“Careful… I am hurt,” Charis heard herself saying as she was lifted onto Joel’s and Peronn’s shoulders to make her triumphant circuit around the ring. Belissa, Galai, Kalili, and Junoi pranced around them, laughing, hugging each other, tears streaming down their faces. Marophon had forgotten his shame, and he too joined in, running here and there, grabbing up golden objects and flinging them into the air as one gone mad.
The tumult raged to heaven, reverberating into the cloudless sky, booming though the empty streets of the royal city.
“Charis! Char-ris! Char-r-ris!” they cried. People were spilling out into the arena, flinging themselves over the wall and dropping to the sand to run to her. More and more and still more came, hands reaching out to touch her, surrounding her with their adulation. “Char-ris! Char-ris!”
Charis, sick with pain, saw them reaching for her, saw the elation on their faces, heard her name on their lips. The Gulls drew close around her to keep her from getting crushed by the onslaught. They stood in the center of the ring, surrounded by the screaming crowd.
Because of the noise, oo one heard the first faint rumble. The first tremor went unnoticed. But the rumble grew louder and the tremors increased. From her vantage point on the dancer’s shoulders above the crowd, Charis looked up and saw a strange sight: the Temple of the Sun trembling in the air, its upper levels swaying precariously as if made from some fluid, supple material. The great crystal obelisk high atop the temple shook, rocking back and forth and finally toppling from its peak.
And under the crowd noise came a sound from deep, deep in the earth. A sound like stony bones being wrenched from stone sockets, like gigantic stone querns grinding against one another, like great teeth gnashing, like ancient roots creaking and popping and giving way.
Charis saw the joy evaporate from the sea of faces around her, replaced by expressions of stark terror as the white sand beneath their feet undulated like ocean waves. Joet and Per-onn held their leader tight, bearing her aloft as the ground quivered underfoot.
The next thing Charis heard was the eerie silence, into which came the sounds of dogs baying. An odd, unnatural sound. “Strange,” she thought, “every dog in the city must be howling.”
Fine white dust rose into the air to veil the naked sun. People peered at one another in the pale, unearthly light, unable to comprehend what had happened.
But the quake was over. Nothing remained to attest to the fact that it had even happened at all-only the silent shroud of dust rising up and frightened dogs wailing.
CHAPTER FOUR
Charis’ injury made it easier for the gulls to accept the finality of her decision. When she told them she would never enter the bull pit again, and that they were free, no one challenged her resolve or her authority. They had gathered in her room to hear her pronouncement and hearing it, received the news with solemn resignation. There was no anger, no dissent. It was clear that none of them could conceive of dancing for anyone but Charis. “If you leave the ring, we all go with you,” said Joet.
“We have the gold,” added Belissa. “We could buy a house in the city. We could all stay together.”
“And then what? What would we do?” asked Charis. “No, dear Joet, Belissa, it is time for us all to begin thinking of new lives. We will not be together anymore. We were the Gulls and we will always have that part of our lives, but it is finished now.”
“It is just that we do not want to leave you,” sniffed Galai.
The sadness drawn on the dancers’ faces seemed horrid and perverse to Charis. Her flesh prickled.
“Life, Galai,” snapped Charis. “Have you been dead so long you no longer know what that means? When a dancer enters the temple it is a sacrifice. He is dead. He lives only through the dance. If he dances well the god is pleased to allow him to continue a while. But one day… one day Bel demands his sacrifice and the dancer must give it.
“I faced that day,” said Charis, “and I will not face that evil day again.”
“We love you,” said Kalili.
“And I love you, each of you, too. And that is what life is for-love. Would you have us continue to perform so that we could watch each other die? That is what would happen. Sooner or later, we would be broken on the hooves and horns of the bulls.
“This sadness is wrong. We should be celebrating the future, not mourning the past. The Belrene has given us back our lives. We have survived! We will live!”
The Gulls looked at one another glumly, hopelessly until Joet spoke. “A one-handed triple!” he said in a voice full of admiration. “If I had not seen it with the very eyes in my head, I would not Believe it. As it is, men will call me liar for telling what I have seen.”
“How will they call you liar?” countered Peronn. “The whole city saw it. People talk of nothing else. Even now word is winging across the Nine Kingdoms. Soon the whole world will know!”
“When I saw you kneel before the bull,” said Belissa softly, “I knew you would be killed. But then I saw your salute… I will never forget that.”
“Then live long and remember, Belissa.” Charis looked at the others. “All of you, live long and remember.”
“Will we see you again?” asked Junoi.
“Oh yes, you will see me again. I am not going to disappear. “
“What will you do?” wondered Kalili.
“I am going home for a time, to heal. But when I have recovered I will come back.” She paused, sinking back into the cushions. “Go now… There are dreams to be dreamed and plans to be made.”
Joet and Peronn lifted the chair effortlessly and carried it to the bed. Marophon rose from the corner where he had been sitting and came to her, knelt down, and put his head on Charis’ knees. She reached out a hand and stroked the young man’s dark hair. “I am sorry…”he began, his voice thick. “I wanted to run out into the ring to take your place. I was ready to die for you. I thought…”
“Shhh,” soothed Charis. “It is over.”
“No, I did wrong.”
“Are you to blame because the bullmaster sent the wrong bull?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean, and it does not matter.”
“But, I”
“It does not matter, Maro.”
He bent over her, tears sparkling in his eyes, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Thank you… Thank you for my life.”
“Go find your dancer,” she whispered. “Take her with you. Both of you make a new life together.”
Joet and Peronn lifted her and placed her gently in bed. Then, one by one, the dancers approached and said farewell.
Despite the persistent ministrations of the Belrene, the personal attention of two of High Queen Danea’s household physicians, and a veritable flood of gifts, food, and flowers that washed daily through Charis’ rooms threatening at times to drown her, it was several weeks before Charis felt up to traveling.
Then early one morning she left her quarters and climbed into the carriage waiting for her in the temple square. Her few Belongings were already packed, as were the presents she had chosen for her family. Queen Danea had provided the carriage-along with a train of servants under the watchful eye of a Mage, each and every one charged by the High Queen personally to guarantee a slow, restful journey with the utmost care and attention to Charis’ every request.
The carriage rolled out along near-empty streets and turned onto the Processional Way, proceeding through the three zones of the royal city. But it was not until they clattered beneath the city walls and out through the enormous brazen gates to climb into the green hills to the north, Below mighty cloud-wrapped Atlas, that Charis understood that she was indeed leaving. She realized that she had never actually imagined that she would leave Poseidonis alive, much less see her home again. Home-the word produced a warm sensation in her heart that she had not felt in a very long time.