Charlie Madigan: Shadows Before The Sun Part 10

"You might be my personal bodyguard, but within the confines of the palace, attending meals and meetings, to carry a weapon is to suggest the place unsafe. It would be an offense to our host to attend the banquet armed. And you can't go dressed like my bodyguard."

"All of which I do know." I shoved the last bite of bread into my mouth.

"Good. Then let's go shopping."

The hall was lit with small lanterns set into niches in the walls. Alessandra walked ahead of me, the fine material of her midnight blue gown flowing out behind her and making shadowy waves on the walls. Wind and string instruments echoed down the pa.s.sageway in an exotic melody.

And even though the sights and sounds were beautiful and mesmerizing, I was unarmed and feeling completely exposed and antsy.

Don't attack the Circe on sight, I repeated, knowing myself and knowing as soon as I laid eyes on the old b.i.t.c.hes I'd want to rip their collective throats out. Don't kill the Circe. Don't react at all.

"They are eerily insightful," Sandra had counseled me as we got ready-her in some kind of traditional gown with yards of gauzy fabric and me in loose pants that fell like cool silk and matching tunic with long, flowing sides. "They pick up the smallest vibes. Think of them as a pack of drug-sniffing dogs, and we just lit up a joint back in our room."

I'd just stared at her with a you-did-not-just-say-that look. She sniffed and returned to the mirror to fix her hair. "Oh, please. Like you never smoked a bowl back in the day."

"Oh my G.o.d." I couldn't help it. I buried my face in my hands and started laughing. Sandra responded with a chuckle that caught fire until she was laughing as hard as me, holding her side and getting teary-eyed.

I was beginning to think Sandra and Rex would make the perfect couple. They both were walking contradictions and both came up with the most off-the-wall s.h.i.+t. Like most off-worlders, they were a unique blend of ancient being and pop-culture junkie. They stayed true to their ident.i.ties, but they embraced human culture and all the fun things like fas.h.i.+on, entertainment, technology . . .

Alessandra's choice of a.n.a.logy might be lighthearted, but she was right. I had to play my part; had to be a simple observer on a pleasant trip with my benevolent-as Sandra had put it-boss.

The hallway emptied into a ma.s.sive covered courtyard, the roof supported by giant round columns set in a rectangular pattern that followed the shape of the courtyard. A large fire burned in the center of the room and there was a wide circular opening in the roof above it.

Long tables ringed three sides of the room, the fourth was left bare and completely open to the outside. People milled about under the roof and in the open courtyard.

As we moved deeper into the area, a wave of silence suddenly flowed from one end of the room to the other. Everyone dropped to one knee. Except me. Because I was frozen. Not by the sight of the sirens sweeping into the room, but by the two creatures walking on either side of a handler.

Short-haired and as tall as Great Danes, bodies sleek and muscular and colored like lions. Wings folded back against their sides with feathers ticked with a succession of tan, brown, reddish brown, and finally red at the tips. They wore thick leather collars and had heads like an eagle only ten times bigger. And ears tipped with the same red as their feathers.

Sandra yanked me down with a glare. "They're just griffins," she whispered as though seen-one-seen-them-all. Uh, yeah. Not this human.

I went down on one knee, totally missing the announcement part of the royal entrance. I knew the worlds of Elysia and Charbydon were full of creatures we'd never seen before and some that we'd seen carved and painted all over ancient walls of our past. Lions, birds, dolphins, goats, snakes . . . these animals had been depicted all over the Mediterranean right alongside griffins, sphinxes, mermaids, and other mythical creatures.

I knew they existed in Elysia and had once existed in our world, but to see not one but two, in the flesh, being led to a spot behind the table where they sat like regal statues, was extraordinary. Em would love to see this.

Activity resumed. Music, laughter, conversation mingled with the clink of gla.s.ses and the snap of the fire. We were led toward the far side of the room where the royals had taken up position behind their table. Toward the majestic griffins.

Pelos found us, led us the rest of the way through the crowd, and made introductions to the royal family. While Sandra chatted with the royals, I scanned the a.s.sembly, searching for the three old hags until Sandra pulled me next to her. "My a.s.sistant is captivated by your griffins, my lord. They are truly magnificent. I have not seen one in quite some time."

