Page 152 of The Cradle of Ice
Guardsmen drove them through the atrium to another set of gilded doors that were etched with the thirty-three Klashean gods. Apparently, there was no getting away from the lot of them. Kanthe flashed to the pleasure barge drifting across the Bay of the Blessed, sailing among this same pantheon. Now that felt like another’s life, not his own.
The doors opened ahead of them without anyone knocking. Either everyone in the palacio was prescient or the rattle of chains had announced their approach. They were pushed through the doors and into the Augury’s grand audience chamber.
The same marble stretched ahead. Only the lanterns here glowed more dimly, all shining in a single dark color. The lenses appeared to be made of the same glass that sculpted the Giants outside—or the walls of their prison. The dim lighting cast pools of shadows along the walls to either side, likely to enhance the feeling of the chamber’s sanctity.
For Kanthe, it only felt threatening. Then again, maybe that was the intent, too—to unnerve supplicants who dared approach the Augury.
It’s certainly working.
To either side, high up the walls, small clerestory windows flowed with light, which made the upper arch of the room glow as if the gods were hovering above.
On the chamber’s far side, two lower windows illuminated a golden dais, its shine beckoning them forward. Not that Kanthe felt like drawing any nearer, especially considering who awaited them there.
The emperor, crowned by a circlet of gems that reflected the light, sat atop a throne. Even from across the long hall, Makar’s eyes flashed with black fury. He came regally dressed in embroidered white, a counterpoint to the figure who towered at his right shoulder.
That had to be the illustrious Augury, displaced from his usual seat by Emperor Makar. The oracle was dressed more somberly in shades of black, from his polished boots to the small cap atop his head. His clothing looked to be a single cloth wrapped around his tall form and belted in gold. The only adornments were his boot’s gold toes, crafted into two all-seeing eyes.
Perfect for peering up a woman’s skirt, Kanthe imagined sourly.
Still, the Augury captured Kanthe’s attention. There was something about the man. His features, a rich ebony of the Klasheans, were undeniably striking, as regal as any king or emperor. But it was his eyes that captivated. By now, Kanthe knew violet was considered rare and valued among the people here. Only the Augury’s eyes were so rich in hue that they looked like pools of indigo.
No wonder the Augury commanded such attention and respect.
Even I’d believe anything that man said.
The five of them were forced at spearpoint to the foot of the dais and driven to their knees. On the other side of the emperor, two figures stood side by side. They were both as resplendent in white. Rami wore loose pants topped by a surcoat embroidered with the swords of the Klashean Arms at its center. Aalia wore a matching gown, with a light veil, woven with diamonds, over the fall of her dark hair.
Kanthe caught Rami’s eyes, searching for any indication that the prince was able to sway his father to their well-intentioned, but misguided, efforts.
Rami gave the smallest shake of his head, confirming the worst. Not that the chains weren’t answer enough already.
As to Aalia, she refused to look Kanthe’s way, her gaze disdainfully up. She must be furious after she was unceremoniously dumped out of the wingketch. Kanthe could only imagine her terror, considering what floated out there in Malgard’s steamy air.
Rami turned to the emperor. “Father, I beseech you. At least, hear them out. Despite all that has happened, Prince Kanthe meant no harm. A great doom approaches, and they only seek a means to thwart it.”
The prince glanced to his sister for support, but Aalia refused to look her brother’s way or acknowledge his words.
The same could not be said of their father. Though furious, Emperor Makar tempered his words. “Son, you are young. Easily duped by such trickery. They’ve abused your good graces to malicious ends. That alone warrants a harsh punishment.”
“Please, listen to what they know about the moon—”
Rami was cut off as the Augury cleared his throat. The oracle stepped forward, his head bowing ever so slightly in apology. “Prince Rami, I’ve communed countless times with Fryth, the goddess of the silvery moon. If there were any danger, She would have told me.”
Makar motioned a palm in the Augury’s direction. “See? Do we need any further guidance than that, my son? It is such wisdom you should be heeding, not the treacherous tongues of these Hálendiians.”
Rami took a step forward.
This earned a hard scowl and a flash of fire from his father, driving Rami back to his proper place next to Aalia. The only reaction from his sister was the slight narrowing of her eyes.
Makar motioned again to the Augury. “If it wasn’t for his godly sight, we would never have recovered you both. I sought his esteemed counsel after coming here, entreating him to beg the gods for their wisdom. He graciously obliged. He inhaled Malgard’s fumes, swooned into the gods’ embrace, and woke with your location, marking it on a map.”
Kanthe glanced at Frell. Could that be true? Kanthe remembered how Frell had studied centuries of Qazen prophecies. The alchymist claimed to have found them strangely accurate, down to exacting detail in many cases.
“Upon the Augury’s urging, I quickly dispatched a barge to Malgard,” Makar continued, his voice growing with exaltation. He pressed three fingers to his forehead. “Where, thank all the gods, you were found.”
The Augury bowed deeply. “It is not I who saved them. The gods forever smile upon the Haeshan dynasty. This we all know.”
Kanthe fought not to scowl, to raise the obvious.
