Chapter Nine
The other three did manage to doze off again, but Tyrael could not. He sat at the table, staring up at the window as it slowly admitted the gathering light of dawn into the chamber.
The encounter with Captain Myrina had left him troubled.
He did not suspect she had guessed his true nature, but his angelic armor had been a subject of some significance to her.
It had also seemed to draw Adreona’s attention back on the Arabel, even if she had refrained from commenting on it directly.
He wondered if he should have hidden it somehow, like their Horadric insignia.
After all, the Askari lived with ever-present reminders of angels and demonkind.
It seemed likely that Tyrael’s armor would not be a welcome sight in Skovos and might even be a cause for suspicion.
He chastised himself for not considering that sooner, but it was too late now to do anything about it.
It was late the next morning before anyone else came through the door. When the lock turned, it awakened the other three, and then Adreona entered the room, this time without any additional guards.
“I hope you slept well,” she said. “I’m here to inform you that the queen will hear your petition this morning.” She nodded once, as if to say her job was done, and moved to leave.
“Yes,” Lorath said as he sat up, scratching his chin. “We know.”
Adreona paused on her way out. “You know? How?”
“The other captain already informed us,” answered Donan.
“Captain Myrina?” Adreona came back into the chamber. “She was here? When?”
“She paid us a visit in the middle of the night,” Lorath said. “Seemed a bit irregular to us. Does that seem odd to you?”
Tyrael watched Adreona to assess her reaction to learning this, and indeed it seemed to surprise and alarm her, though she did what she could to quickly hide it, straightening her back and her expression.
“Of course not,” she said. “I would never question a fellow captain. You may refresh in the basin. I will return for you shortly.”
After she was gone, Lorath looked at Tyrael. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps all is not as orderly in Skovos as it first seemed.”
“Are you surprised?” asked Donan. “I would expect to find political scheming in any royal court.”
Keldon had gone to the basin to wash, and he spoke between splashes of cupped water against his face. “Anywhere there’s power or money at stake, you’ll find either politics or violence.”
“Sometimes both,” Lorath added.
Tyrael spoke with a gently commanding tone. “Let me do the talking when we have our audience with the queen. I’m even more convinced it would be wise to reveal as little as possible until we understand more about the situation here. I’m not sure who we can trust quite yet.”
Lorath went to take his turn at the water basin. “I am more than happy to let you speak for us.”
When Adreona returned, she brought an escort of six Amazons, all armed and looking grim. Four of them carried sets of manacles linked with chains.
“Come now,” Lorath said. “Is this really necessary?”
Adreona clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m afraid there can be no compromise where the safety of the queen is concerned.”
“We will consent to this one more time,” Tyrael said with a hard glance at Lorath, then offered his wrists to the nearest guard.
“The outcome of your audience will determine whether it is the last time,” said Adreona.
Lorath grunted an objection and extended his wrists, as did Donan, but Keldon did not, instead returning to sit on the foot of his bed.
“If it’s all the same to you,” he said, “I think I’ll wait here.”
Adreona frowned. “Why?”
“Well,” the sailor said, “I ain’t party to their petition. I don’t even rightly know what they’re after. I’m just the captain of the ship that brought them here, and I’m looking to leave Skovos just as soon as you give her back to me.”
Tyrael was somewhat surprised at Keldon’s assertions but could not fault the man. The sailor had carried out his side of the bargain they had made back in Kingsport. He was not a member of their order and had no personal stake in their mission.
“I see.” Adreona took Keldon’s manacles from the Amazon holding them and stepped toward his bed. “Did these men press you into service on your own ship?”
Keldon looked affronted. “Absolutely not.”
“And did they threaten or coerce you into sailing here?”
“They did not.”
“Then you are not innocent in your trespass. You will accompany them whether you are part of their petition or not, because your fate is tied to theirs.” She glanced down at his wrists.
Keldon rolled his eyes with a sigh and raised his hands, which Adreona secured with the manacles. Then the Amazons marched the four of them from the chamber.
