ACT II: Les cadeaux du monde

In Merphomenee's household I learned more of how she managed not only her massive temple but also the city of Kircina and the province of Illyrica. She seldom spoke except to the slaves who served her directly and a number of ministers who reported to her. The goddess left the daily requirements of administration to her provincial monarchs and the stewards of the temple, involving herself only in the most important decisions to be made. Warfare was unknown in Illyrica, violent crimes so uncommon as to be unheard of - partly because of the abundant riches with which Merphomenee blessed her world, and partly from fear of her awful wrath. She liked to visit the massive groves outside the temple and immerse herself in nature, sometimes taking me or other guests with her. She took great interest in the creative arts of Kircina, often attending the theatrical plays produced by the city's many acting colonies, and the sight of her massive silhouette towering over the amphitheaters of Kircina must have been a common one. Bards and poets often invoked her by name to aid in their recitals. She asked me if I wished to attend the theater with her. As you might imagine, reader of mine, I wanted as little to do with the goddess as possible. If she wandered outside her temple, I stayed within. If she remained inside, I scampered like a frightened mouse away from her.

I could not avoid her entirely. Many of the goddess' vessels dwelt in this temple too and she always seemed to know which one to use when she wished to speak with me. In one particularly terrifying episode she placed herself into Platina mid-conversation with me, interrupting us to ask my opinion on some fashion or another. I felt so startled that I leaped and ran away from her, only for her to confront me in the body of another of her vessels, and so on as I fled from room to room. She surrounded me with six of them as I wailed in fear, only releasing her human puppets after she picked me up shivering in her own prodigious hand. A day passed before I mustered the courage to ask the goddess through Platina how many vessels she could simultaneously inhabit only to be told "all of them," which did nothing to assuage my fear of her.

Despite my immurement, even I sensed a tangible anticipation ahead of the annual tribute. Merphomenee's slaves quietly speculated as to which provinces might bring which gifts this year, and although I still felt too terrified of the mercurial goddess to even dare set foot outside of her well-apportioned temple, Platina informed me that great caravans had been trickling into Kircina for the past fortnight bearing riches that defied the imagination. The grand atrium of the temple saw a great deal of activity in preparation as slaves endlessly brought in bleachers and stacked them against the walls, forming an elongated amphitheatrical pit with wide lanes from the forbidding doors to the seat of the goddess, enough for dozens of ox teams to travel abreast. An elaborate system of mirrors and windows in the ceiling illuminated the audience chamber with sunlight as the servants worked. They labored like a tireless colony of ants under Merphomenee's eye.

On the day of the event, I woke abruptly in my makeshift bed to find Merphomenee dressing herself for the occasion. I peeked over the vamp of the shoe. Slaves scurried incessantly around painting her nails, brushing her skin, struggling to arrange her hair, applying violet cosmetic shadow to her eyelids; I was reminded again of a busy colony of bees working around their impassive queen. Merphomenee wore a white silken stola draped around her body with one shoulder bare, the hems dyed royal purple and a long, long crimson sash draped over her covered shoulder to her hip. Her kirtle hugged her frame closely to emphasize her femininity. I also saw a number of cylindrical cages each with a forlorn-looking prisoner being brought in on ox-pulled carts. Their presence puzzled me until Merphomenee reached down and delicately picked one up, hooking the cage to her earlobe as an earring. The man-sized prison with its helpless occupant swayed with every turn of the goddess' head and I stared in morbid fascination at Merphomenee's use of people as part of her fashion. She selected two golden cages for her ears and two dozen more to hook onto her sash. For her shoes she chose a pair of Illyrican sandals that left most of her feet bare save for the sole. The goddess wore jewelry sparingly, with golden bangles on her wrists and gold anklets below her calves. In spite of my trepidation I admired her élégance sans effort, all of her cosmetics applied with a subtle touch to enhance rather than replace her natural beauty.

