Authors: L. M. Roth
They stood
before the walls. Walls that rose to a height of more than fifty feet by
Marcus’ estimation. Now that they were close they could see that they were made
of golden sandstone, and not the precious metal for which the city was famed.
Still, it was an impressive sight to behold in the first light of day.
“Well, we have
arrived safely,” Felix commented. “Now, how do we find out about the Pearl
without arousing suspicion?” he whispered to Marcus.
Marcus looked
furtively behind them to where Dag, Fanchon, and Cort were bringing up the
rear. Only to Felix was the objective of the quest made known. Dag had been
told only that their business was of a personal nature. He had joined them to
continue protecting Marcus. And Cort and Fanchon stayed with them because of
Dag.
“We will make
for an inn and then proceed to make discreet inquiries regarding merchants in
jewels. We will say that one of us is betrothed and would like to find the
perfect jewel for our beloved. That should be plausible enough,” Marcus stated
after reflecting on the matter.
Felix’s brown
eyes flashed and his narrow lips tightened.
Tullia, Marcus
realized. He is thinking of Tullia, even as I am. The thought of rivalry with
his dearest friend was not a pleasant one. Marcus believed that Tullia had
turned to Felix for comfort when informed of his supposed death. He expected
that when the truth was made known to her that all would be as it had been
between them before his capture. And then Felix would need comfort.
He sighed and
straightened up, tossing back the wayward forelock that
would
keep
falling onto his forehead. The others had caught up with them and joined them
at the gate.
“Fancy, how
huge
!
But it is not made of gold, why were we told it was made of gold?” Fanchon
commented.
Cort rolled
his eyes and shook his head at Marcus, as Felix snickered behind the hand he
clapped to his mouth. Dag simply smiled at her adoringly.
“It is only a
figure of speech because the city is so very wealthy,” Marcus explained.
He turned to
the gate and knocked. A wooden slot opened and a pair of wary dark eyes peered
at him.
“What is your
business?” a guttural voice inquired. He spoke in the ancient language of
Hittitam, one that many had evolved from. It was not one, however, with which
Dag and Cort were familiar.
“We are
travelers, weary and in need of rest. We have heard much of the beauty of your
fair city and desire a few days of respite,” Marcus answered in the same
tongue.
There was a
pause. Marcus began to fear that they would be denied entrance. Then the huge
door slowly creaked open, just wide enough for the guard to block their
entrance as he eyed them. He bade them open their bundles in which they carried
their clothes and food stores. Satisfied that they were not enemies, he bade
them enter and opened the door wide.
The sight that
met their eyes was truly stunning. If the city were not actually made of gold,
it appeared to be at first glance. Even the streets were carved of the same
golden sandstone that composed the walls and the buildings. And the buildings
were nothing less than magnificent.
Many of them
rose to a height of four stories. They were curious in their design, being tall
and narrow with balconies on the second story that were sheltered from the
blazing sun by silken canopies in jewel colors of sapphire blue, ruby red, or
emerald green. The rooftops on the third stories were flat and open, with
gardens providing a welcome splash of color, and a change from the gold
displayed throughout the city.
Marcus was
astonished that gardens could exist in the desert, and inquired of the guard
how this could be so. The guard beamed, clearly proud of his city.
“It is true
that Koohyaram lies at the edge of the desert. Yet only two miles to the south
of the city is a fertile river plain. Long ago our men devised a way to pump water
from the river into the city.
“We have water
for drinking and for gardens. We grow all of our own food, and have no need of
anything from any other city or country. Our wealth is such that other peoples
come to our fair city for trade,” he smirked.
“Well, it is
most certainly very impressive,” Felix congratulated him, while he risked a
glance at Marcus.
The twinkle in
his eyes and his barely suppressed grin revealed to Marcus that he found the
pompous guard quite amusing. Marcus shot a warning look at him and interrupted
the man’s recitation.
“Tell me, can
you recommend a place where we might lodge for a few days?” he asked.
“Lodge? But,
we have no such place in Koohyaram. You must simply stay with a citizen who is
honored to treat you as a guest. In Koohyaram, our hospitality is legendary!”
he grinned with a bow.
“But we do not
know anyone. We are simply travelers in need of rest,” Marcus informed him.
“Hmmm, well
then, let me think. I know!” the guard clapped his hands together. “I will take
you to the palace and the Ashkani will decide where you are to lodge.”
Marcus gulped.
This was not welcome news. He knew the ruler might very well probe him for the
details of his quest in a way that a private citizen would be too courteous to
inquire.
But the guard
was not to be dissuaded. He hailed another soldier who was passing by. He
informed him that these travelers were to be taken to the palace and given
lodging in the city.
The other
soldier grinned broadly and bowed to the ground before leading them on their
way. Marcus noted, however, with a sense of foreboding, that the man’s eyes
lingered on the blonde beauty of Fanchon with a look that went beyond the
boundaries of polite admiration. Fanchon herself seemed, for once, speechless
at the splendor of the city.
