by Tracy Falbe
~
Queen Vua’s household was packed and on the road early the next morning. With Kezanada in the area, Xander insisted upon a hasty departure. The residents of Fata Nor turned out to see off the Queen’s caravan. Silently some wished the warriors would not leave, but others did not worry so much. The Kezanada tended to trouble the upperclasses.
Most of the women rode in covered coaches and wagons, but Miranda rode her horse with the younger women and servants. Dreibrand conveniently chose to be among the warriors that flanked the female riders so he could chat with Miranda all day long.
He noticed Miranda had their old bow and quiver packed in her gear, but all the arrows were gone and she could not possibly draw the bow until her arm was better. At her waist she had tied her old knife—the one she had used to cut him loose when they met.
“I will have to see about getting you a new sword,” Dreibrand mentioned.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh please, could you? I just do not know how to ask the Queen, and I do not think she would approve. I think she would have said something about my knife but there was too much of a hurry this morning. But she gave me a look.”
“Oh, she probably has a dagger tucked in her sleeve,” Dreibrand joked quietly.
Before the day ended, Dreibrand heard more about Miranda’s sidearm than she did. At the midday break some of Dreibrand’s new Temu friends teased him because his woman carried a weapon, but he did not get angry. Although informed that an armed woman was unconventional in Temu society, he believed Miranda was safer with her knife and he knew that he was.
En route to Dengar Nor, Xander took every precaution, sending scouts in all directions around the caravan. The General did not want to be surprised by any Kezanada. The reported group of twenty warriors had evaporated into the countryside and Xander hoped fortune would keep it that way.
At sunset on their second day of travel the caravan reached Dengar Nor. The softened foothills gave way to a broad flat valley, heavily cultivated with green pastures, golden fields of ripening grains, orchards and vineyards. Rushing streams of snowmelt slowed into a system of creeks and rivers that watered the fertile valley. Rising out of the bounteous heartland of the Temu Tribe, Taischek’s castle claimed the top of a rocky mesa. A fine walled city clung to the base of the mesa, and a switchbacked road led from the city to the castle.
Stone towers flanked the main city gate and the yellow serpent standard flapped from both pinnacles. It was a splendorous city, and Taischek often employed artisans and workers to remodel and improve the city and castle.
The imposing castle and sophisticated city impressed Dreibrand. The Temu Tribe was far richer than the foothill town of Fata Nor had indicated.
Crowds cheered Xander when he entered Dengar Nor. Everyone at the capital knew about the sack of Dursalene, and they gave the returning war party the same adoration that Taischek had received four days earlier when he had returned. Xander enjoyed his glorious welcome, and Taischek descended from his castle to greet the General. The King proclaimed that the next day would be a holiday to celebrate the victory in Dursalene and the return of the royal court.
The caravan labored up to the castle and servants quickly began to unpack the Queen’s household. A steward sought out Dreibrand and informed him that the King had given him an apartment in the castle. This generosity pleased Dreibrand and he promptly requested that the steward take Miranda to his new apartment before she got shuttled off with Vua’s entourage. Dreibrand told Miranda to follow the steward, and then he took off in pursuit of Taischek so that he could immediately thank the King.
Miranda opened her mouth to ask him where he was going, but Dreibrand dashed through the crowd too quickly to be stopped. She scowled with frustration.
“Do you have any bags, lady?” the steward inquired.
Miranda turned to the Temu man. He asked his question again, and Miranda understood him the second time. She pointed to her saddlebags and the steward draped them over his shoulder.
“I need to take care of my horse,” Miranda said.
“It will be seen to. Please come,” the steward said.
He escorted her into the fine castle that towered many stories above. Graceful arches and high ceilings made the castle seem even bigger on the inside. Miranda had only experienced luxury once before in Jingten, but she found herself in it again. The steward took her to an apartment with a fire already blazing in a marble fireplace. Velvety furniture sat on thick carpets with octagon designs. In the bath, another servant was already heating water for her to wash.
Later as a girl washed her hair and sponged her back, Miranda actually had to laugh. Although her heart ached for the safe return of her children, she had to admit she liked the good treatment. While suffering through her dismal life, Miranda had dreamed of better things, but she had had no concept of how well some people lived.
I deserve this, she thought and reclined into the warm water.
The servant was tying a robe around Miranda when Dreibrand returned with a wine cup still in his hand. Miranda promptly asked the girl to heat more water, and Dreibrand collapsed into a chair and set the wine on a table.
“Well, I managed to escape tonight’s drinking. I need to save my strength for tomorrow’s victory banquet,” he declared. “Gods! Taischek would rule the whole of Ektren if he stayed sober.”
