Island of Echoes Page 7
“His highness will be so pleased you chose to don our attire,” she acknowledged, and I smugly translated the message. “But the outfit is incomplete for evening wear,” she informed us politely and opened one of the tall wooden chests beside the door.
She produced two pieces of sheer white cloth, identical to her own, which she secured around our necks like capes. Rather than hung down our back, they were likewise worn askew down our sides and secured to our shoulder with a round copper broach. I looked at the pin and saw that it was adorned with a carving of the sun. He had a face in the center, eyes wide, his mouth smiling as if he possessed some secret lost to the rest of us.
“Now you are ready for dinner with the King,” she proclaimed.
We were led five stories down the stairway to a corridor likewise lined with three doorways. If my memory of the tower’s architecture was accurate, we were directly above the throne room. I noticed that the central doorway in the hall was decorated more prominently, with a carved stone border around a double door. I tried to examine the frieze in detail but the sunlight was fading too quickly. Etia Sarmia pushed the doors open and we stepped into a fantasy.
The chamber within was twice the height of our apartment and thoroughly Egyptian in design. Many thick columns, covered in hieroglyphs, protruded from the polished limestone floor. Their crowns were painted in bright blues and greens and they fanned out at the ceiling to resemble bundled papyrus reeds. Sheer silk panels of matching colors hung throughout the space so that it appeared as if were surrounded in a colorful mist; the room felt both contained and infinite at the same time. The panels billowed in a slight breeze and I saw that the immense outer wall of curved glass had an opening across its center, allowing the sea breeze to enter the room.
Beautiful music, unlike any I have ever heard before, resounded throughout, though I could not locate its source. It was a serene composition of delicate beats amidst echoing bamboo flutes, and it only intensified the already-enigmatic atmosphere. The ceiling, twenty five feet above us, likewise had a large flower carved into it. But where the one in our apartment resembled a rose, this one was a lotus. To my great surprise, the blossom was illuminated from within. It did not flicker with the light of candles and I realized it was electric, though nothing like the bright arc lamps of our larger cities. On the contrary, it saturated the chamber in a pleasant glow of ambient light.
Etia Sarmia led us though the colorful trappings to a low rectangular dining table of beautiful acacia wood which stood closer to the glass wall. Its legs were composed of dark stone and fashioned to resemble sitting sphinxes in pharaonic crowns. A thick rust-colored rug lay beneath, much of its design weaved with shimmering metallic threads. Hefty round cushions lined the edges of the table in place of chairs. Our place settings were once again made up of square clay plates and weighty unadorned silverware. The advisor guided Rémy and I toward the two cushions just to the right of the table’s head and I spotted Father Daniel scowl at the invitation. We faced the windows and I admired the beautiful colors of sunset as we prepared to dine.
King Eireas silently materialized out of the billowing silks a few moments later. “Good evening,” he acknowledged us in Latin and we returned the greeting. His elaborate throne garb had been replaced by a tunic identical to my own, though light blue in color. Only the beautiful silver laurel wreath atop his head distinguished his position. He gracefully took a seat at the head of the table and the rest of us likewise settled onto our respective cushions. Etia Sarmia took a seat opposite me, just to the left of the King, with Father Daniel beside her.
“I hope you had a pleasant afternoon,” the King added.
“Very pleasant, your highness,” Father Daniel announced. “We are humbled by your hospitality.”
King Eireas smiled. “I am delighted to have you as my guests. I had the palace prepare some of our favorite traditional recipes in your honor.”
As if on cue, servants appeared from within the great columns, one for each diner, and approached us with bowls of warm scented water. We followed our hosts’ example and dipped our hands into the soapy liquid. My serving girl handed me a small towel to dry off and I nodded my thanks. The servants then disappeared into the silks just as silently as they had come.
A young man came around with a large amphora of wine and proceeded to fill our metal goblets.
“Our first course is composed of toasted sesame bread, goat’s cheese, and honeyed mice,” Etia Sarmia divulged.
“Mice?” Father Daniel shuddered.
“Yes, a delicacy since ancient times,” the advisor confirmed proudly.
“Though Capribo spices them a bit differently,” the King added, “with cinnamon and saffron in the glaze.”
“Your excellency,” the priest began cautiously, “mice are considered vermin within our culture. To be seen at a dinner table would be enough to make us lose our appetites.”
The King shot a questioning look to his advisor. “I am grateful for the information,” he answered politely. “We did not consider your dietary customs and I apologize.” He spoke a few sentences of his melodic language to the wine servant and the young man nodded and disappeared out of the chamber.
King Eireas looked to us and shrugged his shoulders. “To quote one of our ancient philosophers, ‘a road in different lands is paved with different stones.’ I suppose cultural differences are bound to reveal themselves.”
“Well said, your majesty,” Father Daniel cooed.
“Speaking of different stones,” I said, “can you shed some light on the nature of your roads? The stones are unlike anything I have seen before.”
“Ah yes,” the King responded, “They are made to look like stone, but they are made of thelísta. Stones crack quite regularly, but thelísta is much more durable.”
