Princess of Amathar (12 page)

After a walk of some quarter mile from the shuttle train station, we turned and stepped through the large entryway of a massive structure, which completely engulfed a city block and rose to more than sixty stories. Once inside, we found the same type of lobby common to expensive hotels and luxury apartments on my home world. There was no doorman, or clerk, nor even a check-in desk--just plush appointments and a large pair of escalators leading up and down. We made our way upwards in the customary Amatharian fashion, by walking on the escalator, to the second floor, where another escalator led upwards yet again. I knew that Amatharians had used elevators, since I had asked Norar Remontar about them after our experience below the mountains of the Orlons, so I was surprised not to find one in this building. I later learned that almost every building in Amathar possessed extensive escalators, but very few had elevators. Amatharians did not care for them it seems, and preferred to use them only when absolutely necessary, such as when large cargo needed to be moved from floor to floor. This time, the three of us walked up forty five flights of escalators to reach our destination.

"This is my home," said Norar Remontar, when we had at last arrived at the desired floor. The hallways on this floor, like each floor we had visited on the way up, were spacious, and filled with small tables, and art objects, much like I would have expected in the hallway of a private residence, though it was clear from the doors lining the wall, that this was more akin to an apartment building. It was then that I noticed that there were no carpets on the floor, and I realized that I had not seen wall to wall carpeting anywhere in Amathar. Here and there was an occasional throw rug, designed to look like an animal skin in shape and texture.

The closest door was evidently Norar Remontar's home, since that was the one he chose to enter. I was expecting a "2B" or considering the number of floors we had transcended, perhaps "4502B", but there were in fact no numbers, nor any other characters or markings. The Amatharian knight slid the door open, for it slid from side to side rather than swinging on a hinge, and we stepped inside. His apartment proved to be a large and beautifully decorated home, with a central room that was two stories high. Several doors led into other rooms on the lower level, while a stone stairway led up to a balcony that stood against the wall just above the front door. Great shelves of books lined the walls of the upper level, and the wall across from the front entrance was one great two story window which looked out onto a magnificent courtyard. From this vantage point, I could see that the building was built like a huge hollow square, in the center of which was the courtyard which deserved the name forest more than it did that of park.

"I have a guest room through there," said Norar Remontar, pointing at a doorway just to our right. "We should get some rest before we do anything else."

As soon as these words left his lips, a great weariness overcame me, and I realized that we had gone a very, very long time without sleep. Malagor and I exited the main room through the designated portal, and found a large bed chamber. There were two beds, designed in what I later learned was typical Amatharian fashion--sunken into the floor, rather than standing above it on legs. They were covered with cushions and blankets, which like the rugs I had seen, were patterned in shape and style to resemble animal skins, though they were in fact man-made. Just beyond the beds, which occupied the center of the floor, was a large wash basin standing upon a stone pedestal. And against the wall was a kind of dresser, with open cubby holes rather than drawers.

I pealed off my leather clothes, slashed some water over my face, chest, and shoulders, and dived into the closest bed. I neither noticed nor cared whether Malagor followed suit, because I was asleep before my body came to rest upon the firm mattress.

Chapter Thirteen: Lessons

I opened my eyes to find myself looking at the ceiling. For a moment I though that I was back in my bedroom at home, on Earth, and that all of my adventures in Ecos were just a fantastic dream. Then Malagor leaned over to look into my face.

"I have slept, gotten up, explored the city, eaten, and slept again. You are just now waking."

"How very nice for you," I replied.

I sat up, and then climbed out of bed, noticing a distinct disadvantage to the Amatharian beds. Yet I felt so refreshed that my gravity enhanced muscles sent me bounding up onto the floor. I started toward the wash basin, but noticed the doorway just to the left. Passing through it, I found the bathroom. It was a huge room. The bath tub was a small pool, designed to look like a thermal spa, with water constantly flowing from a waterfall into the pool, and then out at the other end. The room also had the other features that one might expect, and they were similarly fashioned to resemble natural features. I hopped up into the bath and floated in the hot water. The little pool was large enough for me to swim around in, and when I stood up, the water still reached the middle of my chest. Beside the inlet waterfall was a small shelf with a variety of brushes and cleaning agents. I found something that seemed close to shampoo and washed myself from head to toe. I hopped out just long enough to retrieve my knife from beside the bed, then hopped back in and relaxed in the water as I shaved my ragged beard. When I exited the bath a second time, I felt presentable enough for polite Amatharian society. Malagor was waiting for me with some new clothes--a black Amatharian body suit, a plain white tabard, and a pair of boots.

"At Norar Remontar's direction, I got these from the clothier on the first floor,” he said. "I had to have my own clothing specially ordered."

I was interested to see how the bodysuit was put on. I found that it had an open waist in the back. Still it took me several moments to discover how to get my lower portion in, and still be able to insert my upper half. Fortunately the material used by the Amatharians was extremely flexible. Once I had it on, it seemed not so much to stretch to fit, as to shrink to fit. It covered every inch of my body in a cool embrace. It was extremely comfortable. The tabard which I put on over it was, as one would expect, slightly encumbering, though no more so than a light jacket or sweater. It reached just below my knees in front and in back, but was open on the sides. Finally I put on the boots, and found them to be the most comfortable footwear that I have ever tried on. All that remained was for me to strap on the weapons belt beneath my tabard. Malagor had also seen to it that I had the appropriate sheaths for my swords. I looked like an Amatharian that had somehow been deprived of his beautiful blue skin.

"Where is Norar Remontar?" I asked.

"He left to see members of his family," replied Malagor.

Just then an ethereal voice spoke seemingly out of nowhere. "Nicohl Messonar is waiting at the door." The two of us looked around the room expectantly for a moment, and then at each other.

