Princess of Amathar (10 page)

"These are my friends--Remiantar Alexander Ashton and the Malagor." I realized that my Amatharian friend, in introducing me as a Remiantar, was telling these Amatharians that I was more than a simple savage warrior, that I was a civilized and skilled swordsman, and I was quite flattered. Malagor and I bowed slightly to the two men. Bentar Hissendar then introduced his companion as Tular Maximinos, who then bowed to us and holstered his pistol. I had seen these two men before, in the images on the screen in the chamber of the Elder Gods. Bentar Hissendar was just shorter than Norar Remontar, with the same straight black hair and the same muscular frame. His countenance was slightly less serious than that of my friend. He looked like a fellow who spent much of his life laughing or smiling. Tular Maximinos was quite short for an Amatharian, though still an inch taller than my own six foot two. He looked younger than either of the other men, though there was wisdom in his eyes, or perhaps it was sadness.

"Do you have any food?" asked Malagor, interrupting my observations of the Amatharians.

"Yes, we are quite hungry," said Norar Remontar, to his countrymen. "I had almost forgotten in my pleasure at seeing you.”

The five of us made our way to the transport. Bentar Hissendar stepped inside, and pulled out a large chest. Inside it, were a variety of containers looking very much like they were made of wood, but feeling and bending like plastic. Upon removing the air-tight lids, we found in each one, something different and delicious to eat. Tular Maximinos handed each of us a metal utensil, a sort of square spoon, and we dug heartily into our repast. My container was filled with a mixture of six or seven different types of vegetables, cut into bite-sized pieces, and covered with a sweet sauce the consistency of honey. It tasted wonderful beyond belief. Bentar Hissendar handed me a metallic cup filled with ice water. It tasted as good as the food.

"How close are we to Amathar?" asked Norar Remontar, when we were nearly finished with our meal.

"It is thirty four thousand, seven hundred miles," replied Bentar Hissendar. Of course he really said,

"forty-two thousand kentads," but I have converted that number. When we were done with our food, we boarded the transport. The inside was furnished much like a comfortable recreational vehicle, with two seats behind the controls in front, overstuffed chairs, several small tables, and storage compartments in the middle, and some sleeping bunks in the back. Malagor sat down in one of the comfortable chairs and immediately fell asleep. I waited until our two hosts had assumed the control positions and guided the ship to a takeoff. Then I moved to the rear of the cab and climbed into one of the bunks. Even though I was quite excited at the prospect of at last reaching Amathar, I fell quickly into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, the transport was still in the air. I looked out the window and saw the ground speeding by. The hills had given way to grassy meadows dotted with small forests of deciduous trees. I walked forward and found Norar Remontar sitting just behind the control booth, talking with the two other Amatharians. He looked as though he hadn't rested at all. When I sat down in an empty seat next to him, he turned to me.

"I have been relaying our adventures to them," he said.

"I particularly enjoyed the part where you let the Pell capture you," grinned Tular Maximinos.

"Yes, it was an unusual strategy," remarked his friend.

"Alas, I have been defamed," I sighed.

"It is alright," laughed Bentar Hissendar. "In all the great stories, the hero makes some type of mistake. It reaffirms his humanity, after feats of daring and trials of danger. Besides, it was funny."

"Yes," continued Tular Maximinos, as he continued to pilot the craft. "At first, I wondered that Norar Remontar would take up with two such strange beings, but after hearing his tale, I find myself liking you. Now if I could only get used to your ugliness."

"Ugliness?"

"You are quite horrible looking. You are short too, but that is not a major problem. I myself have a handicap in that area. But your skin is so pale and brownish orange--most ugly."

"Do not let him tease you," put in Bentar Hissendar. "You are strange looking, it is true. However, I think that your very uniqueness will make you quite popular in the city, especially with the unmarried females. In fact, I would bet that Tular Maximinos's sister will ask you to a meal the moment she sees you."

The three Amatharians laughed.

"That does not mean you are not ugly," said Tular Maximinos. "My sister is desperate for a mate." They all laughed again. I instinctively liked both these men--Bentar Hissendar was a friendly and happy fellow, and Tular Maximinos had an engaging wit, and a way of delivering a funny line with a straight face. I wondered for a moment if he could do the reverse, and deliver a sad line while smiling.

