Welcome to my seemingly endless journey.
A trip that will take you to places I might have visited many moons ago.
It´s a tale that came back to me when I meditated on one of my past lives. A life I told you about in my unbelievable true story.
As promised in that story I will now share this story with you.
Chapter 107
The moment is over; we are looking at his back again. Just for these last couple of minutes, I felt I was looking at the solution to our impossible mission, and then it passed.
The carriage is followed by a smaller carriage with two beautifully made-up women adorned with jewels. Also in bright white robes, albeit trimmed everywhere with gemstones and silver. They are so dazzlingly beautiful that I have to tear my gaze away.
When I do out of the corner of my eye, I see movement in the Sikh's carriage for a second the hope returns, but it is nothing, just a simple arm gesture to one of his soldiers.
My eyes are drawn back to the women. The younger of the two, probably the daughter of the Sikh, must be about fifteen years old. Her mother, even though it is difficult to estimate because of the makeup and jewelry, I think is slightly younger than myself.
These two women also look in our direction, albeit with a polite smile, and then show their beauty again across the street. I hope that before they are out of sight, they will look our way one more time. But even if they do, my view will be stolen.
I don´t see the carriage at all anymore when in front of us appear two overly dressed soldiers on horseback. The one most outrageously dressed, apparently the highest in rank from the decorations on his uniform, maneuvers his horse so that it is positioned between mine and Numico's.
I sigh deeply and fear the worst. I right away assume that they have not forgotten the incident that happened a few days ago. Or worse, they are here for Officer Reiko and the escaped terrorists.
"Good day, gentlemen," outside of Dadrie, no soldier has ever spoken so kindly to me. Even Reiko only was that friendly after he deserted.
"We are here with a strange request, but would you follow us to the palace? His divinity has asked me to escort you and prepare you for an audience he is offering you."
The look in the soldier's eyes when he had to say offering you was speaking louder than his words. I had to guess that the Sikh doesn´t offer anything to anyone under normal circumstances.
Dumbfounded, I lower my eyes. I can only smile, and then I look up, "I can't believe it," I whisper. Then I turn to both sides, and everyone is stunned for a moment, but immediately ready to follow the soldiers.
Via some small but not too crowded streets, we arrive at what must be a side entrance of the palace. The man who spoke to us now exchanges a few words with the guards, and then the gates are opened for us, and we enter the palace without any difficulty or bloodshed.
The stupid smile still hasn't left my face, and I'm afraid that even a punch wouldn't remove it.
Our horses are left at an immense stable. Young boys appear out of nowhere it smees and start taking care of the horses, while we follow the soldier.
He leads us through a maze of corridors. The white marble pillars are decorated with gold leaf, all the decorations of the palace seem to be made of gold leaf.
We walk past one of the courtyard gardens, which is maintained to perfection. The bushes are perfectly parallel and symmetrical, the grass the same height, the bright white gravel neatly raked straight on the paths and not a grain next to it.
The fountain in the middle of the garden makes balls balance on its jets of water, the mere fact that someone is able to make water flow up amazes me so much that for the first hundred meters, I lose sight of the excessive beauty that this palace possesses.
It is simply too much; I would like to stop at each object to look at it and familiarize myself with its effect and meaning.
The guard has other plans because without looking up or back, he moves at a rapid pace through the corridors. We pass rooms decorated with drawings and end in a large room whose expansive floor is filled with cushions of gold and silver fabric.
The soldier tells us to wait here; he shows us the pillows. Out of politeness and probably also out of confusion, we take a seat, but as soon as the door closes, everyone is standing again.
Even before we discuss, all eyes stare at the high painted ceiling. It is decorated with a pattern of clouds in a sky of many shades of blue.
The walls and the pillars in the corners and the ones in the middle of each wall are trimmed with warm red fabric. The tiles that look like marble are not white but reddish-brown. The skirting boards and other edges are again gold-colored.
Everyone takes the time to marvel at everything our eyes can register because the excessive material presence ensures that we can only register part of it. The input is simply too great. But we don't notice that when we stare at the clouds on the ceiling in the middle of this immense space.
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