By her command I had been reserved a seat near the foot of the ample cushions where she would recline to receive the homage of her subjects; Platina would be joining me as well. I did not wish to attend, but Merphomenee merely arched her eyebrow in a way that chilled my flesh and left me scurrying to appease her. I picked my way through the crowded audience chamber and found my place on the bench next to Platina Titiana. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of citizens crowded above us in the higher seats of the stadium, a spectacle quite distinct from the odeum of Louelle where Merphomenee and I had watched the opera together. The crowd here seemed much more raucous with strains of laughter and ever-present conversation drifting down from above, nor did people dress fancily as we had in Theraveria. No tickets were sold; Platina explained that this was a public event hosted by the goddess for the benefit of the masses, and that all food and drink were paid from the state coffers. Slaves wandered the aisles of the multitude with wine and fruit on trays, free for the taking. I understood now why this temple contained so many kitchen and bathroom facilities.

A concerted trumpet blast from a band of heralds summoned us to our feet, all rising in the presence of Merphomenee as she opened the doors from her boudoir and regally stepped out into the audience hall. Silence immediately fell. In her graceful gliding stride she crossed the vast intervening distance in just a few unhurried movements, settling down gingerly on the massive throne-like cushions so that she did not accidentally crush her caged prisoner accessories. She turned a charming smile on the assembled crowds whom she towered over, at which innumerable throats erupted in lusty cheers. The goddess lifted her hand in benediction. At a nod from her stentorian head, a herald gave the command for the immense double doors at the face of the temple to be opened.

Built of stone and Illyrican concrete, and decorated with magical crystal and gold and all kinds of polished jewels, the titanic doors groaned as they swung on ponderous hinges, strenuously pulled open outwards by teams of oxen and magical engines. The animals strained and heaved to move the enormous doors, a process that required nearly six minutes to complete before the mighty doors finally opened completely. "Let the ambassadors from Troias sally within and prostrate themselves at the feet of shining Merphomenee," the herald announced.

Far inside the audience chamber, I caught a glimpse of sunlight reflecting off gold as the first of the gift caravans assembled outside trundled in.  A murmur of astonishment rose from the throng of onlookers as teams of oxen pulled in wagons of goods. I glanced up at Merphomenee, whose face betrayed only idle curiosity at the entry of these servitors. The long approach through the packed audience chamber permitted the spectators plenty of time to see the tribute being carried to Merphomenee; my eyes must have widened as I saw cartload after cartload of vases and pottery jars and fabrics being carried past. Thrice the dignitaries of Troias made obeisance on the journey inside. When the ambassador of Troias reached the foot of Merphomenee's seat, overshadowed by her sheer stature looming above, he knelt again. The goddess languidly lowered a hand and the ambassador kissed her finger. Earlier I had learned that these tributaries were obliged to use a florid form of poetic speech common to the Illyrican epics. "Hail and well met, O farsighted daughter of Moneta! The people of Troias present to you the gifts befitting a goddess of your beauty and dignity." Platina touched my shoulder and pointed out the quartz-like crystals thrumming with magic which amplified his voice over the audience chamber. "Eighty distaffs of the finest brocade silk from the city shall adorn your body. One hundred sealed clay jars of our best wine, brewed as only Troians can brew. We offer fifty talents of gold and two hundred talents of refined silver. Ten jars of perfume distilled from the shells of oysters on the Troian coast shall be yours, and fie upon he who dares to suggest that Troian women could find better. Statues of our heroes, valiant as Mars and swift as Mercury, we shall give to beautify radiant Kircina. Hear ye nations an orison written by the leading librettist of our city, of which I shall quote but the first lines." He read out an obsequious poem full of servile flattery for Merphomenee's beauty which I shall not dignify by repeating here. "Grace us, oh flame-haired goddess, with your favor and send the gentle rains to water our fields, the calm winds to speed our ships, and protect us by your august presence," he concluded.

