'Helena
stood by impatiently, trying to maintain her composure, while Tolarr
exchanged words of greeting and comradely inconsequentialities with
the two eol. Seen up close they were both very beautiful, though it
was a beauty couched in gesture and movement – in elegance and
grace as much as in mere prettiness. In looks they were as alien as
the dwarfs, graceful and willowy to stolid sturdiness. Helena felt a
little gauche in their presence but was too thrilled to consider
whether her own physical beauty might in any way be compromised by
their appearance.
Eventually,
after what seemed like an age, Tolarr gestured toward her. “My
Lady”, he said. “Since you left us this girl [Helena fumed
inwardly – must everyone speak of her as a child !] has joined our
company. Though surely no compensation for your own presence among
us she has demonstrated some ability as a healer, and with the magics
of your own College. She has begged that I present her to you.”
But before Tolarr could effect her introduction (no doubt using the
alias she was travelling under) Helena interrupted, in Greek, for
Basil had told her the lady was fluent. ‘Ektor would undoubtedly
overhear but she was now sure he could be trusted, at least with her
name. “My Lady. I am Helena Basileiou. I have travelled all the
way from Byzantion to find you upon a commission from my late patron
Basil Tzipoureles. Upon his very death bed he commanded that I
deliver a certain artefact into your hands. I beg that you will
permit me to retrieve this item from my rooms and bring it to you.”
“Hush child”, the lady replied, glancing around lest someone be
listening. “It grieves me that Basil has passed into God’s
embrace but such talk is not for the street”. Amethäriel ’s
voice was liquid, her Greek excellent though subtly accented (Helena
was secretly gratified that she, in fact, spoke the better).
“Later”, the Lady said. “You must all join me at my hostel,
Gorran and Nikolai also if their duties will permit. Leradhir will
give you its direction and we shall make a party of old
acquaintance.” Then in an undertone directly to Helena, “Child,
bring your artefact to me this evening and I will talk further with
you then”.
Once back
at the Drum and Trumpet Helena went straight to her room. She could
tell that ‘Ektor wanted to speak with her, perhaps about her right
name, but she didn’t have time for him now. She simply had to
escape to somewhere she could express her delight and excitement more
privately. Door closed behind her she pirouetted and danced around
the room burning off some pent up energy. Then she paced for another
hour or two fretting about what she should wear, how she should dress
her hear and what cosmetics to apply. She took a light meal, in her
room, but barely picked at the food then settled, rather fruitlessly,
to try and practice her rotes until it was time to prepare. Damn the
cold and the grotty streets, she decided. Tonight it would be the
sandals in spite of the conditions. She coiffured her hair as
elegantly as possible without the help of a maid and re-applied her
cosmetics, artfully modest in the same manner as for Gorran’s
ordination. Then she dressed to her very finest for an evening
engagement rather than church, and with all her best jewellery – to
impress rather than attract.
By the
hour of departure Helena had worked herself into quite a state
clutching Basil’s mace to her bosom and almost having to quell
fraught tears. The meeting to follow could well decide her future.
Stay quiet she reminded herself – modest, honest and respectful.
Do nothing that might seem rude, that might ‘queer the pitch’.
Should she gain the support or patronage of the Lady Amethäriel it
could be the making of her. Falter and she could be left with
nothing. As they walked she gave her arm to ‘Ektor, but gripped
him so tightly that he looked at her in surprise. Sensing her
brittle nervousness he wisely elected not to quiz her about her
earlier conversation with Amethäriel .
Upon their
arrival a welcome moment, at least for Helena, was allocated to their
refreshment. Amethäriel ’s inn was of the very best quality,
truth be told as good as anything Helena had seen in Byzantion. The
food was exquisite, delicate and of a portion size suited to a petite
woman rather than a muscle-bound warrior. Much as she was tempted
Helena took only a single glass of well watered wine, and nursed it
for the rest of the night. She sat quietly in the corner cradling
the mace in both arms, as though it were an infant, and waited as
patiently as possible for her opportunity while the hostess mingled
with her guests.