"Are they not extraordinary?" The siren king, Aersis, beamed, casting a glance behind him. "And so rare. These two are the last mating pair in this part of Elysia." He eyed me. "Would you like an introduction?"

I blanched. "Thank you for the offer, but . . . I think I'll admire them from here if that's okay." At a safe distance.

The king laughed. "A most wise decision." I wasn't sure if he was messing with me or if he was serious, but I definitely didn't want to find out.

As Sandra spoke with the king and his queen, I returned to my search. No hags in attendance as far as I could see, though my gaze did snag on something. Someone. s.h.i.+t. Not good.

I recognized one of the sirens who had traveled to Atlanta to apprehend Hank. The same one who had grabbed me in the parking lot when I was travel drunk. He stood with a group of male sirens and they all looked deadly and ready to meet any challenge or threat.

At the time of our altercation, I'd just gotten back from Charbydon. I was bloodied, bruised, covered in gray sand and grit. Now I was healed, washed, my hair was dyed, and Sandra had convinced me to pull it back and to dress in feminine attire. I didn't look anything like the woman who had stumbled out of Charbydon. And more important, I had to act my part.

He, too, was scanning the crowd, and inevitably, his gaze came to me. I was human. He was siren. As such it'd be natural for me to acknowledge him because that's what humans did, they admired sirens, and that was putting it lightly. He gave me a brief, unimpressed once-over and then moved on.

a.s.shole.

We followed the king and Pelos down the table. Sandra's fingers dug sharply into my skin as we stopped. I went still and focused, getting her message loud and clear: Circe dead ahead. I began my chant from earlier.

Don't kill the Circe. Don't kill the Circe.

"May I present our beloved advisors," the king said, moving aside. "Arethusa, Calliadne, and Ephyra."

They weren't what I'd expected. Not old or bent over or cackling like Halloween witches. No, the Circe were beautiful. Flawless. Regal. Nearly identical in size, height, and looks, except for eye color and small differences in the fullness of lips, the slant of the eyes . . . All three were decked out in deep burgundy gowns. Their hair, so pale a blonde it looked nearly white, was piled onto their heads and draped with jewels.

A creepy sense of unease replaced the initial shock. At first, I couldn't figure out what it was and then as I studied them, I began to realize that their beauty was deceptive. Unnatural. Something I knew on a sensory level was wrong.

"Honored," Arethusa said to Alessandra.

"Yes, honored." Calliadne.

"To have you here." Ephyra.

Oh G.o.d. A s.h.i.+ver went down my spine, and I had to concentrate on not shuddering at the sound of their voices. The singsong quality was so profound, so exquisitely beautiful it made me want to weep. They were so powerful the amulet Light.w.a.ter had given to me burned against my chest. I could only imagine what it would've been like without that protection.

Alessandra made a respectful bow. "As I am honored to be here." She straightened and moved a bit to the side. "May I present my a.s.sistant . . ." Oh s.h.i.+t. We hadn't actually discussed an alias. "Carly Madison."

I coughed in reaction. Her head whipped around, eyes widening in warning and irritation. I recovered, offering apologies, and bowed my head, acknowledging the Circe with all the feigned respect I could muster.

Carly Madison? Really? I half expected someone to slap handcuffs on me or shoot me with a lightning bolt right then and there.

The weight of the Circe's regard felt like a boulder on my submissive shoulders. But it was only a second before their attention returned to the oracle.

Arethusa, of the sharp green eyes, swept Alessandra with a measuring gaze. "Your reputation precedes you, prophetess."

"We hear your gift is astonis.h.i.+ngly accurate," Calliadne added, her blue eyes narrowing as if trying to ascertain that fact for herself.

"Matching that of the first oracle of Delphi," the last Circe completed the triple play. Ephyra's eyes were a strange yellow-brown and they relayed a humor the others hadn't-all malevolence and bad intentions like a hungry cat deciding how best to enjoy its meal.

"Surpa.s.sing it, actually," Alessandra answered.

"Ah, yes."

"And, thus, you were blessed with immortality."

"Whereas your mother was not."

They spoke in the same order as before, so I pegged Arethusa as either the eldest, the strongest, or the smartest of the group. Possibly all three.