"This is a tribute rendered annually?" I asked Platina in amazement. Compared to the abundance of goods flowing into Merphomenee's hands - and this only the first of many! - the reparations demanded of Theraveria after the Brabantine wars seemed insultingly paltry. "What if a province refuses to render such extortionate sums?"

"Then it is placed under the wrath of the goddess," Platina told me in a hushed, horrified tone. "Other territories are forbidden to trade with it. The land is wracked by famine and drought and pestilence. Men and women perish by the thousands as grain wilts and livestock die, and furious storms and earthquakes and fires scourge the entire province. Worst of all, horrible monsters of legend begin to appear and abduct people, creeping into sanctuaries and cities - medusae, hydrae, cyclopes, and fouler creatures still. No one in living memory has been so foolish as to risk her displeasure." My eyes widened with each successive recital; Merphomenee commanded such absolute power?

Platina stopped, for the ambassador from Caesaria now made his way down the audience chamber with his wagons in tow. The Caesarians brought a gorgeous multi-colored cloth which shimmered with all the iridescent hues of the rainbow, ten lovely maidens carrying a broad swath of fabric to the amazement of the crowd. They cheered lustily for the Caesarian delegation as the ambassador presented his tribute: eighty talents of gold, several chests of polished sapphires, exotic violet flowers the size of a grapefruit specially cultivated to grow in Kircina's mild climate, barrels of ale, and amphorae filled with rich incense. Merphomenee reached down and lightly picked up the rainbow cloth, holding it up to the sunlight and admiring how it gleamed.

"That bodes well for the Caesarian delegation, Summerlyn," Platina informed me.

"She did not deign to examine any gifts from the Troian embassy personally, correct?" I guessed.

Platina nodded. "Exactly so."

The goddess neatly folded the cloth like a gigantic napkin and set it back down next to the Caesarian delegation's gifts. Having presented their tribute, the Caesarian delegation guided their carts to one side of Merphomenee's recliner, next to the Troian embassy. The sun had risen considerably and Platina took a few slices of apple from a passing servant to share with me. Eyeing Merphomenee, I had the distinct impression of a beautiful tawny cat lazily examining mice ferrying gifts to her in an effort to appease her appetite. The next party came from the southern province of Arvana, a place renowned for its magnificent forests - trees which grew so high it was said that their canopy hid Merphomenee's waist, the tallest of which might even graze her shoulder. Dozens of wains labored under the weight of fragrant sandalwood, sturdy hardwoods, cedar, pine, beech, oak, and all manner of timbers useful for construction and furniture. Platina observed that the Arvanan embassy brought the same gifts year after year and Merphomenee always accepted them, useful as wood proved for her building projects. Besides raw timber, the Arvanans also brought carved wooden sculptures, a wagon loaded with tools, and even small potted trees for Merphomenee to wear as jewelry.

To avoid wearisome repetition, my dear reader, let me say only that my eyes beheld riches beyond measure throughout that morning and afternoon as all the nations came to prostrate themselves before the goddess and beg for her blessings. Gold and silver were the most common tribute, offered in abundance by nearly all the provinces. Timber and stone too, and precious gems of all kinds, as well as magical crystals - so much so that the grand audience chamber for the temple resembled a vault filled with treasure as the assembled emissaries awaited Merphomenee's whims. I saw offerings of wheat flour and rice grains, of paper and tea, of fermented wine and ale, exotic spices such as pepper, cinnamon, and myrrh, boiled salt from the sea, bolts of cloth, furniture, musical instruments and carved game pieces, mysterious animals whose existence I had never imagined such as giraffes and zebras, skins and leathers in abundance, wool and furs, sundials and astrolabes, sculptures and paintings, poems and songs praising the goddess, books and scrolls, perfumes and dyes, alchemical potions and aetherial flasks, apothecarial concoctions and so many more gifts. Hours passed as I watched an endless train of tribute-bearing carts proceed through the audience chamber, the goddess occasionally pausing to inspect an item or two which caught her particular fancy. The enthusiasm of the crowd never seemed to abate - each new delegation aroused cheers (and jeers, if my account is to be truthful), with particular applause reserved for unique tribute that evinced imagination or a deep understanding of what Merphomenee desired.