They did not take the same route as the day before but traveled deeper into the keep until they reached the first of many stone staircases, which carried them up through the inner passageways of the city and the heart of the mountain.
They ascended corridors built by the Askari and walked through vaulted halls cut from the dark gray rock by the Firstborn.
Tyrael recognized the geometric patterns and severe angles of the columns.
The air smelled of ancient dust, as if the stone itself had undergone a form of granitic decay.
No one spoke as they passed through those high chambers, but their footsteps filled the space with echoes that returned to them like whispered voices from the past.
The corridors brightened as they left those stygian depths and approached the end of their climb, where white limestone and marble replaced the dark rock.
Twenty Amazon warriors guarded the final archway that marked the lower boundary of the queen’s palace, arrayed in the style of armor worn by Myrina’s guards the previous night.
It seemed to Tyrael that a division had formed within the Amazon ranks between warriors like Adreona and those in silk.
Adreona led them up into a vast and airy basilica.
Colossal carvings in relief lined the walls, above which high windows of stained glass shone with prismatic light.
The carvings depicted motifs similar to those seen in the city below, but on a grander scale, and with greater artistry.
Horses galloped, warships sailed, and warriors hunted and fought, portraying events from the islands’ past, all surrounded by friezes of fish and seashells.
Some of the panels showed monstrous beasts of myth emerging from the waves, bringing to mind the creature they had encountered during their crossing.
Banners hung from the round columns, bearing emblems and sigils embroidered in gold and silver thread.
But upon closer inspection, Tyrael noted that many of the pennants appeared frayed and faded.
Several of the carvings had areas of wear, with cracks and chips.
The mosaic tile floor needed repairs, cleaning, and polishing.
They had entered the basilica through one of its several side entrances.
To their right stood massive doors of iron and wood, fitted with bronze panels into which intricate images had been hammered.
They represented the queens who had ruled over Skovos throughout its long history, the seers on one door and the Amazons on the other.
Tyrael assumed them to be the main doors to the palace, which visitors would approach from the outside after climbing upward through the city, but they were closed now and barred with a beam the size of a ship’s mast. On the opposite side of the chamber stood doors of slightly lesser size but equal beauty and decoration, no doubt leading to the queen’s throne room.
Amazon guards stood at regular intervals throughout the basilica, wielding spear and shield, though Tyrael could not say whom they would be called to defend against. The chamber was empty, its main doors shut to the public.
There were no gatherings of scheming nobles, guild masters, or courtiers as one might expect to find in the anteroom before the throne.
“This way,” Adreona said, her voice echoing.
She led them toward the inner doors, which opened at their approach, groaning on their ponderous hinges.
They entered a chamber that appeared in some respects less ornate than the outer basilica but in other ways more—the carvings in relief had been replaced by slabs of richly colored marble with inlaid patterns of precious stones and iridescent abalone shells.
Whereas the anteroom made its impression at once, appreciation for the throne room grew the longer one stood within it noticing the details, the craftsmanship, and the cost.
As in the basilica, Amazon guards stood at every pillar, which lined the length of the room on both sides.
At the end of the chamber, a dais rose to a modest height beneath a soaring rotunda.
The striking thrones that rested upon it appeared almost surreal in their juxtaposition against the finery that surrounded them.
Both were made from ancient wooden planks, thick and as deeply grained as driftwood but polished to a shine by endless centuries of cleaning and care, though that was only part of what made them unique.
On one of them, in place of a traditional backrest, a ship’s mast rose twenty feet into the air, where it terminated at a jagged break; on the other, a ship’s rudder formed the top rail of the chair.
Tyrael had heard the story of the Askari thrones but had never known whether to believe it.
According to the legend, when the daughters of Philios first sailed to Skovos, great sea monsters had attacked and broken their ship upon the rocks.
The wood from their vessel was later used to fashion two thrones: one for the Amazon Queen, and one for the Oracle Queen, corulers of their new island kingdom.
The chairs before Tyrael certainly appeared as if they could have come from a shipwreck.