“A pity,” Lizanne said, turning back to watch the gardens pass by, knowing she would now enjoy a quiet journey. “I think you might have learned a great deal from him.”
Beyond the gardens lay the Blue Maze, an intricate series of interlinked canals encircling the small city of palaces and temples that lay at the centre of the Sanctum. From her studies, Lizanne knew the maze to be as much a defensive fortification as an aesthetic feature. Its many bridges and ornately statued artificial islands were certainly pleasing to the eye, but she could see how no two bridges were aligned and the walkways constructed so as to funnel a large body of people into narrow and easily defended channels. Also, the number of Imperial Guardsmen in sight grew as they drew nearer to the Sanctum proper.
Chamberlain Yervantis found his voice again when they had begun to wind their way through the outer ring of temples. There were dozens of them, some grand and opulent, others barely more than a marble box, all built to honour the former emperors who had risen to godhood by the simple act of dying. “If I might draw your attention to a point of particular interest, my dear,” Yervantis said, then coughed to clear the quaver from his voice.
Lizanne raised another eyebrow at him but he ploughed on valiantly. “The temple to the Emperor Azireh is now passing by on your left. I think you’ll find the statuary particularly interesting.”
She glanced out of the window, frowning at the sight of the temple. It was of average size compared to the others, but set apart by the fact that the crowning statue was female, whereas every other temple featured a male figure. “Azireh is a woman’s name,” she said, surprised.
“Quite so,” Yervantis confirmed, an eager note creeping into his strained voice. “However, as a result of the massacres that marked the end of the third and final Regency War, she found herself the only surviving member of the Imperial dynasty.”
“But no woman has ever sat the throne,” Lizanne said.
“Indeed.” Yervantis shifted his plump self on the carriage seat, leaning closer, close enough in fact for Lizanne to smell the lavender-scented oil mingling with the sweat on his skin. It wasn’t a pleasant aroma. “As ordained by the first emperor,” the chamberlain went on. “But, with no other possessing the Divine Blood left alive, she was able to negotiate this obstacle by having the Arch-Prelate of the Imperial Divinity declare her the living embodiment of Great Arakelin himself, essentially a man in a female body. Consequently, she was able to rule quite successfully for the better part of two decades.”
Lizanne’s gaze lingered on the statue. If the sculptor’s eye was to be believed, Azireh had been slightly built with a fairly prominent nose and chin, but there was a certain implacable resolve in the gaze she cast out at her fellow rulers. “She must have been quite a formidable woman,” Lizanne commented.
“Oh yes.” Yervantis shifted closer still, causing Lizanne to respond with a warning glare. The Chamberlain gave a weak and entirely non-amorous smile before continuing, his voice now little more than a murmur. “And fond of riddles too. It’s said there’s a great treasure hidden somewhere in her temple, a treasure that can only be revealed under Nelphia’s light. Many have tried to find it, at risk of death I might add, as the Imperial family has always guarded well the sanctity of their ancestors. But, after so many centuries, the treasure remains undiscovered.” There was a weight to his gaze and voice now; a man attempting to convey meaning beyond his words, and in spite of a deeply felt fear.
Nelphia’s light, Lizanne thought. Nelphia is the only moon visible tonight. “I’ve spent a surfeit of my life hunting for hidden treasures,” she told the chamberlain, meeting his gaze and holding it for a second longer than necessary. “I must say, it’s a mostly fruitless enterprise.”
He gave a barely perceptible nod and leaned back, taking a silk handkerchief from his top pocket to mop his face. “Unseasonably hot, today. Ah!” He pointed to his right as another temple came into view. “See here, the monument to Emperor Hevalkis. Note the aquatic theme to the relief carvings, for Hevalkis was known as the Scourge of the Seas . . .”
? ? ?
One of the Sanctum’s minor palaces had been given over in its entirety to housing the Ironship delegation. According to Chamberlain Yervantis it had been built three centuries before for the then-emperor’s favourite concubine. Lizanne couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t some subtle insult in the current Emperor choosing to place his corporate guests in the home of a courtesan. A plainly attired servant guided her to her suite in the palace’s eastern wing, no less than four spacious rooms arranged around a central pool complete with ornate fountain of somewhat erotic design. “The original occupant?” Lizanne asked the servant, nodding at the bronze woman at the centre of the carnal tableau.
“It’s Yesilda, my lady,” the serving-woman replied with a deep bow. “An elder goddess of passion and fertility.”
“I thought images of the elder gods were frowned upon.”
“Only those beyond the Emperor’s sight, my lady. Those within the Sanctum dare not impugn his divinity, this being the centre of his holy power.”
Lizanne searched the woman’s face for some sign of mockery and smothered a laugh upon realising she was entirely sincere. “I . . . see,” she said, glancing around. “My luggage?”
“It will be here momentarily, my lady.”
After a thorough search, no doubt. Lizanne went to the fountain, resting on its rounded edge and playing a hand in the water.
“I can have it warmed, my lady,” the serving-woman offered. “If you would like to bathe before dressing. The Welcoming Ball will commence in less than three hours.”
“No, this is sufficient, thank you. But I would be grateful if you would fetch some tea.”
Her bags arrived shortly after the tea, a rich blend of leaves from the empire’s western mountains. Lizanne made no effort to sniff its aroma or display hesitancy in drinking it. The Emperor, even if in the throes of madness, would hardly summon her all this way for a mundane poisoning. In any case, it suited her for the serving-woman, who was much too keen of eye and toned of muscle for her station, to think Lizanne unworried for her safety.