"It was very lucky for you that you came out of that tunnel when you did," said Tular Maximinos. "We were just getting ready to leave the area."

"Yes," confirmed Bentar Hissendar. "We have been making surveys for the Hissendar Trading Group. They have been looking for new sources of edible plants and mineral resources, but the area where we found you turned out to have little promise."

"Is that your uncle's trading group?" I turned to Norar Remontar.

"Yes," he replied.

"Is he your mother's brother?"

"No, of course not," he said. "Perhaps I should explain the family structure of Amatharians. It will help you in your dealings there."

Norar Remontar spent a great deal of time explaining the family and restating particular points that I had trouble at first understanding. He was aided in his explanations by his two countrymen, who were amused by my lack of cultural knowledge. Here is a simplified version of the lesson. In Amathar, couples married and lived together, much like one would expect of human couples on Earth. There was an old tradition of two or more wives being wed to the same man, but it was seldom practiced in modern times--a holdover from an era when warrior men tended to be outnumbered by women who took care of the home fires. The only real differences that I could see between the Amatharians and my married friends on Earth, was that in Amathar, both the man and the woman kept their original names, and that once they became married, they stayed that way--divorce was unknown in Amathar. The way which these people had children and raised them, was not unlike one would expect, either physiologically or culturally. It was in naming the children where their culture became tricky. The given names of the children were provided solely by the father, without input or consent by the mother. The last name or family name however was inherited, from the mother, so that children had the same last name as their mother, their mother's brothers and sisters, and their maternal grandparents, but a different last name than their father.

Each family was lead by a family elder, almost always the eldest surviving son of the eldest surviving son. The elders of the most prominent families were known as Kur, the closest translation being "nobleman." Family members worked and lived in close proximity. It was common for an extended family to live within a single conclave, and to be surrounded by related families. Among these family groupings, one family elder would occupy a traditional leadership position, and he would be known as Kurar, or "Lord.”

The position of Kurar tended to be passed from father to son, and was only lost to another related family when there was some incident of great dishonor. Families were collected into clans, each clan being made up of many families. The elder of the leading family would take on the title of Kurar Ka, or

"Overlord.”

The Kurar Ka would run the clan and all the clan's business interests like the C.E.O. of a major corporation, though the accumulation of wealth was well down the list of clan priorities, and in fact was a rather tricky idea, as I later learned. Much more important to the Amatharian clan would be the increase in honor associated with members of the clan making new scientific discoveries, defeating enemies of the Amatharian people, or bettering the life of all Amathar. In a way, the clans were in a constant contest to see who could be the most altruistic. It was a fascinating foundation for a culture that struck a cord in my conscience, having been one who, in my youth, was sickened by the selfishness and the avarice found so often in my own land.

Confusing to me though, was the complex web of family relationships. There were several dozen clans, and every family in Amathar belonged to at least one. Most belonged to three or more, with varying degrees of family loyalty depending upon who was related to whom in that clan. But individuals within a family would pick one single clan from which to be a member. I was even more bewildered when it was explained to me that the Amatharians had a different word for every possible family relationship. There was a different word for the paternal grandfather, than there was for the maternal grandfather. There was a different word for uncle when he was the brother of one's father than there was when he was the brother of one's mother, and still a different word for one's uncle when he was your mother's sister's husband. This went on to such an extent, that there was even a specific word which meant fifth cousin twice removed, and that was different from the word for fifth cousin three times removed. All of this made me wonder about Norar Remontar's title--Homianne Kurar Ka, child of the overlord. He had told me himself that he had been working for his uncle's trading group. My friend explained that his paternal grandfather was Kurar Ka of the Sun Clan, the most powerful and respected of the Amatharian clans. Norar Remontar's father would have been the next Kurar Ka, but he had been killed in battle when still a young man. Thus, Norar Remontar had become Homianne Kurar Ka--a kind of heir apparent. He worked, as was the custom, in the clan businesses, one of which was Hissendar Trading group, run by his uncle.

"So, you are related to Bentar Hissendar." I observed.

"Yes," he replied. "We are distantly related, and so is Tular Maximinos."

