Monushir shifted positions. To me it looked as if he had bad indigestion. He finally spoke.
“Your Highness has dreamed a dream that may have no special meaning. As you can see, it is a variation of the dream of the hated Median Emperor Astyages, your grandfather. It is different in some respects, however. You have seen a tree, rather than a flood of water. A tree symbolizes stability. That two of the main branches have rotted may mean that you may be neglecting two important aspects that keep your kingdom strong. One is the magi. We feel that following the advice of the magi and having respect for the magi is essential, if one is to maintain unity and strength. The second most important branch represents the Fire Temples in which we operate. Without the upkeep and building of these structures, your kingdom may well rot. I have spoken the words that have been inspired in me by the great Lord Ahura Mazda, as he sees fit to speak through me.”
The head-mage seemed very pleased with himself and after swallowing back a belch, he fell into a meaningful silence.
I rubbed my hands together when I realized that Cyrus the Great needed to visit the garden Quiet Room. He was tired, yet too anxious to return to sleep. He glanced at the self- righteous, fat man with the grapefruit-sized head and snorted. “Bring me Rustem!”
“We have already informed the Emperor that Rustem the Sorcerer-Mage is dead!” Rusaspa blurted out in nasal, rapid-fire speech.
Cyrus the Great eyed him with a look that made the man wince. “Bring me his son!”
This pronouncement made my jubilation whither. I knew that after Rustem’s death, the magi had collected his son and brought him back to the palace. I worried about the son. Had he inherited his father’s gifts? The girl, his sister, was missing, so I did not worry about her. I wish I had been able to control Cyrus before he blurted out his desire to see the accursed brat! I could see that my technique still needed adjustments.
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