Miranda sat on his lap despite his travel stained clothes. “You chose me instead of your party?” she said sweetly.
“Of course. I would rather be here. In Atrophane we say it is not much of a party if there are no girls,” Dreibrand explained.
Miranda laughed, a genuine laugh. She had missed Dreibrand’s sense of humor.
Unbuckling his chestplate, she whispered, “You must tell me more about how an Atrophane has a party.”
“As much as you want to hear,” he said feeling his lust build pleasantly. He had survived yet more battles and wanted the pleasures of life.
Politely Miranda thanked the servant and asked her to leave. She would attend her warrior herself.
The next morning Dreibrand rolled over in the empty feather bed. Sleepily he sat up and saw Miranda sitting at the window. Wrapped in a blanket, she rested her elbows on the windowsill and stared at the dawn over the Rysamand. The sun had just slipped over the peaks, lighting the snow-capped mountains in a fuchsia blaze.
Hearing Dreibrand stir, she murmured over her shoulder, “At least my children are in a beautiful place.”
Realizing the joys of the evening had faded into the realities of the day, Dreibrand walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Miranda, we will get them back. Shan will help us. He just needs more time. In the Sabuto Domain I saw him fight and kill. He is doing as he said. I have seen his power and I know he will defeat Onja when he is ready,” Dreibrand said.
Despite her terrible grief, Miranda’s eyes stayed dry. “I know,” she whispered.
She continued to stare at the Rysamand, feeling her soul crack into sharp cold edges of determination.
My strength is returning, Onja, she thought spitefully.
“It is early. Come back to bed,” Dreibrand urged.
Miranda let him guide her back under the covers but she could not fall back asleep. Dreibrand returned to a deep slumber and Miranda realized that while she had been recuperating in Fata Nor he had known no rest on the warpath. Careful not to disturb him, she slipped away and quietly dressed. She wanted to see Shan.
When she left the apartment, the long empty hall looked like it went nowhere in the huge castle. Dreibrand had mentioned that he had seen Shan the day before, but Miranda had no idea where to find him. Wandering deeper into the building, she soon ran across a servant and inquired about the rys. The servant rattled off the directions and Miranda half understood them, but she gathered that Shan was quartered in the south wing. After questioning a few more servants after several wrong turns, she located his apartment. Two Temu warriors guarded Shan’s
door.
“May I enter?” Miranda asked, sounding as confident as she could.
“That is the rys lord’s decision,” replied one of the Temu. “You are the woman from the east?”
“Yes. I am Miranda. Shan knows me,” she said.
“Then you may knock. Lord Shan will let you enter if he wants to see you,” the guard explained.
Trying to ignore the watchful Temu, Miranda knocked on the door. The presence of guards surprised her and made her think about the Kezanada who had been looking for Shan. The knock gained no response, and Miranda wondered if Shan was sleeping. Her patience soon eroded and she lifted her hand to knock again, but before her knuckles hit the wood, the bolt snapped back and the door opened slightly. Tentatively she pushed the door open but no one was there. She entered and slid the bolt back in place.
Shan had the best accommodations the Temu had to offer. A vast suite unfolded before her with many rooms connecting to the large entry hall. At the center of the foyer stood a beautiful vase taller than a person. Daylight streamed through a skylight and reflected marvelously on the many iridescent glazes. Miranda paused to admire the vase but saw no possible function for the oversized container.
She called out to Shan. His euphonious voice answered from the room farthest down the hall. Miranda found him on a divan apparently doing nothing.
With genuine warmth Shan rose to greet her. “Miranda. How wonderful to see you. Last night, Dreibrand told me you felt much better.”
She nodded, suddenly at a loss for words as she reacquainted herself with Shan’s features. After not seeing a rys for a few weeks, his appearance was slightly shocking, but his black eyes and the white streaks in his black hair quickly became familiar again.
“May I?” Shan said, gesturing to her arm.
With her consent he held her cast and concentrated briefly. Miranda saw his magic faintly flicker in his eyes.
“You can tell your medicine woman that your bone is healed and the cast can come off anytime. That is, if she is interested in my opinion,” Shan said.
“I will make sure that she is,” Miranda responded happily.
“Now sit with me. What did you come to talk about?” Shan invited.
Miranda did not waste time expressing her concerns. “Shan, I saw these Kezanada that pursue you. They look very dangerous. Can they harm you?”
Shan shrugged. “I accept the possibility that they could succeed…but they would have to get lucky.”
“You have guards on your door, I see,” she noted.
“A prudent precaution. Not all Kezanada are tall bold warriors. They have other agents, more discreet in appearance and possessing skills in stealth and murder,” Shan explained.
