Mercadian Masques (mtg-1) by Francis Lebaron

Author:Francis Lebaron [Lebaron, Francis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_fantasy

*****

The Shrine of the Matrix lay, heavily guarded, at the center of Saprazzo's royal palace. The palace itself was a massive edifice poised above the docks. One bank of windows gazed out on the wide bay and the other on the spreading city above. The building was a vast jewel box, built of red oceanic marble, white limestone, and insets of onyx. Corals of fuchsia and mauve had been figured into bosses along the walls. Curtains of kelp, rugs of woven seaweed, sponge cushions, whale-bone archways, baleen screens-the majesty of the sea suffused the place. At its heart, in a small raised room done in crimson, the Power Matrix resided within a large case of thick glass. It was magnificent.

The main body of the Power Matrix was a single enormous white crystal, nearly the height of a man. All along its faceted outer edges, other smaller stones in blue, green, red, white, and black were affixed. They seemed to pluck each strand of the spectrum out of the room's dim light and send it lancing into the central crystal. A network of metal wires connected the stones, and along the wires moved scintillating jolts of energy. It was a mesmerizing sight.

"We must keep the room dark," the grand vizier told her guests, "for the Matrix stores and channels energy. Were it to be exposed to sunlight, the stored energy would quickly cause the Matrix to explode."

Hanna nodded, her eyes tracing out the device she had read about in the Thran Tome. Orim's gaze was less analytic, more worshipful. To her, this was the mind of the Uniter. The Mercadians could only gape in naked avarice.

Sisay spoke reverently, "Tell us, Grand Vizier, if you please-tell us the story of this glorious artifact."

The vizier replied, "This is our greatest treasure, a symbol of the Saprazzan people, of their origins in divinity. Have you heard of the myth of Ramos?"

Orim said, "Yes. Among the Cho-Arrim, I observed the separi and stood beside the Fountain of Cho."

"The separi and the Navel of the World are well-known legends among us," the grand vizier replied. "I cannot speak for the Cho-Arrim account, but among Saprazzans, the story we know is this." The vizier's voice sank low, vibrating through the room in a kind of singsong rhythm that grew more pronounced as her tale continued. "Ramos was a great king and artificer, born in the dim past in another world. Some say he ruled all of his world, and the people bent beneath his foot. He strode across mountain and sea, fen and forest. But one place eluded his rule. At night he beheld the stars shining in the sky, and he wept because he could never reach up to them, could never bring them within the folds of his power and wisdom.

"Ramos sought long and hard for a way to reach the stars and grew increasingly obsessed by his quest. Each night he sat in the top room of the highest tower of his castle by the sea and stared up at the night sky.

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