"With a mighty shout that was heard through all the corners of the kingdom, he leaped from the tower. But instead of falling down, as might a normal man, Ramos rose into the sky. As he did so, the light from his body grew more and more brilliant. The watchers trembled at the unnatural sight. The body of Ramos grew until it seemed titanic in size, filling all the sky, turning night to bright day.
"The false sun's beaming raiment rolled down to catch up the folk of the forest. They were lifted aloft in the hem of his glory. So, too, the rays of light grasped the pirates and their ship and hauled them skyward. Lines of radiance hooked the people of the sea and brought them aloft, as well. Ramos carried the people of forest and coastline and ocean into the heavens with him, beyond his world. They ascended to the emptiness between worlds.
"So high they rose, so far so fast, that cracks appeared in the visage of Ramos and spread throughout his body. His triumph turned to terror, and great rents opened within his body. His luciferous raiment unraveled as well, flinging away his folk of sea and coastline and forest. Their clothes burned away, so that the people were flung naked into a new world. The pirate ship arced, flaming across a new sky-harbinger of their coming. The folk of the forest fell in the deeps of the Rushwood. The folk of the coastline fell in the bay of Rishada. The folk of the sea fell here. So cometary was their arrival that they broke the basin of the sea, and a great volcano rose-the volcano of Saprazzo.
"Ramos dropped the Power Matrix. It fell from the heavens with such force that it ripped the top from Mount Saprazzo. That is how the mountain came to be as it is and how we came to have the Power Matrix.
"Even Ramos himself burned. His flesh drifted to earth in ashes and embers, flaming in the air. In a mighty explosion, the remains of Ramos burst apart in five great pieces. They burned as they shot through the sky, each coalescing into its crystal essence-the Eye, the Skull, the Heart, the Horn, and the Tooth of Ramos. Together, they are called the Bones of Ramos.
"It is said that should this Power Matrix be joined with the five crystalline bones of Ramos, that Ramos himself would rise again and carry his people of forest and coastline and sea back to the beautiful world before."
The vizier's words ceased. She breathed slowly, deeply, gazing with reverence at the device.
Orim glanced at her companions, a small smile playing about her mouth.
Taking her own deep breath, Sisay said, "Grand Vizier, you have spoken very eloquently about the Power Matrix, symbol of your people. So too has our own Orim spoken eloquently of Ramos. The myths differ, though they agree about a few central truths."
The vizier's slim eyebrow lifted as she listened. "What truths are shared among Cho-Arrim and Saprazzan?"
"These truths-that you came here from another world, that you are kin one to another, that you arrived in this world on the back of a god who burned across the sky, that if artifacts left by that god were brought back together in conjunction, the people who held those artifacts would be united once again, that they could transform the world into a truer, more beautiful one."
As Sisay finished relaying these words, the vizier's beautiful face changed. A solemn joy came to her features. "Yes. History is full of facts without much truth, and mythology is full of truth without much fact."
"A matter of faith," Sisay replied, "which is why we asked to see you here. Have there been rumors of Ramos's return? Have the people been speaking of a fiery ship that burned across the skies?"
A look of surprised realization came to the vizier's face. "They have."
"So have the Cho-Arrim. So have the Mercadians and Rishadans. Ramos has returned. His soul-that fiery ship- brought us to this place. It cannot rise to fly again unless Ramos's mind-this artifact, the Power Matrix-is joined with it and with the Bones of Ramos. We have come seeking the Power Matrix, to fit it to the core of the ship. Your stories, ChoArrim stories, even the stories in our own Thran Tame agree-if these pieces are but joined, Ramos will rise again."
The spell of hope that had entered the vizier's face suddenly vanished like a soap bubble popping. "No. Faith and myth are good as far as they go, but you cannot ask a people to sacrifice their greatest treasures on faith. You cannot ask us to give up who we are in order to be united with our foes."
"Don't make up your mind yet, I beg you," Sisay replied. "Let us provide proof of what we say. Let us propose ways that your treasure and the treasures of the rest of the world might be safeguarded."
"Now you are speaking politics. And this is no place for politics. We will meet again tomorrow, in the council hall." So saying, the grand vizier lifted her hands, ushering the ambassadorial corps out of the Shrine of the Matrix.
Later that evening, Orim left her room and walked quietly along the street. Her head was bent in meditation. The Saprazzans she encountered gave her room to pass and did not speak to her.
After two days in Saprazzo, Orim had determined the city's general geographic structure. Toward the top, nearest the seawall, was a large open-air market, not nearly as extensive as that of Mercadia but impressive nonetheless in the range of goods available. Farther down the descending spiral were the homes of the Saprazzans. As far as the healer could tell, the poorer families lived closer to the top, while the level of wealth and luxury increased the farther down one went. Toward the bottom, one encountered the buildings that housed the Saprazzan government. All were richly decorated. Like the Mercadians, the Saprazzans had a weakness for mosaic, but while the people of the mountain used colored bits of stone and glass, the sea people preferred shells.
Water was ever-present: it cascaded in streams from the top to the bottom of the city, creating a fine mist that shone like diamonds in the morning sunlight. The inhabitants drank water in preference to wine, and to Orim, the water seemed intoxicatingly fresh and strengthening.
The waters of Saprazzo were far different from those of the Rushwood. That water was dark and secret, and its strength lay in its stillness. This water was lively and sparkling, constantly changing and shifting as the sun's rays struck it, turning it to yellow, orange, scarlet, and violet. So too, the Cho-Arrim had been hidden and unchanging, preserving the life they had lived for centuries in the face of a changing world. The Saprazzans, meanwhile, had embraced change and become part of it. The Cho-Arrim had been interested in quiet, inwarddirected philosophies. The Saprazzans were ever watching the horizon for what new adventures the sea would bring.
A short distance from Orim's room was a courtyard. There, graceful columns rose to an evening sky, and fresh greenery lined a small pool of clear, cold water. As the sun dipped behind the seawall and shadows lengthened, Orim sat beside one of the columns and listened to the gurgle of the stream that fed the pool. She could almost imagine she was back in the Rushwood, gazing out over the lagoon, Cho-Manno sitting peacefully at her side.
She knelt by the pool, legs and feet tucked beneath her, in what Cho-Manno had taught her was the proper position for meditation. She sought the inner peace and solitude that ChoArrim called vomannis, but lately she found not peace but pain.
Cho-Manno was dead. That thought haunted her. This time she did not push the thought aside. Instead, she reached out, embracing the pain. Her body shook with sobs. Damp hair clung to her cheeks. Her arms and legs trembled.
In her despair, she thought not of Cho-Manno but of the mystical place they had explored that last night before the attack, the Navel of the World, the Fountain of Cho, and its garden ringed by the lagoon.
Peace washed over her. As if in a trance, she heard the voice of her lover.