“I am not familiar with this compound,” I admitted.
“Capribo used to have stone roads,” Etia Sarmia chimed in, “but they were replaced with thelísta about two hundred years ago.”
“The cobblestones we walked on were two hundred years old?” Father Daniel piped. “They looked entirely new.”
The King nodded. “But they are not actually stones. The road is rolled out into the earth like a rug, and only the top layer is fashioned to resemble separate pieces. Upkeep has been greatly limited by this change, which provides support for many other infrastructure projects.”
“That is astounding!” I exclaimed. “Just think what that would do for our cities,” I told the priest.
A few servants entered the room and began laying down platters of bread and cheese. The other delicacy was gratefully absent. Father Daniel and I took the opportunity to fill our companions in on the conversation.
“It is amazing that an isolated land could have discovered so much on its own,” Ella commented.
“Yes, and now they have a monopoly on at least one lucrative export,” I mused aloud, my mind already swimming with trade agreements and tariff forms.
Our hosts began to pile their plates with the hors d’oeuvres and we followed suit.
“But enough about us,” the King asserted. “I would like to know more about you. I am curious about what you do in your native land.” His dark green eyes looked around the table.
“We originate in many different lands,” I clarified.
“Truly?” his voice betrayed genuine surprise.
“Yes,” Father Daniel confirmed. “We come from many nations and young Mr. Laurence originates on the other side of the globe.”
Etia Sarmia and the King looked at each other. “Incredible,” he told her. I could only surmise the multitude of questions they had for us. The world was a much smaller place the last time Capribo had contact with it.
“And what did you do there?” the King asked me.
“I went to school for many years in the study of history,” I declared. “I was on a research trip shortly before I met everyone here.”
The King smiled. “Then we are companions of the m
ind. I, too, study history,” he disclosed. “And what about your friend?”
“Rémy and his uncle work on the ship which carried us here, and the two ladies own a large estate which provides work for many farmers.” I could only guess at the latter, but it was a safe assumption and I did not want to put the women on the spot.
“And you, Father?” King Eireas inquired. “How did you come by such a unique title?”
“I am a messenger of God,” Father Daniel boasted.
The King took a sip of wine and scrutinized the priest. “A messenger of God?” he echoed.
“Yes, your highness. I travel the world to spread the word of our Lord.”
“I see,” King Eireas noted flatly, putting his goblet down. “And what does that work look like?”
“I help bring salvation to the poor and hungry of the world,” Father Daniel began, and he proudly recounted his latest mission in Africa while we ate.
Great platters of roasted hare, braised vegetables, several types of fish, and bowls of beans were placed on the table for our second course while the priest expounded his travels. The food was incredibly delicious, with succulent juices pouring out of the meat at every slice. I was most impressed by the agreeable cuisine and I could see that my companions keenly shared the sentiment.
“What an interesting religion,” King Eireas finally concluded when the priest finished his recollection.
Father Daniel stiffened in his seat. “How so?”
“It is so external,” the King explained. “You require so much in order to sustain it. It reminds me of the sacrifices which were demanded by the priests of ancient times,” he added with a chuckle.
“On the contrary,” Father Daniel blushed, “we are taught that all we need is our own faith.”
“Yours? Or everyone else’s?” the King shot back.
“What do you mean?”
“From the tale you just told, I would think your religion is more focused on spreading than being practiced.” King Eireas casually took another sip from his goblet.
“But are those not the same?” the priest countered. “I am a man educated in religion. Just as any teacher, it is my duty to spread truth to distant lands.”
The King smirked. “I am the leader of a nation, Father, an upholder of its laws. There is no such thing as truth, only belief. Laws cannot hold beliefs, therefore they must be accepting of all.”
Etia Sarmia looked at me nervously and proceeded to pick at her plate.
“Can someone please tell us what is happening?” Lady Pearson murmured, who sensed the change in atmosphere.
“It’s alright,” I replied hopefully. “Father Daniel was informing our hosts of his work as a missionary.”
“Which they don’t appreciate at all!” the priest added with annoyance.
“Well for heaven’s sake, change the subject!” Lady Pearson implored.
“Yes,” Travert agreed. “Can you ask them about getting help for our ship? They’ve been nothing but agreeable so far and I’d like to catch them before our visit turns into an imposition.”
I nodded and turned back to our hosts. “As you said, your highness, cultural differences will continue to expose themselves.” I smiled and took a sip of wine. “This food is absolutely delicious,” I added for good measure.
“I am so pleased you like it,” Etia Sarmia remarked with a big smile.
“My companions and I are curious,” I queried tactfully, “if you would be kind enough to assist us in the repair of our ship so that we may continue our journey home.”
The King calmly looked up at me and I met his deep gaze. He did not say anything for a while but simply studied my expression.
“It pains me greatly to be the bearer of bad news,” he began slowly, and I could feel my stomach tighten with every word, “but now that you are here, I am afraid you can never again return to your world.”