I wondered if any of this spectacle truly pleased the goddess. All seemed quite unlike the woman I had known in Louelle who loved to discuss ideas with me and seemed to value my companionship. I tapped Platina on the shoulder and indicated the audience with a wave of my arm. "These gifts, these bribes, this ceremony of tribute ... it is all just a show for the people, is it not?"

"Panem et circenses," she replied, "you have the right of it. She enriches herself and keeps the people of Kircina pacified, does she not?"

"Why for?" I wanted to know. "A human ruler must need mollify the populace, but why a goddess whom none of us could hurt and who could destroy us all with a turn of her hand?"

Platina paused as though she had not considered that question before and then shook her head. "I do not know. You should ask the goddess. That part of her heart she keeps hidden from me."

This I had no intention of doing and I returned my attention to a new caravan moving through the great doors. After the usual litany of gifts, the Tartulian ambassador brought forth a young maiden dressed in a fine white gown, a beautiful girl with alabaster arms and classical figure, golden-haired like myself - an exceedingly rare combination of traits amongst the Illyricans. This girl curtsied demurely before Merphomenee as her provincial emissary offered her to the goddess for a vessel to inhabit, at which the audience erupted in frenzied approval. Seeing her standing so bravely in front of the goddess made me think of the other vessels I had met, wondering if they had also been presented in such a manner to become no more than human tools for Merphomenee. I could not tell from this distance but something about the maiden's manner suggested that she might be no older than I. Certainly she looked lovely enough to be a vessel for Merphomenee's tastes - and with a start I realized that of course the goddess examined humans for suitability of habitation much like a mortal woman might shop for fabric at the seamstress' boutique. Perhaps the sunlight played tricks with me, but she looked very pale as she slowly stepped away from Merphomenee to take her place with the treasures offered to the goddess.

The sun had fallen low by the time the caravans finally stopped coming in, a cool afternoon breeze wafting through the great doors. The mirrors that provided sunlight struggled to keep pace and I saw servants busily walking about to prepare great braziers if need be. Platina leaned close and confided to me, "Summerlyn, sometimes the bargaining and haggling part of this event can last all the way to midnight. If you feel tired, lean on my shoulder."

"Bargaining?" I asked, puzzled by Platina's words. It seemed natural to assume Merphomenee would accept the gifts and bestow her blessing upon the tributaries.

"Yes," Platina told me. "This is when Merphomenee begins to choose which tribute she will accept - but, I forget this is your first time witnessing these events."

"She seems interminably bored," I observed, watching the goddess for any sign of activity.

"She is not," Platina assured me. "She simply does not wish to betray her intentions of whom she will accept."

Silence fell over the assembly as Merphomenee stood up, forcing me to crane my neck to observe her face. In the expectant quiet which followed, all eyes fixed upon the gorgeous goddess as she languidly strolled around her cushion, gazing down at the caravans of goods presented to her. I held my breath in anticipation; whose offerings would be accepted first? Which province would be spared the terror of her displeasure, still so fresh in my mind? Had Merphomenee succeeded in stepping into Theraveria, would M. the brother of the king be amid their number now leading offerings of the best we had to sacrifice? What did we even possess that could compare to the riches brought here?

Merphomenee halted before the delegation from Greater Kalesca. The tension increased to palpable levels. She seemed to linger deep in thought, but she turned and walked on.

She halted in front of the Caesarian delegation. Platina and I clutched each other, breathless with expectancy. The Caesarian ambassador's face had turned mortellement pâle.

Merphomenee inclined her great head once, the cage earrings rudely jostling their occupants. I saw the ambassador exhale a deep sigh of relief as the trumpets sounded and the herald announced, "The most beneficent goddess accepts the tribute from verdant Caesaria." Deafening roars of acclaim immediately rose from the throng of spectators, interspersed with a few groans from those who had wagered against Merphomenee's acceptance. The fates of entire territories hung on Merphomenee's quickening nod or frown of disapproval ... and the populace of Kircina treated it as a diversionary amusement for gambling purposes. I felt sickened by their callousness.

