meadow. They waited as the silvery line of moonlight crept down the wall.
Then the ancient Atan gave a signal, and a dozen trumpeters raised brazen
‘horns to greet the new day and to signal the beginning of the Rite which
would end Mirtai’s childhood. The Atans sang. There were no words, for this
rite
was too sacred for words. Their song began’ with a single deep rumbling
male voice, swelling and rising as other voices joined it in soaring and
complex harmonies. King Androl and Queen Betuana moved with slow and
stately pace along a broad, torchlit avenue toward the ageless trees and
the flower-decked altar. Their bronze faces were serene, and their Solder
helmets gleamed in the torchlight. When they reached the altar, they
turned, expectant. There was a pause while the torches flared and the
organ-song of the Atans rose and swelled. Then the melody subsided into a
tightly controlled hum, scarcely more than a whisper. Engessa and Ehlana,
both in deep blue robes, escorted Mirtai out of the shadows near the city
wall. Mirtai was all in white, and her raven hair was unadorned. Her eyes
were modestly down-cast as her parents led her toward the altar. The song
swelled again with a different melody and a ,different counterpoint. ‘The
approach of the child,’ Norkan murmured to Sparhawk and the others. The
sophisticated, even cynical Tamul’s voice was respectful, almost awed, and
his world-weary eyes glistened. Sparhawk felt a small tug on his hand, and
he lifted his daughter so that she might better see. Mirtai and her family
reached the altar and bowed to Androl and Betuana. The song sank to a
whisper. Engessa spoke to the king and queen of the Atans. His voice was
loud and forceful. The Tamul tongue flowed musically from his lips as he
declared his daughter fit. Then he turned, opened his robe and drew his
sword. He spoke again, and there was a note of challenge in his voice.
‘What did he say?’ Talen whispered to Oscagne. ‘He offered to do violence
to anyone who objected to his daughter’s passage.’ Oscagne replied. His
voice was also profoundly respectful, even slightly choked with emotion.
Then Ehlana spoke, also in Tamul. Her voice rang out like a silver trumpet
as she also declared that her child was fit and ready to assume her place
as an adult. ‘She wasn’t supposed to say that last bit,’ Danae whispered in
Sparhawk’s ear. ‘She’s adding things.’
‘You know your mother,’ he smiled. Then the Queen of Elenia turned to look
at the assembled’ Atans, and her voice took on a flinty note of challenge
as she also opened her robe and drew a silver-hilted sword. Sparhawk was
startled by the professional way she held it. Then Mirtai spoke to the king
and queen. ‘The child entreats passage,’ Norkan told them. King Androl
spoke his reply, his voice loud and commanding, and his queen added her
agreement. Then they too drew their swords and stepped forward to flank the
child’s parents, joining in their challenge. The song of the Atans soared,
and the trumpets added a brazen fanfare. Then the sound diminished again.
Mirtai faced her people and drew her daggers. She spoke to them, and
Sparhawk needed no translation. He knew that tone of voice. The song
raised, triumphant, and the five at the altar turned to face the
roughly-chiselled stone block. In the centre of the altar lay a black
velvet cushion, and nestled on it there was a plain gold circlet. The song
swelled, and it echoed back from nearby mountains. And then, out of the
velvet black throat of night, a star fell. It was an incandescently
brilliant white light streaking down across the sky. Down and down it
arched, and then it exploded into a shower of brilliant sparks. ‘Stop
that!’ Sparhawk hissed to his daughter. ‘I didn’t do it,’ she protested. ‘I
might have, but I didn’t think of it. How did they do that?’ She sounded
genuinely baffled. Then, as the glowing shards of the star drifted slowly
toward the earth filling the night with glowing sparks, the golden circlet
on the altar rose unaided, drifting up like a ring of smoke. It hesitated
as the Atan song swelled with an aching kind of yearning, and then, like a
gossamer cobweb, it settled on the head of the child, and when Mirtai
turned with exultant face, she was a child no longer. The mountains rang
back the joyous sound as the Atans greeted her.
CHAPTER 20
‘They know nothing of magic.’ Zalasta said it quite emphatically. ‘That
circlet didn’t rise up into the air all by itself, Zalasta,’ Vanion
disagreed, ‘and the arrival of the falling star at just exactly the right
moment stretches the possibility of coincidence further than I’m willing
to go.’