The music stopped once more and a deep bell preceded servers spilling into the room with food. The banquet had begun.

"Enjoy your meal."

"We shall talk more after."

"Yes, more."

Alessandra and I were shown our seats, which were thankfully on the other side of the royal family, away from the Circe. Food was laid out in front of us-platters of fruits, vegetables, roasted meats, fresh breads . . .

And none of it was appealing. My stomach was in knots. It had taken everything I had to stand there, right there, in the Circe's presence and not do a thing. But it was done. Sandra had gotten us this far, and soon we'd be invited into their inner sanctum. Soon, Hank. Soon.

Once the food and drinks were deposited, female performers swept into the center of the room and made a circle around the fire pit. They were dressed in sheer gowns, their light hair long and loose. They wore sh.e.l.l necklaces and anklets.

"Ah, fabulous!" Sandra exclaimed, leaning closer to the shoulder of the king. "It has been quite some time since I've enjoyed this type of entertainment, and in such magnificent company."

Go, Sandra. Schmoozing with royalty was apparently no problem for the oracle, but then she'd been around for two thousand years, give or take, gaining influence, respect, reputation. If nothing else, she'd definitely earned the outrageous confidence and ego.

Her words pleased the siren king. "Then this shall be a memorable occasion for you." The music began. "The Song of Panope commemorates the primal G.o.ddess of the sea gifting us, her creation, with the Source Words. It is a dance you won't see anywhere but here in Fiallan."

While sirens could manipulate energy, heal themselves, and have extraordinarily long lives just like most races of Elysia and Charbydon, their true and unique gift lay in their voice, and in speaking words of power. But I'd never heard of Source Words before. The only time I'd ever witnessed a siren using a word of power was when Hank had used one on the roof of Helios Tower. It had flattened everything and everyone, but it had cost him a week's worth of recuperating time.

The dancers twirled around the fire, their movements fast and frenzied, in sync with the loud drumbeats. "It begins with Panope waging war against the fire deity to claim the land around the sea. It was hers by right since it rose from the sea itself during the time of Chaos," the king translated in between mouthfuls of meat.

The drums stopped. The dancers faced the fire, bent over, hands out to the flames, flames that gradually turned to water. The music turned soft and ethereal. They straightened, moving around the water as it rose and gathered shape into a vague semblance of a female. I had to admit it was breathtaking to watch.

"From the essence of the sea and the deity, we were then created to hold the land. She gifted us life, gave us her song, and won us this land. We are the true heirs of Elysia."

"I'm sure the Adonai would disagree with that," Alessandra said, neutrally.

The king spat. "This world existed long before the Creator chose it as the home for his . . . experiments. The sirens, nymphs, fae . . . we are all born of this world, all rose from it as children of the primal deities who resided here in the sea, the earth, the air. We, as their descendants, are the rightful heirs of this land. Just as the jinn are to Charbydon and the Neanderthals were to Earth." He waved a hand, and it was pretty clear this particular tirade was a favorite. "n.o.ble races. Ha! There is nothing n.o.ble about settling a land that is not your own with some master race designed to rule it."

He proceeded to curse the Adonai.

All this was prehistory, of course. And some would argue that the Adonai had as much claim as anyone else. When they came to Elysia, the place was devoid of any civilizations. The beings that did inhabit the world were on par with cave-dwelling mankind, or so the story went. The Adonai had lived in Elysia so long that there weren't many who'd consider them "settlers," exactly.

"Here is where the deity gifted us with the Source Words," the king said as the magically dancing water began to sparkle, small dots of light took shape, and they linked together to coil around the watery form in what appeared to be a long strand of starry pearls. Only the pearls I knew didn't possess a burning inner light. "The words were given to us, inscribed on the jewels of the sea." I realized that the glow wasn't coming from inside the pearly "jewels" but from small inscriptions on each one. "Had not the words been lost, we might have defeated the Adonai and ruled supreme."

I waited for Sandra to inquire what had happened to the words, but she simply nodded; she already knew. I, however, was in the dark, so I couldn't help leaning over my plate to ask, "What happened to the words?"

The king drained his wine and then set it down hard on the table, leaning past Sandra to pierce me with a cold blue stare. "Stolen."