As the exuberant Caesarian delegation was led away by Merphomenee's slaves and their offerings moved into storage, the goddess slowly made another circuit of the riches assembled before her feet. Audience members shouted suggestions up at the regal goddess, bidding her accept this tribute or that. As though a floodgate of tension had burst, now the crowd excitedly called for Merphomenee's favor towards the various factions. The goddess even looked up and smiled in amusement, prompting cries of joy from her audience. She selected the delegation from Decapolis to another swell of acclaim. I must confess to being nearly swept away in the excitement of the horde, forgetting the deadly stakes at play.

Merphomenee circled unhurriedly around her cushion again and I wondered why she hesitated to choose. Any of these tributes would have enriched Theraveria immeasurably. The ardor of the spectators quickly cooled and again we returned to watching the goddess with bated breath as she continued to consider. After a few minutes spent with Merphomenee haughtily glancing down, she abruptly returned to her throne and seated herself on the couch. Murmurs of discontent flickered through the audience though none dared voice their displeasure volubly. Immediately the remaining emissaries ran with all haste to the base of Merphomenee's throne and flung themselves at her feet, pleading with her to reconsider and bathing her feet in kisses. Gasps of horror arose from the spectators surrounding us.

"Now the bargaining begins," Platina noted grimly.

The roar of the crowd drowned out the frantic cries of the ambassadors, but I gathered from their prostrate body language that they begged Merphomenee to accept their gifts. I tugged on the sleeve of Platina's stola. "Are they trying to change her mind?" I asked, shouting to be heard above the din.

"Yes. And they are offering her more presents to sway her into accepting them. They understand the awful consequences if she does not." Platina nervously bit her lower lip.

Merphomenee raised one massive hand and the audience instantly fell silent, allowing us to hear the magically amplified voices of the men groveling before her. "One hundred talents of silver!" "Banquets in Your Divine Grace's honor, held monthly - no, weekly!" "We will erect a statue of Your Divine Grace in the capital square!" "Two cartloads of tiger skins!" Each individual shouted in an effort to be heard above the others while the impassive goddess stared down as if daring them to impress her.

After a few tense minutes the goddess accepted the gifts proffered by the party of distant Thessalia, although not before the intimidated ambassador had been obligated to add a dozen crates of tea leaves and weekly burnt sacrifices in Merphomenee's honor to his bribes. A few men in the crowd shouted to her to take this delegation's tribute or the other's. Watching Merphomenee accept a few more offers, I learned the elegantly devious way she forced these unfortunate souls to play her lethal game: each time the bidding restarted to the initial tribute brought by a delegation in the opening train, but the subsequent round of bargaining raised the stakes required to satisfy her further. Merphomenee's method interposed these hapless dignitaries between two contrary conditions to fulfill, namely attempting to offer enough to satisfy the unpredictable goddess and remove themselves from further negotiations without bankrupting themselves with burdensome tribute. Overtures of the wrong gifts could self-sabotage an emissary and condemn him to more bargaining, requiring these personages to guess the goddess' whims. I asked Platina if this placed poorer provinces at a disadvantage, but she said no: the goddess carefully weighed a territory's total wealth and production capacity as part of her calculations. I found this a surprisingly equitable consideration for such an unjust duty.

