The Lord of the Plains (38 page)

Messenger swallowed and smiled. ‘Sir, they
have different ways to ours.’ he said softly, not moving any closer
to speak more secretly with Mr Briggs. That would have been the
height of rudeness. He fervently hoped Mr Briggs would
follow
what he had told him about the etiquette here,
because he had no doubt he remembered. Messenger thought Mr Briggs
just didn’t think it important. Messenger hadn’t thought so at
first either.

‘What did he say his name was?’ Mr Briggs
asked.

‘Sir, we’ll address him as Speaker. They-
they do not give out their given names here.’

Mr Briggs heavy brows lowered as he glared
at Messenger.

Messenger bravely ignored him and said in
his own language, ‘The Master of the House of Briggs accepts your
welcome with delight.’ If they’d brought more people with them one
of them would have said the introduction and Messenger would have
translated it into Ravki. As it was, Recha translated for him.
Messenger hoped introducing Mr Briggs as the ‘Master’ of his house
had been the correct decision. It was a great honour to meet the
Master of a house, but it also suggested the Briggs House was
small, and had no Speakers to represent the House. The implications
gave Messenger a headache, and he pushed his concerns away as the
Speaker for the House of Corchanus began talking. His voice had a
rich cadence that made it a delight to listen to. He spoke slowly,
allowing each word to be savoured by his listeners. He, of course,
knew he had a lovely voice and it was a sign of his magnanimity
that he would allow those beneath him to hear its beauty.

The Speaker went on for some time, and
Messenger knew from experience it would seem even longer to Mr
Briggs, who couldn’t understand a word of it.

While he was speaking Messenger translated
briefly. ‘He welcomes us to Cavachi and hopes our peoples will
become friends.’

He had said a lot more than that, none of
which Mr Briggs would appreciate. When the Speaker was finished,
however, Recha began translating the entire speech for Mr Briggs.
Mr Briggs nodded curtly once Recha was done.

Messenger froze. He had to say something. He
had to at least open his mouth so Messenger could make something
up!

Mr Briggs glanced at him. ‘Astar holds the
same hope. I’m sure this will be a very useful meeting for the both
of us.’

Messenger smiled weakly at Recha as he began
translating something a little more flowery and appropriate to the
Vachi. Recha, of course, knew Messenger was making things up. His
dark eyes widened in surprise. He knew Messenger, and Messenger had
told him often that his people were very curt and practical, but he
supposed seeing it from Mr Briggs was still a surprise.

Recha said nothing however, and Messenger
relaxed.

As they started walking up the trail the
Speaker resumed talking. Now that the introductions were finished
Messenger would translate the words of the Vachi, and Recha would
translate Mr Briggs’ words. Over the course of the trip they would
switch back again many times. The rules about who translated for
who were very particular and convoluted.

‘We will be staying in this man’s home.’
Messenger said to Mr Briggs. ‘We’ll be allowed to rest in our rooms
until this evening, when we’ll dine and enjoy a small performance.
Tomorrow we’ll have a tour of Cavachi.’

‘Hmph. I see. And when will we discuss an
alliance?’

Recha told the man in blue that Mr Briggs
was delighted and humbled by his great generosity.

Chapter 29

Messenger watched Mr Briggs nervously as he
slowly examined the room. His austere visage was slack and his eyes
widened ever so slightly.

The House of Corchanus was inside the
mountain. If anyone lived in the palace on the mountainside,
Messenger was unaware of it.

Their room was cut out of the rock, and the
walls were polished to a gleam. The floor was tiled in intricate
and breathtaking designs, which were mostly covered by rich, dark
carpets. Delicately painted screens separated sections of the room.
The screens were mainly painted in floral designs, though some were
geometric. The furniture was made out of a dark polished wood and
decorated with vibrant cloths and pillows of colours Messenger had
never known existed. Carved into the stone of the walls were even
more visions of beauty. Some of the carvings were coloured with
paint while others were simply polished to bring out the colours of
the rock. The carvings were again mainly floral or geometric or
some mix of the two. Tunnels in the mountainside allowed light and
fresh air into the room. During the day the carefully placed
openings looked like miniature suns, blazing away. They cast a
warm, yellow light over the room which was reflected in the
polished, gleaming rock. During the night the colour would change
slightly, as it was no longer the sun, so far away, providing
light, but some machine. Delicate little screens could be drawn
over the light holes to dim, or darken, the room.

Messenger cleared his throat. ‘You can put
your clothes in there, sir, if you like.’ Messenger said, gesturing
at a wooden wardrobe that by itself had more beauty in it than the
whole of Astar. ‘This is the sleeping area.’ Messenger moved aside
a screen and gestured at a giant, man sized pillow. It was pink
with a golden fringe. Other pillows, some just one colour, others
with designs on them, were scattered around the pillow. ‘I can
assure you, it’s quite comfortable. You’ll get an excellent rest
here.’

Mr Briggs goggled silently.

Messenger’s pillow was behind another
screen. It was smaller and less fluffy than the pink pillow, to
reflect his lower status.

‘Um,’ he moved on hurriedly. ‘This door
leads to the household baths. I can show you if you like.’

Mr Briggs looked at the carved wooden door
intently. If the door had been an Astarian soldier it would have
been trembling in its Reismal body armour.

‘Yes, yes, lead the way.’

