"Elandra, trust me. I offer you help. I know the way out."
"Go away," Elandra said.
"I will help you."
Again the Magria extended her hand, old and knotted with mutilation scars.
Elandra struck it away. "You will lead him to me. Go away! I am safe here."
"You cannot stay," the Magria said. "Those who search can find you here. Come with me, to true safety."
"No."
"Elandra, I know the only way out."
"No, I must find it myself."
The Magria sighed, and her eyes were sad. "Sometimes, child, you must accept the help of others whether you want it or not. It will be easier if you come with me of your own accord."
Defiance flared in Elandra, fueled by her fear. "Easier?" she said sharply. "Then it cannot be right. You have taught me that yourself."
"This is a time of exception to what I have taught you."
"No!"
"Then I have no choice."
The Magria lifted her hands to the gloom overhead in silence. When she lowered them a moment later, two more Penestrican dream walkers stood on either side of her.
They closed in on Elandra, who screamed.
The Magria gripped Elandra"s hands in hers, using surprising strength. No matter how much she struggled, Elandra could not pull free. The other dream walkers also took hold of her, and the three of them drew her from her hiding place.
Crying and struggling, she could not escape them. She planted her feet, but the three women were stronger, pushing and propelling her along the stony path.
Ahead, the path lay obscured in mist. Pale light glowed from beyond two looming stone pillars.
Seeing the upright stones, knowing instinctively that they were some kind of gateway, Elandra struggled even harder. "No," she gasped, managing to get one hand free only to be gripped again. "No, I can"t. I"m not finished."
Behind her, the h.e.l.lhounds howled. Chills clawed up her spine. She looked back, and could see the creatures coursing in the distance, closing rapidly. Their eyes glowed red, and their flanks shone with green fire.
"Come!" the Magria said sharply. "There is little time! Do not let them follow us through the gate."
At the last moment, Elandra could no longer stand against the others. Her fear was too great. Ashamed of her own cowardice, she leaped between the stone pillars ... and found herself sprawled in the sand pit on the Penestrican temple, drenched with sweat and sobbing.
Shivering now in her bed, Elandra curled up tighter. They were only dreams, she told herself, but she did not believe it. The object clutched in her hand told her otherwise.
Uncurling her hand, she forced herself to look at the large topaz. In the gloom within her enclosed bed, it looked dull and lifeless, but she remembered how it had flashed radiantly in the torchlight of the temple. Since Elandra had awakened, it had not left her possession. It had been given to her by a mysterious force, and it symbolized a future she could not as yet claim. In a strange way, to hold it gave her comfort.
She had nothing else to rea.s.sure her. Until now, she had believed the Penestricans to be her friends. She no longer trusted them.
The bed hangings were pulled back with an abrupt sc.r.a.pe of the rings across the rod. The Mistress of the Bedchamber stood peering in at her.
"Majesty, it is morning," she said.
Elandra frowned. Of course it was. Did the woman not understand that Elandra had returned from the temple less than an hour ago?
Dragged forth from the sand pit and hastily revived. Sponged down and comforted with empty words. Given something sweet to drink that had cleared her head and put strength back into her limbs.
And how long would that potion last ? Elandra had no faith in it either. For all their work, she still felt hollow and strange inside, displaced as though she had traveled too fast from too far away.
Sunlight blazed in through the windows, bringing life to the silk and velvet gowns worn by the ladies in waiting. They came in, giggling and staring at her, looking eager and giddy.
She stared back in dismay, feeling unready to deal with any of them.
The Mistress of the Bedchamber curtsied low. "Majesty, the delegation from Mahira has arrived. They await an audience with you."
Elandra"s frown deepened. Pushing back her tangle of long hair, she sat up on one elbow. "I don"t understand. I cannot have visitors now."
"But these are Mahirans," Mahirans," the woman said insistently. Her eyes were large with excitement. "It is a great honor, to wear garments sewn and blessed by-" the woman said insistently. Her eyes were large with excitement. "It is a great honor, to wear garments sewn and blessed by-"
"Yes, I know," Elandra said. She knew all too well how fine and costly such raiment was. Her bridal robe had been Mahiran and exquisite. It had never been worn.
A superst.i.tious shiver pa.s.sed through her. If the Mahirans had brought her a new gown, would that mean she would never be crowned?
Immediately she forced such thoughts away. She could not go on like this, afraid even of her own shadow.
Lifting her chin, she sat up in bed. "Let them enter."
But first the ladies crowded around her, pulling her hair back into braided order. One draped a dressing robe of costly silk around her shoulders. Another brought her a gossamer-thin veil.
