Singhalissa, “Who performed these heartless acts upon you?”
Singhalissa answered for Efraim. “The Kaiark prefers not to enlarge upon the matter at this time.”
“But we are most interested! These indignities offend us all!”
“That is true enough,” said the Kraike.
Efraim had been listening with a sour grin. “I can tell you very little. I am as puzzled as you are - perhaps more so.”
“More so? I know nothing.”
The Kraike said abruptly, “The Kaiark and his friend have had a fatiguing journey and will wish to refresh themselves.” She addressed herself to Efraim.
“I assume that you will now occupy the Grand Chambers?”
“It would seem appropriate that I do so.”
Singhalissa turned and beckoned to a grizzled heavy-shouldered man who wore, over the black and scarlet Benbuphar livery, a black velvet mantle embroidered in silver and a black velvet tricorn cap. “Agnois, bring a selection of the Kaiark’s effects down from the North Tower.”
“At once, Your Presence.” Agnois the First Chamberlain departed.
The Kraike Singhalissa ushered Efraim along a dim hall hung with portraits of all the dead kaiarks, each, by the urgency of his gaze and the poise of his upraised hand, straining to communicate his wisdom across the ages.
A pair of tall iron-bound doors barred the way, with a gorgon’s head of oiled black iron at the center of each; perhaps contrived by a kaiark’s cogence3.
Singhalissa halted by the doors; Efraim stepped forward to fling them wide but could not discover the mechanism which controlled the latch. Singhalissa said drily, “Allow me,” then pressed a boss. The doors swung open.
They entered a long antechamber, or trophy room. Cases lined the walls, displaying curios, collections, artifacts; objects of stone, wood, fired clay, glass; insects preserved in transparent cubes; sketches, paintings, calligraphy; Books of Life, a thousand other volumes and portfolios, monographs unnumbered. A long table occupied the center of the room, on which glowed a pair of lamps in green glass shades. Above the cases portraits of kaiarks and kraikes stared down at those who passed below.
The trophy room opened on a vast high-ceilinged room paneled in wood almost black with age. Rugs patterned in maroon, blue, and black covered the floor; tall narrow windows overlooked the valley.
The Kraike indicated a dozen cases along the wall. “These are Destian’s belongings; he assumed that he would be occupying these chambers; he is naturally annoyed by the turn of events.” She stepped to the wall and touched a button; almost at once Agnois the First Chamberlain appeared. “Yes, Your Presence?”
“Remove the Kang Destian’s belongings.”
“At once, Presence.” He departed.
“How, may I ask, did the Kaiark meet his death?”
The Kraike looked sharply at Efraim. “You have heard nothing of this?”
“Only that he was killed by the Gorgets.”
“We know little more. They came as mirk-men and one of them shot a bolt at Jochaim’s back. Destian planned a foray of vengeance immediately after his investiture.”
“Destian can order a foray whenever he chooses. I will put no hindrance in his way.”
“You intend not to participate?” The Kraike’s clear voice tinkled with a cool emotion.
“I would be foolish to do so, while there are mysteries to be clarified. Who knows but what I also might die of a Gorget bolt?”
“You must act as your wisdom directs. When you are rested you will find us in the hall. With your permission I will now leave you.”
Efraim bowed his head. “I am grateful for your solicitude.”
The Kraike departed. Efraim stood alone in the ancient parlor. In the air hung a redolence of leather bookbindings, waxed wood, old fabric, and also a faint mustiness of disuse. Efraim went to look out one of the tall windows, each protected by an iron shutter. The time was green rowan; the light lay wan across the landscape.
He turned away and gingerly
Singhalissa answered for Efraim. “The Kaiark prefers not to enlarge upon the matter at this time.”
“But we are most interested! These indignities offend us all!”
“That is true enough,” said the Kraike.
Efraim had been listening with a sour grin. “I can tell you very little. I am as puzzled as you are - perhaps more so.”
“More so? I know nothing.”
The Kraike said abruptly, “The Kaiark and his friend have had a fatiguing journey and will wish to refresh themselves.” She addressed herself to Efraim.
“I assume that you will now occupy the Grand Chambers?”
“It would seem appropriate that I do so.”
Singhalissa turned and beckoned to a grizzled heavy-shouldered man who wore, over the black and scarlet Benbuphar livery, a black velvet mantle embroidered in silver and a black velvet tricorn cap. “Agnois, bring a selection of the Kaiark’s effects down from the North Tower.”
“At once, Your Presence.” Agnois the First Chamberlain departed.
The Kraike Singhalissa ushered Efraim along a dim hall hung with portraits of all the dead kaiarks, each, by the urgency of his gaze and the poise of his upraised hand, straining to communicate his wisdom across the ages.
A pair of tall iron-bound doors barred the way, with a gorgon’s head of oiled black iron at the center of each; perhaps contrived by a kaiark’s cogence3.
Singhalissa halted by the doors; Efraim stepped forward to fling them wide but could not discover the mechanism which controlled the latch. Singhalissa said drily, “Allow me,” then pressed a boss. The doors swung open.
They entered a long antechamber, or trophy room. Cases lined the walls, displaying curios, collections, artifacts; objects of stone, wood, fired clay, glass; insects preserved in transparent cubes; sketches, paintings, calligraphy; Books of Life, a thousand other volumes and portfolios, monographs unnumbered. A long table occupied the center of the room, on which glowed a pair of lamps in green glass shades. Above the cases portraits of kaiarks and kraikes stared down at those who passed below.
The trophy room opened on a vast high-ceilinged room paneled in wood almost black with age. Rugs patterned in maroon, blue, and black covered the floor; tall narrow windows overlooked the valley.
The Kraike indicated a dozen cases along the wall. “These are Destian’s belongings; he assumed that he would be occupying these chambers; he is naturally annoyed by the turn of events.” She stepped to the wall and touched a button; almost at once Agnois the First Chamberlain appeared. “Yes, Your Presence?”
“Remove the Kang Destian’s belongings.”
“At once, Presence.” He departed.
“How, may I ask, did the Kaiark meet his death?”
The Kraike looked sharply at Efraim. “You have heard nothing of this?”
“Only that he was killed by the Gorgets.”
“We know little more. They came as mirk-men and one of them shot a bolt at Jochaim’s back. Destian planned a foray of vengeance immediately after his investiture.”
“Destian can order a foray whenever he chooses. I will put no hindrance in his way.”
“You intend not to participate?” The Kraike’s clear voice tinkled with a cool emotion.
“I would be foolish to do so, while there are mysteries to be clarified. Who knows but what I also might die of a Gorget bolt?”
“You must act as your wisdom directs. When you are rested you will find us in the hall. With your permission I will now leave you.”
Efraim bowed his head. “I am grateful for your solicitude.”
The Kraike departed. Efraim stood alone in the ancient parlor. In the air hung a redolence of leather bookbindings, waxed wood, old fabric, and also a faint mustiness of disuse. Efraim went to look out one of the tall windows, each protected by an iron shutter. The time was green rowan; the light lay wan across the landscape.
He turned away and gingerly
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