Madoc was asked to wait in the atrium, where he again found himself overwhelmed with the grandness of the enormous painted columns, and the fountains, spraying crystalline water over white marble figures. He stared out toward the terrace where he and Ash had danced before the gods and party attendees, and he straightened the decorative armor he’d changed into for this meeting.
He was still a champion. He needed to look the part.
The guard returned not long after and escorted Madoc into a long corridor that ran the length of the front wall. They stopped at a small room with a planked wooden floor that Madoc eyed with wary curiosity. He had not seen another room in the palace like it.
“The Father God will meet you in his chambers,” said a servant,an old man with wrinkles around his eyes. He motioned toward the room.
Madoc’s mouth went dry.
He stepped into the room. It seemed significantly smaller now that he was inside.
“You may wish to take hold of the railings,” the old man cautioned. “The movement can be jarring.”
Madoc wasn’t sure what he meant, but as his eyes lifted, his jaw dropped. The top of the room had no ceiling, only a wooden crossbeam. A twisted chain was fastened to the center and extended up into the long stretch of tunnel overhead.
Another smaller rope hung from the ceiling, and as the attendant gave it a sharp pull, the ground beneath Madoc’s feet lurched.
“What is this?” He’d been wrong. Geoxuswasgoing to kill him. This unique torture device was just the start.
“A pulley of sorts,” said the old man as Madoc gripped a railing. “Someone at the top loads stones onto a neighboring box, and when it’s heavy enough to counter our weight, we rise.”
The floor lurched again, along with Madoc’s stomach. Then they began to lift, as if the room were floating.
Slowly, the corridor began to disappear below them. The entrance to the small room became a smooth, solid wall, slipping by faster and faster as they climbed.
“How...” Madoc adjusted his white-knuckled grip on the railing. Cold sweat dripped down his chest. “How high does this go?”
The attendant smiled. “To the very top.”
Higher they climbed. Faster, until Madoc’s stomach felt like it was in his sandals, and he was sure they had poked a hole through the clouds. When he looked up, the small flickering lights had grown larger, and a ceiling came into view. Fear gripped him. If they kept on at this pace, they were going to slam into it.
“Shouldn’t we be stopping?” he asked.
“Yes, just about,” said the old man.
Madoc’s knees bent. He hunched, making himself smaller.
A moment later the pulley slowed, and the doors that appeared before them opened up into another room, this one just as grand as the rest of the palace, with a high ceiling glimmering with onyx and opal like stars in a night sky, and walls painted with bloody gladiator victories in the arena. Books lined the shelves on one wall, and a bed pressed against the other, three times the size of the one Ilena shared with Cassia at home.
Geoxus’s personal chambers.
With a tilt of the old man’s head, Madoc stumbled into the room, glad to be on solid ground. From behind came a creak, and when he looked back the doors were closed.
Before him, the balcony was open, and standing against the railing, looking out over the Nien River and the flickering lights of his city, stood the Father God, draped in black silk.
“Madoc.” Geoxus didn’t turn but motioned Madoc toward him with one hand.
On shaking legs, Madoc approached, moving carefully around a stout pillar shaped like two lush stone bodies wrapped around eachother. The breeze from outside was stronger as he approached the balcony, the curtains dancing like smoke, teasing his ankles.
They were higher than Madoc had guessed. Stories upon stories in the air. He could see the ports at South Gate from here, and the line where the lights at the port at Iov met the black sea.
“Honorable Geoxus,” Madoc said, voice unsteady. He hesitated at the edge of the balcony, feeling an odd tugging sensation pulling him closer to the brink.
Geoxus turned, and Madoc felt the urge to look away. Waves of black hair stretched to Geoxus’s shoulders. The cut of his toga showed the gleam of his smooth, muscled chest. Power radiated from him, not unlike the anxiety that had crackled off Elias before the fight with Jann, and Madoc fought the odd impulse to touch the Father God’s arm, just to see if he could feel that power.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Madoc said.
“Of course.” Geoxus smiled, and guilt splashed over Madoc’s resolve. This was the Geoxus who had brought him Cassia when Madoc was alone in Crixion. Without his crown, he seemed more mortal than not, and Madoc felt a new wave of sickness over what he had to do.
