Gods of Green Mountain (17 page)

This was the scene that Ras-Far watched as he sat on his throne and waited for the bakaret from Rai-Caitin, with his son. Sharita had not yet made her appearance. Ras-Far chewed his lower lip with the fear that she might not show up at all; though she had promised, she was also capricious, willful, and totally spoiled. If she disappointed him tonight, by the Gods, he would marry her off to the first man that asked tomorrow!

At the Ball

S
tanding at the top of the stairs centering the ballroom, Dray-Gon was nervously overwhelmed by the magnificence of the scene spread below. He had come, against his will, prepared for opulent grandeur, but what he saw went far beyond his wildest expectations. Compared to this regal elegance, he could understand now what was meant when some said that Lower Dorraine was somewhat gauche and garish. He felt a fool in the clothes he wore, wishing now he had held back more stubbornly when his father talked him into this.

His father, Ron Ka, nudged him sharply, and whispered, "Hold on to yourself, boy! You are too obviously impressed. We didn't come here for that!"

Because they were there at the stairs, almost ready to descend, an unseen signal was given, and blaring horns sounded. The dance below drew abruptly to an end. The milling crowd assembled swiftly into long double rows leading from the center staircase to the throned dais. The palace guests stood quietly poised as the royal purple was spread on the glimmering opaline floor.

Every face lifted to Ron Ka and his son. The deep booming voice of the palace steward proclaimed loud and clear: "Presenting the bakaret Ron Ka from the province of Rai-Caitin, and his son, Dray-Gon."

With his father, Dray-Gon slowly descended the winged staircase, very conscious of the many pairs of eyes directed solely on them. Eyes he knew that were critical and disapproving. "Do everything slowly," his father had instructed, "and don't look from right to left. For some reason that is frowned upon." His father had been to Far-Awndra often, and knew their strange, formal ways.

In unison, side by side, Ron Ka and Dray-Gon marched down the royal purple aisle to the foot of the dais, where they both bowed very low before they were introduced once again, this time solely to the king and queen. Ron Ka and his son bowed once more with stiff reluctance.

Their reluctance to give this sign of obeisance was noticed, of course, by everyone. Ras-Far chose to ignore it, and spoke in very cordial, friendly tones: "We welcome you once again to our city, Ron Ka. And Dray-Gon, it is with great pleasure we meet you for the first time...and I am hopeful it will not be the last."

Ron Ka was not to be deceived by the warmth of the king's reception and his easy smile that seemed genuine. He responded in a loud, hard voice, "We are grateful to be
allowed
here. My son is most anxious to meet the Princess Sharita, whose beauty we have heard much of." Ron Ka glanced significantly at the smaller throne place next to the king's, where no one sat. "I see that she is not here, as usual. Perhaps she is only a myth after all."

The listening audience, ears keened forward, all gasped in shocked unison! How crude! How forward to ignore the social amenities! How base and unpolished to speak so directly! The absence of the princess should have been politely ignored. But of course, considering who they were, it was only to be expected.

Appearing unruffled, Ras-Far spoke again, with just as much friendly warmth: "My daughter will be very flattered when she learns that her beauty is praised in Lower Dorraine." He smiled with great charm, and said in a lower, more intimate way, "However, Sharita is a typical female, seeking always to draw attention to herself by being the last to enter." Ras-Far did not flicker an eyelash when he uttered this untruth. The late arrival wasn't contrived, for he knew his daughter despised the practiced maneuvers of the female coquette...at least until now, he had believed she did.

The trumpeting horns sounded again. All heads turned again toward the centering staircase as the booming voice of the palace steward proclaimed: "Presenting the Princess Sharita, great-granddaughter of the Founder King, daughter to our King Ras-Far, and heir to the throne of Upper and Lower Dorraine."

As all faces tilted upward, awaiting her arrival, retainers in their splendid uniforms of red, gold, and white swung open high-arched double doors, and a slender figure appeared and glided to the head of the staircase. She paused dramatically, giving time for everyone to appraise her thoroughly.

