For the moment he concentrated on the joyful. One of Questor Anu’s acolytes had brought him news of the success of the southern expedition. They had replenished four chests and were on their way home. They should arrive within two weeks.
Rael had expressed his thanks and his best wishes to Anu. The acolyte bowed.
‘You may express your thanks in person, my lord, for Questor Anu asked me to invite you to his home. At noon, if it is convenient.’
This was the second surprise. Anu, the Holy One, had withdrawn from public life more than thirty years before. It was, he said, his intention to age and die. He had given his crystals to Rael and retired to his home on the hill above the bay. His decision affected his popularity among the Avatar. He was the Saviour, the one Avatar to predict the fall of the world. He had convinced more than 200 people to join him on a trek to the north, leading them over rugged plains and barren mountains, across deserts and valleys, arriving at last at the gates of Pagaru, the first of the five cities. There were only sixty other Avatars this far north, and they greeted the arriving column with cold courtesy.
The following day the earth had tilted and the sun had risen in the west.
Anu’s prediction had been correct, and he had become the Holy One. But his decision to age and die was obscene. No Avatar would even consider such a course. The full Council of Questors voted to place him under house arrest in order to prevent Vagars from witnessing the grotesque deterioration of a supreme being. The five cities contained more than 200,000 Vagars. They were controlled by a mere 570 Avatars. The Questors feared that if Anu was seen to age like any mortal the Vagars would cease to hold them in such awe. Avatar soldiers now guarded the exits, and all of Anu’s Vagar servants had been taken away.
He was attended now by three Avatar acolytes, and had not been in contact with any on the Council since that day thirty years ago.
Now he requested the presence of Rael.
The Questor General left his office and moved through to his apartments. A Vagar servant bowed as he entered, and informed him that the Lady Mirani was in the roof garden. Rael climbed the circular stair and emerged into the sunshine. The garden had been designed by Viruk twenty years before, and the air was heavy with the scent of roses and honeysuckle. Mirani was sitting in the shade of an arched trellis, that was adorned by a climbing multi-coloured rose of yellow, red and white. Rael paused and took in a deep breath. Even after a hundred years he found Mirani’s beauty intoxicating. Her long, fair hair, dyed blue at the temples, was tied back now with a white ribbon, and she was leaning forward, paintbrush in hand, adding delicate touches to a newly shaped pottery vase. A touch of blue paint had marked the skin of her cheek. Rael felt the burden of responsibility lift from him. He was a man again. Sensing his presence, she turned and smiled.
‘What do you think?’ she asked him, pointing to the vase.
‘It is beautiful,’ he said.
‘You haven’t looked at it.’ Moving across the garden he knelt by her side. The vase was tall and slim necked, and Mirani had painted exquisite female figures all around it. They were running and laughing. ‘The Maidens of Contar,’ she explained. ‘You remember the myth? They heard the enchanted music of Varabidis, and left their homes to seek him on the mountain.’
‘As I said, it is beautiful. But where is Varabidis? Should he not be present?’
‘They did not want him, they wanted his music.’ Mirani leaned back. ‘What brings you home so early?’
He told her about the summons from Anu. ‘Perhaps the Holy One has repented of his decision to die and wishes to join the Council once more,’ he concluded.
‘I do not think so,’ said Mirani. ‘Anu is not a fickle man.’
‘I do not wish to see him withered and ancient. The thought is obscene.’