Only then did the doors open, and the women from Mahira enter. They came in a procession, solemn and formal. Dark-skinned and liquid-eyed, they wore vestments of plain, undyed flax and raw silk. Their ebony curls were braided through with little ropes of gold beads. Gold rings adorned their ears and noses. Although female, they wore loose-fitting trousers and tight-fitting vests over their tunics. The elderly members of their contingent walked at the front of the line, straight-backed and proud, their eyes flashing as they looked here and there. The younger women walked at the rear, bearing the sealed boxes that contained their gifts. With every step, their gold ankle bracelets tinkled a soft melody.
Halting at the foot of Elandra"s bed, the women bowed deeply in unison. The oldest one, her hair liberally streaked with white although her dark skin remained smooth and youthful, stepped forward as spokeswoman. She made a graceful gesture of obeisance.
"You may speak," Elandra said.
"Gracious one, we come to make a gift in honor of this rare occasion." The woman spoke slowly, as though Lingua was difficult for her. Her voice was a melodious contralto, her accent exotic and rich. "May it please thee to gaze upon our humble offering. And then perhaps to accept it."
Elandra inclined her head.
The woman stepped aside with a gesture at the others, who came forward with the boxes. With eager chatter, the ladies in waiting also surged forward to see.
The Mahirans stopped and stared at them.
Elandra snapped her fingers, and the chatter stopped. She glanced at the Mistress of the Bedchamber. "I will see these gifts alone. Dismiss the ladies for now."
The mistress curtsied and shooed the others out quickly, her expression giving away nothing. With the doors closed after the last one, the Mahirans seemed to relax.
They turned back to Elandra and bowed.
"Proceed," she said.
One by one the boxes were opened, giving off a slight fragrance of sweet lavender and something unidentifiable. Elandra could feel little currents of energy released as each seal was broken. Magic filled the room. For a moment she was afraid, but the air turned warm and gentle. She could smell more scents rising to combine with the lavender: frangipani, roses, jasmine-the fragrances of home. Inhaling deeply, she let her eyes close briefly, and her fear melted away. In her hand, the topaz grew warm, and, drawing strength and comfort from it, she relaxed.
Opening her eyes, she sat forward with antic.i.p.ation. These garments, whatever they were, would be exquisite.
The first gift was a long scarf of delicate lace, the pattern intricate and lovely. Holding it up to the light, Elandra spread it across her fingers and knew immediately how it would look draped over her hair. She smiled, and the women smiled back.
"Chiara kula na," they said softly. they said softly.
It sounded like a benediction. Elandra inclined her head.
One by one, the other offerings were brought forth. Undergarments of the finest silk, embroidered with white silk thread in intricate patterns. An undergown of silk gauze so light and sheer that in the sunlight it almost seemed to disappear. A cloak of amber-colored wool, spun so soft and fine it draped fluidly in her hands. She could put her thumb and forefinger together to form an O and draw the cloak through it, yet when she put it around her shoulders she could feel its warmth. She felt safe and protected in it, and was loathe to pull it off again.
They gave her gloves of the same material to match, and perfectly fitted to her hands. Drawing one on, she flexed and turned her hand, marveling at how strong she felt. When she pulled the glove off, the illusion of strength faded. Her skin tingled lightly, and she frowned. Magic gloves. A magic cloak.
She put the lace scarf on her head, wrapping the ends beneath her chin, and at once her vague headache cleared. She felt alert, brilliant, decisive. When she took it off, she could tell a difference. Would wearing the undergarments make her feel invigorated and tireless?
The women from Mahira watched her, their dark eyes wise and patient.
"I give you my thanks," Elandra said slowly. "These are precious gifts indeed. I am honored by your kindness."
The spokeswoman bowed. "They will never wear. They will never soil, although they may be washed," she said. "They are to a.s.sist thee in thy hour of need."
During the ordeal of the coronation? Or during something else? Elandra wondered, but she did not ask.
"We ask thee to accept our gifts of protection," the woman continued. "We are but women. Our weapons are only needle and thread, but what we have we give to thee. To help thee in all that is to come."
"What is to come?" Elandra asked, feeling suddenly cold.
"The emperor wears his armor, spell-forged by the Choven. The empress wears her armor, sewn by the Mahirans. Alike, and yet not."
Grat.i.tude flooded Elandra. She smiled. "Your concern honors me. I shall not forget the kindness of the women of Mahira. Thank you."
The women bowed; then the spokeswoman brought forth a small box of cedar and proffered it. "Then, if we have pleased thee, may it also please thee to accept this final token of our respect."