I saw a desperate emissary reduced to tears and struggling to maintain his poetic oration as he offered twenty daughters of the city's leading families to Merphomenee as slaves. She rejected his pleas regardless and chose the gifts from Arvana instead after nearly doubling the timber it would be required to sacrifice. My heart twisted in my breast at Merphomenee's callous cruelty, seeing these brave men and women abandoning all dignity with increasingly vain efforts to protect their own lands at exorbitant cost. It was a pitiful sight indeed, one I hoped never to witness again long before the event ended, made so much worse by the way that the throng of spectators shouted in favor of one delegation or another as though cheering for the chariot races. I tried to slip away once during a visit to the bathroom only for one of the goddess' liveried slaves to politely and firmly inform me that my presence was required in the grand atrium. Even after the sun had fallen and plunged the chamber into darkness, lamp light provided by great oil braziers and reflected by mirrors illuminated the relentless proceedings. Sometimes the goddess hinted to one party or another what guerdon she desired of them. When Merphomenee at last deigned to accept the Tartulian emissary's gifts, the statuesque girl I had seen earlier curtsied to the goddess on trembling knees with tears running unabashedly down her cheeks. As well she might - all of her absent sisters had also been annexed to the tribute pile.

"These poor, pitiable people," I murmured to Platina as the Tartulian emissary sadly led the weeping maiden away. Even the ardor of the bloodthirsty Kircina horde seemed absent this time. I heard a few sympathetic murmurs follow her out of the audience hall. "What will happen to her now?"

Platina clutched the folds of her robe as the few remaining ambassadors began to raise their bids again. "They will in likelihood all be sent back to Tartulia as instruments of Merphomenee's will, inhabited by her spirit until their beauty has faded away and she discards them. Of course, they will be too old by then to marry. The goddess' vessels are always treated with the utmost respect even when their services are concluded and they will want for nothing - but do you not think their fate a pitiable one?"

I thought of my own mother then and the horror with which she regarded a woman's inability to marry. Lady Renia too - what would happen to her, marooned in Theraveria past the age that girls were wed? And Platina Titiana, also used by Merphomenee but whom I had rarely seen inhabited by the goddess - was she free to marry? Mother considered a woman without children to be the greatest tragedy of all. The roar of the crowd pulled my attention back to the farcical ceremony and the author of all this misery reclining on her cushion, self-assured in her utter invincibility. For the first time I felt hatred for Merphomenee take hold of my heart, motivated by a decidedly un-aristocratic sentiment of solidarity with my fellow man in the face of her divine oppression. A sentiment that Merphomenee herself had inculcated within me by her assiduous attention to my education in Louelle.

At last the goddess had winnowed the field of her supplicants down to a duet of final contenders: the provinces of Troias and Cyrenica. The Cyrenican ambassador spoke first, opening with an oleaginous panegyric which flattered Merphomenee's supposed wisdom in saving their gifts for the last. The crowd cheered enthusiastically as the ambassador declaimed the gifts to be added as tribute. "Hear me, O munificent Muse, that you may know how Cyrenica wishes to honor you! Fifty great jars of the purest oil pressed from the olive, to be delivered without delay to the lovely feet of the most beautiful goddess of Illyrica. Fifty cauldrons of brass we offer, each fit to hold a bull, and fifty steeds renowned for speed to add to your herds. Two score jars of the fruit of the vine distilled to a brew fit even for the cherry-stained lips of a goddess! And should these not suffice to turn your righteous anger, oh noblest of Muses, we shall give a score talents of gold to dedicate a fine temple in a populous city of your choosing: whether it be fair Bardamyle, or Luvenia of the grasses, or Phinos by the endless sea, that city shall be named Merphomenea in your honor. Let Cyrenica hold you in esteem, oh bright-eyed goddess, for we shall be far more profitable in this wise to perpetually honor your famed beauty."

"Cyrenica! Cyrenica! Cyrenica!" the populace of Kircina cheered lustily.

Then the emissary of Troia made his speech to the goddess. "O illustrious goddess of inspiration, Moneta's golden daughter, Troias has offered you her humble presents. Let it not be said that Troians are parsimonious in the rendering of gifts, for you know, O exalted Muse, that Troians are ever wont to be first in the hecatombs tendered to the gods, in the smoky offerings of thighbones girt with fat, in the worship offered by our multitudinous supplicants! Now we are ashamed to meet your bright eyes, gracious goddess, with our gifts long denied when it has been your custom to accept our tribute first -"

"A blatant mistruth," Platina remarked sardonically.

