Surrounding the walled palace, in truth a highly decorated castle, is what at first glance appears to be an ordinary small lake, as if it is merely a large reflecting pool in the gardens. However, it server a definite defensive function, for it is a moat, crossed only by a red and black lacquered wooden bridge which could apparently be retracted if the palace were to come under attack, although the mechanism for this was well concealed. Yet the simple beauty of the lake and bridge in this setting obscures their practicality.
The high, unyielding exterior walls are softened in appearance by plaster in off-white, and topped with large half-circles, painted in patterns of blues and purples. Here is one place where vegetation had not been encouraged, or even allowed, to grow. The barbican can be sealed off, as is evinced by the ivory tips of a stout wooden portcullis showing across the top of the broad opening. This traditional gateway opens into an inner garden court, rather than a bailey; a more intimate floral experience than beyond the walls. Tropical birds and blossoms abound; a wondrous experience for the senses.
The palace itself is of several storeys, differing from point to point, making it a cacophony of varying roof-lines, including several domes of varying sizes, plastered and painted in blue, green and gold, as well as tiled roofs. The walls are also plastered in off-white and decorated with painted friezes in geometric designs in brown, red and blue. Plants seem to be growing on parts of the roofs and on balconies, making it look as if the structure is alive with vegetation.
Long, broad steps lead up to a colonnaded entry that appears to be formed by trees forming a canopy above the huge wooden double doors. The gilded doors soar well over twice the height of the average Adhiel, and stand open during public hours, welcoming visitors into the vast entrance chamber known as the Great Hall. This chamber, its ceiling forming the first dome, is a huge open space, broken only by plastered and painted columns. Clerestory windows bathe the space in natural light, augmented by lamps hung on the columns. The Great Hall’s walls are hung with brightly coloured fabrics, depicting historical and mythological scenes; works of great art and craftsmanship. Potted trees and flowering plants flourish even here.
Here the nobility and wealthier merchants and artisans mingle, the buzz of conversation rarely pausing during public hours. Deals are struck, fortunes made and lost, as the vague scent of incense and the nearly invisible servants weave their way through the chamber. Not all who gather here are awaiting a royal audience. Indeed, there are those who merely come to see and be seen, or hear and be heard.
~~~~~
“Eabh ta seodhiu inaidha,†a young woman called in greeting, sweeping into an appropriately gauged curtsy. She was clad in the traditional sari, and the pale green of the cotton fabric declared her position as a servant of the palace. “How may a Page of the Great Palace be of service to you?†she asked, with a polite smile.
~
Iosif had hardly noticed the exertion of walking up the hill. His eyes drank in the image of the palace before him like a man who’d gone without water for a week. He had never held beauty in the same fashion as other adhiel with their adoration of nature. Iosif had another idea of beauty, centered around form and symmetry. He admired structure and foundation and most of all, the projection of power. His limited imagination could conceive no more powerful structure than the towering palace at the top of the hill.
Iosif was awed by the palace but definitely not cowed. There was something about that the palace that felt right to young adhiel. Destiny had played a part in bringing him here as surely as his feet were on the ground. When he stepped through the gilded doors, he felt as if they opened for him personally.
He looked around at those gathered. Do not worry Koba, you belong. The merchants and nobility did not bother Iosif as long as they were adhiel. In his days studying at the temple in Sirionn, the wealthy would often visit his temple to pay tribute or just to meet with the priest. But then, in his small section of the city, it was exclusively adhiel. The capital was much more cosmopolitan, much to his chagrin. If his gaze happened to fall on any human, or worse, the traitorous achadhiel, he would grit his teeth and try his best to hide his displeasure. It would not due to cause a scene yet.
Or, at least another scene. thought Iosif to himself. He swallowed hard and tried to forget the meeting with the guards. He had been lucky they were trying to be polite. He presumed they had a lax commander. If he were their officer, no one who would cause that much of a ruckus would be treated as softly as he had been. Shaking in his head in disgust at their weakness, he stepped forward to address the young female that had spoke.
“How may a Page of the Great Palace be of service to you?â€
Adjusting his peasant’s dhoti, Isoif felt less self conscious in front of the page.
“Namaste. I am Iosif Seregon of Sirionn,†said Iosif crisply. “I have recently left the brotherhood of K’tan to offer my service to the government of Cerleann. I am a skilled administrator. I can ride and handle a bow. I was told at the Circular Temple that I should present myself here.â€