“And what happened to the warriors I saw in Fata Nor? No one has seen them since,” Miranda said.
Shan answered, “They are in the countryside, listening to their spies and reassessing the situation. I believe they hoped to catch me on the open road. I expect them to make their next move when I journey to the Confederate Council.”
Miranda pursed her lips in thought. She intended to go the Confederate Council with Shan and the possibility of a Kezanada attack disturbed her.
She continued, “I am told these Kezanada work for hire. Who do you think has hired them?”
“Anybody and everybody,” Shan chuckled mirthlessly, picking up a large parchment from the low table in front of him. “The Kezanada Overlord may have made me his own project, but I suspect that Onja has directly hired him. I would bet that other people have purchased the services of the Kezanada for information about my location.”
Presenting the document to Miranda, Shan added brightly, “Have you seen the details of my bounty?”
Miranda glanced briefly at the parchment then looked to Shan.
Politely Shan explained it to her. “This is the seal of Jingten at the bottom. And here it says that if a tribal leader presents my actual severed head to Onja, then his tribe shall be excused the payment of five year’s tribute. Or if a private party or individual is so fortunate as to acquire my head, then the payment will be one million gold pieces.”
Miranda’s eyes widened at the figure, which sounded very large.
“Cheap bitch!” Shan grumbled. “Jingten holds perhaps the greatest treasure in the world. A million gold pieces is a trifle. Onja flatters herself sending this offer to Taischek. I know he would not betray me.”
Miranda contemplated the parchment and the details Shan said it contained. Even though Shan scoffed at the reward Onja offered for his head, Miranda believed that it would encourage more people than the Kezanada to seek his death. The rys’s jeopardy would increase with every day.
“Shan, let us go to Jingten now, before the snows. Before more enemies gather around. There is no reason to go to the Confederate Council. The tribes there might try to kill you. This is between you and Onja. You do not need to recruit allies. For my children, let us leave for Jingten now,” she pleaded.
Emotion showed on Shan’s face. He truly cared for her. Her desire to return to Jingten and fight inspired him, but he needed caution as well as courage.
Slowly Shan responded, “For your children I must wait. My mind and body must be completely ready when I face Onja again. In the Sabuto Domain I did things that I have never done before and I learned much. I explored aspects of my power that I had hoped to never use, but it opened my mind to new directions. I can kill and destroy, and I can do it without hesitation, but I must not forget that Onja has two thousands years more experience than me. I cannot afford to overestimate my powers. If I launch my attack on Onja prematurely, then we all shall perish. Me, you, Dreibrand, Taischek, all the people who trust me.”
The rys sighed heavily. “Miranda, know that I desperately want to go now. I wanted to strike at Onja when she put you on the glacier to die, but if I had done that I might have failed and you would be dead for certain, probably Dreibrand too. But I cannot allow my rage to provoke me into a foolish move. Defeating Onja must be a perfectly calculated act.”
Miranda buried her face in her hands, physically holding her grief inside.
“Then tell me how to help you if we must wait. This idleness will kill me. Command me, Shan. Tell me how to keep your enemies away from you,” she insisted.
Shan considered her request, uncertain how to reply. He wanted to use her, and he cherished her loyalty, but she had already suffered so much. Shan hated to put her in harm’s way, but he had accepted her offer to serve him.
He decided, “Miranda, I do not know if you can keep my enemies away, but you can help me turn people away from Onja’s side. The more humans that rebel, the weaker Onja will become, and the sooner I can strike her down. She draws confidence from her domination of others just like I draw confidence from the support of my friends.”
“Yes, of course. What must I do?” Miranda said eagerly.
“It may not be easy for you. I want you to bring your story to the people. I want people to see the young woman, who Onja has wronged, the mother of the children who are captives in Jingten. Then humans will see that it is not just for a rys they fight,” Shan explained. “The Temu Tribe is loyal to the King, but defying Jingten is very stressful for them, and out of fear, people might look for reasons to go against Taischek. But this can be kept to a minimum if Taischek and I act quickly. Already we are taking the rysmavda from the people. We cannot have agents of Jingten insisting Onja is a Goddess when we seek to destroy her.”
“Dreibrand told me the temples would be closed,” Miranda said.
“More than closed. The rysmavda, including Prime Rysmavda Arshen of Dengar Nor, were put in prison two days ago. All rysmavda in the Temu Domain should be locked up by now. Next week the King plans a spectacle in the city with the prisoners here. Most of the rysmavda are of the Temu Tribe, so Taischek will give them a chance to recant their belief that Onja is a Goddess and their role as priests. Those rysmavda from other tribes are being deported. I want you to come t
o this. You can tell people about your children and you can confront the rysmavda with the wickedness of Onja,” Shan said.