"- and the glory of Troias to stand before all others in favor found. Rich gifts we shall offer to remedy our deficiencies. Besides the unworthy presents we have already brought, we shall give you seven Troian women most skilled in fine needlepoint who shall weave and sew all that your heart desires. You shall have fifty brocades of inestimable Troian silk dyed purple, often imitated but never equaled. Ten of the finest Troian triremes, crewed at Troian expense, shall be placed at the disposal of Illyrica for seaborne trade. Goldsmiths we shall employ, to fashion a tiara befitting your majesty, oh green-eyed goddess. So too shall our leading men and women honor you, that every daughter born to us with your hair of flame shall be assembled on the year of her fifteenth birthday. She who is adjudged fairest, as Venus herself, her hands as skilled as those of subtle Minerva, she also shall take the cognomen of Merphomenea. As Troian actors are acclaimed the finest of those who delight in your rule we shall hold a contest to compose a play in your honor, and it shall be shown for a full hundred days in Kircina by the finest performers of Troias. Hearken unto our plea, gracious goddess of inspiration, turn your deadly frown from our lands and favor us with your quickening smile."

Now the crowd lay evenly divided in their opinions, with shouts of "Troias!" matched by cries of "Cyrenica!" Half the audience wished for Merphomenee to choose one land and half wished for her to choose the other. I watched in tense anticipation, uncertain to whom Merphomenee would give her nod. Sensing her hesitance, the Cyrenican emissary again offered even more: a flock of exotic birds for the city menagerie and fragrant oils to anoint the goddess. Not to be outdone, the Troian emissary counteroffered a weeklong public festival in her honor wherein a thousand cattle were to be sacrificed for public consumption. The Cyrenican paled at this offer, and quickly added another thirty talents of silver. The Troian responded by offering a hundred talents of silver with ten vats of dried figs. Desperate, the Cyrenican begged Merphomenee to take the sons of their king as her personal slaves even as shouts of "Cyrenica!" dwindled away.

"Troias! Troias! Troias!" The roar of the crowd grew deafening.

"I have decided," Merphomenee intoned. Silence instantly fell. She fixed her gaze down at the two men groveling before her throne, both of them tense with dread. "And I accept the present brought by Troias."

I saw the Troian ambassador's shoulders slump visibly in relief. I also heard an agonized shriek of despair from the Cyrenican ambassador, audible even over the tumult of the audience, before he fainted cleanly onto the floor and had to be carried away by Merphomenee's slaves. Having made her decision, the goddess rose august and vanished back into her room without another word. I felt dazed by how nonchalantly she had decided the fate of an entire land and had no desire to attend her, so I lingered in the atrium even as the crowds began to rapidly trickle out through the immense doors into the cold of the night. How could I help but pity the Cyrenicans? Unable to stand the sight of the heartless goddess anymore, I left Platina and followed the throng of people outside.

But when I crossed the threshold of the temple vestibule, I stepped directly into Merphomenee's bedroom instead of outside with everyone else. How she did this to me I have no idea; perhaps magic truly is the language of creation as she told me. Disoriented, I whirled around to see the way I had just walked in and nearly stepped facefirst into a solid wall. The goddess had seated herself in front of me and carefully unhooked the decorative cages from her sash and ears, the prisoners within no doubt wracked by thirst. The woman who had been promised earlier to her as a vessel also stood next to me, her composure brave but her cheeks caked with dried mascara where her tears had run. "I shall visit Phinos, a charming Cyrenican city, an hour after the sun rises upon her shores," Merphomenee informed us. "You two shall accompany me."

We looked at least other uncertainly and I spoke up. My mind reeled from the overwhelming memory of the appalling ceremony I had just witnessed. "But ... goddess, please, we are both tired and in need of repose ..."

