A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [128]
She smiled, feeling the strength and unswerving duty. He was as sure of himself as the rigid soldier kithman. He knew in his heart that he was going to save the Ildiran Empire.
Osira’h laughed, delighted with the new twist. “Designate, you are learning how to fool me.”
The door slid open again and Udru’h stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at her with deep pride. “You grow better every day, Osira’h. I was sure I could mask my thoughts from you.”
“I know you too well. You could never hide anything from me.” Osira’h came forward to stand close to him.
He put his arm around her small shoulder. “That is exactly how it should be. I only hope the hydrogues are so transparent to your skills.”
65
PRIME DESIGNATE JORA’H
Jora’h stood alone with his thoughts in a room filled with skulls. He had sent away his guards and attendants so that he could be by himself in the hollow chamber. The gleaming, milky walls themselves looked like translucent bone.
The ossuarium of the PrismPalace was a place of contemplation, reflection, and reverence for the sons of the Mage-Imperator. Here, in an array of ornate alcoves like the smooth cavities of a hive insect’s dwelling, rested the skulls of previous Mage-Imperators, great leaders of the Ildiran Empire who had ruled in millennia past.
Jora’h‘s hands hung down at his sides, his long robes heavy upon his shoulders—but not as heavy as the questions and responsibilities in his mind. He looked at the rows of empty eye sockets, the small even teeth, the smooth ivory brows. Had each one of these men also come here to ask the same questions when they, too, were only Prime Designates? Had all of them, even his father, Cyroc’h, stood inside the ossuarium wondering, insisting that they were not ready?
Before long, the skull of Jora’h‘s father would also take its place among these silent and respected ancestors.
All Ildirans believed in a shining realm that contained the Lightsource, a plane composed entirely of illumination. Trickles of that holy light broke through into the real universe, and the Mage-Imperator was the focal point for the soul-threads, the thism. All Ildirans could feel it, some kiths more strongly than others. They had no religious doubts, and therefore no competing sects of priests and varying interpretations—as he knew the human race did. The lens kithmen could focus the threads of light and give guidance to lesser Ildirans.
Prime Designate Jora’h, though, had to make up his own mind.
All Ildiran kiths kept the skulls of their dead. Because of a strange phosphorus impregnation in the bone structure, the skulls actually glowed for a time, but gradually faded. The Mage-Imperators, though, because they were closest to the Lightsource, continued to shine for more than a thousand years.
Now the skulls of the dead Mage-Imperators glowed with an inner light as if their thoughts were still active, channeling thism, and Jora’h waited for a revelation. But today they were silent.
He had been studying every day, working closely with his father and other advisers to prepare him for his role as the next great leader. He knew that many things were still hidden from him, many mysteries that only a Mage-Imperator could understand. When he ascended and became the focal point for thism, all would be revealed to him. He had much to consider before that day.
It seemed the more he worked and the harder he struggled to improve himself, the less prepared he was. But Jora’h knew the people would follow him. They would not question his decisions, for they had complete faith in the thism and in the benevolence of their leader. Jora’h wished that he could have the same level of confidence.
After pondering the glowing skulls in silence, he finally promised all of his predecessors that he would do his best. He would strive to become a Mage-Imperator worthy of one day resting beside them in the PrismPalace’s ossuarium.
Then Jora’h departed, more concerned with what he would do with his life than with how he would be remembered