“What of the priests who do not give up their belief?” Miranda asked.
“They will be summarily executed,” Shan stated.
Miranda gasped lightly. Resisting the possibility, she said, “But they will all give up their beliefs, right?”
“Most will,” Shan assured her. “Taischek will not kill members of his own tribe without giving them ample opportunity to choose their people over Onja.”
“If some stay loyal to Onja, can’t they just be left in prison?” Miranda suggested.
“It would not send a strong enough message. We are trying to show other tribes that Onja is not a Goddess and that she cannot do anything if her rysmavda are removed from power,” Shan said heavily.
“It is so terrible,” Miranda murmured.
Leaning closer, Shan gently added, “You can help convince them to recant. Most of the rysmavda are not bad men. Being a priest is an occupation passed down through their family or they became a priest because it suited their skills. It is not wrong for them to believe in Onja’s power, because she has great magic, but they must see that they can no longer promote her as a Goddess who demands tribute.”
Miranda nodded, trying to comprehend everything Shan had said. It seemed to make sense, but it was hard to think about so many things at once—the loyalty of the Temu, the imprisonment of priests, the impression other tribes would receive.
“Shan, how will I do as you ask? I am not good with the language. I do not always know the words to use,” Miranda said.
“I will help you. But the harder part will be speaking in front of so many people. Most of the city will turn out. Have you ever been in front of so many people?” Shan inquired.
Miranda stiffened. She had not thought about it that way. The only time she had ever been in front of a crowd of people had been her slave auction in Ciniva, and that had only been a small crowd. She shuddered and sent away the terrifying memory.
“It frightens most people, but you can get used to it,” Shan said.
Thinking of her children, Miranda said, “I can do it.”
“If you get afraid, just look to me. I will be there to help you. You have a week to improve your language skills and I will help you practice. Now, tonight think about what you want to say, and we will go over it in the morning.” Shan instructed.
With a deep breath Miranda tried to picture herself in front of so many people, people who were actually listening to her. “Thank you for letting me help. This sounds so important, I hope I can do it right,” she said.
Shan started to smile reassuringly but his sculpted lips failed in the attempt and he turned away from her. Miranda felt that something troubled him, and she took one of his hands and asked what it was.
His slender blue fingers squeezed her hand lightly. “Before you devote yourself to this cause as my enemies gather, I would confess something to you,” he cautioned softly.
“What?” she whispered, apprehensive.
“I should have acted quicker to help you when you arrived in Jingten. I should have known Onja would do something terrible. I had no doubt that she meant to keep your children, but I thought I would have time to get you and the children out of Jingten. It is my fault you are separated from your children. I did nothing when I might have,” Shan said.
This statement caused no anger in Miranda, and she immediately tried to soothe Shan. “Do not blame yourself. Although I was afraid of Onja, I chose to stay that first night. Dreibrand tried to get me to leave, but Esseldan was sick and I thought it was best for him to have the medicine and be inside. You could not have convinced me to leave, if Dreibrand could not.”
“I could have tried. I should have tried. Instead, I wasted time sneaking off to talk with Dreibrand,” Shan lamented.
“It is easy to find mistakes in the past,” Miranda admonished. “If you want to blame yourself for Onja’s wickedness, then I forgive you. I know you did not want this to happen to me, and I do not take back my wish to serve you. Shan, you are good.”
Shan snorted. “I no longer can claim to be good,” he muttered.
“None of us are perfect,” Miranda said.
Shan seemed to resist this notion, but finally conceded, “True enough. You are kind to me, Miranda. Let me say that I am sorry the rys have committed this crime. I feel responsible.”
“Most of my life has been very unpleasant. I stopped blaming anyone but myself a long time ago,” Miranda explained.
Shan studied her, wondering how bad Miranda’s life had been. It surprised him that Onja’s cruelties compared to others in her life.
“Any help you give to me will put you in danger,” Shan warned.
“I am not afraid. I have already been tortured by Onja. Not much else worries me,” Miranda said.
Although he did not show it, Shan’s heart ached when she mentioned the abuse the Queen had inflicted on her. “Know that I will protect you with my magic if anyone tries to hurt you while you serve me,” Shan promised.
Miranda remembered his magic keeping her warm and alive when she neared death, and it gave her courage knowing he would continue to protect her.
“Now go get that cast off,” Shan suggested pleasantly.
Miranda hugged him and Shan told her to come back early the next morning.
