Marion Zimmer Bradley's Ancestors of Avalon by Diana L. Paxson Read Free Book Online Page B

priestess Mesira, unexpectedly. “Not all who are of the Temple believe that disaster is inevitable. We will continue to work with all our powers to maintain the balance here.”
    “That, I am glad to hear,” came a sardonic voice from the western quarter. Micail recognized Sarhedran, a wealthy shipmaster, with his son Reidel behind him. “Once Ahtarrath ruled the seas, but as my noble lord has reminded us, our gaze turned inward. Even if people could be persuaded to go to these foreign lands, we have not the vessels to carry them.”
    “That is just why we come now, with half the fleet of great Alkonath, to offer help.” The speaker was Dantu, captain of the ship in which Tjalan had arrived. If his smile was less tactful than triumphant, there was reason for it. The traders of Alkonath and Ahtarrath had been fierce rivals in the past.
    Now Tjalan spoke. “In this time of trial, we remember that we are all children of Atlantis. My brothers remain to supervise the evacuation of Alkonath. It is my honor and my great personal pleasure to commit eighty of my finest wingbirds to the preservation of the people and the culture of your great land.”
    Some at the table looked a little sour still, but most faces had begun to blossom in smiles. Micail could not repress a grin at his fellow prince, though even eighty ships, of course, could not save more than a tithe of the population.
    “Then let this be our resolution,” Micail said, taking charge again. “You shall go back to your districts and followers, and give them this news in whatever manner you see fit. Where needed, the treasury of Ahtarrath will be opened to secure supplies for the journey. Go now, make your preparations. Do not panic, but neither should anyone needlessly delay. We will pray to the gods that there is time.”
    “And will you be on one of those ships, my lord? Will the royal blood of Ahtarrath abandon the land? Then we are lost indeed.” The voice was that of an old woman, one of the principal landowners. Micail strove to remember her name, but before he could, Reio-ta stirred beside him.
    “The gods ordain that Micail must . . . go into exile.” The older man took deep breaths to control the stammer that still sometimes afflicted him. “But I too am a Son of the Sun, blood-bound to Ahtarrath. Whatever fate befalls those remaining here, I will remain and share.”
    Micail could only stare at his uncle, as Tiriki’s shock amplified his own. Reio-ta had said nothing of this! They scarcely heard Chedan’s concluding words.
    “It is not for the priesthood to decide who shall live and who shall die. There is no one fit to say whether those who depart will do better than those who stay. Our fates result from our own choices, in this life and every other. I bid you only remember that, and choose mind-fully, according to the wisdom that is within you. The Powers of Light and Life bless and preserve you all!”
     
    Chedan took off his headdress and tucked it under his arm as he emerged from the Council Hall onto the portico. The wind from the harbor was a blessed breath of coolness.
    “That went better than I . . . expected,” said Reio-ta, watching the others streaming down the stairs. “Chedan, I thank you for your . . . words and efforts.”
    “I have done little so far,” said Chedan, with a wave toward Tjalan, who had come out to join them, “but even that would have been impossible without the limitless generosity of my royal cousin.”
    Prince Tjalan clenched his fists to his heart and bowed before replying. “My best reward is the knowledge that I have served the cause of Light.” Suddenly he grinned at the mage. “You have been my teacher and my friend, and have never led me falsely.”
    The door opened again and Micail, having calmed the immediate fears of the most anxious councillors, joined them. He looked worried. Until he actually set foot on board ship, he would carry the responsibility not only for the evacuation but also for