"Must be a kind of doorbell," I offered. Malagor shrugged.

I walked out of the bedroom, followed by my alien friend, and opened the front door. Outside, stood an Amatharian woman. She looked to be in her early fifties, and possessed a more mature form of the beauty that was apparently common to all Amatharian women. Her silky black hair cut straight across her forehead, and reaching the middle of her back, was touched with grey, but her dark blue skin remained flawless. She wore a white tabard with a crest--a flaming sun supported by a pedestal-indicating that she was a knight. But instead of the black bodysuit of a soldier, hers was light lavender. She carried no swords, just a satchel slung over one shoulder.

Stepping confidently into the apartment, the woman looked me over, coldly, for a moment before speaking.

"I am Nicohl Messonar," she said.

"So I understand," I replied. "Nicole is a common name among my people."

"The name is Nicohl."

"Nicohl."

"Yes, and my name is Nicohl Messonar." She arched an eyebrow. "It is impolite not to use both names. That is only for husbands and wives, sharing an intimate moment."

"Well, that's certainly good to know," I said, looking sidelong at Malagor.

"There are a great many things you will need to know, if you are to continue to live among us," she continued. "That is why Norar Remontar requested my help in tutoring you." She reached into her bag and removed a square touch pad, and handed it to me. Across the front of the device, were displayed a collection of the Amatharian letters, many of which I remembered seeing in the book on the shuttle train.

"Do your people have a written language?" asked Nicohl Messonar.

"Of course."

"Do they use a phonetic writing, or a pictographic one?"

"It is a phonetic system of writing," I explained, "though we have some anomalous words that maintain forms from long ago."

Looking at Nicohl Messonar, I was reminded of the word "tough", which sounds nothing like the way it is spelled.

"Good," she said. "That also precisely describes Amatharian writing. In your hand, you have a display of our alphabet. There are thirty six letters. Press that one with your finger." She indicated the figure that looked like a predatory animal. Almost all of the Amatharian letters resembled something recognizable. I have heard that the letter "A" is based upon the shape of a cow's head, though I have never been able to see it myself. Here were animals, and clouds, and mountains, and a sun, all clearly recognizable for what they were. I pressed the letter.

"Buh." The touchpad made the sound of a letter "B" in English.

"You will memorize the sounds of the alphabet and decipher these simple texts," the teacher handed me several plastic pages of Amatharian writing. "Have it completed by the time I return. I will be back in 10

city-cycles."

"City-cycles?"

I was then reminded that, in spite of Norar Remontar's assurances that there was no such thing as a uniform length of time, that the Amatharians did have a measure of time. Nicohl Messonar explained the system in more detail. Long ago they had discovered an electro-magnetic pulse that reverberated through Ecos. Later they had determined that it was a result of the artificial gravity in this created world. The Amatharians had digital time pieces throughout the city--there was even one in Norar Remontar's main room--which were all tied together and maintained a uniform measure of time. They used this time measurement for allotting work details and making appointments. However, once outside the city it meant little to them. The real difference between city-cycles and hours on Earth, were in how they were perceived by the people. If all the clocks of Earth were to go blank, hundreds of scientists would work weeks or even months, to find the correct time down to a fraction of a second. In Amathar, if the city-cycle were to fail, someone would take their best guess as to how much time had passed, and start it up again. As near as I have been able to pin-point it, the city-cycle is somewhere between two and four hours long. The Amatharians don't even believe that it is a regular interval, though I suspect that it is. So, after promising to, or rather threatening to return in ten city-cycles, Nicohl Messonar left. I was somewhat put off by her attitude, but then I recalled that upon first meeting, Norar Remontar had been somewhat stern, and in the interim we had become good friends. In any case, I threw myself into an examination of the Amatharian alphabet.

Since I already knew the spoken language fairly well, the sounds produced by the letters were familiar. They were the same sounds found in English, though they were represented differently. For instance, the sound of the letter "N" as it would be used in "north" was represented by one letter, while the sound of the letter "N" as it would be used in "song" had a different letter. I was so engrossed in my little toy, that I didn't notice that Malagor had left until he returned bearing a large meal for both of us. By that time, I was beginning to master the letters of the alphabet and their sounds.

Malagor had procured food from a Sun Clan restaurant on a lower level of the building. These meals were centered around large flat cakes, which I thought at first looked like a pancake. Biting into it though, I found that it was a mixture of grated vegetables in batter, with a cheese-like filling. Beside the cakes were two small pieces of meat that looked as though they might have come from a small fowl, though they did not taste like chicken. They were more akin to lobster in flavor. Once we had eaten, Malagor took off again, no doubt to explore more of the city. I was planning my own explorations, but I wanted to be ready when my new teacher returned. There might be a test. I used my touch pad to help me decipher the messages on the assigned pages. They seemed to be children's stories--in fact they were nursery rhymes, though they don't rhyme when translated to English. The first was about a little boy and girl who wished to be swordsmen. The second was about a boy who went on a quest for a flower to please his mother.

I finished reading these little stories and realized that I was tired again. Looking at the city-cycle dial, and noting that I had over six cycles before my appointment, I popped back into the bedroom for a nap. I had been asleep long enough to satisfy my need, and was almost ready to wake up, when that same ethereal voice sounded again in the room.

"Vena Remontar is waiting at the door," it said.

I still had my Amatharian clothing on, but took a moment to smooth down my hair, and otherwise make myself presentable before going back to the main room and opening the door for the lovely young knight. She was still clothed in the uniform of her occupation, and she was even more beautiful than I recalled. Her hair was cut shorter than most women I had observed about the city--just above shoulder length. This, and her large expressive eyes, gave her a friendly appearance. She looked me in the eye for a moment before entering, easy enough since she was almost my height.

"You look much better now that you have cut that hair off of your face," she said.