Shadow War - Deborah Chester [70]
Chapter Nine
Drums rolled like thunder across the vast expanse of parade ground; then the beat became a steady cadence, like the fast throbbing of her heart.
Borne in a swaying litter whose leather curtains were tightly closed, and surrounded by a solid phalanx of armored soldiers, Elandra was carried down the lengthy steps of the palace and across the parade ground past endless rows of men and horses, all at perfect attention. Swathed in furs and heavily veiled, Elandra peered out through a crack in the curtains, curious to see the army turned out so smartly in her honor.
Divisions from every province in the empire had arrived. She knew the barracks were crowded to bursting, that the city was swollen with citizens pouring in from the countryside, that every inn was full and people were camping illegally in the streets, hoping to see her tomorrow. Ambassadors and delegations from outside the empire had even sent gifts of all kinds, some of them said to be truly magnificent, although it was considered bad luck for her to see them yet.
So much attention and tribute was overwhelming, yet she felt isolated from most of it by the restrictions surrounding her. In a way, it almost seemed to be happening to someone else.
She wished she could see her father. Homesickness filled her suddenly, and she found herself missing the river and humid jungles of Gialta. If only she could talk to her father, tell him of the events that were happening, and ask his advice. But when he had given her hand in marriage, she had been cut off from him. Until her bridal year was finished, she could seek no one outside the palace without the emperor’s express permission. And to ask Kostimon’s permission meant she would have to explain.
Elandra sighed. There were no easy answers or solutions. She must find strength inside herself, somehow.
Tucked in her glove was a folded paper that Miles Milgard had slipped to her at the last moment. She was supposed to be studying her oath right now while she was being taken to the temple. But how could she concentrate when her nerves were keyed up? All she could do was wonder what the purification rites entailed.
They were part of the mysteries ... no one would tell her more.
Although the Penestricans had been banished from court for centuries, due to some ancient feud between them and the Vindicants, the sisterhood had been permitted to return for this occasion. They were to conduct the final rites tonight.
And although Elandra feared the Vindicants and their strange ceremonies, she could not feel relieved to be in the hands of the sisterhood either. She had endured their lessons before. They were always unpleasant experiences.
Elandra had been dreading the purification more than anything else. Gripping her hands together in her lap, she tried to shore up her faltering courage. But her nervousness kept growing. She drew in deep breaths, telling herself she must stay calm.
If only there was something to distract her. But there came no cheering from the silent ranks of the cavalry and foot soldiers lined up at attention. They did not move. They did not salute. They did not shout her name. All she could hear was the ominous beating of the drums and the rapid thump of her own heartbeat. It was alarming, this great silence.
Then, with a slight bump, her litter stopped and was lowered to the ground. She heard stamping and the thud of fists against armored chests in salute.
Hastily Elandra secured her veil just as the curtains of the litter parted.
A very stern officer wearing armor polished to a blinding sheen reached in and took her hand to assist her out. Still holding her hand in a ceremonial clasp, he led her up a crimson strip of carpet laid over the steps of the small temple. A man in the black mask of an executioner followed them with an axe.
On either side of the crimson carpet