A Distant Tomorrow

Lara stopped suddenly. “What is it you are saying to me, my lord king?”

“Vartan was a powerful voice for the Outlands, Lara, and with you advising him, who knew what heights he might have reached? I have heard a rumor, faint, but very distinct, that there were certain men among the powerful in the City, who considered him a great threat to Hetar and to their own ambitions. And, too, a violent death that Vartan’s faerie wife could not prevent might easily contribute to lessening your own authority.”

Lara was stunned by his quiet words. For the tiniest moment she felt dizzy, as if she were going to collapse. Then, as a growing anger caused new strength to flow through her, she said, “And has any name emerged from among these certain powerful men, my lord king? Could Gaius Prospero be among them?”

“He has never forgiven you for the loss of prestige he suffered in the Winter War. It has taken him five years to regain his popularity, and to come within sight again of his goal to be made emperor of Hetar, Lara,” King Archeron responded.

“And will he be made emperor?”

“We will have a better idea of what is happening in the City when Arcas returns. He is serving as one of our representatives on the council right now.”

“So my husband’s murder was an assassination,” Lara said quietly. “Gaius Prospero, clinging to his belief that the Outlands is peopled by savages, thought that by removing Vartan the alliance between the clan families would collapse.” She sighed bitterly. “His ignorance is terrifying, my lord king. The clan families are more determined than ever to remain strongly united. Rendor was chosen head of the council to replace Vartan. And they have made Roan of the Aghy their war leader. An incursion into our lands, an attack on any of them by Hetar, will be met with military action. This would-be emperor will set our world aflame with his ambitions. But how did Gaius Prospero get to Adon, or was it Elin to whom he appealed? Of course! It would have been Elin. That poor foolish woman with her pitiful dreams of her husband leading the Fiacre. Even had Vartan died a natural death, the Fiacre would not have chosen Adon to lead them.”

“What will you do now?” the Coastal King asked his beautiful guest. They began to walk along the beach once again.

Lara shrugged. “My destiny is calling once more.”

“And it called you to come to me?” He smiled down at her. “I am flattered.”

“It called me to the coast, but for what reason I do not yet know, my lord king. But I have many questions to ask you.”

“I will answer those I can,” he promised her.

“You must answer them all,” she told him.

Archeron looked sharply at Lara. “Indeed,” he mur- mured.

She laughed up at him. “I found the nearer I came to your kingdom the more curious I became. I know you possess the knowledge I seek, my lord king.”

He smiled. “I will deny you nothing, Lara. I, too, know you have a destiny. There is a prophecy, known only to a few, in the Book of Hetar, which can be found in the temple of the Celestial Actuary in the City. I believe you are the one meant to satisfy that prophecy. And so does Gaius Prospero or he would not be so intent on destroying you.”

“How many others know of the prophecy?” Lara questioned him.

“Only a handful of the high and mighty. Possibly the High Priest, but he is very old, and under Gaius Prospero’s thumb, I fear.”

“Tell me what the prophecy says.”

“From the darkness came a maiden. From the golden light came a warrior. From a distant tomorrow will come Hetar’s true destiny,” King Archeron recited.

“I was a maiden who came forth from the darkness and squalor of the City. I became a warrior in the golden desert light of the Shadow Princes’ kingdom,” Lara said. “But where, I wonder, is that distant tomorrow?”

“Wherever it is, Lara, you are meant to find it,” Archeron said quietly. Then he said, “Let us seek our horses now, and ride on to my palace.”

Mounting, they rode along the shoreline again, King Archeron leading the way. Rendor moved his horse up next to Lara, murmuring so softly only she could hear him.

“What did he say?”

“Vartan’s death may have been a cleverly planned assassination, conceived by my old friend Gaius Prospero,” Lara replied as softly. Rendor’s face above his short brown bread darkened with outrage, and she noted that his men were pressing in about them, shielding them from the coastal men-at-arms.

Lara put a warning hand on Rendor’s arm, cautioning him to silence. “This is not the doing of the Coastal Kings, my friend,” she said low. “We never expected our relations with Hetar to be what they once were, given the result of the Winter War. But they have struck at us in a way we did not anticipate. Speak of this to the other lords at the Gathering, Rendor. Warn them in as strong terms as you can that they cannot permit Hetar to lure them into any action against one another. If something untoward happens, and it appears to be the deed of another clan family, be suspicious. The Outlands have not fallen into chaos, as I am quite certain Gaius Prospero thought they would when he saw to my husband’s murder. Instead another clan lord was chosen to lead us. Gaius will now consider other ways of causing difficulty for you and the Outlands. Beware, and be suspicious of Hetar no matter their soft words. They are desperate and have no place to go, no way to feed their growing population, no way to make new profits. You are protected for now, but you will not be forever. The clan lords must plan for that day.”

“I wish you were not leaving us,” Rendor said once again.

“I will not be gone from you forever,” Lara promised.

