had been neatly inscribed into the walls of the chamber.
58
The palace was famous for its song. Petruska had decorated the walls of her bedchamber with unique symbols which could be translated into a beautiful piece of music: a song of love for her husband, Moriah. Or so the archeologists said. The music was now one of the best known pieces in their society; indeed it had been played at Gilliam’s own wedding. It was a quiet, simple melody.
And it had always struck Gilliam as being more a torch song, mourning what had been lost, than a declaration of passion and love.
Its sadness had always intrigued Gilliam. She had first heard the aching melody as she walked down the aisle on her wedding day. It had accompanied her uncertain steps towards a future with a man she didn’t love, and her angry steps away from the man who had abandoned her.
She brushed away the resentful feelings which still haunted her and unpacked her equipment. She dug out the sheaf of research notes she had made on the musical symbols. Gilliam had first begun to suspect that the symbols might be more than just the notes to a song when she had made a study of Petruska’s life before she had been crowned queen. During this period of Kr’on Tep’s history, before Moriah had invaded, a curious sexual division of labour had been in place which allowed women access to the arts and sciences but
Gilliam waited until stinging clouds settled before jamming her favourite brown suede hat on to her head and moving off.
The Palace of the First Queen of Kr’on Tep had been one of the grandest structures on the planet in its day. But its day was long gone and now it was only a series of cracked and broken slabs of granite-like rock littered across the hillside. Only the centre of the palace remained standing, a cluster of buildings which had once been the royal apartments. It was for this that Gilliam had abandoned her royal duties. As she slipped out of the heat of the day and into the cool shadows of the ancient palace, she prayed that what she hoped to discover was going to be worth it.
Gilliam set up camp in the Chamber of the First Queen. The room was large, and still almost completely intact. The desert sun forced itself into the room through long cracks in the ceiling, casting streaks of light across the jagged and uneven floor. It took a few minutes to erect her thermo-tent in one of the corners of the room. Gilliam unfolded the heavy canvas sheets with care; maintaining the tent’s integrity was vital. The palace was close to the planet’s equator, and the temperature fluctuated wildly between day and night. The hot desert outside would cool quickly once night came – she would need the protection of the tent’s regulated environment if she were going to survive the night. Only when she was certain that the tent was functioning did she allow herself to begin her investigation in earnest.
According to her research, the palace had been a wedding gift to the first queen of Kr’on Tep, a woman scientist named Petruska. She was the bride of the first and most famous of all the kings in Kr’on Tep’s history: the man-god, Moriah. Several thousand years before, Moriah had arrived from the depths of space to conquer Kr’on Tep and turn it into one of the most powerful civilizations in this part of space. According to the ancient history of the planet, Petruska had been unfaithful to Moriah and, in his anger, he had killed her and then fled Kr’on Tep, never to return.
At least that was the official version of the story. Gilliam cracked open a small flask of wine, and took a long swig from the bottle. She had long suspected that there was more to the story of the first royal couple than this legend of betrayal and murder. And so she had decided to abandon her royal duties and engage in a little bit of historical detective work. Her suspicions centred around the small symbols which had been neatly inscribed into the walls of the chamber.
58
The palace was famous for its song. Petruska had decorated the walls of her bedchamber with unique symbols which could be translated into a beautiful piece of music: a song of love for her husband, Moriah. Or so the archeologists said. The music was now one of the best known pieces in their society; indeed it had been played at Gilliam’s own wedding. It was a quiet, simple melody.
And it had always struck Gilliam as being more a torch song, mourning what had been lost, than a declaration of passion and love.
Its sadness had always intrigued Gilliam. She had first heard the aching melody as she walked down the aisle on her wedding day. It had accompanied her uncertain steps towards a future with a man she didn’t love, and her angry steps away from the man who had abandoned her.
She brushed away the resentful feelings which still haunted her and unpacked her equipment. She dug out the sheaf of research notes she had made on the musical symbols. Gilliam had first begun to suspect that the symbols might be more than just the notes to a song when she had made a study of Petruska’s life before she had been crowned queen. During this period of Kr’on Tep’s history, before Moriah had invaded, a curious sexual division of labour had been in place which allowed women access to the arts and sciences but
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