CHAPTER 8
“I beg your pardon?” Father Daniel barked. “Is this some kind of jest?”
The King met his glower with calm resolve. “It truly does pain me to say it, but it is no jest.”
“So what is this charade?” the priest raised his voice, motioning to the table. “Are all your future prisoners entertained so lavishly?”
“You are not prisoners,” King Eireas said. “We were not lying when we said you…” but Father Daniel interrupted him.
“Tell me he’s not serious,” he implored the advisor at his side.
“I am afraid he is, Father,” Etia Sarmia echoed with a saddened expression. “But you misunderstand us; we do not mean you any harm.” The priest took a breath but the scowl on his face remained unchanged.
“Your highness,” I supplicated, “do not find insult in my words, for we find your island to be a center of both marvel and beauty. But whatever its charms, surely you must understand that we cannot linger here for the remainder of our lives. This is your home, but it is not ours. We have lives and families which we cannot abandon, even to the will of a King.”
The King’s eyes were cast down at his wine goblet. He appeared distraught and his chiseled jaw clenched as he processed his thoughts.
“Mr. Laurence,” he finally responded. “Your words touch me greatly, more than you may imagine. And I sincerely wish that it was my will which was keeping you here. Alas, my will would have already had you safely back aboard your ship.”
“If it is not your will,” I reasoned, “then why keep us here?”
“Even if you were to leave these shores right now,” the King explained, “to take a ship and return to where you came from, you couldn’t. The world you left behind is no longer there.”
Father Daniel was now fully crimson in the face. I could see the veins in his forehead throbbing as he digested the words. “Well I will not sit here and listen to such rubbish,” he threw his cutlery onto the table with a metallic thud and stood up. “I thank you, your highness, for your kind welcome,” he stated sarcastically.
Two purple-clad sentries instantly appeared from within the silks but the King lifted his hand and they held their distance.
“What is all this?” Travert demanded angrily.
“His great majesty has just proclaimed us all slaves!” Daniel hissed.
Lady Pearson jumped in her seat.
“What?!” Travert bellowed.
“We won’t accomplish anything by making such a show,” I pointed out. “We must try to reason with them.”
“They’ll be no reasoning with these barbarians!” Daniel warned.
“And he did not proclaim us slaves,” I added quickly, “he only told us that we cannot leave the island.”
Lady Pearson shuddered and Travert stood up in anger.
“Only!” Daniel shouted. “I will not stand for this a moment longer.” He stormed out of the room.
“Neither shall I,” Travert stated impulsively. “Madame?” he offered his hand to Lady Pearson.
“Come Ella,” Lady Pearson stood up stiffly, “we are leaving.”
“No,” Ella retorted. “I won’t risk offending these people further. If Mr. Laurence feels we can reason with them, then I will assist him.”
“What can we possibly say?” her grandmother asked me.
“I’m not sure,” I replied honestly. “They just tried to tell us that the remainder of the world has disappeared. Perhaps this is some ancient superstition which keeps them from making contact with the outside, it’s much too soon to tell. I barely got a word out before the Father caused this scene. In any case, there is no need for such rashness.”
Lady Pearson sighed. “Very well, Mr. Laurence, I thank you for your efforts. Tell the King that we have gone to calm the Father’s nerves.” She and Travert departed the room, leaving Ella, Rémy, and I in a tense silence with our hosts.
I passed along Lady Pearson’s message and apologized for the group.
“They will be well cared for,” King Eireas assured me. “The guards will escort them to your apartment.”
“Yes,” Ella added, shifting to the seat beside his, “I am very confused.”
I translated all that had transpired.
“But why would they make such a statement?” Ella asked. “What does it matter to them if we should depart?”
“I don’t know,” I responded, “but I mean to find out.” I reached over and placed a reassuring hand over hers. The three of us made a pact to remain calm and courteous while we beseeched our hosts for understanding.
We turned our hopeful faces to the King. “Please continue, your highness,” I requested humbly. Etia Sarmia let out a small sigh, as if a great task had just been assigned to them.
“It has gotten quite warm in here with the commotion,” King Eireas pointed out to his advisor. “We could use a little more breeze.” Sarmia nodded deeply and called out to one of the hidden servants.
Moments later, a soft grinding sound arose from the great curved window. To my astonishment, the lower portion of the glass assembly was receding downward, expanding the already-open gap. How such an immense structure could be manipulated at will was beyond me. As if in answer to my questions, Sarmia called out to the servant again. A young man brought forward a minuscule box, which he handed to the advisor. It appeared to be made of polished stone, though the top was completely flat and unornamented; it instantly reminded me of the flat black square which I spotted in the hall earlier. Sarmia placed the box on the table, in obvious view of all. She then tapped the top gently.
The little black rectangle immediately illuminated from within. But it did not just illuminate; shapes and patterns appeared where none were before. They shimmered, moved, and changed color. Ella gasped. I looked to Rémy, who now understood the odd light which I had described to him earlier. It was like staring into some otherworldly flame, a flat and colorful flare.