Despite the heavy look to the door, it
opened smoothly onto a long tunnel. The floor was tiled, the walls
again polished and reflecting light that originated far away.

Mr Briggs stepped into the tunnel behind him
and Messenger let the door swing shut. It closed without a sound.
There was no doorknob on the door, on any doors, but neither were
they locked, so opening them was no trouble.

As they walked down the tunnel Messenger
noticed the tiles were not smooth. They had little knobs on them.
He knew from his many visits to Cavachi that this was to provide
purchase for wet and slippery feet.

As they walked the sound of water echoed
through the tunnel and the air became damp. When they rounded a
corner they found themselves in a large cavern.

The chamber contained a number of large
pools, surrounded by those same non-slippery tiles. The rock,
cleaned but otherwise left in its natural state rose above, so high
the top of the cavern disappeared into darkness. Lights pinpointed
that darkness like stars in the night sky.

Messenger loved the baths. They were perhaps
the least decorated part of Cavachi, which was maybe why he felt
more at home here. They usually contained nothing except tiles,
natural rock walls and the smell and sounds of freshwater.

They had hardly been there a second when an
attendant asked them if he could be of assistance.

‘Would you like to bathe?’ Messenger asked
Mr Briggs, who had gone a little pale.

He gazed around the wide open cavern. A
number of people were already in the baths. Some were sitting and
chatting sedately in the heated water, while in other pools
children were splashing and playing.

‘There are private rooms, if that would suit
you, sir.’ Messenger offered.

Mr Briggs glanced at Messenger. ‘Y-yes, that
would be good.’

Messenger spoke to the assistant, who with a
smile, began leading them to the private bathing areas.

In Astar there were no baths. There were
showers. The showers were public, but not public in the sense that
you showered with other people. Messenger thought Mr Briggs might
well faint when he saw he would get an entire bath all to himself,
or a select group of friends if that’s what he wanted. Messenger
rather doubted Mr Briggs would be inviting anyone to bathe with
him.

The private baths were in separate, smaller
caverns. When they entered one of the vacant baths Mr Briggs looked
even more lost. The ‘private’ bath had room for ten people to bathe
comfortably. On the wall opposite the door were shelves and hooks
where clothes and other items might be stored.

When they arrived the assistant asked if it
was suitable. Messenger assured him it was. The assistant asked if
they would need any soaps, brushes or bath salts and so on and so
forth. Messenger had learned there were many lotions, potions and
implements necessary to bathe properly in Cavachi.

Messenger asked for the least he could
without seeming to be an uncivilized, smelly, barbarian. He didn’t
translate the conversation for Mr Briggs.

While the assistant was gone Messenger
soothingly told Mr Briggs how he was to go about bathing. Then came
another troublesome question. It was a mark of the Speaker of the
Master of the House of Corchanus’ wealth and status that he had
warming rocks for his guests, family and servants to dry themselves
on. It was a sign of bad taste and poor planning to need to use a
piece of cloth to dry oneself. The people of Cavachi much preferred
to drape themselves over rocks and be dried by the light of the
sun. Or whatever light they used to fake it down in the
mountain.

Mr Briggs already looked alarmed enough.
Being tired was not a good enough excuse to use a towel to dry
oneself. One could always sleep on the rocks after all. Messenger
thought about it a bit more and smiled.

When the assistant returned Messenger told
him Mr Briggs was eager to get back to their rooms and continue his
study on the Vachi code of conduct. While they of course had their
own complicated code in Astar, it was different to the one in
Cavachi and Mr Briggs didn’t want to dishonour himself or his hosts
because of his ignorance.

Nodding his understanding, the assistant was
more than happy to bring them towels.

When they returned to their rooms Messenger
suggested Mr Briggs take a nap before the dinner theatre. Mr
Briggs, who looked nearly catatonic at this point, complied without
a word.

Messenger watched Mr Briggs become
increasingly frustrated. Once again Messenger leant in to remind
him this was important to the Vachi, and that they were very
different people and to please be patient.

They were sitting on colourful cushions.
Across their laps were little tables of richly carved dark wood.
Atop the tables were delicate trays with carefully arranged food.
Already they had gone through three trays. The trays were made of
very thin jewels or glass. They were translucent and beautiful and
incredibly fragile. The current tray was pale green with little
white flowers painted discreetly around the edge. Sapphire chips
formed the centre of the flowers. Messenger loved these little
trays. In Cavachi beauty could be found in the smallest detail or
the largest cavern. Mr Briggs paid no attention to the little
trays. He was getting frustrated with the little portions of food.
To Messenger, it was a myriad of tastes and smells that always made
the food in Astar taste like cardboard. He enjoyed a meal like this
the most, as he got to try many dishes. Mr Briggs ate mechanically
and glared at the finicky plates and bowls and unfulfilling
portions of food.

Currently arrayed on Messenger’s tray was a
small bowl made of clear glass with blue swirled into it. It held a
small salad of cheese, nuts, some green leafy vegetable and a
delightfully refreshing sauce. It was in the upper left corner. On
a square plate in the lower left was a crispy, red vegetable
stuffed with a minty puree of something. In the upper right was a
rectangular plate. A row of five small mushrooms of some variety
draped with a thick tasty sauce adorned that plate. In the lower
right was a cup in the shape of a rose bud. In it was rose
flavoured water.