The carriage trundled on. Talaban could see the palace outlined against the night sky. Bright lights shone from its windows, and he knew that one of the chests had been installed there. The palace had been built 200 years before, designed by Avatar architects, and built when the empire still possessed the power and the energy for such projects. It was probably the finest building left above the ice. The roof was covered with gold sheeting, the walls decorated with a multitude of statues and scenes from Avatar history.
The huge bronze gates were open, and two Avatar guards waved the carriage through.
Talaban stepped down as the carriage drew to a halt. Then he climbed the steps to the massive double doors. There were sixty-four steps. They were divided by symbols into groups of eight, and represented the journey of life. Conception, birth, puberty, adulthood, maturity, wisdom, spirituality, and death.
On either side of the steps statues had been placed, their regal faces frozen in time, their blank eyes staring impassively at the mortal men who climbed by them. Heroes and teachers, mystics and poets. Their names and their deeds were recorded on the marble beside them.
Talaban paused at the statue of Varabidis, the poet mystic, the creator of the Six Rituals. The statue depicted a young man holding a dove aloft, its wings spreading for flight. Below the statue was the inscription: The bird does not seek the past, it flies ever hopeful into the future.
Not any more, thought Talaban.
Once inside the palace a Vagar servant led him through to the wide waiting area outside the council chambers. Couches and deep chairs had been set against the walls, and food and wine placed on three long tables. Most of the councillors were present. Fat Caprishan, dressed in a billowing silver robe, sat by the western window deep in conversation with his aides. Niclin, the richest and therefore most powerful of the councillors, stood beneath the high gallery chatting amiably to several of his colleagues.
Talaban scanned the room. There was no sign of Questor Ro.
A tall lean figure moved into Talaban’s line of sight. ‘Good evening, cousin. I hear you had an eventful trip.’
Viruk was dressed in a tunic of heavy black silk edged with silver thread. His hair and beard were freshly washed and oiled, and he sported no weapons. ‘Good evening, Viruk,’ said Talaban. ‘I am sure that life here, for you at least, has not been boring.’
‘Indeed not. But let us not dwell on my humble activities. You are the hero of the moment. Thanks to you, Avatar supremacy is assured for a few seasons.’ Talaban looked into the man’s pale grey eyes.
‘It would be good to think so,’ he said.
‘Always the diplomat, Talaban. I hear you had an encounter with krals. Are they as ferocious as described?’
‘They are fast, and very deadly.’
‘I would like to kill one. Perhaps I could accompany you on your next voyage.’
‘Your skills would be very useful, but that is a question for the Questor General to answer.’
The doors to the council chamber swung open. At exactly that moment Questor Ro appeared and, without a word to anyone, strode through to take his seat.
‘I suppose we will all have to sit through a pompous speech from the little man,’ said Viruk.
‘He has earned the right to bore us rigid,’ put in Talaban. Viruk chuckled, and placed his hand on Talaban’s shoulder.
‘I like you. I really do.’ He paused, and his smile faded.
‘My astrologer tells me that one day you and I will fight to the death.’
Talaban smiled. ‘Let us hope he is a poor astrologer. But if he is not, rest assured I will see you buried with full honours.’
Viruk’s laughter rang out. ‘I really do like you, Talaban,’ he said.
Chapter Fourteen
Viruk appeared to be listening intently as Questor Caprishan addressed the Council. In fact he was comparing Caprishan to the dead king of the Patiakes. Both were fat to the point of obscenity and both oozed sincerity like leaking oil. Viruk pictured Caprishan’s bloated body under the impact of a zhi-bolt. The thought of it made him smile. Caprishan saw the smile and faltered in his speech.
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