Dag did not
appear to notice the guard’s leer at his betrothed. He seemed overwhelmed by
Koohyaram. Cort moved closer to his side as if for reassurance.
Marcus
reflected that if he and Felix and Fanchon were impressed by the city and its
opulence, that Dag and Cort were most likely intimidated by it. For what cities
had they ever seen? Gaudereaux was provincial by the standards of Valerium.
Koohyaram took away the breath of even the son of the commander of the Imperial
Army.
For more than
a mile they followed the guard into the heart of the city. It being still early
in the morning, peddlers were setting up their wares. Carts filled with
colorful fruits and vegetables seemed even richer when contrasted with the gold
that was repeated throughout the city streets and buildings. Merchants of
exotic, heavy perfumes displayed their scents in bottles of spun glass of
intricate design trimmed with gold. Jewelers lay out their fine gems on silken
sheets spread on golden trays.
Marcus caught
the flash of rubies and emeralds as well as the gleam of pearls as he passed
by. He noted that they were of an exceptional quality, and decided to come back
for a friendly chat with the seller at the first opportunity. He stole a glance
at Felix, who winked his eye in response while his face remained impassive. How
good to have a friend with whom words were not necessary for understanding!
At last they
stood before the palace gates. Their guard saluted the sentries on duty, who
bade them enter. The building that rose before them caused every other they had
yet seen to pale in comparison to its splendor. It sprawled in width to the
area of a city block, and rose to a height of forty feet.
The fountains
in the courtyard not only provided a refreshing spray of water that splashed on
weary bystanders; the water in their pools were covered with rose petals, whose
sweet scent permeated the air and made one forget they were in the desert.
Birds with blue and green plumage that spread in a fan behind them roamed
freely in the courtyard. The guard, when asked what they were, told them they
were peacocks. He said they were very honored in Koohyaram, and a fan of their
feathers was highly prized.
From the
courtyard they were taken into the grand hall of the palace. Here pillars of
ivory trimmed with gold relieved the golden sandstone of which the palace was
constructed. Throughout the hall, rich carpets of glowing red, green and blue
lay on the floors. They were so luxurious that Marcus feared to walk on them
lest they be damaged, but he noted the carelessness with which even the
servants trod upon them.
He became
aware for the first time of the curious shoes that the citizens wore. They
appeared to be made of silk and covered the entire foot, and were not open as
sandals were.
There was a
staircase at each corner of the great hall. As they ascended one of them to the
royal apartments, they passed several servants, all of them men. He realized
that they had seen no women in all of the city, and was curious as to the
reason why.
They climbed
to the highest story and waited before a set of double doors. Marcus felt his
heart pounding and strove to catch his breath. He dare not let any fear or
unease show that might alert their royal host that they were here on anything
more than ordinary business.
They proceeded
into another hall at the end of which hung suspended a curious curtain
constructed entirely of glass beads. The beads were of various size and color,
predominantly blue, green, and red, with occasional beads of solid gold for
accents. The guard opened the curtain which swished open with a clacking sound.
They followed him into an interior chamber, in the center of which stood a
large throne of gold.
With much
bowing down on yet another brilliant carpet strewn on the floor, the guard
approached the throne while they waited at a respectful distance.
“Most revered
Ashkani, ruler of all Koohyaram, we have honored guests who desire an audience
with your Imperial person.”
The figure on
the throne nodded for them to come forward. Even Fanchon kept silent at the
sight of the astonishing figure before them. Surrounded by attendants who
cooled the royal personage with fans of the feathers of the flamboyant birds
they met in the courtyard was a tall man clad in silken robes with a headdress
of gold filigree adorned with emeralds and sapphires.
Marcus had
never seen such black glossy hair, nor such black eyes, framed with silken
lashes and heavy brows. His regal nose was at a variance with his full, sensual
lips, which curved into an unpleasant smile at the sight of Fanchon. This time,
Fanchon noticed and blushed. She averted her eyes and bowed her head, moving
slightly behind Dag, whose eyes flashed at the Ashkani.
“Welcome,
welcome,” the Ashkani intoned in a rich voice as smooth as his silken garments.
“Please, my honored guests, be seated. Be at ease.”
He pointed in
the direction of the floor at several brightly colored cushions. They were
evidently meant to sit on them, Marcus thought. Accustomed to lounging on couches,
the idea of sitting on cushions so close to the floor was not a pleasant one.
How did one sit down and rise without losing one’s dignity, he mused.
The others had
similar thoughts it seemed, for they each looked at the other, then hesitantly
lowered themselves to the floor. Once seated in this position, the Ashkani was
placed high above them indeed. And that, reflected Marcus with a wry twist of
his lips, was very likely the reason for the peculiar arrangement.
The Ashkani
leaned toward them with a gleam in his eye. Marcus had once seen that look in
the eyes of a dog his father owned, just before it leapt on his mother’s
favorite kitten and killed it. Marcus decided he did not like that look…
“I am told
that you have traveled a long distance. Tell me,” his smile turned oily, “what
brings you to the fair city of Koohyaram?”
