The year before that a group of guests came on turulsgiant Magyar falcons. Another set of lords and ladies brought along a pair of imported Chinese water
dragons. As it turned out, turuls and Chinese water dragons despised each other with a white-hot passion. A messy spectacle had ensued.
Tituss cavalcade approached the expedited airway, built two hundred years ago during the reign of Apollonia III to facilitate travel between the castle and the capital. Fairfax had been perched on his shoulder, her claws digging lightly into his overrobe. But now he took her in hand and tucked her inside his tunic. I would hold you, he said, but I need both of my hands.
Phoenixes were fractious animals and cared not the least for expedited airways.
Brace yourself. It will be a hard slam, he warned her. Probably unnecessarily. As a native of Delamer, she would have daily used the citys vast network of expedited ways, both on the ground and in the air. And if not daily, certainly more than he, with his upbringing in the mountains.
The thrust came suddenly. He could not breathe. His lungs grew emptier and emptier. Just when he thought he could stand it no more, the chariot was spat out the other end of the airway.
The phoenixes cawed harshly. He yanked them under control, reached for Fairfax, and set her on his shoulder again.
You all right?
She was busy gawking at the city that had been her former home.
Delamer was one of the greatest mage metropolises on earth, a glittering spread of pink-marble palaces and stately gardens, from the heights of the Serpentine Hills to the edge of the cool blue sea, aglow in the last rays of sunset.
Its beauty, however, was marred by patches of dense wood that resembled fungal growth from above. Quick pines, they were called: they were not pines at all, but certainly quick, achieving as much height and girth in two years as most trees did in five decades, bred by Atlantiss botanists to camouflage the blights left behind by death rains.
A familiar column of red smoke rose into the sky, marking the location of the Inquisitory. The Fire of Atlantis had burned steadily since the end of the uprising.
The hour of his meeting with the Inquisitor drew ever nearer.
He turned his face away. They were headed directly into the sunset. The west coast as a whole was rocky and wave-pummeled, especially the stretch along Delamer. Naturally an ambitious, wealthy capital of a great dynasty, full of mages who had enjoyed the balmy pleasures of the Mediterranean realms, had decided to make improvements.
During the reign of Hesperia the Magnificent, the city built five peninsulas, collectively known as the Right Hand of Titus. The peninsulas were rugged in appearanceso as not to look out of place against the craggy coastbut their seeming roughness hid a wealth of gentle slopes and beach enclaves, around which sprang hundreds of blue-roofed villas.
Three of the peninsulas comprised some of the most expensive land in all the mage world. One was a beloved public park. And the remaining one, the ring finger, was a princely preserve upon which stood Hesperias Citadel.
The original citadel still rose at the center, but the complex had grown into a sprawling palace with vast gardens, ninety-nine fountains, and dozens of floating balconies.
Soon the Inquisitor would find Titus on one of those balconies.
He steered his chariot in the direction of the landing platform. He was not alone: from all points of the sky, chariots converged toward the Citadel. No turuls or Chinese water dragons this year, just the usual assortment of griffins and mock dragons.
Two young men performed flips and somersaults on a beam held aloft by four massive flights of doves. Beneath the beam hung a swing, with a young female acrobat sitting insouciantly upon it.
Titus wanted to enjoy the viewa fine view even for a prince. But already he had to work to keep his breath even and his hands steady.
The young woman recognized him. She pulled herself to her feet and performed a very creditable curtsy. Titus, as befitting his arrogant and ill-tempered public persona, ignored her altogether.
The path to the landing platform was demarcated with floating torches. Other guests had pulled aside to clear the way for their sovereign. As Tituss chariot drew to a stop, every single person on the platform bowed.
Alectus and Lady Callista were at the front of the crowd to welcome him. Titus swept past them without slowing down. But he knew that Lady Callista raised her head from her deep curtsy and regarded him with narrowed eyes.
Her device had followed him to a London hotel where he had no business being. How would he explain not only his presence, but also his precipitous departure, leaving behind a half-consumed tray of tea?
Lady Callista caught up to him. I
see you have brought Miss Buttercup, Your Highness.
She is more tolerable company than most.
Fairfax chirped obligingly.
And how is she enjoying England?
Better than I, no doubt. The very air is noxious.