Of Men Made Gods

1. A Gathering

A Gathering

SOARING PILLARS SUPPORTED the flat roof of the meeting hall, dwarfing the milling crowd that moved under their looming presence. High up, almost at the edge of the ceiling where exquisitely placed jewels glinted mirroring the stars of a faraway night, rectangular windows, wider than they were tall, pierced the walls letting in air that cleared the room of thousands of breaths and light that banished the shadows from all corners. Every surface of it covered with huge slabs of polished white marble that had delicate golden lines running through it, the building echoed the chatter of the people inside it, shaping the collective sounds into a dull, incomprehensible roar; the whispers of a giant.

Seven hundred seats marched up to the walls at the edges of the room, growing in height as they receded from the large empty space in the middle. Three hundred pairs were always reserved for the male and female heads of a family while a hundred sat those who were granted a place because of their various positions as administrators and officials.

Gradually, the sound in the place lowered in volume as almost everyone in the hall found their rightful seat and settled down. It was into this subdued murmuring noise that a man suddenly stepped into. He passed the silver plated doors, which were the main gates into the building, without slowing down as he urgently talked with a man at his side who hurried away after listening to his words. He was of medium height with long dark hair that receded from his forehead and a clean-shaven jaw which showed itself as being a recent effort by its paleness compared to the skin around it.

The traditional white robe with the golden trim which all attending the gathering always wore straining over his ample girth, he strode towards one of the seats that awaited him. His mind on other matters, he walked with his head bowed and his eyes absently staring at the floor until the sound of his name being called brought him back to his surroundings.

"Avon," said his wife, Caenphis, hissing the word as she stretched an arm to him from amidst a circle of people like she was drowning. Quickly muttering apologies to those around her, she fell in beside him as they walked towards their seats. "Where the darkness have you been?"

"Just making sure everything's ready," he answered, as they finally reached their place which was only a few rows from the open floor in the middle of the hall; a privileged position even among the privileged. Settling down, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"You know I can't stand a moment of this alone," she replied, taking her place beside him.

"How have you been able to survive without me then?" said Avon, a small smile pushing back his cheeks.

 She didn't pause even for a breath as she answered him. "By not coming, of course!"

He turned around to face her, and looking at her expression that was only starting to lighten up, he said, "It can't be that bad."

"Oh, you think so?"she asked, her tone falsely cheery. "I'm sure you're right. You would have probably been unfazed while weathering through a detailed explanation of why eastern horses are second to none in the whole wide world for a considerable part of your day."

"Ah," said Avon, his face contorting in sympathy for a moment, "Faeynar, was it?"

"Who else?"

"Still at pains to let everyone understand how much he knows of everything?" he asked absently as he started to scan the crowd while a little nervousness settled over his bones.

"Hideously," answered Caenphis, her tone changing in a shocking way as she mimicked another's voice.

Avon couldn't stop himself as he burst out laughing, the sounds of his sudden mirth hushing most of the hall for a second. Quickly controlling himself, he turned around to his wife again, ignoring the hundreds of curious eyes around him and forgetting his nervousness for a moment. "I can't believe he still uses that word," he said to her, his lips peeling off his teeth almost by their own will.