The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter VII: Shizuki

And so, that is it now. Not even a memory of light remains. -- Helaena C. Moon

Ilaran had spent almost his entire life in Tananerl. He hadn't been born there, something he would very much like to forget for more than one reason, but it had been his home for so long it had almost become part of him. Immortals had a curious way of getting strongly attached to the place where they lived. Especially when they rarely ventured away from it. (Rumour had it some very old ones had actually become part of their homelands, part of the wind and the grass and the trees.)

Unfortunately this meant that leaving his home was almost physically painful. It was like pulling an old tree up from its roots and replanting it somewhere else, in unfamiliar ground under an unfamiliar sky, and expecting it to do well there. He spent his first two weeks in Eldrin almost hibernating in his wing of the Kelthír Palace[1]. He ventured out only to visit his uncle, or to pray at his mother's grave. It wasn't until just over a week before the Day of Comets that he finally felt able to go into Saoridhin society.

Even then he still felt dizzy and off-balance as he wrote to accept Prince Mihasrin's invitation to a dinner party. Ilaran had spent decades studying calligraphy. His handwriting was one of the few things about himself he could take genuine pride in. Yet today the lines were wobbly. The letters ran together. He crumpled up several attempts and started again. It made no difference. In disgust he scribbled the letter as quickly as possible and sealed it without looking at it again.

For the first time he would have a chance to pass Siarvin's warning on to Princess Abihira. He still hadn't thought of how. He knew perfectly well he'd already gained a reputation for being odd. Even so, walking up to a stranger at a dinner party and giving her a strange message would convince everyone he was a complete madman. What could he say anyway? "My aunt-by-marriage is planning something and she intends to use you because she thinks you're powerful enough to be a mage. Yes, I know there have been no mages for millennia and if you really were one the whole world would have heard of it by now." He could just imagine Princess Abihira's reaction.

Ilaran sent a servant to deliver the letter before he gave into the temptation to rewrite it for the umpteenth time.

When he closed the door and turned around he found a snake on his desk.

Snakes were a far too common sight in Tananerl. The vast majority of them were poisonous. And they had a most unpleasant tendency to get into the places they were least wanted. Ilaran's hand instinctively moved to one half of the hulaeð[2] at his waist. The snake watched him, motionless and apparently unconcerned. He forced himself to let go of the hilt.

"Hello, Lord Shizuki," Ilaran said, clasping his hands in front of him and trying to pretend he hadn't almost attacked his cousin.

The snake's appearance shifted and distorted until it was gone and Shizuki sat on the desk in its place. He swung his legs over the side like a small child perched on a chair too high for it. His plain loose robes had the same green colour and mottled brown stripes as his scales. For a minute Ilaran wondered if his scales became clothes, or if his clothes became scales.

"Hu. Lo," Shizuki said. His mouth moved awkwardly as he tried to form the word.

For the first time Ilaran realised having fangs and a forked tongue must make clear communication a nightmare. No wonder Shizuki had barely spoken in any of their previous meetings, apart from in that first meeting.

Ilaran's mother had beaten -- not physically, but the verbal equivalent -- certain rules of proper conduct into his head since before he was old enough to understand the difference between politeness and rudeness. One of them was that hospitality must be shown to all guests, no matter how unexpected, unwanted, or unusual.