Festival of the Elders
"At last!" Xandreleusmarin exclaimed as he dashed away from the window and gleefully rubbed his hands. "At last, he comes!"
Chapter 4
"At last!" Xandreleusmarin exclaimed as he dashed away from the window and gleefully rubbed his hands. "At last, he comes!"
The collector was not the sort to do little jigs when he was excited, but at that moment he did, a hop and a little skip and a laugh as liberating as it was joyful. It bubbled up unexpectedly from the pit of his stomach.
It had been years since he felt that way. The last time he felt this exuberant was when he acquired the volume of the Book of Dreams. He was literally all aglow after he completed the trade. He could not sleep at all, he was so fully charged. He thought nothing of finally having the book in his possession. But a strange fear had come over him as well. What if, like his other acquisitions, the thrill of ownership should fade and all he was left with was another object in his massively growing collection? What if the thrill itself was the beginning and end of it all? That was a terrible thought, one that nearly extinguished the charge that permeated his entire being. But once he had it in his possession, that wonderful feeling of ownership burned inside him for months. In the end, it too, like dying embers, turned to ash and, despite building his collection, he had not felt that wonderful again.
Until now.
The desire to possess was reignited, except this time it burned brighter, higher, and, potentially, longer than before. Yes, he thought as he clapped his hands together, he anticipated years and years of pleasure from it. Once the Z'Dhia was his, there would be no fading of that wonderful feeling. No fading at all.
Xandreleusmarin glanced at the large table in the sitting room. There should be a banquet. When he had finally acquired the volume, he invited all his friends and associates over to his domicile to show it off. The look of envy in their eyes was more than worth the trouble of putting it all together. While every trader within the quadrants had set their sights on acquiring that forbidden artifact, none of them had ever been as lucky. And none of their pitiful attempts at trade could tear him from the one thing he owned with pride. He threw a dinner party and watched his guests bitterly swallow every last morsel, but he relished their envy like a twelve-course meal.
Yes, he would throw another party to greet his new guests, but there would be no envying eyes to witness it. That was the most disappointing part. He could not expect the Dkokli chieftains to understand, much less envy him. They were too primitive and content with their rudimentary tools and artifacts. Only his fellow traders would recognize what he had accomplished and wonder why they didn't think of it themselves. But he had not seen or spoken to his colleagues in eons and they were too far away to matter. No, only the Z'Dhia would see. And that would have to suffice.
He went over to the replicator and began ordering every variety of soups and broths, roasted meats, root vegetables and fruits, pickled rinds, seeds, nuts, chilies, loaves of bread, little cakes, and many, many carafes of tapis wine. He set the dishes on the large table, then found two extra chairs for his guests. He created a centerpiece entirely of light globes that added a soft and warm ambiance. He was a lot of things, but he was above all else a Starrian.
After he was finished, he rubbed his hands together and smirked. The only thing missing was the flowers. On Starrus 7, he had an exquisite garden in his former home from which he gathered every bloom imaginable to decorate his domicile. The gentle aromas wafted throughout all the rooms. But there were no flowers on his little rock in the middle of the lake, only thorny vines and moss and fractal ferns, none of which were much to his liking. He shrugged. Just the same, it was a stunning feast for the eyes, and he could not wait until the Z'Dhia saw what he had in store for him.
Xandreleusmarin swept out of the sitting room and took the winding stairwell to the showing room downstairs. He ordered the light globes to raise their illumination levels and soon the entire space was lit with a brilliant, artificial glow. All of his showpieces were set out on display—the torture machines, the armor, gowns, and, yes, even the volume of the Book of Dreams, still in its acrylic case. But he was less interested in these things than he was in another item that he had replicated himself. It was an enclosure, measuring twelve by fifteen square meters, and a security shield that was activated as soon as one stepped onto the platform. It was fully furnished with a small area for bathing and eating. The enclosure was in the rear of the room, near the largest window casement in the castle. He set it there because he thought perhaps the Z'Dhia would like a nice, little view of the lake.
He went over to a small pedestal where he left a remote to activate the security shield. It was the size of a communicator with a keypad and a small window above. He punched the activation code into the keypad. A blue, shimmering wall appeared on all four sides of the platform. He removed a small, round pebble from the pocket of his cloak, tossed it in his palm a few times to test its weight, then flicked it toward the shield.
A static discharge crackled in every direction, sending up a puff of smoke and the scent of ozone.
He grinned, satisfied.
Distant and muffled voices floated up through the window. Quickly he went over to the casement on the side of the lake he was certain his visitors would land. Sure enough, they were there, down below on the small stretch of beach. Thick vegetation cut off most of his view, but he could spy them below between the space of two large branches. They climbed out of the boat and quickly vanished from view.
Xandreleusmarin stepped away from the window and reached into the pocket of his cloak. He withdrew a small blaster, a snub-nosed plasma ray gun that he also manufactured from his replication machine. After his arrival on Bellavaran, when the Dkokli proved themselves unimpressed with his power, he thought it best to arm himself. He had managed to set up a trading system with the Dkokli that proved satisfactory for himself and, as he was certain, for the natives, but he could never be too careless. Though the Dkokli were largely passive, nonaggressive aliens, they could, given their savage natures, turn as quickly against him. He needed to be prepared for every occasion. Now, feeling the weight of his weapon in the palm of his hand, he was glad for that forethought. The Idris-Sarran were famously pacifistic, but ironically their battles during the Galactic War were some of the fiercest and bloodiest. He had no intentions of underestimating the Z'Dhia.
He nodded and squeezed his fingers around the weapon. He was not going to give up this glorious moment. Not for one single second.
The collector pocketed his weapon and returned to the sitting room. It would be a while before the guests arrived and he had to change into something more presentable.