Raven gets the action going

At the sound of the fanfare, all drew back, except the two acolytes Raven had chosen.

The combination of the limitation to physical movement (for her aides had tightened, rather than loosened their collective grip) and the threat clearly implied by this intrusive and powerful sound, caused Raven to show her interest. The gasp from her female assistant was proof that she saw the drop of viscous liquid fall from her mistress’ gate of heaven, while the visible throb on the vein of her male attendant was proof of his powers of observation.

• Release me and attend me! - she barked as a parade of monks and nuns approached, their robes a shimmering purple (this was no material Raven had ever before witnessed).

They moved with a symphony of action that was not so much military as fervid. Scores approached, dropping petals as they progressed, petals of a fragrance and colour that defied Raven’s not inconsiderable powers of recall.

The final cohort bore the incomer. Tall was his throne, and great was the girth of its occupant. Handsome he was not, but he was nonetheless impressive. His three-hundred and fifty pound body had clearly once been a marvel of athletic form, but now had suffered greatly from the ravages of dissolute living.

Certainly the years of eating the rich foods he had been hand-fed, and the sleepless nights spent treating those in his realm who were not among the celebate here present, had taken their toll on his physical appearance. His face was haggard; there were sacks rather than bags under his eyes; the tone of his skin was that of a Sumo wrestler who had not fought in a decade....and yet, Raven was transfixed.

For the first time in her life, Raven understood that, when someone referred to another as hung like an elephant, once in a lifetime they can be speaking the literal truth.