Gods and Guardians

Chapter 21: Meeting Sairus

It was a day's journey from the port to the palace of Sairus. As a custom, the informer left a day before to appraise His Majesty of the messengers from Zainox and Kainon. A grander festival could have been arranged, but King Sairus only declared the day a day of rest.

The guests were flattered to learn on the way that they were being honoured with a resting day. Everything since their arrival has been a series of flatteries one after another. The hospitality was extravagant. Nimrod admitted with shame that Zainox or Kainon would not reciprocate this. It felt entirely out of place.

Zola had found in Deivon a close friend and brother. Parting was painful. How one could get to know another in so short a time. It was ironic how he had come to love the calm, extremely knowledgeable, and accommodating Deivon, a foreigner in blood, a travesty of an Islander. This suddenly didn't feel right.

The shame he felt when those qualifiers flashed through his mind was palpable. The very thought of them was a mockery of his own enlightened judgment. Or was it a mockery of his good judgment? Was something not fundamentally wrong with the tenets which he had known all his life? Was something really wrong with intermarrying with other races? Everything he had been taught began to come to trial one after the other until depression began to set in. He caught himself and dispelled the questions as wild and uncalled for. He sealed it all by concluding that Deivon was only but one man. And it was yet too early to generalize. Now he felt better.

Damian drifted back to his youth. Nimrod was telling him how he wished that all Islanders were united. How he wanted Meinz to become part of them again. Everyone had wild dreams that growing up found a way of shaping into acceptable reality. Nimrod's growth was restive in nature. He was royal, but he was in bondage. He always validated himself by doing something daring, but the claws of the king's protection never loosened. They tightened more as he grew, complicating his life with every tenery that matured. He no longer talked about Meinz and his dream of bringing an end to the division. Damian wished the old spirit will rise again. There was something different about Nimrod's daring.

Within the complexes of the prince's desire to come to the mother island lied something deeper, something older than his father's illness, something which he himself had no idea of anymore. But when he found that his thoughts continued to dwell on the need and possibility of reunion, he realized at last that this was not a new longing. He could make sense of himself now. All his restiveness and groping began to take shape. Coming to Meinz now felt like the block that held up the arch. He knew he was in the right place.

The streets of Zoan were lined on both sides by similar buildings. Some streets were of only multistoried buildings that didn't have outer walls. Such were preserved only for workhouses and some warehouses in Zainox. Here they were residential buildings. The streets were all paved and lined with neatly grown gardens on the sides.

'This is the street of yellow flowers,' an escort from the port said. He was about Nimrod's age, but he had sagely eyes that gave him away as somewhat learned in the nature of the world. There was hardly any youthful vanity in his posture.

'Are your streets all named in this manner?' Damian asked.

'No, but on this parts, the king chose to name the streets by the flowers. The other,' he motioned at an adjacent street whose view was hidden by the homes. 'That is the purple hibiscus street.'

Everyone peered to confirm it was well-named.

'I bet Zainox and Kainon are not as structured as this,' he observed.

Nimrod shook his head. The young man was looking at him. 'Meinz is a marvelous place. We love flowers and plants generally, but it's a matter of personal choice to order your surroundings with them.'