Compete (77 page)

“Now, as soon as the Pharikoneon Gates open, the High Court is admitted first. Then, the Middle Court, and finally, the Low Court. You and I, my dear, will stand with the latter, but we will enter as close as possible to the front of our section, so that we end up in the first row, either on the left or the right of the throne. The trick to it is to stand precisely here—” And the Consul carefully takes me by the elbow and maneuvers me through the crowd to a certain spot near the walls and the edge of the marble colonnade.

“As soon as the doors open, walk quickly at my side, and do not slow your pace down under any circumstances.”

“Okay,” I say. “What exactly does it mean we will stand with the Low Court? Where exactly is that?”

The Consul smiles. “A fine question. It will be answered as soon as you see what is inside the chamber. The floor is colored in three sections, on both sides of the red path to the throne. Closest to the throne, the floor tiles are pale stone, almost white. That is the High Court. Only the highest nobility is permitted to stand there. Then you will see a section of stone floor in red—a divider—followed by an area in golden cream yellow—that is the Middle Court. Next, another divider in red, and at last, the section in rust orange, toward the back of the chamber. It is the Low Court, and it is where we will be.”

I nod. “I see.”

“Once the Court is assembled and the Imperator opens the Imperial Court Session, the red path to the throne and the red sections on the floor may not be tread upon by anyone who is not of Imperial blood, unless the Imperator or another member of the Imperial Family grants you permission. . . . What this means is, you must stand on the floor in your designated section, and you may not step on any red tile!”

“Wow. . . . Okay. Sounds scary and complicated.”

Consul Denu squeezes my arm reassuringly. “Simply stay by my side, and you will be fine.”

In a few minutes, a series of tones echo throughout the ante-chamber, followed by what sounds like deep bass, horns, and oboe. They form a grand C Major chord. . . .

At the same time the guards at the doors stand aside and the Pharikoneon Gates open inward, revealing a brightly lit immense hall filled with soft golden glow. They announce admittance in loud Atlantean, and in that moment the crowd starts moving.

Consul Denu keeps a firm hold on my arm as we wait while the upper nobility enters. At last, when the ante-chamber has sufficiently thinned out, the Consul pulls me along and we walk rapidly past the guards into the Pharikoneon.

Oh, wow
. . . .

The sheer
immensity
and scale of the chamber takes my breath away.

It is like being inside a temple. Massive column supports of mauve stone circle the perimeter, and overhead looms a distant shadowed ceiling, formed like an inverted stair pyramid.

The distant wall directly ahead is pure gold. Against it, a sunburst relief of stunning intricacy frames the Imperial Throne of
Atlantida
.

The throne is a huge, tall-backed golden chair, placed upraised on a dais of five steps. To the right of it is a lesser gold chair, and to the left, another, both intended for other members of the Imperial Family. Next, come backless gold benches on both sides, for yet other relatives or those who are favored by the Imperator. The entire section is called the Imperial Seats.

At the moment the Throne and the Imperial Seats are unoccupied.

However, it is a different matter with the rest of the hall.

As we walk in, I understand now what the Consul was talking about. People fill the hall in six designated sections, three on each side of the central red tiled path. The main floor is red polished marble, off limits to all of us, and the paler colors are for the Court to occupy.

“Quickly now. . . .” Consul Denu directs me to the left of the central red path walkway, and takes me into the Low Court orange floor section, so that we stand precisely at the orange corner. We are basically at the very edge where the red tile divider begins between Low and Middle Court and the Imperial path in the center.

Consul Denu takes the corner position, and I stand right next to him. Immediately other people take the spots around us. A young Atlantean woman in a long green dress stands next to me, a courtier in a grand gold wig similar to the Consul’s stands behind me, and so on, until there is no room to turn. . . .

I understand now why the Consul made sure we are in the front row, it is definitely more comfortable here. Of course, that we are in plain view of everyone present is not so comfortable, if you want to be inconspicuous.

“My dear, here is what you must do,” Consul Denu says softly in my ear. “Stand quietly in place, until and only
if
the Imperator decides to notice you. This
may
or may
not
happen today. If you are lucky, it will be a very brief experience. Now—” And he points to the wide red path before us. “Once the Imperator calls you forward, you will step upon the red floor and you will walk in a quick but even pace toward the Throne. Do not ascend the dais at all, simply curtsey right before the first stair, in the middle. Remain with your head bowed until instructed otherwise. You may look up at the Imperator only if he is speaking to you. Then, once your audience is done, you curtsey again, then return the same way you came and take your place next to me. You may only turn your back on the Imperator during this brief time as you are walking away. . . .”

Okay, now I’m officially terrified.

“Will the Imperator speak in English or Atlantean? What if I don’t understand?”

The Consul thinks for a moment. “I believe you will be addressed in English, since the Imperator is aware of your situation. But if by any chance it happens to be in Atlantean, you are permitted to explain your difficulty. But—fear not, it will not come to it.” And he squeezes my hand gently.

We stand a few minutes more as the rest of the Low Court fills the room. Then, grand tones once more sound, to indicate the arrival of the Imperator.

I hold my breath. . . .

T
he Imperator of Atlantis does not come up the red path as I imagined he would. Instead, a hidden doorway appears in the golden wall near the Throne, and he comes forth like a god from the darkness and steps directly onto the dais. . . .

Romhutat Kassiopei, the Archaeon Imperator of
Atlantida
, is a tall middle-aged man—as far as I can tell by the ageless features of his handsome stone face, at this distance. He wears a stunning floor-length robe of dark scarlet, and over it layers of gold cloth cascading from his shoulders glide along the floor behind him.

