The Crescent Stone by Matt Mikalatos

Author:Matt Mikalatos
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NavPress
Published: 2018-08-07T21:19:41+00:00

21

THE PALACE OF A THOUSAND YEARS

The glory of a king comes from neither wealth nor finery but from the well-being of his people.

FROM “THE THREE GIFTS OF THE PEASANT KING,” A SCIM LEGEND

The archon’s palace stood at the center of Far Seeing. A hill rose gracefully beneath it, pastel-colored houses and buildings lapping up along the sides like waves. Shops and markets splashed beneath those, filled with people from all over the Sunlit Lands seeking a trinket or a necessity from carts and stands festooned with bright flags and flowers.

“None but the Elenil are allowed beyond this point without a host,” Hanali said to Madeline as they stepped down from the carriage. “Humans may neither ride a steed nor carry a weapon. Nor may the Scim, the Aluvoreans, emissaries from the Southern Court, the Zhanin . . . all the other races. They must pause here before entering the heart of the Elenil world and the seat of our magic.” Hanali paused and stared at the pulsing crescent-shaped stone at the apex of the main tower.

Jason, freshly bathed, straightened his jacket. They had tried to get the durian smell out, but it lingered. Without magic it couldn’t be easily cleaned, and Ruth had told him buying another would be a “luxury” and that he could find his own money rather than spend the knight’s. Shula had not been invited to the palace. She had business elsewhere, she said, and had wanted to reconnect with some of the other soldiers. Jason had asked her about Baileya, a Kakri woman he mentioned from time to time but whom Madeline had not yet met. Shula knew her and said she would likely see her and asked if Jason had a message. “Tell her—” Jason said, looking like he was thinking carefully, “—tell her, uh . . . I said hi.” Shula, grinning, had promised to do so.

For the seventieth time Hanali launched into how to be polite in the archon’s presence. Curtsy or bow. Speak when spoken to . . . with the proper restraint. Do not release Scim prisoners to wreak havoc in the court or mention previous instances where one might have done so. Do not touch the archon. Are you listening, Jason, do not touch the archon. Not with a fist nor with a fingertip.

Madeline found it painful to hear again, especially since it seemed to be aimed at Jason. The wonders of Elenil architecture distracted her in any case. The main tower of the palace stood in the center: a delicate, slender white column with graceful lines. Nine slightly shorter towers stood at equidistant points around it, with white latticework like lace covering their lower halves. Wide marble stairs arched between the towers, leading to meticulous gardens overflowing with bright, gorgeous flowers. A stunning variety of people and creatures moved up and down those stairs, each of them accompanied by at least one Elenil guide. None of the guards here were human, unlike elsewhere in the city, but only Elenil in splendid royal-blue uniforms with gold trim.

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