question. I am quite old by ordinary standards, though but an infant Meer.” He rose and lifted Ume’s chin with a clay-powdered hand. “I will not deny I have looked on other beauties, but time is a very inconsequential thing to a Meer, and I have been in no hurry to partake of them. Among the Meer, when my ancestors were still feracious, a man of my years might have been considered to be coming of age.”
Ume was skeptical. Was he claiming to be a virgin at 120 years? She circled the bust, running her fingers over the soft clay. “How long do the Meer live?”
“As long as we have the sense to, I suppose. We are raised by the templars, so I cannot speak with certainty of the longevity of those who came before me. I am told the Meer of Rhyman is in his fourth century, and there are others even older.”
“But the Meer of Rhyman has a child. So there is still some procreation among you.”
“So it seems. Are you interviewing me, Ume?”
Ume blushed. She was behaving like the spy others hoped she would be. “I’m sorry.” She clasped her arms behind her back. “That was rude.”
“No matter, Ume ’La. ” MeerAlya used the Deltan suffix that could represent something wondrous or something fearful. “I find your interest stimulating.”
She sat for him again, both clothed and nude, while he sketched and made adjustments to his sculpture. Time seemed to move differently in the Meer’s chambers, and Ume lost track of it.
When MeerAlya asked her to dine with him, he confirmed the plum sprig had been no simple trick by conjuring the meal with a few choice culinary words, murmuring “a thousand leaves of salmon” and “figs with aged cheese” as the delicacies appeared like thoughts taking shape on the table before them. Even the crystal and porcelain formed at his words, “flutes of oaked wine,” producing breathtakingly fragile, tulip-shaped goblets sparkling with crystalline russet liquid that tasted of the musky wood kegs it could not have aged in.
Alya raised his glass to her as she looked on in wonder. “You see, my dear Maiden, it is a simple thing to create, to focus one’s mind on the desires of the moment and breathe them into being. But even a Meer cannot conjure such exquisite company.”
A jarring cacophony brought back the stolid tick of ordinary time.
Chapter Six
Even from MeerAlya’s quarters behind the dome of the altar room, the sound of shouting and altercation could be heard in the courtyard. A servant announcing MeerAlya’s personal attendant interrupted their meal in an unprecedented breach of temple etiquette as Alya set down his glass.
“My liege.” The templar bowed deeply at his entrance. “You should not be troubled, but an extra flank of the temple guard has been placed before the arches. There is an incident in the courtyard.”
“An incident?” Alya pushed back his chair.
“A small group of malcontents, my liege. We are addressing it. I advise that you not concern yourself.”
“I see. And what is it that has them so discontent?”
The templar colored. “They are calling for your ouster, my liege. They are anti-Meerists.”
“Anti-Meerists.” MeerAlya set down his napkin. “They are, it seems, against my very nature. There is not much I can do to satisfy them in that.” He turned to Ume. “This is unprecedented in the years of my reign. Tell me, Maiden Sky, do I provide so poorly for the soth of In’La?”
Ume blanched, unable to look away from the blue quartz of his eyes. “I would not presume to judge, my liege. I may be considered to belong to a privileged class of citizen.”
Alya nodded. “A prudent answer.” He sighed and stood. “Templar Hrithke, please escort the Maiden Sky to her transport once you deem the altercation safely allayed.”
Ume stared after him as he strolled from the room. Had she angered him, or was he merely disheartened? It must be the protest Cree had spoken of. Ume hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
Ume was skeptical. Was he claiming to be a virgin at 120 years? She circled the bust, running her fingers over the soft clay. “How long do the Meer live?”
“As long as we have the sense to, I suppose. We are raised by the templars, so I cannot speak with certainty of the longevity of those who came before me. I am told the Meer of Rhyman is in his fourth century, and there are others even older.”
“But the Meer of Rhyman has a child. So there is still some procreation among you.”
“So it seems. Are you interviewing me, Ume?”
Ume blushed. She was behaving like the spy others hoped she would be. “I’m sorry.” She clasped her arms behind her back. “That was rude.”
“No matter, Ume ’La. ” MeerAlya used the Deltan suffix that could represent something wondrous or something fearful. “I find your interest stimulating.”
She sat for him again, both clothed and nude, while he sketched and made adjustments to his sculpture. Time seemed to move differently in the Meer’s chambers, and Ume lost track of it.
When MeerAlya asked her to dine with him, he confirmed the plum sprig had been no simple trick by conjuring the meal with a few choice culinary words, murmuring “a thousand leaves of salmon” and “figs with aged cheese” as the delicacies appeared like thoughts taking shape on the table before them. Even the crystal and porcelain formed at his words, “flutes of oaked wine,” producing breathtakingly fragile, tulip-shaped goblets sparkling with crystalline russet liquid that tasted of the musky wood kegs it could not have aged in.
Alya raised his glass to her as she looked on in wonder. “You see, my dear Maiden, it is a simple thing to create, to focus one’s mind on the desires of the moment and breathe them into being. But even a Meer cannot conjure such exquisite company.”
A jarring cacophony brought back the stolid tick of ordinary time.
Chapter Six
Even from MeerAlya’s quarters behind the dome of the altar room, the sound of shouting and altercation could be heard in the courtyard. A servant announcing MeerAlya’s personal attendant interrupted their meal in an unprecedented breach of temple etiquette as Alya set down his glass.
“My liege.” The templar bowed deeply at his entrance. “You should not be troubled, but an extra flank of the temple guard has been placed before the arches. There is an incident in the courtyard.”
“An incident?” Alya pushed back his chair.
“A small group of malcontents, my liege. We are addressing it. I advise that you not concern yourself.”
“I see. And what is it that has them so discontent?”
The templar colored. “They are calling for your ouster, my liege. They are anti-Meerists.”
“Anti-Meerists.” MeerAlya set down his napkin. “They are, it seems, against my very nature. There is not much I can do to satisfy them in that.” He turned to Ume. “This is unprecedented in the years of my reign. Tell me, Maiden Sky, do I provide so poorly for the soth of In’La?”
Ume blanched, unable to look away from the blue quartz of his eyes. “I would not presume to judge, my liege. I may be considered to belong to a privileged class of citizen.”
Alya nodded. “A prudent answer.” He sighed and stood. “Templar Hrithke, please escort the Maiden Sky to her transport once you deem the altercation safely allayed.”
Ume stared after him as he strolled from the room. Had she angered him, or was he merely disheartened? It must be the protest Cree had spoken of. Ume hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
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