Eventually
the party quieted into small settled groups. Amethäriel made her
way across the room to join Helena in the corner. Quietly she
invited Helena to tell her something of herself, and of Basil’s
passing. After so long silent Helena babbled – about Basil,
Byzantion and many other things. Amethäriel listened to her
patiently and attentively saying little and offering only the
occasional prompt or mild redirection, content just to hear about the
life of her old friend. Some considerable time later Helena was
become a little hoarse and she slowly ground to a halt. They sat
together in quiet remembrance for a few minutes until Amethäriel
spoke. “The Basil you tell me of is like and yet unlike the man I
knew. In his youth he was a progressive thinker, provocative,
impetuous, sometimes brash, thinking little of arguing his position
before the elders of the College. He may have been conservative in
his social and political opinions, though we rarely touched on
matters of domestic policy, but he certainly upset his colleagues and
was at the forefront of magical studies. Know you of the thirteen
constellations and that it is the advent of Ophiucus the snake
carrier ?” Helena shook her head, not so much in negation but in
slight confusion. Amethäriel had painted a discomfiting image of
her conservative and traditionalist patron and she was trying to
internalise this new information. His disdain for, and his
frequently intemperate comments about, his colleagues in the College
certainly made more sense in that context. It occurred to her that
the list of mages Basil had offered her could as easily reflect a
shared theoretical perspective rather than friendship. She very much
hoped Basil’s relationship with Amethäriel had been warmer –
and that she might win the lady’s support.
Amethäriel
spoke again and Helena recognised a serious didactic tone to her
voice. “There are thirteen 'Houses' in a sidereal zodiac of which
Ophiucus is the 12th.
There are forty eight constellations in the 'known' heavens and
there are more than a thousand fixed stars on the conventional
charts. Basil’s theory was that the fixed stars revolve seasonally
about an axis which is inclined with respect to Gaia. He was working
to devise a method of laying out the constellations on a single chart
with the celestial equator drawn as a sinusoid curve (and also
without distorting proportion too greatly). The conventional charts
show only one or two constellations with the stars laid against the
depiction of their eponymous character.” Though she grasped the
gist of Amethäriel ’s quick explanation much remained confusing.
The Lady continued, “There was a great deal of opposition to his
line of argument within the College, much of it political but some of
a scholarly type. Basil loathed the former but despised the latter,
almost with a passion. On scholarly matters at least he could never
understand why, when presented with an evidenced truth, a man might
bend his entire intellect against it. To test the credibility of an
argument ? A laudable use of one’s talents. To use one’s talent
to craft sophistic argument to take down a proven truth ? The
despicable act of a craven fool.” She added, probably
superfluously, “Many did not thank him for his opinion, or for his
characterisation of their motivation. In some ways he was a very
great thinker but I fear he never quite understood the psychology of
his species.”
“Basil
worked tirelessly to illustrate his theory in terms his detractors
could not deny”. She smiled. “A theory that would stand College
thinking on its head if it were to be so demonstrated, perhaps even
provoke schism if not handled carefully.” Amethäriel didn’t
seem too concerned by that prospect but it alarmed Helena. She did
not want to be the agent of such a challenge to College authority.
Growing up on the streets had left her with a healthy respect for
maintaining a pragmatic relationship with ‘truth’.
But then a
more drastic possibility occurred to her and for a moment she felt a
sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had burnt Basil’s
papers. What if she had in fact incinerated his life’s work,
destroyed all record of his findings ! Why hadn’t Basil taught
her, or even told her, about his astronomical theories ? Had he not
trusted her, feared for her safety should she become party to such
knowledge, was his conviction in his findings faltering toward the
end of his life ? He had told her she was surpassing clever. Did he
fear her intellect, that she might disapprove of or attempt to
discredit his research ? But then she remembered the diagram. With
fumbling fingers she clicked open the mace head and produced the now
slightly crumpled paper. “Here”, she said. “Basil said to
give it to you. Please. You must decide what must be done with it.
But I have already shown it to Ingusz Vàrrbäth-Matha. He was not
on Basil’s list but he seemed nice enough, and he is teaching me to
extend my spirit beyond my body. He reacted strongly but not
defensively, or so I judge. Was I wrong to show it to him ?” Then
she added, impulsively “Lady. Basil trusted you. He told me to
come to you. Please, my lady. Tell me what I must do.”
