The King's Might: A Legend of Averdan

Part Two, Chapter Two

TWO

In Which Things Are Even More Rotten

The Audience Room, where the Baroness held court, was a vision in black and white. A mosaic behind her white chair, executed in tiles barely bigger than a little toenail, showed geometrically perfect repeating black doves all the way up to the ceiling. The carpet on the polished black marble floor was plush and perfectly white. It looked, Jalith thought, like a room where absolutely no one had lived for thousands of years. There was nothing on the venerable white table in front of Machertani, not even a glass of wine or a plate of cheese. The floor was unscuffed and unworn. Even the candelabra above them, groaning under the weight of many thousands of candles, was gleaming and black and completely free of wax.

Jalith and Alair both bowed respectfully towards the throne, and then towards the court, as was the custom of visitors of any rank. The court bowed respectfully back. Machertani stood, inclined her head, and gave each of them one sweetly-scented kiss on the cheek.

"Prince Jalith," she said. "Prince Alair. You honor me with your presence in my beautiful city. And the Census, you say! My, how the years do go by. I hadn't even realized it was coming up again--let alone expected the honor of having the High Prince in my halls. It is a pleasure to see you."

The woman's hand lingered on Jalith's cheek, and Jalith--though he did not trust her--almost melted. There had been some beautiful women in Hamrat but this woman was more than beautiful--she was exquisite, fabulous, a beauty like a cold brand.

It was a beauty of opposites, framed and enhanced by this cold room of black and white. She had rich black hair, held back by an ivory comb, skin so white and pale it almost seemed translucent. Her face was narrow, almost gaunt, but the largeness of her dark eyes and the faint glaze of flush on her cheeks made it delicate rather than haggard, feminine and girlish save for lush red lips, which bespoke a hidden nature--something lustful and dark, maybe even a little bit cruel.

Jalith's heart hammered in his chest. He thought, for a brief moment, of kissing those red lips, pressing himself into her, of--

"Jalith," Alair muttered. "I believe the lady asked you a question."

"I'm so sorry, Baroness. My mind wandered. How can I help you?"

"No apologies needed, my prince! It happens to us all, from time to time." She smiled, and--perhaps he imagined it?--the smile had a bit of a look of satisfaction to it, something catlike. "I was simply warning you. We've had some strange things happen here lately. You are of course welcome to wander the city as is your privilege, whenever you want--but I recommend taking my men with you for added protection. Even your men, perhaps, as they complete their Census duties. Danger strikes strangely here--especially at night."

"That reminds me," Alair said. When we were on the road, not far out of here, something happened."

"Something?" The Baroness said, looking perfectly puzzled.

"Let me show you."

Alair exited. In a moment he returned, carrying a familiar bloodstained bundle.

"We found a girl-child on the road, crudely dressed. As you can see--" he removed some of the bundling-- "her heart has been torn out. Is this, madam, part of your strangely-striking danger?"

The entire court, almost in unison, shrieked. Machertani staggered back a few steps and sat down, hard, on the steps leading up to the throne.

"You always were the subtle one," Jalith murmured to Alair.