The Astrologies

Prologue: A Night of Whispers

Weeks before the blood moon and all the violence that followed it, a remarkable gathering took place at the Imperial Palace. It was remarkable because of the entwined fates of those who assembled there, who did not know each other, or suspect any part of what the stars had planned for them.

The young Emperor Galant donned golden robes and a crown of wheat, and proclaimed that the planting should begin. He washed his hands in the waters of the five rivers. He drew his own blood and let it mingle with the blood of the ox as it burned, so that Quelestel would be pleased.

On the same day, though their planting had long been finished, the farmers of the plains sacrificed and prayed. In the forests and mountains of the north and across the vast prairie all the way to the steppes, the citizens of the Empire prayed that this year would bring a bountiful harvest. The last two years had been hard. The feasting was meager and many outside the city offered their best to the old Harvest God, even though the day now belonged to Quelestel.

In Merendir, the mild winter was half a cycle gone. The guests of the Emperor took their goblets to the boats and lounged in the lake, or to the red-shingled roofs of the guest houses to watch glimmering arteries spread out from the palace as the Lamplighters worked in the dusky streets. Many stood with the Emperor and his knights, watching as the Emperor's sister smiled shyly at a pair of strangers-- a man and a woman from the Wandering Tribes, brought to the palace for a scant weight of silver. The woman had come to entertain the nobles with her cards and visions of the future. The man had come because it was impossible for him to leave her side. He stood silent and stern, with a thin bare blade between his sash and his breeches, and drew hushed, excited, murmurs from the nobles who knew of the fierceness of the Tuga tribe.

The woman of the Wandering Tribes knelt on the cobblestones before the Princess Celani. The Emperor's sister had been taught well, and did not fear the Tuga, but unlike most of the crowd, she believed in the woman's art. She feared her future, and so she hardly breathed as the woman dealt the cards. The Tuga woman dressed as a man, in breeches and a tunic, tied with the sash bearing the colors of her tribe. She was hard from work and war, but she was a woman, and Celani felt like a little girl, soft and small and timid, in a perfectly tailored silk gown and perfectly brushed hair.

When the Tuga woman looked from the cards to the princess, her dark eyes were like the calm expanse of the prairie.

"You seek eyes within storms," she said, serenely, "One true storm, one storm that engulfs the world, and one storm within yourself. Keep your own eyes open, or you will be swept away."
There were scattered guffaws and some throat clearing in the crowd. Celani's uncle, the Elder General Dilluther, gangly and glowering in dark finery, appeared beside her and took her by the arm. His grip was gentle and absolutely unbreakable. As they walked away, Celani saw sympathy in the wandering woman's eyes-- for what, she feared to wonder.

She would have liked to stay for the music and dancing, but she did not belong at these events. Jealous eyes saw her as the probable Empress, and in uncertain times it was her lot to be kept indoors. That, and she still had the occasional episode. She would watch from her window and pretend that she could distinguish one figure from another.

The knights Arman and Ersaphis stood guard at the gate to the first ring of the palace. Celani could watch herself approach in the high sheen of their polished armor. The knights stood at attention now, as always. She stood on her toes, and her uncle Dilluther stooped a little, and she kissed him on the cheek. Dilluther had a narrow, stern face, and his cheek was hard and stubbly, but he softened at her touch.

"Good night, Uncle."

"Good night, Celani. Sleep well."

Celani took a last look at the torchlit square behind her, and went in to the first ring of the palace, to spend another night alone with her thoughts and her mother's slippered footsteps scuffing endlessly through the halls.