The topaz grew suddenly hot, too hot to hold. With a gasp, Elandra dropped it, and the gem went tumbling across the bedclothes like a nugget of fire, flashing brightly in the sunlight.
At the foot of her bed, the Mahiran stood holding the small box and ignored the topaz winking brilliantly atop the coverlet.
Nursing her scorched hand, Elandra took the box and broke its seal. As she opened the wooden lid, a heady fragrance of cedar mingled with roses filled her nostrils. The touch of magic drifted against her face, caressing her cheekbones. With wonder, Elandra took out a small pouch sewn of dark green moire silk, lined with velvet the same color. It had a drawstring top and a long cord of braided silk. Her coat of arms had been embroidered on the side with gold thread.
She knew at once what it was for, and drew in her breath sharply. Forgetting dignity, she crawled forward until she could reach the topaz, then slipped it inside the pouch. It was a perfect fit. Delighted, she closed the top, and slipped the looped cord over her head.
She smiled warmly at the Mahirans, feeling more than a little astonished. "How did you know?"
They smiled back.
"Chiara kula na," the spokeswoman said softly, with reverence. "You were foretold in our legends. Woman of fire."
Elandra stared at her, thinking of her destiny and wondering why it had not mentioned any of this. "I was foretold?" she echoed in puzzlement. "But-"
The women bowed, putting their fingertips to their foreheads in obeisance. They retreated, backing away from her with a series of deep bows.
"Wait!" Elandra said, scattering gifts in all directions as she scooted out of the tall bed. "I have questions. Please wait."
"Chiara kula na," they said in unison, still bowing. they said in unison, still bowing.
The double doors opened behind them, and they left.
Elandra stood there in her nightgown, her hair flowing down her back, the green jewel pouch hanging from her neck. She felt she stood at the window of some great understanding, only to have a curtain drawn closed, shutting her out.
Frustrated, she tried to make sense of it even as the Mistress of the Bedchamber peeked inside.
"Majesty?" she said hesitantly. "It is time for the preparations."
The ladies in waiting poured back into the room, and in moments Elandra was surrounded by eager hands pulling and pushing at her in all directions.
"I shall wear those," she said sharply as some of them examined the gifts. "The cloak, scarf, and gloves should be put away carefully."
Her attendants curtsied. "Yes, Majesty."
Already the hairdresser was knocking for admittance, a woman and her a.s.sistants had arrived with jewel cases, and the head seamstress rushed in, wringing her hands with an anxiety that cleared from her face as soon she saw that the Mahirans had not brought a coronation gown that would rival hers.
In an hour, Elandra had bathed and nibbled at a breakfast she found tasteless. She was powdered and dressed. Her fingertips and the soles of her feet were anointed with oil of myrrh. The Mahiran underthings were so light and filmy she almost felt as though she were wearing nothing, yet new energy flowed through her. She felt refreshed and calmer. After her ordeal last night, she was grateful indeed for this a.s.sistance.
Her hair was smoothed down and coiled in a heavy, intricate knot at the base of her neck. Curly tendrils escaped to frame her face. The simple styling was to complement the crown that she would wear later.
Thinking of it, Elandra found her mouth dry and her heart suddenly pounding. She tried to think of something else, anything else in order to quell her rising anxiety.
They made her stand while they carefully lowered the gown over her head. It was made high to the throat, and she could wear her jewel pouch concealed without difficulty. She wished there was time to have the topaz secured to a chain so she could wear it as a pendant, but instinct told her this was a jewel to hide, not to flaunt.
The dress, made of cloth of gold, had always been extremely heavy, especially with its train that swept the floor. But today its weight did not seem so great. She stood patiently while the seamstress pulled at the long sleeves, making sure the wrist points reached Elandra"s knuckles and were not twisted. Then the full sweep of skirts had to be smoothed and the hem checked once again to be sure she could walk without tripping, yet would show no unseemly expanse of ankle.
Next came the jewels she was to wear. A new necklace of rubies had been created in her honor. Elandra examined it without much favor. It looked gaudy and overdone.
"Did the emperor order this made?" she asked.
The woman in charge of the jewels looked suddenly nervous. "Not exactly, Majesty."
Elandra"s brows lifted. "What exactly exactly do you mean?" do you mean?"
"It is a very fine piece of work," the woman said, staring at the floor. "The jewels are beautifully matched."
"Perhaps," Elandra replied. "Answer my question. Did the emperor order this to be made for me?"
"No, not this necklace. The jeweler thought your Majesty would admire it."