Book 2 The Gods of Light and Liars

Chapter Ten: the God of Green and Gold

The gates themselves had gone unremarked. They blended into the rest of the milk-tinted crystal the walls were made from. The swoops of vine and floral facsimiles continued unblemished across their face. And they, like the rest of the walls, glowed with a brightness near daylight.

But then horns sounded. Brassy and loud, and a voice cried out in that same, unknown language, and the gate-walls split at their seams, opening like the wings of a great bird, and there was a crowd behind them. These were garbed, not in white as Hawk expected (given that she hadn't seen another shade of apparel this entire time) but a deep hunter's green trimmed with gold. The livery they bore was green and gold with a standard of white leaves. It was on the banners, on the beasts of burden (None of which Hawk recognized) and on the talbards the crowd wore.

It wasn't a crowd, she realized, but a parade. First came musicians, with drum and harp facsimile, symbols they crashed to an alien rhythm, horns of beaten brass that they played with abandon. Voices sang songs in English, something about Her high beauty and wealth from her cornucopia, and they didn't even bother trying to make cornucopia rhyme with anything. There were dancers, too, lithe and beautiful people in green and gold, with streamers running from wrist to ankle as if they were chained to the dance by the shades of spring. And in the middle of it all was a green and gold palanquin, carried by nearly two dozen bare chested men in green pants. Race was something Hawk had felt vaguely curious about—how had the descendants of Bittermoss School developed?—and she was a bit gratified to see a few dark faces in the crowd, and a few—fewer—white faces too. But mostly she saw humanity in shades of caramel or coffee.

The palanquin drew near, and at an unseen signal the music stopped. The dancers froze, as if in mid-step, and a half dozen people ran out from behind the palanquin with a set of elaborate footstools. They assembled these into a ladder of alien design, each with a foot-shaped pedal on each rung. This was leaned against the palanquin, whose curtains of gold and streamers of green were drawn aside, to admit what Hawk guessed to be the Archon of Earth.

She could not tell their gender. They wore multiple layers of, of course, green and gold, and their jewels appeared to be pearls carved to look like leaves of white. Their shoes were gold, and they walked as if their feet were heavy. Halfway down the ladder, Hawk decided this person was female, as a few layers of robe parted and she caught a glimpse of a bosom clad in green velvet. She couldn't imagine even trying to get down that ladder in those robes, and she was impressed by the grace—no, perfection—the Earth-Archon managed.

As they neared the ground the dancers vanished behind the palanquin, and returned with baskets of florals. Deep purples, dark reds, jewel blues, baby pinks, all piled high in baskets of gold with green ribbons. There were also a half-dozen boys who ran forward with rolls of silk in their hands. Just as the Earth-Archon reached the final rung, the boys laid the silk down upon the mossy ground, covering it entirely. The girls threw their flowers down upon the silk, or else into the air, saying, Mother bless you. Mother bless your steps.

It would have been beautiful, if it weren't for the fear.

It hung on every banner, accompanied the music. It was in the sometimes sharp and angular movements of the dancers, the frantic way the silk-bearers came forward. Everything was timed to the second, and everything clearly revolved around the masked and robed figure now walking across the silk-strewn lawn towards Hawk and her Archon.

The Earth-Archon stopped when she stood within ten feet of the Light-Archon. "Greetings, brother in service!" she said. And her voice was strange in a way that her mask could not explain. Definitely female, but oddly toned. Almost as if two people were speaking at once.