Seven Sorcerers(3)

Several adult slaves were bathing in the pool. Their faces lit with surprise, then abject fear. They rushed up out of the pool, grabbing towels to wrap themselves and shuffling the bath-tenders out of the chamber with a series of bows, prostrations, and nervous words. In a few seconds the chamber stood empty but for the two High Seraphim in their glittering robes, perspiring in the steam.

Sungui raised a finger to her lips, ensuring Mahaavar’s silence. They did not have long to wait. Four dark archways glimmered silver as ten more High Seraphim entered the chamber to stand about the abandoned pool.

Sungui’s eyes greeted each of them in turn. Damodar with his shaven skull and large ears, nose pierced by a hoop of sacred platinum. Eshad, whose impressive physique shamed even that of Mahaavar, cords of muscle coiled beneath the bright skin of his robes. Myrinhama, whose golden hair fell to her waist, and whose almond eyes were golden as well. Gulzarr and Darisha, who had been lovers for centuries, ageless and inscrutable behind faces of serene beauty. Durangshara, portly as any spoiled merchant, who took his joy from the fruits of the earth and his pleasure from the howls of slaves. Johaar and Mezviit and Aldreka, who could be triplets they were so alike in form, taste, and bearing. And finally Lavanyia, whose hair was a mound of sable silk piled atop her lovely head. She reminded Sungui of the great lionesses that roamed the Weary Plains to the south. She could also be as dangerous, as bloodthirsty, and as unforgiving as one of those proud beasts.

Of them all, Lavanyia would be the hardest to convince.

They used to be so much more. So much greater. Some of them remembered this. Others Sungui had to remind. A single decade or less was all it took for the world’s allure to smother and calcify these spirits who lingered in its fertile bosom. Yet Sungui had long ago found an advantage over her fellow Seraphim. Each of them had chosen a gender long ago and embraced it. She refused to do so. The flux of her aspects and the shifting of her form was her last defense against the tide of earthly influences that threatened to rob her of her true self.

“Brothers and Sisters,” Sungui began. “The time has come to remember.” She nearly sang the words, so soft and melodious was her tone. She had learned how to charm them, imitating the ways of comely humans. It was partly why they all loved her. She catered to their whims, their secret delights, their hidden natures. She knew them better than they knew themselves. They knew her as two beings, twin aspects, and so she carried mystery and beauty with her like precious stones.

She raised her hands as if to embrace them all. They took graceful steps about the edge of the pool, gathering into a close circle. Mahaavar stood at Sungui’s left hand, staring at the faces of the conspiracy he would join.

Sungui sensed his eagerness. Mahaavar did not understand that there was no real sedition yet. No blasphemy. There was only this small group. Those Who Listen. There were only her words and these listeners’ undeniable need to hear what she would say. They had not gathered like this in several years. Yet years passed like days for their kind. There were a thousand more High Seraphim across the Living Empire who knew nothing of these assemblies. Yet an idea must take root in the minds of the few. Later it might spread like wild vines across the ranks of the Celestial Ones, and they might finally awaken from this worldly dream.

These listeners were enough for now. The early seeds of a future forest.

The contracted circle gleamed with curious eyes. A ripple of light flashed across the silvery robes. Sungui bowed her head.

“In the time before time’s advent, we moved between the stars,” she said. “They were our mothers and fathers, our blazing progenitors. We sailed the vast ether and swam the oceans of eternity. Now we gather once more to recall the truth of what we are. We look back. We look inward. We listen once more to the music of our ancient selves, that it may remind us, reshape us, restore us.”

“Hold,” said a liquid voice. Sungui raised her eyes to the leonine face of Lavanyia. Never before had a listener interrupted her guided meditation. The lioness stared at Sungui, as did the rest of the circle. Even Mahaavar’s eyes were upon her now. A chill crept up Sungui’s spine.

“There is an Ear among us,” said Lavanyia. Her onyx eyes did not leave Sungui’s own. The eyes of the others darted nervously from face to face, peering into the shadows for any slaves that might be eavesdropping. There were none.

Sungui sighed.

“I am aware of this,” she said.

“Then speak not another word until it has been removed,” said Lavanyia. Sungui stood transfixed by her imperious beauty. She longed to turn her back on them all and so reassert her dominance of the gathering. Yet she only stared at Lavanyia and blinked.