“We are
actually only passing through your fair city, most excellent lord. We have been
on a long journey and Koohyaram is on the way. We only hope to rest here a few
days before continuing on.”
Marcus hoped
that would satisfy him, but doubted that was the case. The Ashkani’s next words
confirmed it.
“My welcome
guests, where are you going? Perhaps I may be able to assist you in your
destination. For we have a saying in Koohyaram, ‘A host’s duty does not end
when the guest leaves his roof, but he must help him on his way.’ Please let me
know how I may be of assistance.”
“That is very
kind of you, most excellent lord, but our journey is one of a personal nature.
We are traveling for pleasure and adventure. All we desire is a few days
respite.”
The Ashkani
furrowed his brow.
“Pleasure?
Adventure? In the Desert of Dubar? Adventure you most certainly had, but I am
puzzled how such an arid wasteland could bring pleasure to the weary traveler.”
“Oh, most
excellent lord, oft times the two do not meet in the same place. It is possible
to meet with adventure but not have pleasure in it. The desert was simply part
of our path. That is all.”
The Ashkani
bowed his head as if bested in a battle of wits. Marcus knew he would find
another way to probe them for information.
The Ashkani
seemed to decide to let the matter go for the present. He clapped his hands for
an attendant.
“Come and
bring choice food and drink for our honored guests. They will need refreshment
after their toil in the desert.”
The attendant
bowed and hurried away, returning in a short time with another attendant. They
carried large golden trays. One held several glasses of a golden beverage that
upon sipping turned out to be a drink made from honey and some fruit of a tangy
nature that Marcus had never tasted. The Ashkani informed him it was called
passion fruit, and was highly prized in Koohyaram. The other tray bore a
profusion of sweet dates, rich figs, salted almonds, hearty cheese, and a
peculiar flat bread, the like of which Marcus had never seen before. In
addition were sweetbreads of a most delicate texture.
They had not
had anything cold to drink for several days, their water supply having turned
warm in the desert heat, and all imbibed thirstily before turning to gorge on
the tray of food.
The Ashkani
smiled and watched his guests. As they eagerly partook of the fare set before
them he spoke to them of Koohyaram. Long ago, he said, before living memory,
where the city now stood was an arid desert. Then travelers came from the East,
fleeing a tyranny in their own land, and settled in the desert.
Through
scouting expeditions they located water which they piped to the city through
their ingenious engineering skills, learned in the land where they were now
exiles. They planted crops and flourished, then discovered the gold that made
them a wealthy kingdom.
Gold was what
made their city great; gold was what elevated them over all other peoples; gold
was what they treasured above all else. Now all lands came to trade with the
people who were once slaves, and they lorded their wealth over their former
masters, who came to buy and sell and bowed low before them.
The Ashkani
seemed to gloat in the telling of how his people became rich, and most of all
how they prevailed over the tyrants who once ruled them. He rubbed his fingers
together, and ran his tongue over his lips as though salivating. It added to
Marcus’ impression of him as an unpleasant man, one it would do well to watch carefully.
When all had
had their fill, the Ashkani clapped his hands for another attendant.
“Our honored
guests no doubt desire to rest. Please take the young men to the guest
chambers. And send for Yasamana.”
This order
produced another attendant, this one, however, was a woman. How old or young
she was it was impossible to tell, for her face was covered by a veil of pale
green gauze which matched the silk of her garments. Only her dark eyes were
visible above her veil.
She was clad
in a peculiar fashion, wearing a tunic of pale green silk that fell to her
knees. Her legs were encased in a kind of trouser that matched her tunic and
veil. She lowered her eyes at the startled gaze of the young men, and stood
before Fanchon expectantly, who stared back at her as though she were an
apparition.
“It is our
custom for the women to be quartered separately from the men,” the Ashkani
explained. “Yasamana will take the young lady to the women’s chambers.”
He looked at
Fanchon with a commanding air. She opened her mouth to speak, but intercepting
a slight head shake from Felix, closed it promptly. Without any further protest
she followed the girl and left the room.
Marcus
suddenly realized how weary he was. The thought of rest was enticing to his
battered body, exhausted by their trek through the desert.
After a
parting bow to the Ashkani, the young men followed the attendant out of the
room and down a long corridor, at the end of which was a staircase of the
golden sandstone, lined with a carpet, this one was predominantly red. They
descended the staircase and came to another bead curtain that opened into
another hall, lined with many doors.
Behind the
doors were the sleeping chambers. There were a great many of them, and each was
given his own room, an arrangement that Marcus appreciated as he didn’t relish
the prospect of hearing Dag snore.
The large bed
piled with cushions invited Marcus into the room. He hastily discarded his
sandals and garments and dived into the heap of cushions. He stretched and sank
further down.
As he drifted
off to sleep he reminded himself that he had to find a way to get back to the
jewel merchants and inquire about the Pearl. Which he intended to do at the
earliest opportunity, but meanwhile the bed was so soft and his body so weary…
Sleep claimed
him and he thought no more of the Pearl for quite some time.