'You look foolish,' said Axiana, sternly. 'It does not become a priestess to play on a child's swing.'
Ulmenetha had not heard the queen's approach. She leaned forward, her feet thumping to the ground, halting the swing. 'Why do you say that?' she asked. 'Why is it that so many people believe that religion and joy have little in common?'
Ulmenetha eased her large frame upright and walked with the pregnant queen to a wide bench seat beneath the cherry trees. Already they were rich with blossom of coral and white. 'There is no dignity in such behaviour,' the young woman told her. Ulmenetha said nothing for a moment. Axiana settled herself down, her slender hands over her swollen belly. You never laugh, child, thought Ulmenetha, and your eyes radiate sorrow.
'Dignity is much overrated,' she said, at last. 'It is a concept, I think, devised by men to add gravitas to their strutting.' A flicker of a smile touched Axiana's beautiful face. But it passed as swiftly as a noonday shadow. 'Men are ridiculous creatures,' continued the priestess, 'arrogant and vain, insensitive and boorish.'
'Is this why you became a priestess? To avoid contact with them?'
Ulmenetha shook her head. 'No, dear heart. I had a jewel among men. When I lost him I knew there would never be another.' She took a deep breath and stared out over the southern mountains. She could just make out three riders heading into the high country.
'I am sorry, Ulmenetha,' said the queen. 'My question brought you sadness.'
'Not at all,' the priestess assured her. 'It brought me remembered joy. He was a fine man. He spent two years trying to woo me, and became convinced that if he could beat me to the top of Five Rise mountain I would marry him.' The queen looked mystified. 'I used to run through the mountains. I was slimmer then, and I could run for ever. No man could best me on the longer races. Vian tried for two years. He trained so hard. That's when I grew to love him.'
'And did he beat you?'
'No, but he won me. Good days.' They lapsed into silence for several minutes, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun.
'What is it like to be in love?' asked Axiana. Ulmenetha felt sadness swell in her, not for the love she had lost, but for the lovely young woman at her side. How sad it was that a woman only weeks from giving birth should still wonder about love.
'Sometimes it arrives like a flash flood, but at other times it grows slowly until it becomes a great tree. Perhaps it will be that way for you and the king.'
Axiana shook her head. 'He thinks nothing of me. I am an ornament of no more worth than any of the other ornaments he owns.'
'He is a great man,' said Ulmenetha, aware of the shallowness of her response.
'No, he is not. He is a great killer and destroyer. Men worship him as if he were a god, but he is not. He is a plague, a cancer.' The words were not spoken with passion, but with a quiet resignation that somehow added to their power.
'He has a good side,' said Ulmenetha. 'His people love him, and he is often generous. And I have seen him weep. When he was younger and it was thought that Starfire was lame, he was inconsolable.'
'Inconsolable?' queried Axiana. 'He did not appear inconsolable when Starfire went to the tannery. I understand they use the hides for furniture, the meat for food, and the hoofs and bones for glue. Is that right?'
'You must be mistaken, my pet.'
'I am not mistaken. I heard him on his birthday. All the older horses — including Starfire — were sold. The money received went into the war chest. The man is without a soul.'
'Do not speak this way, dear heart,' whispered Ulmenetha, feeling a sudden chill.
'No-one can hear us. There are no secret passages in the garden, no hollow walls for clerics to hide behind with their quill pens. Skanda cares only for war, and he will never be satisfied. The world could fall to him and he would know only despair, for there would be no more battles to fight. So, tell me, Ulmenetha, about love.'
The priestess forced a smile. 'There is an old legend. I am rather partial to it. In the beginning the old gods created a herd of perfect animals. They had four legs, four arms and two heads. And they were blissfully happy. The gods looked upon this perfection of happiness and grew jealous. So one day the Chief of the Gods cast a mighty spell. And in an instant all the animals were ripped in half and scattered across the world. Now each of the beasts only had one head, two arms and two legs. And they were destined for ever to search the earth for their other halves, seeking that perfect fit.'
'That is a vulgar story,' chided Axiana.
A young, female servant approached them and curtsied deeply. 'You have a visitor, my lady,' she said. 'The Lord Kalizkan.' Axiana clapped her hands together in delight.
'Send him out to us,' she said.
Moments later the tall wizard made his entrance. He was wearing robes now of sky blue satin, and a matching wide-brimmed hat of stiffened silk. Sweeping off the hat he made an elaborate bow. 'And how is the queen today?' he asked, with a wide, enchanting smile.
'I am well, sir. All the better for seeing you.' Ulmenetha rose and offered the wizard her seat. He gave her a dazzling smile and sat beside the queen. Ulmenetha moved back to allow them privacy and returned to her seat in the swinging chair. It was a pleasure to see Axiana in such high spirits. Kalizkan was good for her, and Ulmenetha liked him. The wizard leaned in close to the queen and the two talked for some time. Then Axiana called out. 'Come here, Ulmenetha, you must see this!'
The priestess obeyed and stood before the white-bearded wizard. 'What is your favourite flower?' he asked her.
'The high mountain lily,' she told him.
'The white lily with blue stripes?'
'Yes.'
Kalizkan reached down and lifted a handful of dirt. Then his pale eyes narrowed in concentration. A tiny stem appeared in the dark earth, then grew, putting out slender leaves. A bud appeared and opened slowly, exposing long white petals, striped with the blue of a summer sky. Reaching out he offered her the flower. Ulmenetha's fingers touched it, and it became smoke, dispersing on the breeze. 'Is that not wonderful?' said Axiana.
Ulmenetha nodded. 'You have a great talent, sir,' she said.
'I have studied long and hard,' he told them. 'But it pleases me to bring pleasure to my friends.'
'Is your orphanage prospering, Kalizkan?' asked the queen.
'It is, dear lady, thanks to the kindness of the king and your good wishes. But there are so many more children living on the streets, close to starvation. One wishes one could help them all.'
As the two talked on, oblivious to Ulmenetha, the priestess found herself once more thinking of the demons in the air. Quietly she made her way back to the swinging chair and settled her back against the cushions. The sun had reached noon and was shining down with painful brightness. She closed her eyes — and a thought came to her.
Demons had no love of bright light. Perhaps now she could soar unobserved.
With a last look at the chatting couple she took a deep breath, reaching for the inner calm that precipitated flight. Then she released her spirit and fled towards the sun like an arrow. High above the city she floated, and gazed down. The roof garden was tiny now, the size of her thumbnail, the river flowing through the city no more than a thin web-thread of glistening blue and white. No demons were flying now, but she could see them in the shadows, under the eaves of buildings. There were hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands. They were writhing over the city like white maggots on rotting pork.
Three detached themselves from the shadows of the palace, and swept up towards her, their talons reaching out. Ulmenetha waited, frozen in terror. They closed upon her, and she could see their opal eyes and their sharp teeth. There was nowhere to run. They were between her and the safety of her flesh.