Merphomenee thought for a moment and stepped away, bringing back the matching shoe to my own slipper bed and setting it next to mine. "Summerlyn, show Leannia to her bed." There being no help for it, I took this new vessel - Leannia Aenilia Secunda - and brought her next to the ornate slipper. I showed her the best way to climb the jewels and filigree on the exterior flank and how to bed herself down inside the toebox. Like my berth, hers carried the aroma of finished leather and plainly had never been used by the goddess. Tucked in the enclosure between vamp and sole out of sight of Merphomenee, the lovely girl threw her arms around me and wept bitterly. Tears sprang unbidden to my eyes too as I embraced her, lamenting the cruel events which had condemned her to become a pawn for Merphomenee.

Weary as we felt, Leannia and I began to talk, as women naturally will when left alone. She conjured light to illuminate our small alcove, a painful reminder to me that I had been injured too severely to use magic again. We heard Merphomenee giving instructions to her slaves and Leannia must have noted with horror the way I flinched at the sound of Merphomenee's voice. I narrated for her the long story of how I had come to know the goddess and to find myself in Illyrica from my own world. She told me her tale as well: the second of four daughters, she had been brought up in carefree liberty in the mountainous province of Tartulia. Her schooling was light and pleasant, her family wanted for no luxury, and she often traveled to other cities. She knew of Merphomenee and the servitude in which her people were held, of course, but she had never seen the goddess before nor had Tartulia suffered one of the goddess' rampages during her lifetime. Last year however Tartulia had paid an outrageous tribute to avert Merphomenee's attention and the rulers of the province decided that a beautiful virgin would need to be sacrificed to the goddess' pleasure. She told me how she and her sisters all drew lots to decide who would be offered and how she had been chosen. The idea that her sisters would join her in Kircina comforted her somewhat. "Why should they not drink the same bitter draught I am forced to swallow?" she asked darkly.

She and I passed hours in solitude, talking quietly long after midnight, nor did Merphomenee interrupt us. I washed away the mascara stains from Leannia's lovely cheeks. When her eyes drooped, I placed her head in my bosom and let her drift away to sleep, plunging our bed into darkness save for the flickering lamplight which drifted into our sanctuary. Merphomenee peeked in once and I looked up fearfully at the goddess, but she merely smiled and gently patted the shoe with her great hand in benediction. I gazed after the goddess confused, still terrified of her wrath and yet wistful for her companionship. How I longed to see her fond smile turned on me again, to curl up in her warm hand and let her hold me, protected from the entire world! I fell asleep next to Leannia in the shoe as we drifted together in sweet dreams' embrace.

Merphomenee worked her subtle enchantments upon us in our repose.

I opened my eyes. I stood in a small, enclosed room with marble tiled floors and flickering lights made by burning oil lamps, a luxurious white silk stola hanging from one of my shoulders and neatly folded around my waist, leaving my arms and ankles and feet exposed. On my feet I wore a beautiful pair of cothurni, the high-laced buskins of actresses in tragic drama, laboriously worked from the hides of behemoths. An ornate girdle around my slender waist held the folds of my robe, flattering my graceful figure and supporting my bountiful breasts. My slaves scurried like busy ants about my feet, placing the finishing touches of my appearance in preparation for my arrival in Cyrenica; from time to time one would climb onto my toes to paint my nails. In one corner of the room there lay a pair of beautiful Theraverian slippers made for my feet in which slept Summerlyn Katalina and Leannia Aenilia, my adorable little pets. I brushed a lock of my rich scarlet hair out of my vision as I admired myself in the looking-glass, smiling at a beautiful face not my own. I felt marvelously complete, self-assured in my divine power, immense strength, and matchless beauty. What words can fully describe the august majesty of the goddess? With my white arm I felt that I could seize the moon from her austere throne in the heavens upon my whim, or plumb the deepest recesses of the ocean should I fancy. Merphomenee's flawless lips opened as I spoke to myself in her voice.

"The time has come. Prepare yourselves to descend upon Phinos with me, Summerlyn and Leannia."