‘Chicanery of some kind perhaps?’ Patriarch Emban suggested. ‘There was a
charlatan in Ucera when I was a boy who was very good at that sort of
thing. I’d be inclined to look for hidden wires and burning arrows.’ They
were gathered in the Peloi camp outside the city the following morning,
puzzling over the spectacular conclusion of Mirtai’s Rite of Passage. ‘Why
would they do something like that, your Grace? Khalad asked him. ‘To make
an impression maybe. How would I know? ‘Who would they have been trying to
impress?’
‘Us, obviously.’. ”It doesn’t seem to fit the Atan character,’ Tynian
said, frowning. ‘Would the Atans cheapen a holy rite with that kind of
gratuitous trickery, Ambassador Oscagne?’ The Tamul Emissary shook his
head. ‘Totally out of the question, Sir Tynian. The rite is as central to
their culture as a wedding or a funeral. They’d never demean it just to
impress strangers – and it wasn’t performed for our benefit. The ceremony
was for Atana Mirtai.’
‘Exactly,’ Khalad agreed, ‘and if there were hidden wires coming down from
those tree-branches she’d have known they were there. They just wouldn’t
have done that to her. A cheap trick like that would have been an insult,
and we all know how Atans respond to insults.’
‘Norkan will be here in a little while,’ Oscagne told
them. ‘He’s been in Atan for quite some time. I’m sure he’ll be able to
explain it.’
‘It cannot have been magic,’ Zalasta insisted. It seemed very important to
him for some reason. Sparhawk had the uneasy feeling that it had to do with
the shaggy-browed magician’s racial ego. So long as Styrics were the only
people who could perform magic or instruct others in its use, they were
unique in the world. If any other race could do the same thing, their
importance would be diminished. ‘How long are we going to stay here?’
Kalten asked. ‘This is a nervous kind of place. Some young knight or one of
the Peloi is bound to make a mistake sooner or later. If somebody blunders
into a deadly insult, I think all this good feeling will evaporate. We
don’t want to have to fight our way out of town.’
‘Norkan will be able to tell us,’ Oscagne replied. ‘We don’t want to
insult the Atans by leaving too early either.’
‘How far is it from here to Matherion, Oscagne?’
Emban asked. ‘About five hundred leagues.’ Emban sighed. ‘Almost two more
months,’ he lamented. ‘I feel as if this journey’s lasted for years.’
‘You do look more fit, though, your Grace,’ Bevier told him. ‘I don’t want
to look fit, Bevier. I want to look fat, lazy
and pampered. I want to be fat, lazy and pampered and I want a decent
meal)with lots of butter and gravy and delicacies and fine wines.’
‘You did volunteer to come along, your Grace,’ Sparhawk reminded him. ‘I
must have been out of my mind.’ Ambassador Norkan came across the Peloi
campground with an amused expression on his face. ‘What’s so funny?’
Oscagne asked him. ‘I’ve been observing an exquisite dance, old boy,’
Norkan replied. ‘i’d forgotten just how profoundly literal an Elene can be.
Any number of Atan girls have approached young Sir Berit and expressed a
burning interest in western weaponry. They were obviously hoping for
private lessons in some secluded place where he could demonstrate how he
uses his equipment.’
‘Norkan,’ Oscagne chided him. ‘Did I say something wrong, old chap? I’m
afraid my Elenic’s a bit rusty. Anyway, Sir Berit’s arranged a
demonstration for the entire group. He’s just outside the city wall giving
the whole bunch of them archery lessons.’
‘We’re going to have to have a talk with that boy,’ Kalten said to
Sparhawk. ‘I’ve been told not to,’ Sparhawk said. ‘My wife and the other
ladies want to keep him innocent. It seems to satisfy some obscure need.’
He looked at Norkan. ‘Maybe you can settle an argument for us, your
Excellency. ‘
‘i’m good at peace-making, Sir Sparhawk. It’s not as much fun as starting
wars, but the emperor prefers it.’
‘What really happened last night, Ambassador Norkan?’ Vanion asked him.