all about it later that night. I didn’t think he would appreciate the effort, though, so I merely patted him on the arm. “Lead the way, then.”
Lord Temur led us through the halls with little conversation, pausing here and there only to point out a particular element of architecture or relate the history behind a particular room. Soon enough, we were outside the palace and flanked by two fearsome-looking men who must have been Lord Temur’s retainers. Alcibiades kept glaring at them and muttering what I had no doubt were unpleasant things under his breath.
“Your temper, my dear,” I murmured, low under my breath.
Alcibiades merely made a noise in my direction in reply—half grunt, half growl.
Lord Temur paused at the main gate to explain our destination to the guards. I bounced on the balls of my feet, eager to see the city we’d only been able to view previously from carriage windows. It had been so scintillating, those mere glimpses, the smells warm and exotic, the sounds of a foreign people going about their daily lives without realizing how absolutely and extraordinarily different they all were.
“Stop all that bobbing up and down,” Alcibiades said. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Don’t be so sour,” I admonished him. It was time for mollifying him. “Just think of all the interesting things you’ll be able to put into your letter now.”
Alcibiades just stared at me as though trying to assess whether or not I was making a joke.
“Perhaps you might even purchase a watercolor,” I added. “To send along with your letter. A piece of the scenery, perhaps? Yana might like the memento.”
“Right.” The harsh lines of Alcibiades’ face smoothed out somewhat, making him look less monstrously cranky with the world; the whole effect made him look miraculously much younger. “I could do that, I suppose.”
“Gentlemen.” Lord Temur beckoned us and his retainers over with a regal sweep of his arm. He had such presence. “Your pardon, but the gate is open.”
A carriage—in the Ke-Han style, of course, a deep blue color that made Alcibiades snort when he saw it—awaited us.
The road from the palace stretched out for miles. All the city lay open before us. The scholars had given us maps before we left and explained that the lapis city was built with the palace as its hub, that formidable building set like a jewel in the very center of the glittering crown that was the capital. Buildings radiated outward from it like the sun’s corona, illuminating the glory of the palace itself. Closer to the palace were the larger houses, set far apart from one another; these were the lords’ homes, when they were recalled from duty to sojourn at the palace. The farther from the palace you traveled, the closer together the houses grew until, just in the distance, I could glimpse the cramped quarters of the town, the circumference of a great hexagon, which provided the framework for the entire city. The roads, the buildings, the lords’ houses, and the blossoming cherry trees were all planned down to the last seed or stone. It was nothing at all like Thremedon in Volstov, which resembled a handful of buildings flung together piecemeal and multiplying without proper planning, all scattered down the mountainside.
This was the most beautiful place I had ever seen.
At my side, Alcibiades snorted.
“Isn’t it lovely?” I said.
“That poor bastard up ahead just fell off his horse,” said Alcibiades.
So he had. I didn’t blame him, either, for as we drew closer and closer to the outer city, the streets grew more and more crowded; wealthier men, perhaps prosperous merchants, rode on horseback, while commoners scattered as we passed. Everyone bowed. It was crowded and full of noise, men recognizing one another and calling out greetings, women doing the same, or urging their children to keep up—and all completely different from the serene beauty of the palace and its environs.
I was somewhat disappointed with Alcibiades for being unable to recognize the great beauty laid out in perfect geometry before us.
“There are certain parts of the city, of course, that would be most unsuitable for our esteemed guests,” Lord Temur explained. I peered past the bamboo-curtained window of our carriage out onto the street, and saw a sprightly pickpocket flee the scene of his yet-unnoticed crime, purse in hand. “I would not dream of taking you there.”
“But what are they?” I began, perhaps too eagerly.
Alcibiades cleared his throat. “Understandable,” he said, and Lord Temur nodded.