Princess of Amathar (34 page)

“You are horribly pale,” she said.

“Yes, I know.”

I slipped on the bodysuit and walked into the living room. There I put on my boots, and a fresh tabard, making sure that it was straight and that the braid and the crest were smooth. Then I sat down across from the most serious looking woman I have ever seen in my entire life.

“What is it you want to talk about?” I asked.

“I want to talk about my daughter,” she replied. “She intends to ask you to marry her.”

“She already has.”

“Well,” she said, looking decidedly unhappy. “That is it then. There is nothing more to say. You will be married to her.”

“What is it exactly that you don’t like about me?”

“I... have nothing against you,” she replied. “But my daughter is a knight. She is the grand-daughter of the Kurar Ka. She could do better.”

“I cannot argue that,” I said.

“Then you see my point,” said the woman. “I want nothing but the best for my daughter, and now I see her betrothed to an alien, who knows virtually nothing of our ways, or our laws.”

“Are you afraid that I might hurt Vena Remontar? If that is what you are afraid of, I can assure you that I will never hurt her.”

“I am not afraid of you hurting her,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “I am afraid of you dishonoring her.”

“You may stop right there,” I said, standing up and smoothing out my tabard, so as to show my crest to best advantage. “I am Kurar. I am an Amatharian. I may not be an Amatharian by birth, and I my not have achieved my position as lord though any real efforts on my part, and maybe I do have a tendency to screw things up occasionally, but, well, I forgot where I was going with this.”

“You are Kurar,” she offered.

“Yes, I am Kurar, and as long as I live, I will not do anything to intentionally dishonor my people, my clan, my family, myself, or most importantly my betrothed. And if through ignorance, I break some custom or social more’, I will do whatever is necessary to make the appropriate reparations.”

Mindana Remontar smiled. It was the first time that I had seen her do so.

“I welcome you to my family,” she said. “I was afraid that my daughter had chosen you only with her heart, and not with her head, but then you have seemed somewhat the oaf in my presence.”

“Uh, well alright, I guess.”

She stood up and walked to the door. I followed. I was at a loss of exactly what to say. I had tried being nice to her, and didn’t get any respect. Then I had stood up to her, but I didn’t receive the kind of response that I was expecting. There wasn’t really anything else that I could do. She was going to be my mother-in-law, a relationship that on earth was unfortunately close, and in Amathar even closer still. No matter what her opinion of me might be, I was just going to have to get used to her.

“Farewell kinsman,” she said, as she slipped out the door. “I just wish you weren’t so pale.”

The time after my return to Amathar and my move into new quarters, a period that I seem to recall as being of several weeks in length, was a busy time for me. I was the lord of my family, being its only member, and so I decided that my job would be to complete my lessons in Amatharian language, both written and oral, culture, and history. I spent every free hour writing, reading, and completing grammar drills. Nicohl Messonar was pleased with my progress. I began writing down everything that had happened to me since my arrival in Ecos— what eventually became this document. There were also an unpleasantly large number of ceremonies to be attended— what on Earth would be referred to as memorial services. There was one for every unreturned member of the expeditionary force against Zonamis. I attended the ceremony for every soldier that I knew. They were emotional. I went to only two funerals on earth. One was for my parents and I really don’t remember much of that. The other was for the grandmother of an army comrade. Most everyone at that funeral seemed relieved that she no longer had to deal with pain and suffering. I have heard some people say that when they died, they wished that their relatives would be happy and not weep for them. The ceremonies in Amathar were not like this. The people who attended the ceremonies were terribly, terribly wrought with sadness, and though most sat stoically and did not cry out, their anguish was evident. Sobs. Shaking. Tears. The ceremony for Tular Maximinos was a difficult one. I attended it and so did Vena Remontar. I had strange feelings about the whole situation. I had really liked Tular Maximinos. I felt as though I was stealing his woman, though I had never kissed her until after his death. Even though the feelings which my betrothed and I had for each other had nothing to do with him, I would always have an unsettling feeling in my stomach when I thought of the brave Amatharian who had given his life to take down an entire Zoasian battle cruiser. And they placed his statue on my street.