Not a single pair of eyes devoured her more hungrily than did those of Dray-Gon. Never had he seen anyone so breathtakingly lovely, so exquisitely beautiful! She was a thousand times more ravishing in life than in the hundreds of pictures he had seen of her. Suddenly he was very glad to be here, though his heart hesitated and almost stopped before it began anew, racing hard and fast.

Sharita was dressed all in white, with only a rim of silver edging the fluted hem of her long skirt, and silver delicately banded her small waist. Her hair was so pale and lustrous, it caught colors from the crystal refractions, appearing to the dazzled eyes of Dray-Gon to be made of gossamer fire opals.

Gracefully slow, she descended the stairs, and with the deliberate practice of majesty, she glided toward him on the path of royal purple. Now Dray-Gon could see that her eyes were violet, almost blue...and her skin a pale saffron cream. So it was true; her fabled complexion was not citron like all others. Caught in the heady spell of enchantment, Dray-Gon could only stare at the vision that was to him all that was beautiful and exotic--and out of his reach.

His father whispered in his ear, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, "She is far too pale--looks unhealthy to me."

Preoccupied with far different thoughts, Dray-Gon didn't hear.

"She's skinny too--look at those narrow hips--giving birth would kill her," whispered Ron Ka again, even louder, making sure eager ears would hear.

Sharita heard, as did the king and queen, and others. Inwardly Ras-Far groaned. He had to hand it to Ron Ka; he was an expert at being obnoxious. Ignoring Ron Ka and his son, the princess greeted her parents with two graceful curtsies, then seated herself on the small empty throne beside her father's. Her small glittering crown was only one-third the size of her mother's. The minister of protocol stepped forward then to make the formal introductions, interrupting Ron Ka's whispered comment on how a strong wind would floor the princess.

The greetings exchanged were as tree fringes rustling in the winds, for Dray-Gon's head and heart were awhirl. He heard only the soft low tones of the princess--not the words, just the lyrical sound. "Say something, Dray-Gon!" ordered his father in a harsh impatient whisper. But his son was speechless. His father swore softly in the long, intense, and awkward silence. "Say anything, idiot! Don't just stand there!"

Frantically Dray-Gon made an attempt. All the phrases so carefully rehearsed went flittering by as he blanked out totally. He stammered, he blushed, he grew more confused with each horrible silent passing moment. He wished lightning would strike and he could sink through the floor, and run from the fool he was making of himself. This was worse than any nightmare he had suffered as a child.

"Why, this is a comic parody," Sharita thought. "He actually
is
the country bumpkin!" Her scornful eyes flicked to meet with her father's. His stern commanding look spoke in a way she clearly understood.

Moving her eyes once more to Dray-Gon, Sharita felt a touch of compassion. He was so obviously embarrassed, and thousands of people were watching, judging. Her eyes swept over his face, his figure, noticing his broad shoulders, his slim hips and long legs--and dreadful clothes. His hair was such a dark auburn it appeared almost plum-black in the shadows. His discomfort grew even worse under her discerning survey, so that beads of perspiration stood out on his brow.

She sighed, for him, for herself. Well, even puhlet murderers were human--and more than a little bit handsome.

"The son of bakaret Ron Ka must feel as uncomfortable as I do when so many curious and strange eyes are watching his every movement. That is the very reason why balls like this are such rare occasions in my life. Customarily I prefer my private rooms. But now I feel very much like dancing. Will you dare to dance with an awkward princess, Dray-Gon, who will probably step on your toes a number of times?" Then, without waiting for his response, perhaps afraid he still couldn't manage a voice, she rose and offered him her hand.

At last Dray-Gon could speak. "You couldn't possibly be anything but graceful, your highness."

Sharita held to Dray-Gon's arm as they walked to the center of the ballroom floor. Ras-Far signaled a conductor, and the music began. Protocol ruled that royalty dance alone for the first three minutes, and it was only then that other dancers joined them in the execution of some rather fancy steps.

"Your son may not be an articulate courtier, Ron Ka," Ras-Far observed, "but he is certainly a very graceful and talented dancer."

"Of course, your majesty. We in Lower Dorraine are all gifted in frivolous lines."