Shortly before the sunset they arrived at the palace of King Archeron. The entire household was in mourning for his queen, Alina. There would be no banquet tonight to welcome the visitors. Rendor’s men were led off to be fed and shown to their sleeping spaces. The king led Lara and the new head of the Outlands High Council into a small dining chamber overlooking the great Sea of Sagitta. Servants brought silver basins of perfumed water with which to wash the journey from their faces and hands. Then they stretched out on the three dining couches and the meal was served.

Lara’s appetite was small that evening. She could not take her eyes from the sea beyond the palace. The sky above it was clear blue, and stained with streamers of rich color from the sun setting over the Outlands beyond the waters. A thin gold crescent moon was rising out of the sea, and above it the great star, Beltair, glistened brightly. It had been a long day, but she was not yet tired. Rahil’s care had helped Lara regain her strength again, and soon, soon she sensed, something was preparing to set the course of her life on another path once again.

“You are quiet,” King Archeron finally said to Lara.

“You have given me a great deal to consider this day,” she answered him.

The king turned to Rendor. “She has told you?”

“Aye,” Rendor replied.

“Good!” Archeron answered him. “The Outlands must be on their guard.”

“You are Hetarian, and yet you do not agree with your own government,” Rendor said. “Why?”

“The government has been corrupted by greedy men,” King Archeron replied. “And these men will bring sorrow to Hetar. I but attempt to delay the inevitable.”

Rendor nodded. “You will guard Lara from harm, my friend, will you not?”

“I will, for she has a destiny to fulfill.” He smiled.

Lara and Rendor laughed.

Then Rendor said, “I shall leave early in the morning. We will depart for the Gathering in a few days. It should be a most interesting time this year.”

“Give my regards to the lords,” Lara told him. And then she arose. “My lord king, will you have someone show me to the chamber that is to be mine?”

Archeron called a servant, and gave the woman her instructions.

Lara walked to where Rendor was now standing. Rising up on her toes, she kissed him on both cheeks. “Until we meet again, my Lord of the Felan,” she said. “The Celestial Actuary guide you in all that you undertake, and keep the Outlands safe from evil men. Farewell!” Then turning to her host, she bid him good-night and followed the servant from the little dining hall.

The chamber to which Lara was brought was not the same one she had once shared with Vartan, and she was grateful for Archeron’s sensitivity. But like that room, it had a single large arched window with an almost hidden door that opened onto a marble terrace overlooking the sea. The servant showed Lara the bathing pool, which was on that terrace, and not inside her chamber. Then she bowed, and left the king’s guest to herself.

Lara dipped her hand into the small square pool. The water was warm and scented with yellow primrose. With a smile Lara pulled off her boots and stripped off her leather pants, her vest and her shirt. Not even bothering to pin her hair up, she stepped naked into the pool with a deep sigh of pleasure. There was nothing like a warm bath. Finding the seating ledge she sat down, and just enjoyed the sensation of the water lapping against her skin. There was an alabaster jar of soft soap on the side of the tub, and a large sea sponge. Lara filled the sponge with soap, and washed herself in the lavishly rich cleansing agent. Then she washed and rinsed her golden hair, wishing that she had a lemon to squeeze into it in a final rinse. No sooner had she thought it than there was a cut lemon on the edge of the bathing pool. Laughing, she squeezed it into her hair, laving clean water from the curved shell faucet over her head.

But then the pool was swiftly draining itself. Sprays of water shot from small recessed spigots in the pool wall, rinsing her off. She bent to let the water cleanse the last of the lemon from her head before the bathing pool refilled itself with scented water. Lara relaxed as she watched the golden coastal moon rising higher, and was lulled by the sound of the waves below the great palace.

When the sky was finally dark she walked back into her chamber to find the lamps had been lit, and a small fire was burning in the little hearth opposite her bed. Drying herself with the large drying cloth she found warming on a rack by the fire she slipped on a loose night robe. Her pack had been brought to her chamber, and opening it she drew out the beautiful gold brush that Kaliq, the Shadow Prince, had once given her as a lover’s token. Seating herself on a small velvet hassock by the fire she brushed her hair dry. She was finally beginning to feel sleepy. Lara climbed into the large comfortable bed draped in coral and gold silk curtains. What would tomorrow bring, she wondered? And how long would she remain here in Archeron’s palace? Her eyes closed slowly of their own volition.

She awakened with the dawn, and rose to see the sunrise from her terrace. She had slept a sound and dreamless sleep. For the next few weeks Lara’s days were relatively the same. She awoke, ate her morning meal upon the marble terrace and then walked about the town belonging to King Archeron’s palace. The lords of the coastlands had long ago decided that each of their leaders would be a king with his own palace and village. It saved a great deal of debate, and the oldest of the kings was always recognized as their High King, no matter the family from which he came.

The palace was white marble, with soaring towers and gold-leafed domes. The town into which it blended was much the same. The windows of the houses overlooking the streets were bright with flower boxes holding blooms of every size and hue. The stalls in the market square were clean and filled with goods being hawked from beneath multicolored awnings.