'Welcome to High Medurim,' Emperor Teom said languidly. Draped over the arm of his throne, his wife and sister Temalla smiled and nodded in greeting, as well.
Moriana and Ziore bowed. Fost stood upright until a none too gentle elbow in his ribs from Moriana made him bend forward at the waist. It wasn't that he meant to defy the Emperor. He was simply struck numb by meeting the man who had once possessed so much power over him as a youth.
'The blue ghost does not bow.' hissed the small man at Teom's left. 'He does not pay proper reverence to Your Ineffability.'
Teom waved a hand. The fingers were slightly doughy and devoid of rings. 'Peace, Gyras. Were I fourteen centuries old I'd not be reverent to a mere emperor either.' His voice rang in mellifluous low tones. Though he sprawled bonelessly across his gilded throne, he seemed to be a tall, well-proportioned man.
Flushing turquoise in pleasure, Erimenes performed a deep bow. His domed forehead sank alarmingly into the marble floor before he straightened.
'Your Radiance is too kind,' he murmured. 'Far be it from me to contradict you, however, but I must point out I am fifteen centuries old, and a shade over, rather than fourteen.'
A growl emerged from Gyras's throat. Teom silenced him with a wave. The dwarven advisor drew his balding head down angrily, accentuating the hump on his back.
'I've never seen an Athalar spirit before, though I've heard of them,' Teom said.
'We are alike,' said Erimenes, fawning and again bowing so his head vanished through the floor clear to his brows, 'for I have never before seen an emperor.'
With superhuman effort, Fost bit back his reply. Fortunately, Te-malla interrupted Erimenes's sally into diplomacy by fixing Fost with big dark eyes made bigger by a liberal application of kohl and saying, 'Oh, but you must have had a long, hard journey.' Her husky voice accentuated the adjectives with undue emphasis. The Empress's voice had a curious quality about it that sent shivers up Fost's spine.
'Yes,' Teom said. A light came into his brown eyes. Reading his mood, his sister leaned forward and slipped a hand into a fold of his robe. She was of medium height, plump and with tightly curled brown hair hanging to her shoulders. Though she had not withstood the onslaught of middle years as well as her husband-brother, she was far from unattractive. The breasts hanging above the high waist of her blue gown were ample without being ostentatious, and the gown's gauzy fabric was drawn taut by her position poised on the throne arm, revealing a pleasing curve of hip and thigh. Her left hand toyed with the ringlets framing Teom's face, while her shoulder rose and fell in a gentle motion.
Fost held his breath when he realized what she did to her brother. Teom's eyes were shut and he sighed in pleasure. Fost felt Temalla's eyes burning into his. Moriana tensed at his side.
'You are welcome to High Medurim,' the Emperor repeated breathlessly, 'though I'm afraid it was a bit unorthodox.' It had been that, Fost thought, looking everywhere but at Teom's lap, his sister's smiling face, Gyras's hot glare and the narrowing of Moriana's eyes. He wound up gazing down at his feet. The sight of his boots among the mad geometric patterns of the carpet intensified his unease.
Teom stiffened, then sighed. Temalla's smile broadened. Un-speaking, she promised Fost unspeakable delights. Sweat poured down the inside of Fost's tunic. He was very glad its hem came down below crotch level. Teom's eyes opened.
'I apologize for the furtive way you were brought to the Palace,' he said, as if nothing had happened. 'Given the sensitive nature of your mission – Magister Banshau gave us a somewhat garbled account by means of that mystical communication Wirixer mages use – we thought it best your arrival be kept secret for the moment.'
'We are most grateful that Your Effulgence chose to receive us as promptly as you did,' said Moriana. 'Now, if we could get down to the matters I've come to discuss.'
'No, dear Princess!' Teom cried, holding up his hand. 'We have ordered an extraordinary session of the Assembly for the day after tomorrow to hear your proposals. Time enough then for me to hear what you've come to say.'
'So much for secrecy,' muttered Fost. Gyras looked as if he'd just found a family of dung lizards nesting in his beard.
'Time enough to send these beggars packing, Your Magnificence,' Gyras said in a voice like two stones grinding together.
'Gyras,' chided Temalla, 'where's your hospitality?' She jumped to her feet and stretched with a litheness belying her years. 'Personally, I'm looking forward to entertaining our visitors.' She looked directly at Fost. 'Will you excuse me? I'm late for my riding lesson.' She glided out, licking her fingers.
'Good Gyras,' said Teom, rising, 'we thank you for your attendance on our person.' At this formal dismissal, Gyras folded his hands across the front of his frayed gray robe, looked plague and poison at Fost and Moriana, then followed the Empress out. 'Now, my friends,' Teom said. The words trembled with barely suppressed excitement. 'I should like to show you my great Project. It was to complete this Project that I imported Magister Banshau to High Medurim. And once you behold with your own eyes what the Magister's science has made possible, I believe you shall understand the extravagant reception we gave him!'
'And here on the right,' the Emperor waved his hand so that the fingertips protruded ever so briefly outside the shade cast by the parasol, 'we have spider monkeys from the Northern Continent. Careful, there, good Erimenes! If you regard them too obviously they tend to become excited. And they fling handfuls of dung with fearful accuracy.' He chuckled indulgently at the quaint proclivities of his pets. Erimenes recoiled.
'Why do you care if they pelt you with offal?' demanded Ziore. 'They couldn't possibly hit you.'
'It is beneath the dignity of an Athalar scholar to be bombarded with excrement by members of inferior species. Besides, what if one of the little monsters drops a ringer in my jar?' He shuddered and turned his aquiline profile away from the monkeys' wizened, curious black faces.
'On the left are more exotic specimens. Lizard monkeys from the Isles of the Sun.' Fost peered at them with interest. Though shaped like the mammalian monkeys across the gravel walkway, the lizard monkeys were obviously reptilian. Their skins were scaly green, their eyes flittering black beads, and tiny hands and feet three-clawed. Their bellies were yellow, as were the ruffs of skin around the necks of the males. They had prehensile tails, several hanging upside down regarding the humans with sprightly curiosity.
Moriana shuddered and turned away. No doubt they reminded her of the Zr'gsz. Fost thought they were cute, but as he reflected on it, they began to make him uneasy. In the Library of High Medurim he had once read that many savants, including Wirixer genetic magicians, believed humanity had evolved from monkeys not dissimilar to those penned on the right side of the walkway.
Might not the Zr'gsz…?
He hurried to catch up with Moriana and Teom. The Emperor was as proud as a small boy showing off his famous menagerie. It was indeed impressive. Pens on either side contained small bits of alien environment for the comfort of the imprisoned fauna. He sauntered past tall tanks of some durable crystal filled with water, through which clouds of fishes small and not so small swirled and flashed brilliantly in the evening sunlight.
'Where are the naked dancing girls?' demanded Erimenes in a petulant whisper. 'The orgies in the street, the extravagant displays of wealth? I am sorely disappointed in this High Medurim of yours, Fost.'