"It is not that distant," said Bentar Hissendar. "The sister of Norar Remontar's paternal grandmother's maternal grandmother, was married to the brother of my maternal grandmother's paternal grandmother. That is not a distant relation. Now, Tular Maximinos is a distant relation."

"That is not true," put in the subject of their discussion. "My paternal grandmother's paternal grandmother was the sister of Norar Remontar's maternal grandmother's paternal grandfather. And I am related to Bentar Hissendar in three different ways."

I smiled. It felt wonderful for me, an orphan who knew only two parents who had died when I was but a child, to look at these creatures of a civilization where family kinship had been taken to the level of an art form. I sat back and thought of just what it would be like, to live knowing countless thousands of relatives, and hundreds of close kin. I was interrupted in these musings by Bentar Hissendar.

"There is Amathar," he said.

Chapter Twelve: Amathar

I looked through the forward view port and felt my stomach drop away. Since coming to Ecos, I had come to expect things on a grand scale--seemingly endless plains, forests so dark and thick they seemed to block the sun, vast seas and broad rivers, huge flying battleships--but nothing had prepared me for the city of Amathar. Ahead of us was a wall that stretched to the left and right as far as the eye could see. Seemingly held within this wall was a city, straining to be free of its confines. It was a city of tremendously high buildings, tall towers, and massive constructions of bizarre shape and ungodly dimension, painted with a rainbow of pastel colors from red to blue with bits of silver and gold. The city seemingly went on forever into the distance, rising up into the horizon until it became a part of the sky.

"Just how large is Amathar?" I asked.

"The city wall is a circle two thousand five hundred kentads in diameter." That information took several moments to compute, and at least that long to comprehend. According to my admittedly incomplete knowledge of Amatharian measurement, twenty five hundred kentads was the equivalent of two thousand miles. This seemed beyond belief, and I questioned it, but the three Amatharians confirmed my figures. Here was a single city that would, had it been located on my home planet, have almost completely covered North America.

The transport dropped lower as Bentar Hissendar guided in to a landing at a large installation just within the wall of the city. On a large tarmac, surrounded by several buildings, sat a dozen transports just like the one in which we were flying. When our craft came to a stop on the ground, a crew of Amatharian men and women ran out onto the field to service the vehicle. They were wearing bodysuits very much like those the knights wore, though these were light blue rather than black, and they were worn without the tabard over them. Bentar Hissendar turned and spoke to one of them.

"Send word to the Kurar Ka that we have returned with his grandson." He turned to Norar Remontar.

"It is best to send word before you go showing up at the door of your home. Give everyone a chance to realize you are alive."

Norar Remontar replied, but I was too busy looking around to pay much attention to their conversation. The wall over which we had passed to come to this airfield was about two hundred feet tall, and was constructed or at least covered by a copper-colored metal. It looked to be thick enough for a truck to drive over. If fact, as I stared at it, some sort of vehicle running slowly along the top of the wall, passed by. The way it sat on the top, hugging the sides, reminded me of the monorail at Disneyland, though this vehicle was a single unit rather than a train, and had no windows, so therefore did not appear to be a passenger craft.

"That is the automated sentry," said Norar Remontar, breaking into my observations. "Come, you have much to see."

Malagor and I joined the prodigal son of Amathar, as he walked across the tarmac to one of the buildings at its edge. Inside, we were greeted by more Amatharians wearing bodysuits in a variety of colors. I asked Norar Remontar about the difference in clothing, and he informed me that different occupations within the city had traditional colors associated with them. Among those colors were black for soldier, light blue for mechanic, white for food preparers or servers, grey for doctors, and red for record keepers. The tabard was essentially an Amatharian uniform, worn by none but soldiers. I was still thinking about this system of color coding, when the familiar black suit with white tabard appeared before me. A young woman, dressed in that very garb, stood with arms folded beside a desk just inside the terminal building. Her tabard bore the same crest that Norar Remontar's did--a flaming sun with wings. When I looked up into her beautiful flawless face, for a moment I was in shock. She was my princess, rather she was Norar Remontar’s sister. But the impression lasted only a moment. This young woman had much shorter hair, a slightly smaller nose, darker skin, and larger, rounder eyes, which made her look much less serious. Admittedly the only time I had seen the Princess was during the height of battle. When the female knight saw Norar Remontar, she smiled broadly and reached out to grasp his hand.