On the Imperator’s chest a wide heavy collar lies, gold encrusted with jewels. His hair is natural Kassiopei, long and pale gold, and he wears the Imperial Crown of
Atlantida
—it resembles the Ancient Egyptian headdress known as the Khepresh, or the war crown, but it’s made of scarlet cloth with a wide band of gold circling his head.

From the center of the forehead, a golden serpent rises. This is the Uraeus, the symbol of absolute Imperial power. This is the part of the crown that designates the Imperator.

The Imperator stands briefly before the Throne, looking at all of us. And then he sits down in the middle chair, straight-backed and motionless.

He is terrifying.

This is Aeson’s Father
, I have to remind myself. There is a vague resemblance in the features, yes, but more in the bearing and lines of jaw. I suppose the greatest resemblance would be in Aeson’s mother who is purported to be the most beautiful woman of her generation.

Will the Archaeona Imperatris be here tonight?

For that matter
, I wonder with a twinge of stress,
where is Aeson?

Meanwhile, the hall remains in perfect silence as we wait for the Imperator to speak.

At last, he opens his mouth and his deep resonant voice strikes us with force. “My Court Opens,” the Imperator says in Atlantean, and I understand this much with my rudimentary
Atlanteo
skills.

In the next instant, profound musical tones sound once again, and the entire Assembly, High, Middle, and Low Court, bows their heads before the Imperial Throne. Consul Denu squeezes my hand lightly and I lower my head with everyone else.

“You may Look upon Me,” the Imperator says.

We all raise our heads once more.

And as I look up, in that surreal instant, my gaze falls upon the front row of the High Court and suddenly in a weird second of coincidence, I see a young woman there, dressed in stunning gold, who is, I’m perfectly certain, none other than Lady Tirinea Fuorai.

Oh, wow
. . . .

Lady Tiri is tall and gorgeous, and even more amazing in real life than I expected—so perfect that my eyes hurt looking at her. And she stands next to several other similarly stunning girls, one more beautiful than the other. Though, I must say, she stands out slightly with her confident bearing and superior air.

While I stare at Lady Tiri, almost forgetting everything else, the Imperator speaks again. “I will now Receive You. First, the Imperial Crown Prince of Kassiopei may approach the Throne.”

My heart immediately skips a beat painfully, and my eyes widen as I search the room for any sign of
him
. The rest of the Court seems to respond similarly as the Atlantean nobility stares. . . .

And then I see him.

Aeson Kassiopei strides upon the red path, walking from the back of the chamber toward the Throne.

Oh. My. God.

Aeson wears a formal jacket of deep blue, so dark it is nearly black, and similar trousers. His feet are encased in soft black leather dress shoes studded with gold. Gold wrist bands hold his sleeves in place, and a fine gold trim circles the fabric of his collar in an exquisite web rendered in lines of intricate symmetry.

His hair is long and loose, down his back. It is brushed to a gloss, and lies neatly back from his forehead to frame his stunning cold face.

Aeson wears no additional makeup, but he does not have to.

He is luminous and unreal.

The Crown Prince walks up to the dais, his footfalls against the stone floor causing echoes to rise in the hall. There he stops and inclines his head briefly.

Without changing his stone expression, the Imperator nods at him. “Welcome, My Son. I congratulate you on successfully accomplishing the important task given you, and returning the children of Earth here in safety. You may speak of your successful journey in detail.”

At least, it’s the general gist of what he’s saying, because, again, my Atlantean language skills are barely adequate. Thank goodness Consul Denu taught me some basic common Court phrases and ceremonial language. This is all very traditional, highly stylized and formal stuff. One might hope the Imperator does not talk this way all the time. . . .

“My Father, Your Imperial Fleet and I are glad to be home,” Aeson replies. His familiar low voice rings forcefully throughout the hall and sends strange pleasant chills down my back. Oh, it is so good to hear his voice in this surreal alien place!

“I have much to tell, and the achievements of this endeavor are historic in their ramifications, both for Earth and Atlantis,” Aeson continues. And then he pauses slightly. “But before I go on, I would like to make an Imperial Formal Announcement before this Court. I believe this is an Announcement you have been waiting for me to make for quite some time. . . .”

There is another pause.

And then, for the first time, the Imperator smiles. I can see the shadow smile all the way from where I’m standing. And then he inclines his head, graciously. “My Son, I am glad to hear you have come to this decision at last. Yes, make your Announcement now, and we will Witness.”

Aeson inclines his head once more, and then turns around to look at the Court with a sweeping glance that reveals a flash of energy overriding his carefully composed expression.

“My Father, as you have guessed, after much careful thought and consideration, I will now announce My Imperial Consort and Bride.”

Oh God, no!

Sudden dark despair washes over me.

Meanwhile, excited soft whispers fill the great expanse of the chamber. And the High Court sections in particular react. . . . I can see Lady Tiri, and the other girls of noble families in that damned front row, all stand up straight. Lady Tiri looks at Aeson with a triumphant smile.

I am without breath now, faint and collapsing inside, as though all life has been leached out of me. . . . If I weren’t standing in such a tight crowd, I think my feet would buckle from under me. Consul Denu must sense my sudden agitation because again he squeezes my hand and holds it tight.

In that moment, Aeson turns from the Throne and starts moving along the red path. Slowly he paces, glancing in both directions, to the right and left of the path, as though making careful considerations among those present.

In just a few steps, he is now by the High Court section, where Lady Tiri stands, turned toward him. Aeson pauses before her, looks at her and smiles also.