The District of the Cisterns, Constantinople
A woman stood on a stone platform, an elegant white hand resting on a burnished walnut table. The platform rose from a dark lake, shrouded in heavy mist. Four parchment sheets lay before her, arranged in a row. Her fingers, tipped with blue-black nails shimmering in the lantern light, were rolling a small glass vial back and forth across the glossy dark wood. Bracelets clinked softly together as the hand moved to and fro. The motion stopped and the woman turned, her pale, white eyes widening slightly in amusement at the sight of her visitors.
Two boys knelt as they stepped onto the carpet, dark eyes glittering in a pervasive golden light. The young woman in the dark cloak remained motionless, though she allowed the little black cat to spring down out of her arms onto the carpet. The little cat darted across the plush floor and then came to a halt beside the tall woman.
Her skin was rich cream. A long cloud of deep red hair spilled down her back and over her shoulders. Tiny jeweled pins sparkled and gleamed in its firmament, catching and reflecting the light of the lanterns. Laughing softly, she knelt down and ran her hand, long and thin, over the soft short fur of the little cat's stomach. It curled around her hand, biting gently at the webbing between her fingers.
"Wicked little creature," she said, her voice rich with amusement, "what have you brought me? A gift? A toy?"
The woman rose, the velvety black silk of her gown sliding effortlessly over a pert bosom and flat stomach. The cut of her clothing was archaic, filled with folds and drapes, but it suited her lithe frame. A twisted belt of golden cord circled her waist and the fall of the cloth almost covered her feet. They were bare, long toes tapering to almond-shaped nails. Around her shoulders draped a supple pectoral of ivory scales. The edges of the plate were serpents worked in gold, with tiny ruby eyes. At her throat, as a brooch holding the gown in place, was a tiny medusa mask with a projecting tongue.
"Anatol," said the Queen in Darkness, "who is this pretty young thing?"
The boy cowered on the floor, forehead pressed to the carpets. He was trembling so hard he could not speak. The Queen cocked her head to one side and sighed softly.
"Go, children. Go and play."
The two Walach boys crawled backwards until they reached the wooden walkway and their lanterns, then snatched up the hot copper handles and bolted off into the mist. The sound of their feet rattling on the planks echoed for some time. Then mist swallowed the sound. The Queen looked upon the girl in the cloak, frowning slightly, and passed a hand before her face.
There was no reaction.
Intrigued, the Queen folded back the hood, exposing the girl's head and shoulders. She was a little thin, with a strong face and well-formed lips. Her hair was a dark russet, curly and shoulder length. Her eyes were green and without expression. The Queen gently ran her hand over the girl's cheekbone, her ear, the side of her neck.
"Kitten," the Queen said, looking down at the floor with a disapproving expression. "This girl has no spirit at all. She is an empty vessel. Do I have some use for her?"
The little cat looked up and yawned, showing tiny sharp white teeth and a pink mouth.
"You are a troublesome creature." The Queen slit the leather cord holding the cloak together with the edge of her thumbnail. The woolen garment fell away, leaving the girl standing naked on the carpet. Her body was whole and without imperfection or flaw. Frowning again, this time in concentration, the Queen circled her.
"Child, this mute form is trying to tell me something. Do you know what it is?"
The little cat meowed and stretched, digging its claws into the carpet, tail lashing in the air. The Queen made a shooing motion at it with her hand, then stopped, standing behind the naked girl.
"Very fit," the Queen mused, slightly tilted eyes narrowing. "No bordello girl, no farm girl, no…" She took the girl's hand in her own, gently squeezing the ringers, blue-black nails tracing the patterns of callus and muscle in the fingers and palms. "Ah, how interesting. Where did you find her, daughter?"
The little black cat rolled on the carpets, yellow eyes gleaming. Then it sat up and meowed again. The Dark Queen let the girl's hand fall back and turned, face clouded with approaching anger, pale rose lips pursed.
"You followed that insufferable Prince? He made this girl and then you stole her from him?"
The little cat affected not to notice the Queen. It continued to clean its fur. The woman smoothed back the dark wave of her hair.
"You are a bold creature. Do you know what she is-or was-before she was slain and then raised again? An ephebe of the Hidden Temple. One of the sacred ones… was she set to watch the Prince? I wonder…"
The little cat bumped its head against the woman's foot, then bit at her toes.
"Dreadful little creature!" The Queen laughed and moved her foot away. The little cat pounced, but the woman was far swifter. For a moment they danced on the thick piles of carpet, the pale white feet of the Queen flashing, the little cat leaping and bounding. The naked girl remained standing, staring straight ahead, while they moved counterclockwise around her. Then the woman stopped, her face showing astonishment for a brief instant.
"I will not," she said severely, flicking her gown back behind her. "You grow too bold."
The little cat rubbed itself against the girl's ankles. The Queen shook her head.
"I see your desire. No, I will send the girl back to where she belongs. The sisters will see her to final rest, as befits one of the ephebe fallen in battle. It will be a simple matter, and will give some relief from this… tomb of a place."
The Queen looked around, scowling. The platform held richly damasked couches, burlwood chests and a standing wardrobe, all things that she had collected over her long life. There were many things of beauty here, but the chill darkness weighed on her. She had not hunted in the night for some time. Things were very unsettled in the city above, the nighted streets filled with wandering bands of armed men. Her spies whispered to her of a struggle between the dying, cursed Emperor and his brother. Other powers moved too; she could feel their hidden presence in the air. Her own people were restless, bringing her odd rumors and fanciful tales. In such an atmosphere, it was impossible to remain inactive.
"Make yourself a useful creature!" The Queen picked up the little cat by the scruff of her neck and matched gazes with her, blue-white for yellow. "Go find the lax children who serve me and have them prepare my ship. We will go faring forth on the sea-green wave, as I did in the old time."
Then she let the little cat down and it darted off, swift, into the darkness and mist.
The Queen's humor did not improve. She returned to the table and stared down at the glass vial and its dark red liquid. She touched the glass vial with the tip of her finger. The liquid seemed to glow with its own light. Then she snarled, snatching the glass up and hurling it away into the clammy mist. The papers she tucked away in a pocket of her gown.
"Cursed boy," she hissed, nostrils flaring. "I will not be your servant, even in gratitude for your open-handedness! Laertes' whelp could learn from you and your crooked mind!"
The Queen brooded, sitting on one of the couches, staring into the darkness. "Mindless child," she suddenly snapped at the girl, who was still standing in a puddle of dark gray wool by the walkway. "Lie down and rest."
Dutifully, the girl lay down on the carpet, drew the cloak over herself and fell asleep.