"Not all of them," Sandra amended, glancing to me. "But the most powerful ones disappeared shortly after they were given. Many believed Panope took them back, the words being too powerful to be in such young hands. Others believed the Adonai stole them."

It was obvious from the king's dark look which one he believed.

"Is that what started the war?" I asked.

"Not specifically, no," Sandra answered as the king's attention was drawn away by his wife. "The war came thousands of years later when the sirens stole a relic from the Adonai. Many believed the theft was in retaliation for the theft of their Source Words."

"Long time to hold a grudge," I said as Sandra bit into a grape. "If they knew the Source Words, though, why couldn't they use them to defeat the Adonai? Wouldn't the words be pa.s.sed down orally anyway?"

"To understand, you must know siren history. When the sirens were given their power and the Source Words, each family was given a specific word. The study of each word shaped the abilities and the contribution each siren family made to the community. As time pa.s.sed, the words became embedded into the very essence of their lineage and power. Think of it in terms of the Greek G.o.ds. You have G.o.ds of love, war, hate, beauty, nature, air, thunder, wisdom . . . This idea came from the sirens, from their control of an attribute and the ability to wield it in all its varied forms.

"There are some who believe that each siren family was already preprogrammed to bond with the word given to them. It was built into their DNA, if you will. But with some of the words gone, certain families did not develop as others did. They did, however, triumph, becoming great warriors instead. They trained fanatically in physical combat and they employed mages to train them in the arcane. When war with the Adonai finally did come, they were ready, and they became instrumental."

It wasn't a leap to figure it out. "The Malakim came from those families." And Hank was one of them.

Alessandra nodded.

"What were the words that were stolen?"

"Creation, Chaos, and Destruction."

Goose b.u.mps spread up my arms. I could see why the deity might have taken them back. And, if they were stolen by the Adonai, their motive was pretty clear. Taking away the sirens' most powerful weapons despite the fact that the Adonai couldn't wield them was a d.a.m.ned good strategy.

I was betting on the Adonai. "So what do you think happened?"

She shrugged, her attention on the food and the dancers. "It's not something I have foreseen."

The dance ended. Applause filled the room. But it all seemed to fade into the background as my thoughts turned inward. Maybe it was a good thing the sirens lost their words. Things might be very different today had they not.

I'd actually been in the house of a Malakim family, one who had, despite the theft of their words, risen to become significant players in the history of their world. And the Circe had chosen them, or their children to be specific, to protect the city. Why them? Hadn't they done enough? But I already knew even as the questions came. The Circe had chosen them because of what lay dormant inside of them.

The Malakim might've been lacking their own words, but inside they had to be extremely powerful, powerful enough to wield the stolen Source Words. If a choice had to be made, if all the warriors were off fighting against the Adonai and the city was threatened, who better to choose than the powerful sons of those warriors?

But why continue the practice? That was a question only the Circe could answer. Their creation of the towers secured them a spot as advisors to the royal family. But they'd continued to breed fear into the hearts of the siren people-always keeping the threat of another Adonai war in the forefront of their minds. And no one questioned this after all this time. The royal family had become nothing but figureheads with no real power at all.

10.

Sandra had been preening for the last half hour, ever since we'd returned from the banquet wherein I did not, in fact, kill the Circe. My restraint, however, put me in a p.i.s.s poor mood; I was more frustrated and impatient than ever.

"If you say I told you so one more time, I swear to G.o.d, Sandra, I will choke the words right out of you." I propped my feet on the edge of the table in front of the couch.

"Touchy, aren't we?" She dropped onto the cus.h.i.+on across from me. "But I did say so, didn't I? They played right into my hands. It was perfect, and now we have our invitation into the Circe's inner sanctum to take part in their Panopeic rites, an honor rarely granted, after which I will do my thing and read the leaves." She stopped her self-adulation and pierced me with a flat look. "You should be happy. Why aren't you happy?"

"Well, it's kind of hard to feel happy given the situation Hank is in. But I am glad we're making progress."

"I made progress," she corrected. "You just gawked at the griffins." After a long moment of silent regard, she asked, "You really care so much for this siren of yours, then?"

"Of course I do." My response was immediate. "You should know."