David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

Herm pushed himself between Rame and Maggie, disposed of the man by saying, “Rame, would you be so kind as to wait on the veranda? The High Confab is coming, and we need someone to offer the proper greetings when she lands.”

“The High Confab? Here? Tonight?” Rame asked, his eyes growing impossibly more and more huge under his hooded cloak.

Herm said, “Yes, her attendants said she would come tonight, and she’ll need a proper escort.”

With a throaty cry of astonishment, Rame turned and trundled toward the veranda, to a set of stone perches where visiting Qualeewoohs might land.

“Who is this High Confab?” Orick the bear asked. For the past several minutes, he’d been sniffing around, watching the folks. No one had spoken to him, and he’d seemed more interested in food than conversation anyway.

“A figment of Rame’s hallucinations,” Herm told Orick, “a Qualeewooh who visits him in his dreams. Like many of the mad folks around here, Rame sleeps with a Qualeewooh’s spirit mask over his face. If you aren’t mad already, such things will drive you that way soon enough.”

A moment later, a beautiful woman appeared through the crowd, as brilliant and extraordinary in her brown silks and diamonds as the other folk were plain.

She must be one of Felph’s children, Maggie realized. No one else looked a thousandth so elegant. She appeared to be no more than twenty, yet her eyes spoke of wisdom beyond her years. Auburn hair cascaded down her back to her waist, and her eyes were clear light brown.

Maggie realized that Herm had disposed of the madman just in time for this woman to make her appearance. Herm introduced her, with a slight, mocking smile, “May I present Hera, Felph’s fourth.”

“Fourth?” Gallen and Maggie said, confused.

“Fourth created being,” Herm said. “Informally, we call Lord Felph our ‘father,’ but I didn’t want to confuse you. We’re his creations, we have no mother or father in the common sense of the word.”

Maggie looked up to the Guide that Hera wore in her hair, a simple circlet of silver. “He calls you his daughter, yet he makes you wear a Guide?” Maggie said, disapproval giving an edge to her voice.

“What loving father wouldn’t want to control his child’s thoughts?” Hera said. “It keeps me pure.”

Maggie grimaced, “It keeps you bobbing like a marionette on your strings, you mean.”

Hera fidgeted with the diamond rings on her fingers. “My father has our best interests at heart. He desires good for all people.”

I’m sure , Maggie almost said. But showing such sentiments would accomplish nothing. Felph’s children were his creations, mere things. Perhaps the girl was so naive, she believed the propaganda Felph fed her.

Or perhaps I’m wrong about him , Maggie wondered. Perhaps a loving but misguided father might seek to control his children this way.

“Maggie meant no disrespect,” Gallen said. Hera studied his blue eyes, long golden hair, broad shoulders. Maggie had seen that spark of interest in other women.

At that moment, Hera’s eyes went unfocused, and she immediately turned and marched toward a graceful staircase near the middle of the room.

“You must forgive us,” Herm apologized. “Lord Felph has sent word that he desires our presence. He wishes us to make an appearance en masse. Apparently he did not know Hera had already come down to the party. Please, forgive us.”

The winged man flushed in embarrassment, then flew swiftly up to the top of the staircase and waited for Hera to join him.

Then they disappeared into a door that opened seamlessly from the wall.

Somehow, Maggie was horrified by this. The poor girl , she thought. Lord Felph didn’t bother to ask her to come to him, simply ordered her Guide to bring her, so that in the midst of a conversation, Hera abandoned her guests.

Yet either Hera was too dumb to know how Felph abused her, or she wasn’t able to voice her own pain.

Lord Felph and his children did not come down immediately. For ten minutes Maggie waited.

Then suddenly music swelled all through the great hall-a stately march with many ringing bells. At the top of the grand staircase, white lights shone brilliantly, and the seamless hole opened once again.

Lord Felph came out. He was an old man, Maggie saw at once, stooped and graying. With rejuvenations and life extensions, the body he wore could easily have been a thousand years old. Maggie doubted it was his first. He wore no mantle of authority, made no show of ostentation in clothing. He wore only a simple frock of dark gray, much as if he were a monk back on Maggie’s home world. He wore no jewelry. The only glimmer came from his dark blue eyes, which glanced out over the crowd knowingly.

Yet as his children came out behind, each one shone. Though he lacked ornamentation, he lavished it upon his creations. A woman came to his beckoning arm, a woman with silver hair-not the silvering of hair crone gray with age, but rather a genuine silver sheen, as if it had been spun of metal. She wore a stunning dress of turquoise blue that flashed as she moved, yet Maggie’s gaze was drawn more toward the woman’s eyes. She studied Maggie and Gallen frankly as she descended the staircase.

Maggie felt a physical wrenching. Turn away. something in her mind told her. Turn away. Don’t let her see you .

For the woman’s eyes pierced Maggie, inspected her, and dismissed her all in a glance.

“Felph and Arachne, hooray for Felph and Arachne!” the employees cheered, shouting and clapping. Their jubilant cheers were answered by more subdued clapping from the scientists and poachers and eccentrics in the crowd. Maggie thought the employees’ level of enthusiasm sounded odd, strained. Perhaps Felph expected such accolades from them.

Behind them marched Herm, all dressed in a new outfit of elegant black, looking debonair.

Following him came Hera, and on her arm a tall man with a broad chest, incredibly handsome, with long flowing hair, a beardless face with strong jaws, and eyes of such a piercing black that they seemed to glitter like jewels. His light gray jacket and white pants all somehow worked together so that as Maggie looked at him, her gaze riveted to those dark and disturbing eyes.

“Hooray, hooray for Zeus and Hera,” the people all shouted, and Maggie had an odd sinking feeling. She knew little of mythology, only what her mantle downloaded to her, and she was disturbed by the naming scheme Lord Felph had chosen for his children.

Last of all, came a young girl, no more than twelve or thirteen. She was both lithe and strong, with a very athletic build. Yet, apparently without her even knowing, she was the most beautiful woman Maggie had ever seen. Her long amber hair fell in a casual braid over her left shoulder, and her eyes were of the deepest gray. She was more full-bodied than a Tharrin, physically stronger and more sensual. Indeed, she seemed the perfect combination of strength, grace, and sensuality, though she was not even well into her teens. Maggie watched Gallen’s eyes: he seemed riveted by her face, the astonishing sweetness of her smile.

Her appearance brought an enthusiastic explosion of shouts from the townsfolk. “Athena! Yay for Athena!” they cheered.

The people of Ruin all continued applauding Lord Felph and his creations. Audio recordings played the sounds of thousands more people cheering and clapping, so that the walls fairly shook with the tumult, though fewer than a hundred guests had gathered.

Suddenly, out through the east windows on the veranda, fireworks began to explode, shooting high into the air, forming brightly colored rainbows that whistled over the verandas and waterfalls.

Lord Felph descended.