what?”
He glanced at Connor, who hurried to refill his brandy.“What of the king’s mages, m’lord? Do they give counsel?” Connor asked.
Garnoc sighed. “They speak in riddles, as always. But of late, even those riddles are dark. I was with Merrill the last time his visioner cast the cards. Dark omens of wild seas and fire raining down from a mountain and of an early, killing frost.” He fell silent for a few moments as he finished his meal. “I don’t always hold with the findings of the king’s visioner, so I asked my astrologer, Atriella, to scry the stars for me.”
“And what was revealed?” Connor was skeptical when it came to the proclamations of most of the soothsayers, smoke-readers, and diviners who hung about every court and noble house like weevils in a granary. Yet Atriella was different. She did not affect the swoons and vapors that so many of the visioners used to announce their readings. When she searched the skies for signs of what would be, she was rarely wrong, despite her lack of showy ritual. Her accuracy had made many enemies among the lesser astrologers, who already held her common birth against her.
“You know that Charrot’s figure in the night sky remains visible all year long, dipping and rising but always in view.”
“Yes, m’lord. I’ve seen it when the sky is clear.” Connor had indeed seen the pattern of stars that was named for the two-natured, diune god. He glanced toward a large tapestry on the wall that illustrated a scene from the epic poems that recounted the stories of the gods. One of the tapestries depicted three figures against the constellations of the night sky: Charrot, the Source, and the god’s two consorts, Torven and Esthrane. Beneath them lay land, sea, and the realms of the dead and undead.
Charrot, the Source, ruled both the realm of gods and the realm of men. On one side of his body, Charrot had the form ofa perfect warrior: broad-shouldered, with rippling muscles in his arms and thighs and exceptionally well-endowed manhood. His skin was a dusky yellow, and his chiseled, masculine face was always depicted by the artists as handsome. But Charrot was both male and female, and the figure in the tapestry was turned slightly so that both sides showed. Viewed from the other side, Charrot was a woman of surpassing beauty, with heavy, full breasts and thighs that promised both fertility and fecundity. With skin the color of twilight and hair the shade of a midnight sky, Charrot was the epitome of feminine beauty.
In the tapestry, the god held out its hands to its two consorts. Torven, the god of illusion, was a blue-skinned man whose beauty equaled that of Charrot himself. Torven and his progeny ruled the air and sea, water and ice, darkness and twilight, metals and gems, and the Sea of Souls.
Esthrane, the second consort, also equaled Charrot’s feminine sensuality. With yellow-hued skin and a wide-eyed and sorrowfully knowing gaze, Esthrane and the gods of her offspring commanded fertility from the ground and from crops and herds, working their power in birth and fire. And it was Esthrane who kept watch over the Unseen realm, the wandering place of incomplete souls.
Beneath the feet of the figures in the tapestries were the artist’s imaginings of the hundreds of household gods, patron deities, and place-gods who were revered and worshipped. Temperamental and fickle, these lesser gods figured much more in the lives of ordinary citizens than the sons and daughters of Charrot’s consorts. From spoiled milk to turned ankles, the lesser gods influenced the daily routines of life, and a wise person knew how to beseech them for their favor.
Garnoc cleared his throat, pulling Connor back from his thoughts. “As I was saying—”
Connor nodded. “Atriella’s reading of the stars,” he said, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming.
“Aye. We’re coming on toward winter, and Esthrane’s constellation, Woman in Childbirth, dips below the horizon
He glanced at Connor, who hurried to refill his brandy.“What of the king’s mages, m’lord? Do they give counsel?” Connor asked.
Garnoc sighed. “They speak in riddles, as always. But of late, even those riddles are dark. I was with Merrill the last time his visioner cast the cards. Dark omens of wild seas and fire raining down from a mountain and of an early, killing frost.” He fell silent for a few moments as he finished his meal. “I don’t always hold with the findings of the king’s visioner, so I asked my astrologer, Atriella, to scry the stars for me.”
“And what was revealed?” Connor was skeptical when it came to the proclamations of most of the soothsayers, smoke-readers, and diviners who hung about every court and noble house like weevils in a granary. Yet Atriella was different. She did not affect the swoons and vapors that so many of the visioners used to announce their readings. When she searched the skies for signs of what would be, she was rarely wrong, despite her lack of showy ritual. Her accuracy had made many enemies among the lesser astrologers, who already held her common birth against her.
“You know that Charrot’s figure in the night sky remains visible all year long, dipping and rising but always in view.”
“Yes, m’lord. I’ve seen it when the sky is clear.” Connor had indeed seen the pattern of stars that was named for the two-natured, diune god. He glanced toward a large tapestry on the wall that illustrated a scene from the epic poems that recounted the stories of the gods. One of the tapestries depicted three figures against the constellations of the night sky: Charrot, the Source, and the god’s two consorts, Torven and Esthrane. Beneath them lay land, sea, and the realms of the dead and undead.
Charrot, the Source, ruled both the realm of gods and the realm of men. On one side of his body, Charrot had the form ofa perfect warrior: broad-shouldered, with rippling muscles in his arms and thighs and exceptionally well-endowed manhood. His skin was a dusky yellow, and his chiseled, masculine face was always depicted by the artists as handsome. But Charrot was both male and female, and the figure in the tapestry was turned slightly so that both sides showed. Viewed from the other side, Charrot was a woman of surpassing beauty, with heavy, full breasts and thighs that promised both fertility and fecundity. With skin the color of twilight and hair the shade of a midnight sky, Charrot was the epitome of feminine beauty.
In the tapestry, the god held out its hands to its two consorts. Torven, the god of illusion, was a blue-skinned man whose beauty equaled that of Charrot himself. Torven and his progeny ruled the air and sea, water and ice, darkness and twilight, metals and gems, and the Sea of Souls.
Esthrane, the second consort, also equaled Charrot’s feminine sensuality. With yellow-hued skin and a wide-eyed and sorrowfully knowing gaze, Esthrane and the gods of her offspring commanded fertility from the ground and from crops and herds, working their power in birth and fire. And it was Esthrane who kept watch over the Unseen realm, the wandering place of incomplete souls.
Beneath the feet of the figures in the tapestries were the artist’s imaginings of the hundreds of household gods, patron deities, and place-gods who were revered and worshipped. Temperamental and fickle, these lesser gods figured much more in the lives of ordinary citizens than the sons and daughters of Charrot’s consorts. From spoiled milk to turned ankles, the lesser gods influenced the daily routines of life, and a wise person knew how to beseech them for their favor.
Garnoc cleared his throat, pulling Connor back from his thoughts. “As I was saying—”
Connor nodded. “Atriella’s reading of the stars,” he said, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming.
“Aye. We’re coming on toward winter, and Esthrane’s constellation, Woman in Childbirth, dips below the horizon
Similar Books
