Garinor stepped into the inner chamber after speaking to the guard and he suddenly felt tiny and insignificant.
The room wasn’t overwhelmingly large, but it had such a regal elegance that Garinor felt out of place standing there in his dirty travel gear. The walls were clearly polished every day and they had a sheen that brilliantly reflected the sunlight. A row of etched glass windows along the ceiling beckoned in natural light from every direction. The walls also boasted oil sconces for when it was dark outside.
A mild perfume in the air made Garinor feel like he was in some other realm. His senses drifted in the amazing scent and he thought he could fall asleep standing if he stayed there for much longer.
A solid wooden door at the opposite end of the hall was the only other entrance to the place, but he didn’t dare walk toward it and push it open himself. His muddy hands would certainly mar the exquisite woodwork.
He didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and a short, skinny page walked into the room. “Greetings, traveler, come this way, please. Surely you would not protest the indulgence of a bath before your audience with his majesty?”
“Not at all,” he replied, somewhat mystified. He was led down a series of corridors that spawned off the main hallway. None of the secondary rooms and halls boasted the sheer opulence of the main entryway and its connecting hall, but even the stone and woodwork here had seen the skills of hundreds of talented hands.
Every passageway boasted artistic renditions, from floral carvings to what seemed like whole stories told in wondrous shapes and color. His eyes were dazzled as they went and he barely noticed when the page stopped before a large oak door with golden handles.
The room was one of many in the area, but when he walked inside, it felt secluded. A huge porcelain basin rested on the left side with a shelf above it that was loaded with soaps and fragrances. A pile of thick white towels sat on a counter along the far wall and a series of wooden hangers clung to a bar across the right side. A velvety robe draped from one of the hangers. A lush chair rested underneath a high window with a pitcher and a set of glasses on a side table. The pitcher and glasses were carved to look like giant red roses with stems and leaves spiraling up to the brilliant top. Garinor could only image how wondrous the water would taste.
“You will bathe in here until I return for you,” the page droned. “Soak until the water is cold or until you can take no more, then lounge on that chair. You will not be allowed to leave this room until I call for you, as the door will be locked.”
This seemed drastic, but Garinor bit his tongue and didn’t retort. The bath was inviting after all his trials anyway. He nodded his assent and the page bowed his head and backed out of the room, pulling the door closed and locking it with a loud, decisive click.
For the next hour, Garinor enjoyed a taste of regal living with a foaming, steaming bath that soothed every ache out of his body. He didn’t even realize he had dozed off in the fragrant mist until the page knocked gently and entered the room while he was still soaking in the tub.
He dried himself and dressed in a set of clothes the page offered him, while his own were set aside for cleaning. The soft fabrics of the court clothes tickled him and he fidgeted with each step he took. He understood suddenly that when he had been wrested from his home in his nightclothes, it wouldn’t have mattered he was wearing them.
“It is almost evening, but the king wishes to speak with you now,” the page said in his dull tone. “You will, of course, show proper manners to his majesty.”
Garinor didn’t respond to the demeaning tone that crept into the page’s voice. He paced along in silence and tried not to gawk at the overabundant show of wealth.
Marble carvings of kings and queens towered over Garinor, most of them at least twice his height. Each held a unique object in its left hand, and he assumed it was something that symbolized their rule. One king held a sword; another, an olive branch. One queen held a bouquet of flowers; another, a hammer and chisel. He wondered if all these figures had at some time ruled this country, but another part of him thought they were just representations whose sole purpose was to make a visitor feel utterly inconsequential. Even suspecting this, Garinor had to admit it was working.
They passed through a massive archway enwrapped with metal rods that had been carved into vines and leaves. The doors slid open noiselessly and closed on their own, or so Garinor thought until he turned around and saw two guards pushing the portal shut. He wondered how many other guards he had failed to notice on this trek to the throne room.
After one more corridor, lined on both sides with cushioned benches and rich, flowing curtains, the page opened a final doorway and brought Garinor to the center of the room.
The chamber was immense. Fourteen white marble columns set in two rows supported the arched ceiling. The floor and all the walls gleamed as well and Garinor could see his reflection clearly when the page pressed him to kneel and bow his head before the two empty thrones.
Here, he would wait for the king.