Tular Maximinos’s ceremony was not the most difficult however--at least not for me. I was not only required to attend the ceremony for Terril Jennofar, but because I was his commanding officer I had to speak. I had to do more than speak. I was forced to conduct the ceremony, much as a minister would do at an earthly funeral. Though I have no particular gift for oration and have never been known to excel in that area, I prepared well, and I think, performed adequately. My voice cracked a few times. I had not known the young swordsman very long, but in that short time which we had served together, whether it was minutes or hours, we had gone through things together that would bind us more closely than blood or even friendship. I reported him well. There was no statue in his image placed on an Amatharian street, because he was not a knight, but I would always remember him.

Chapter Thirty Four: Revelations

It wasn’t very long after the ceremony of Terril Jennofar, that while sitting in my home and continuing the writing of my journals, I had a most unusual visitor. It seemed that I had some time to myself for the first time, really, since I had returned to the city. Vena Remontar was at her duty station, and most of my friends, having already made a visit to my new home, were about their own business. I was finally looking forward to making a life for myself here. Then the door announcer spoke.

“Oldon Domintus is waiting at the door.”

I hadn’t thought much of the Temple of Amath lately, but the Overlord of the Templars had sought me out at home. It was with some trepidation that I went to open the door, remembering the unpleasant interrogation that I had experienced there. Still, he was the High Templar, and one couldn’t very well leave him standing at the step. I suddenly realized the real problem with the door announcer. If there was someone there at the door that you did not want to see, there was no way that you could claim not to have heard a knock, or not to have known who was there.

“Greetings Kurar Ka Oldon Domintus,” I said, letting the clean-shorn man enter.

“Greetings Kurar Alexander Ashton,” he said in reply. He walked into the living room and sat down upon the sofa, seeming far too comfortable for my tastes. “I am pleased to see you again. You have done well. Your kinsmen think highly of you.”

“That is nice to know,” I said. “What can I do for you?” This may sound abrupt in translation, but it was quite polite in Amatharian.

“We have need of you at the Temple,” he said. “It is a matter, though not of any urgency, of some importance.”

“May I ask what this matter is in regards to?”

“It is not something I wish to discuss outside of the Temple of Amath,” he replied. “I will be expecting you at 20175.”

I looked at the city cycle dial on the wall beside the front door. It read 20154, so I figured I had about two days as I reckoned time. There really wasn’t any opportunity for me to say no. Oldon Domintus was Kurar Ka so he outranked me, and though he was not of my clan, he was the High Templar, and that counted for quite a bit.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

“Very good,” he smiled. “I shall be waiting.”

As I have indicated, I was not really too keen on the whole idea of visiting the Temple of Amath again, but I had little choice. On the other hand, Vena Remontar thought that it would be a nice little excursion and a chance for us to spend a little time together. Just as I was getting ready to go, my betrothed arrived at the door, with her cousin, the Princess, in tow. It was the first time I had really seen her since our return to the great city, and she was as beautiful as ever. She didn’t even look as cold and uncaring as I remembered her. Yet next to Vena Remontar, she was like a portrait of a beautiful woman— a symbol representing what my betrothed really was.

“Look who I brought along,” said Vena Remontar.

“Greetings kinsman,” said the Princess.

“Greetings,” I replied. “You look well, Princess.”

“I am well. It feels very good to be home, and I stopped here to say thank you again for everything that you did. You helped my brother return home, set out with the fleet, searched through the Zoasian city and beyond, found me, and returned me to my people.”

“Been following my career, have you?”

I was rewarded with a rare smile. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

“My cousin is a lucky woman.”

“I am the lucky one,” I said.

