Of Men Made Gods

3. A God

A God

BY THE TIME Avon reached Elizo's home, it was already late in the morning. Surprised that they were still meeting after yesterday's news when the summons reached him, he had had to hurry to even get to the place late. Though the news of the older man's still beating heart had reached him like it did most of the city, he was slightly disturbed that the man he was meeting today had not found it necessary to change his plans.

The house was enormous and, like most of the city around it, it had been built in his absence. But, unlike the others it was made of a more subdued gray stone, making the whole thing stand out rather than blend in with its imposing look. One-piece huge wooden pillars lined the front, their whole surface painted the red of their people's traditional homes. The whole place was slightly accented by marvelous carvings and statues that seemed to be placed so they would be hidden in plain sight. Even had the decorations that graced the stone and wood had not been so artfully crafted into things of breathtaking beauty, they would have drawn a viewer's eyes just by their scarcity.

Amid marveling at the exterior of the building, Avon was interrupted as the front doors were opened by an old man. Passing by the bowing man with his unmistakably dim aura that defined him as a non-magician and therefore a slave, he wondered why the man was still working at his age. Following the slave leading him into the house, he was suddenly reminded of one of his grandfather's old sayings.

He could almost see the now dead man leaning back on his chair, which Avon had known was extremely uncomfortable from secretly sitting on it once, as he said, 'If they start making sounds when they move it means it's time for them to be replaced.'

While his thoughts were partly lost in remembering of the old man from his childhood, the one in front of him lead the way through room after room of the house. To his distracted mind the inside of the place was at least as impressive as the outside, if not more. The walls were covered with dazzlingly lifelike and yet incredibly whimsical murals while the marble floors shone in the light coming from the overhead windows. Odd looking objects and bizarre contraptions made of rare metals and jewels held the place between the exquisite furniture that hinted at a humbling wealth. Overindulged amazement occasionally interrupting his memories, he followed the slave.

It was before a wooden door that the old man finally stopped. Visibly straining with the effort, the man opened the large thing and bowed in the guest he had led from outside before closing it on himself without following.

Once the door was shut behind him, Avon was plunged into darkness. But after a time, his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he noticed that he wasn't truly in complete darkness. There was one side of the room that seemed to be a bit lighted. Walking to that lighter shade of blackness, he quickly found out that he was in a corridor that turned sharply to block the light coming from deeper in. When he turned that sharp corner he suddenly found himself at the entrance to a huge hall.

The distant ceiling was built in an unusual way so that it rested on the four walls of the room instead of on the usual columns which gave the floor a vast look. No windows blemished the somber dark walls here. Instead, the hall's minimal sources of light were the tall braziers that burned at the edges of the floor. Their flames writhed silently, spitting out light that outlined the shadows that danced on the walls.

Looking like wavering shadows themselves, a group of people stood almost in the middle of the hall. All but three of them wore dark red cowled robes that hid everything about them. One of the three was another slave who looked even more older than the earlier one while the other was Faeynar who fidgeted nervously as he stood a little way away from everyone else about him.