Entering the Palace
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 19228
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When Fred and Astra arrived at the Palace they found it far different from
the construction within their own lands. "This is nothing like our stone
castles," exclaimed Fred. "Nor the marbled palaces of Aqualaria!" said
Astra. Indeed, if the whole city of Quaz'a'hwad seemed as if it were a
city of sand (which in the minds of Fred and Astra, it
did), then the Palace was a sandcastle, but not with the towers of the
Allarians nor the
colonnades of the Aqualarians, rather the walls seemed to bend and curve
with the rhythm
of the breeze and its spires rose soft and elegant in the bright blue
sky. Not only that, the
walls of the Palace enclosed a small lake! The waters were fed by a river
that meandered from the north. The waters of the clear lake lapped
against
the sands of this strange
desert.
"Just like in the theater..." murmured Astra. "What's that?" asked Fred as they continued their walk through the main Palace plaza. "Your guess that this is the Arabi was right... but in my land the Arabi is spoken of only in plays, the faraway place where children fly on magical tapestries and ghosts live in lamps." Fred looked at Astra. "Your people tell strange stories. I know nothing of this land's ghosts or her children, but its great caravans carry the spices and silks of the Far West to the lands of the Merchant Barons. At least that is what is said by the guildsmen of the Three Kingdoms who trade these spices with the royal houses of the Great Kingdom. I've never dreamed of traveling here, how strange the Fates can be." "How could they have built such a city in the middle of the desert?" whispered Astra to Fred. "First we must discover if we are in the middle or not," replied Fred. A beautiful dark skinned woman with startingly green eyes lay in her bath murmuring a holy song: I am a flower of Rama'dar, a lily of the Shar. As a lily among thorns I live among mortals, my body a delight with soft down and plump apples. Yet my love, where is he? A god amongst men, a buck midst fawns. I am faint with love, and when shall he come to me? The mage Mu'sharraf had unraveled the many scrolls and parchments of his library and had them open on his many tables. The scribe of the royal family fervently read and reread the messages, the passages, the revelations, the dreams; all that made up the Prophecies. Ithiopa was a land blessed with prophets, her history in the deserts was filled with those who walked with the gods. Mu'sharraf knew that the gods favored his people, yet he did not know why the Chosen One had arrived with a companion. He shuddered at the price of failure at this juncture, and then he laughed. He recalled what the sage Myr'ibn'rdn had taught his students: Keep far from the man who has power to kill, and you will not be filled with the dread of death.
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YY
4/5/2002 9:56:35 PM
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