Doom of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [181]
Next came from the Corridor two Duuk-tsarith, escorting a man of lordly, if weary, bearing, and a young woman, who appeared to be on the verge of collapse. Cringing away from the touch of the warlocks, the girl clung to her father. At the sight of the stone Watchers, she gave a heartbroken cry. Her father supported her in his arms, or it seemed she would have fallen where she stood and never risen again.
Several of the catalysts shook their heads and a few of the older ones stepped forward to offer the Almin’s consolation and blessing. But the girl turned from them as she turned from the Duuk-tsarith, burying her head in her father’s breast and refusing to look at them.
The warlocks who accompanied the two led them near a place in the sand that was empty except for a mark that had been hastily drawn upon it. When she saw the mark — a wheel with nine spokes — the young woman collapsed and a Theldara was hastily summoned.
The Cardinal came next, remembering just as he stepped from the Corridor to change his silver-trimmed white robes of his office to the gray, silver-trimmed robes of judgment. Joining several of the older catalysts, who bowed reverently, the Cardinal glanced at the slowly brightening mists and frowned. He was overheard to mention irritably that they were running behind schedule. Gathering the twenty-five of his Order together, he arranged them in a circle around the mark of the spoked wheel. When the catalysts were placed to his satisfaction and each had turned his or her robe to gray, the Cardinal bowed to the Executioner, who slowly and solemnly took his place in the center of the circle.
All was in readiness. The Cardinal sent word via the Corridor back to the Font, and, after a moment’s breathless anticipation, the void gaped open. Expecting the Bishop’s entourage, everyone twisted his head and strained to see. But it was only the Theldara, coming to tend to the young woman. This provided a small amount of diversion. Restorative potions were administered, and within moments the girl was on her feet, some semblance of color coming and going in her pallid face.
There was a moment’s restless movement around the circle of catalysts — the Cardinal frowned terribly and made a mental note of the most flagrant transgressors. But their patience was rewarded. The Corridor gaped again, a hole of nothing.
The crowd gasped. A most unexpected phenomenon occurred.
Stepping out of the Corridor was the Emperor. As everyone watched in shock, another flurry of movement within the void brought forth the Empress as well, seated in a white-winged chair. Her eyes stared straight ahead into the Realm of Beyond; many would whisper afterward (when her death had been officially announced) that there was an expression of wistful longing in them, as though yearning for the rest being denied her. The two were alone, no attendants accompanied them, and the Emperor hovered above the sand, looking about him expectantly.
Stunned, the Cardinal stared, openmouthed; the catalysts glanced at each other in amazement and consternation. It even caught the attention of the girl; she raised her head and glanced at the royal couple — particularly the dead Empress — then hurriedly diverted her gaze with a shudder. Only the Executioner remained unmoved, his hooded head faced forward, the shadowed eyes fixed upon the circle.
Finally, the Cardinal left the circle of catalysts and took a hesitant step toward the Emperor, though he hadn’t any idea what to do with the man. Fortunately, at that moment, the Corridor gaped once more, producing Bishop Vanya and The DKarn-Duuk, the red and crimson of their robes like splashes of blood against the background of white sand.
Both appeared considerably taken aback at the sight of the Emperor and his wife.
“What is he doing here?” Bishop Vanya said in an undertone, glancing at Prince Xavier with a scowl.
“I have no idea,” the warlock replied coldly, glancing at Bishop