Michael Foster - She Who Has No Name

The river stretched on, with irrigation strips leading off from its sides until the greenerywasspread in every direction for as far as the eye could see and there was no sign of the desert or its blasted sands. There were even orchards and vineyards, row after row, and clumps of tall,wide-leafed trees, sporting strange,enormous fruits.

They followed the river for hours, until Balten led them to a jetty on the riverside. He chatted with the boatmen there and they were soonsailingupstream on a flat-bottomed vessel, leaving their dusty camels behind.

Ahead, a range of great stone hills came into view and,clumped at its base andbuiltall over its sides was a city, large enough to rival any of the great metropolises of the Empire, bar Cintar itself.

‘Hol,’ Balten remarked. ‘City of the Desert Queen.’

The river ran straight on into the city, seemingly devoured by the buildings that crowded out on either side of it. Space was obviously a precious commodity, for the houses were tightly packed and builtuponeach other in a way that seemedat oncehaphazardandyet appealing to the eye. The white-walled houses at the edge of the city gave way tolargerdomed buildings, each coloured blue or green, each one more majestic and more opulent than the last. Sails of coloured cloth and lines of flags hung between every possible building and they undulated slowly in the hot desert breeze. Peacocks sat perched on the rooftops even here, calling out and fanning their feathers, while flocks of tiny birds darted about in erratic clouds. Aqueducts, fountains and cascading water features criss-crossed the streets and there was no lack of greenery, with potted plants and trees sprouting from everypossiblebalcony and rooftop and vacant space. If the intent had been to create an oasis city, it had truly been successful.

The sight was breathtaking. Every mote of space seemed built upon and crafted in a way so as to be aesthetically pleasing. The waterways themselves seemed a part of the architecture, with bridges and crossings spanning them like bangles on the wrists of a many-armed dancer. Finally, crowning the head of the mount around which the city was huddled, was a vast palace, equally as splendid as the city itself, with enormous statues erected around it,chiselled into the stone of the mountain. Columns and towers rose all around the white-walled buildings, wrapped in vines and bristling with vegetation. It was a stark contrast to the naked,red stone of the mounton which they stood.

‘So this is where they come from,’ Eric noted.

‘Only a small number,’ Balten revealed. ‘Most come from the deep desert, but the city acts to unify them into one people of many colours. They come and offer themselves to be trained in war. The city is proof that their queen can perform miracles. While it remains, her position as their god is without question.’

‘Another god?’ Eric groaned.

‘Not in your sense of the word. They know she is flesh and blood, but they respect her power. They still worship a pantheon of old gods, based on the stars and beasts of nature.’

The barge reached the side of the river and they disembarked, continuing into the city on foot. They passed the workers and villagers without incident, tightly wrapped in their desert clothes. Each passer-by nodded to them and clacked at them in their guttural tongue, and Balten replied in the same. The people were varied in the colour of their skin, from lightly tanned to coal-black, and there were not only men, but women and children, all moving about according to their wants; from hurrying labourers to idling merchants and scampering children about their feet.

One of the robed men called out and started towards them. He had a cloth wrapped around his face, but his arms and legs, down to his sandals, were bare. His skin was moderate in tone compared to many of the others around him. He called back to a group of others that he had left standing, and they darted off quickly.

Balten called to the man as he neared, but the fellow would not cease his excited chattering, and he continued motioning for them to come nearer. They did so and he finally pulled his veil aside to reveal his face, and he gave a great broad smile.

‘Thank goodness. I thought they would never leave,’ he said.

Samuel knew the man well. ‘Lomar!’ he said with hushed excitement. ‘I can’t believe we have found you.’

‘Well, more accurately, you have merely arrived, and I have found you. Now come. I sent those agents of the Queen away to fetch us some water and I don’t want to be here when they return and find you are not sons of the leader of the Purple Beetle Tribe.’

He began away and they followed him away through the streets.

‘Don’t speak,’ he whispered to them,’ and keep your faces covered until we get indoors.’

He led them for what seemed like an hour, crossing the frantic squares and streets. Merchants from the far east had never been treated well in Cintar and here, surrounded by so many of the desert people and in constant fear of having their skin colour or habits give them away, the irony was tangible.

Finally, theyslippedindoors into a rather large and surprisingly cool dwelling. The walls were clean, covered with mottled orange clay, while the windows were slatted and drawn shut to keep out the heat of the day. Lomar gave them water in large,glazed mugs and they drew down their veils and pulled off their headscarves before collapsingonto a mound of firm cushions that had been piled on the floor. There was no sign of any chairs in the room at all and it seemed not to be the Paatin custom to use such things.

‘Samuel, I am astounded to see you here,’ Lomar said, smiling with gladness. ‘And Eric, too. What a wonderful moment. I have been waiting here all this time, desperately wondering how I was going to cope all by myself. Who are these others? Where is Master Goodfellow?’

‘Heis dead,’ Samuel explained, at which point Lomar immediately made one of his ritualistic gestures against evil. ‘Grand Master Tudor also. They accompanied us from Cintar, but we have had some terrible setbacks. Many of our starting party did not make it here. Do you know Balten?’ Lomar only shook his head. ‘He is a member of the Circle.’

Lomar eyed the man suspiciously. ‘I have heard rumour of them,Samuel, but I do not think this is such good company to keep.’

Balten only sipped at his cup and ignored the remark.

‘I am not so keen on his company either, but he has proved to be of assistance. We can talk of it later but,as you will learn, we are not really in the position to pick and choose our allies at this point. Master Celios also accompanied us from Cintar, but he stayed behind nearby. Whether by choice or not, he seems to be helping the Circle to keep watch on us.’ To this, Lomar nodded thoughtfully. ‘This is Sir Ferse. He came as an aide for Master Celios, but now is going to help us retrieve the Empress.’ At this, Lomar raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Finally, we have some representatives from the nation of Koia: Ambassador Canyon and his god.’ They each nodded their heads on introduction.’

‘I am short of words. What an intriguing assortment to find before me. I am sorry to meet you allundersuch circumstances, but,as much as it is worth, Ibid youwelcome.’

The Emperor in Sir Ferse nodded solemnly, but there was no response from Canyon and the woman, who did not understand his Turian tongue.

‘What news of the Empress? Have you found her?’ the Emperor asked.

‘I believe I know where she is,’ Lomar explained, ‘but she is unreachable. There is a network of tunnels beneath the mountain that holds all the Queen’s captives. The entrances are guarded by soldiers at all times, and Paatin wizards keep constant watch around the palace with a mesh of spells. Worst of all, the stone of the mountain itself is magic resistant. The nearest I have been is within sight of the entrance and I could already feel the magic-quelling power of the stone at work. I cannot think of any way to get in.’