The Princess did not go with us to the old district of Amathar, for which I was grateful. I wanted the experience to be just the same as the day that I had first spent with Vena Remontar, the day that I found my soul. Many things were the same. We took the shuttle train to the great station I still call “Grand Central.” We had lunch, or dinner, or something, at the small cafe in Kennis Berrontar’s park. This time, though I surprised my beautiful companion by ordering doir nyee, which turned out to be quite tasty. We took the sky train across the almost endless stretch of the two thousand mile (twenty five hundred kentad) city. And we finally arrived in the great central plaza, huge and majestic, lined with statues of stone, some as high as forty feet, and surging fountains, tall green hedge rows, and monstrous tile pictures. And two miles away, on the other side of the plaza, sat the great stepped pyramid Temple of Amath.

Almost immediately, we were approached by two of the bald templars, each in long brown robes.

“Greetings Kurar Remiant Alexander Ashton,” said the first.

“Greetings Remiant Vena Remontar,” said the second. “We will escort you to the temple of Amath, where the Overlord awaits.”

We followed the two across the great plaza in silence. I had become comfortable being close to Vena Remontar in silence. We had passed the stage of awkwardness often experienced by a couple early on in their relationship--that time when saying something, anything, was an imperative. The two bald heads in front of me, both of which exceeded the height of my own by a good four inches managed to make the situation uncomfortable. I felt as if I had to say something, and yet I could picture them whipping out their little plastic notebooks and copying anything I said.

“Alexander Ashton!” I heard from my right. I turned and saw Bentar Hissendar rushing toward me. I recognized his crest, a sun held by a hand, before I recognized his face. It seemed as though it had been an eternity since I had seen him. “Alexander Ashton.”

I grasped the Amatharian knight by the hand, and then clasped him in a great hug. “Bentar Hissendar,” I said. “It has been forever.”

“Indeed it has been a long time for me too,” he replied. “I saw you at Tular Maximinos’s ceremony, but didn’t have time to speak to you. You reported him well.”

“What brings you here?” I asked.

He laughed. “That is the kind of question that only you would ask. I am here to visit the Temple and see the monuments.”

“Oh,”

“We must be going,” said one of the templars.

“The High Templar is waiting,” said the other.

“He can wait!” I said, with far more vehemence than I meant. All four of the Amatharians seemed taken aback.

“I was coming to see you soon,” said Bentar Hissendar after a moment.

“Oh?”

“My uncle is planning an expedition to the chamber you and Norar Remontar found beneath the Mountains of the Orlons, and I am to command it. I could certainly use the expertise of one who has been there before, and since Norar Remontar is otherwise occupied, I thought that perhaps you would be interested in going along.”

“I would be happy to,” I said, thinking of the excitement of once again setting off on adventure. “I will begin getting ready.”

“There is no rush,” replied the smiling Amatharian. “We will not be leaving until after the wedding.”

“Wedding?” I wondered.

“Your wedding.”

“I wasn’t even aware that arrangements had begun in earnest,” I said looking at Vena Remontar.

“I know that you are not one for details,” she said, touching my cheek with the back of her hand, “so I have made the arrangements.”

“I will contact you,” promised Bentar Hissendar. “Farewell kinsman.”

He hurried off toward some distant building, and we continued on our way to the Temple. Our two escorts didn’t look particularly pleased with me, but I didn’t care. I knew that I had friends here in Amathar, and didn’t really care what the relatively cloistered group thought of me. We walked up the great flight of stairs in the front of the Temple and entered the great hall within. Continuing on, we were led further and further into the great structure. At last we were led into a large room where Oldon Domintus awaited.

“I am here,” I said.

“I once promised you that after you had answered our questions,” he said, “we would answer yours.”

“I remember.”

“Most of the answers you seek are here,” he handed me a book. I looked at the title. It was, written in Amatharian, “Word of Amath.”

“Thank you,” I said. I realized that I hadn’t seen this book in any of the many bookshelves I had scanned through, though I knew that every Amatharian carried a copy on his person. It seemed strange, but then many of the Amatharians’ ways were simply different.

“But there is more,” he said. “There is something more for you in there.”