"But they do make a lovely couple," La Bara said in her breathless way. "I am crazy about tall men. I recall the first time I saw my husband. He towered above everyone else, and he had the most beautiful smile. He didn't seem at all like a prince."

"Is that a compliment?" asked the king teasingly.

"Of course it's a compliment," La Bara replied, "I thought you would be stiff and boring; instead you were shy and charming, and I think I loved you right from the start. Oh, how I wish I were as young as Sharita is now, and you were dancing with me for the first time." She heavily sighed, for Ras-Far refused to dance now, claiming he was too old, when she knew different.

"In your scarlet gown, La Bara, you look as lovely and young as any woman should," Ras-Far complimented lightly. "But after years and years of nightly balls, I have grown weary of the pastime: why not dance with an expert? I'm sure Ron Ka would enjoy a twirl around the floor to show off his expertise."

"Really!" his wife's eyes scolded him. Ras-Far knew he would hear more of this later.

Silently, without grace, Ron Ka extended his arm and led the queen to the floor, saying nothing as he caught her in his arms and vigorously exerted his skill. Despite her reluctance to dance with this man, La Bara began to enjoy herself, following skillfully every one of his efforts to make her appear clumsy. "Well, I didn't think you had it in you," said Ron Ka drily when the dance was over, and everyone was applauding.

La Bara laughed, smiling at the bakaret in an appealing, girlish way. "You are truly an excellent dancer. I enjoyed every minute. Ask me yourself the next time."

When the queen looked around, her daughter and her dance partner were nowhere to be seen. The invited guests were all very much aware of this, and whispered speculations flew from ear to ear.

The Courtship
of Princess Sharita

I
n one of the palace gardens, Princess Sharita and Dray-Gon were strolling. Sharita did most of the talking, touching lightly on many subjects, seeking desperately to find a theme they could share, and enlarge upon.

Dray-Gon heard only the sweetness of her voice; her words were there, but without meaning for him. The unexpectedness of the turbulent, strong emotions her close presence fired within him made his replies brief. To keep the conversation alive, she was forced to ask direct questions, then set off on a different track altogether, again searching for some common bond that would hopefully give him a way in which to reveal himself to advantage. His taciturn quality was self-defeating. How difficult it is to be charming and sweet, or even gracious when every question is responded to with one short syllable! she thought impatiently before she fell into silence, refusing to make further efforts. If he wanted silence, he could have it! It had seemed, while they danced, that there might be some hope for him--but obviously he was all physical. Give him a thought to express, and he stumbled and fumbled, and tied his tongue in knots.

Unexpectedly Dray-Gon spoke: "They say that humming insects were not known on El Sod-a-Por. Score one black mark against the pufars."

So--they were to talk about bugs! Almost she laughed. Certainly she would tell her father about this!

"Why do you say score one black mark
against
the pufars? I say score another mark
for
them. I rather like the way they sound...it's like the night is singing, and nature is the orchestra." She stopped walking, and rested her hand on his arm, compelling him to stop too.

"Listen...and then tell me if their noises don't sound like singing."

Dray-Gon lifted his head, and tried to hear the incessant humming of the night-crawlers and fliers as singing. The night had an illusive darkness under the transparent dome. In the bejeweled sky, the tiny triple moons were bright, and the star-flowers planted everywhere threw off their own soft luminous glow. A dark-flier lit on Dray-Gon's neck, and he brushed it off.

"All right, princess, their noise does give one the impression of singing, if you want to feel romantic about them. I find them a nuisance, and you would too, if you ever slept out all night. And tell me this--just what does a bug have to sing about?"

Her laugh was soft. "That is such an easy question! They sing because they are alive; because they have grass to eat, and honey to taste, and a safe place to sit in the sun...and tomorrow may offer something very pleasing."

"Do you sing because you have these things, and life offers those expectations?"

"Occasionally I do, but not incessantly like them. But then I am much more complex than they are. I want so much, much more." It was she who took his hand and drew him to a white bench, where they sat and the moonlight haloed her fair hair, and lustered his darker head.

"What can a princess want that she doesn't already have?" asked Dray-Gon, appearing serious, though his eyes caught the moonlight and danced sparkles of amusement there.