David Zindell - The Lightstone

Three thousand people stood there beneath a great dome. From a distance, this dome had appeared golden; now, looking up at it past walls of a particularly bright living stone, I could see that it was as clear as glass. It let in the starlight, which fell like a shower of silver among the many people awaiting the King. Kane's dark eyes swept the room, which could easily have held three halls the size of my father's. In a low voice, he identified for us various princes from Eanna, Yarkona, Nedu, and the islands of the Elyssu. He pointed out the exiled knights of Galda, Hesperu, Uskudar, Sunguru and Karabuk. There were a dozen Sarni warriors, too, with their long blonde hair and drooping mustaches, and a few Valari from the kingdoms of Anjo, Taron, Waas, Lagash, Athar and Kaash. I was proud, of course, to stand for Mesh as Maram was for Delu. But most of those present that evening were Alonians: knights and nobles of the Five Families; barons from Alonia's every domain; and not a few adventurers and rogues. Not all of them would be making the quest, of course, but they wanted to be present at its calling. King Kiritan had invited his people to the greatest celebration in living memory, and the boldest and most powerful of them had taken advantage of his magnanimity.

We crowded into the very rear of the room, which was circular in shape. An aisle bisected it and was lined on both sides with guards in full armor and bearing both spears and brightly polished shields. Another aisle, also guarded, cut the room crosswise, thus dividing the crowd of people into four quadrants. Where the aisles gave out at the center of the room, under the apex of the star-washed dome, stood the King's throne. Mounted on a large pedestal, it was a massive construction, all covered in gold and encrusted with precious gems. Six great, deep steps led up to it.

On each step, at either side, stood sculptures of various animals. Master Juwain explained to us that each pair symbolized the various spiritual and material forces that man must reconcile within himself.

To climb to his throne, the King had to pass first between a golden lion and a silver ox. These represented the sun and the moon, or the active and passive principles of life. On the next step awaited a lamb and a wolf, symbols of the pure heart and the devouring passions. A hawk and a sparrow framed the third step while on the fourth stood a goat and a great leopard, cast in bronze. The goat, I guessed, embodied the need for self-sacrifice, a calling that a king must never forget. The fifth step held both a falcon and a cock, reminders of obedience to the highest and the opposing gratification of lust. On the last step, across ten feet of a worn red carpet, there perched a golden eagle facing a peacock, cast of silver but completely covered in various gemstones so as to look like brightly-colored feathers. The eagle spoke of man's striving toward transcendence as Elijin and Galadin where the peacock represented the earthbound vanity and pride of the self. Set into the very top of the throne, beneath which the King would sit, was a golden dove, the great symbol of the peace to be attained at the end of this ascension. The final symbol, Master Juwain said, which wasn't really a symbol at all, was the starlight that fell upon the throne and called everyone to remember that shimmering place from which men had once come and to which they would someday return,

After we had stood pressed back against the wall for a bare few moments, the doors to our left opened, and heralds stationed there blew their trumpets to quiet us. Then the King, accompanied by a tall, handsome woman whom I took to be his wife, strode into the room. King Kiritan was himself a tall man; his golden crown, set with a large emerald on the front point, brought him up to about my height. Although his neatly trimmed beard was reddish-gray, his hair was all of silver and gold, and fell down to the shoulders of a magnificent, white ermine mantle. Beneath this he wore a blue velvet tunic showing the golden caduceus of the royal house. He wore a long sword at his side while in his hand he carried a very real caduceus of power and peace.

He made his way slowly down the aisle toward the throne. Although he walked with a slight limp, there was power yet in his stately gait and not a little pride. His face, cut with an unusual circular scar on his cheek, was as stern and unmoving as a stone; yet the glimpse I caught of his bright, blue eyes revealed a fierce devotion to lofty ideals and a strict moral order. He turned his head neither to the left nor right. His barons and the princes from the island kingdoms stood the nearest to the throne. There Count Dario and other nobles of the House Narmada waited as well for him to mount its six broad steps.

The King, however, paused before the first step while a herald came forward. The Alonians, as I would discover, loved their rituals, especially ancient ones. And the most ancient of all rituals in Tria was reminding the King of his duties and from where his power ultimately came. As the King's foot fell upon the first step, the herald called out to him, and to us, the first law for kings: 'You shall not multiply wives to yourself, nor shall you multiply lands, nor silver or gold.'

The next step brought the following injunction from the herald, who would never think to speak to the king so boldly on any other occasion: 'You shall not suffer your people to live in hunger or want.'

Upon the third step, the herald told him: 'You shall not suffer any enemy to slay your people or make slaves of them.'

And so it went, step after step, until the king passed between the eagle and the peacock and drew up before his throne. Then, as the King lifted up his eyes toward the great dome, the herald cried out the final law: 'Know the One before whom you stand!'

Only then did King Kiritan sit upon his throne and prepare himself to act as judge and lord of his people.

'Welcome,' he called out to us in a strong rich voice. He allowed himself a broad smile that hinted of warmth but failed to convey it. 'We welcome you with open heart and ail the hospitality that we can command. As well, we thank you for gracing our house tonight, whether your journeys took you from only across the river or from as far away as the islands of the west or the southernmost steppes of the Wendrush.'

Here he paused to nod at a Sarni chieftain and at the gold-bearded giant standing next to him who proved to be Prince Aryaman of Thalu.

'Thirty years now,' King Kiritan said, 'we have sat upon this throne. And in all that time, there has never been an occasion like this. Truth to tell, Tria hasn't seen a gathering of such illustrious personages for an entire age. Now, it would be flattering to suppose that you've come here tonight to help us celebrate our birthday. That, however, would be more flattery than is good for any king to bear. Still, celebration is the essence of why we are here tonight. What is a birthday but the marking of a soul's coming into life? And what is this Quest that we've called you to answer but the coming of all of Ea into a new age and a new life?'

While the King went on about the great dangers and possibilities of the times in which we lived, I noticed Atara tensing her jaw muscles as she stood next to me watching him. I recalled that the Kurmak and Alonians had often been great enemies, and I sensed in her a great struggle to like or even trust this vain and arrogant king.

Kane watched him closely, as well. We stood together with Maram and Master Juwain, pressed almost to the wall by a group of Alonian knights.

'Now, we must speak of this Quest,' King Kiritan told us. 'The Quest for the Cup of Heaven that has been lost for three thousand years.'

His square, handsome face fairly shone in the radiance falling down from the walls.

There, set into curved recesses around the room, blazed at least fifty glowstones.