Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [434]
The Oldorandan court was known for its stifling formality. Sayren Stund had done his best to soften court etiquette on this occasion, but there remained a line of advisors and church dignitaries, many of them in flowing canonicals, drawn up severely as they waited to shake JandolAnganol’s hand and kiss his cheek.
The Eagle stood with his party of captains and his hunchbacked armourer, surveying them challengingly, the dust of his journey still about him.
‘Your parade would do credit to a museum, Cousin Sayren,’ he said.
Sayren Stund was dressed, as were his officers, in a severe black charfrul to express mourning. He levered himself out of his throne and came to JandolAnganol with arms extended. JandolAnganol made a bow, holding himself stiffly. Yuli stood a pace behind him, sticking his milt up alternate nostrils, otherwise motionless.
‘Greetings in the name of the All-Powerful. The Court of Oldorando welcomes you in your peaceful and fraternal visit to our capital. May Akhanaba make the meeting fruitful.’
‘Greetings in the name of the All-Powerful. I thank you for your fraternal reception. I come to offer my condolences and my grief at the death of your daughter, Simoda Tal, my bride-elect.’
As JandolAnganol spoke, his glance, under the line of his eyebrows, was ever active. He did not trust Sayren Stund. Stund paraded him along the ranks of dignitaries, and JandolAnganol allowed his hand to be shaken and his grimy cheek to be kissed.
He saw from Sayren Stund’s demeanour that the King of Oldorando bore him ill will. The knowledge was a torment. Everywhere was hatred in men’s hearts. The murder of Simoda Tal had left its stain, with which he now had to reckon.
After the parade, the queen approached, limping, her hand resting on Milua Tal’s arm. Bathkaarnet-she’s looks had faded, yet there was something in her expression, in the way she held her head – submissively yet perkily – which affected JandolAnganol. He recalled a remark of Sayren Stund’s which had once been reported to him – why had that lodged in his memory? – ‘Once you have lived with a Madi woman, you want no other.’
Both Bathkaarnet-she and her daughter had the captivating bird faces of their kind. Though Milua Tal’s blood had been diluted with a human stream, she presented an exotically dark, brilliant impression, with enormous eyes glowing on either side of her aquiline nose. When she was presented, she gazed direct at JandolAnganol, and gave him the Look of Acceptance. He thought briefly of SartoriIrvrash’s mating experiments; here if ever was a fertile cross-breeding.
He was pleased to gaze on this one bright face among so many dull ones, and said to her, ‘You much resemble the portrait I was sent of your sister. Indeed, you are even more beautiful.’
‘Simoda and I were much alike, and much different, like all sisters,’ Milua Tal replied. The music of her voice suggested to him many things, fires in the night, baby Tatro cooing in a cool room, pigeons in a wooden tower.
‘Our poor Milua is overcome by the assassination of her sister, as we all are,’ said the king, with a noise which incorporated the best features of a sigh and a belch. ‘We have agents out far and wide, pursing the killer, the villain who posed as a Madi to gain entrance to the palace.’
‘It was a cruel blow against us both.’
Another compendious sigh. ‘Well, Holy Council will be held next week, with a special memorial service for our departed daughter, which the Holy C’Sarr himself will bless with his presence. That will cheer us. You must stay with us for that event, Cousin, and be welcome. The C’Sarr will be delighted to greet such a valued member of his Community – and it would be to your advantage to pass time with him, as you will realise. Have you met His Holiness?’
‘I know his envoy, Alam Esomberr. He will arrive shortly.’
‘Ah. Yes. Hmm. Esomberr. A witty fellow.’
‘And adventurous,’ said JandolAnganol.
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