That night Miranda lay awake thinking about what Shan had assigned her. She wondered if she really could inspire people to fight a war like Shan said. She thought about how strange it was that she had run away from war in Droxy only to find herself plotting a war now. Although she had no experience in such complicated matters, she resolved to learn. Her heart steeled itself for the violence ahead.
27 ~ A Chance to Recant ~
I heard the words of Lin Fal the Prophet, and I believed. But I knew his days were numbered—Semsem II, Temu ruler, year 1230 of the Age of Onja.
The prisoners squinted when they were led into the morning sun. The grime of Taischek’s prison had smeared their blue robes and they plodded down the castle road to the city under heavy guard. Prime Rysmavda Arshen was the foremost prisoner, and the warding crystal on a silver chain around his neck had been replaced by manacles and iron chains on his wrists. Thirty rysmavda and acolytes trailed behind Arshen, but few expressions matched the fury on Arshen’s face.
Astride a chestnut horse with a white mane and tail, King Taischek led the procession and Arshen hurled condemnations at the back of his monarch. He warned of Onja’s killing fire falling from the sky and he told the Temu warriors that surrounded him that they were as good as Deamedron already. Arshen called for the other rysmavda to join him in haranguing their captors, but only a few added their voices to the threats of the Prime Rysmavda. Over a week in prison with no sign of Onja’s magic to save them had worn on the faith of some, and others were too afraid to speak and draw attention to themselves.
Crowds overflowed onto the castle road, and people packed the streets leading to the city square. Some people started throwing rocks at the rysmavda, but Taischek quickly ordered a few warriors to stop them before those who liked to throw rocks encouraged those who had not thought of it.
In the city square Baydek Hall stood across from the rysmavda temple of Dengar Nor. Named after the Temu monarch who founded the bureaucracy, Baydek Hall housed the offices of government officials. The steps of Baydek Hall were broad and designed as a platform for public announcements, parade observation, and sometimes trials. The steps would be crowded today with the thirty-one prisoners on display.
Warriors held back the crowd, and Taischek watched as the prisoners were lined up in their chains. The name of the King flew off the lips of many in the crowd as they hollered their support. The rysmavda had been in prison for over a week now, everyone had heard about the looting of the Dursalene temple, and people were beginning to believe that they had a chance to defeat Onja. No righteous firestorm descended to puni
sh the tribe, Taischek seemed as healthy as ever, and the report was circulating that he had actually killed rysmavda.
Shan waited with Dreibrand and Miranda just inside Baydek Hall. Warriors and bureaucrats milled around the lobby, taking turns looking out the doors and windows. The sound of the crowd outside filled the three story high lobby like a strong wind in a hollow tree. Shan and his friends were tucked in an alcove beside the main doors, and beyond the glossy pillars, they could see the backs of the heads of the rysmavda lining up on the steps.
Miranda wet her lips and noticed that she was breathing faster.
“Are you all right?” Dreibrand asked.
She nodded but looked afraid. Dreibrand understood her fear. Taischek and Shan had asked him to give his testimony about the Atrophane Empire in the east where Onja had no control. He had addressed large groups of soldiers on countless occasions but he had never spoken to the public. Under the Darmar’s censure, all Vetas were excluded from pursuing a political career.
Dreibrand clasped her hand and told her not to worry.
“I hope no one has to be killed,” Miranda said.
“They serve Onja; just remember that,” Dreibrand reminded her sternly.
A commotion broke out on the steps. Dreibrand strained to see what the yelling was about as a couple warriors pushed past him to assist the situation.
As the yelling dwindled, Shan explained, “They had to gag Arshen. Taischek will speak now.”
King Taischek mounted the steps to stand beside his prisoners. He wore his official crown and all of his courtly finery. A winged serpent of gold circled his head, complementing his skin that was the color of polished oak. A long tailed coat of brilliant red draped his body and the sleeves of his coat were constructed entirely of thick strings of amber beads. Beneath his coat he wore a knee length white robe trimmed with golden bells and impossibly white boots covered his feet, fitted with golden spurs. He was as much the lord of the palace as the master of the battlefield.
Banners rose on each side of the King, and the purple fields of fabric with their yellow serpents cast shadows over the prisoners. The thousands cheered for Taischek until horn blasts insisted on quiet. Gradually a suitable hush crept over the city square, and Taischek scanned the faces of his tribe.
The King addressed his people.
He officially announced that the Temu Tribe would offer no tribute to Jingten and that they were the ally of Lord Shan in his battle to overthrow Onja. Although this news had been a fact to a few and a rumor to most, hearing it confirmed by the King finally made it reality, and cries of dismay erupted from the crowd.
Taischek continued, projecting his voice even farther from his stocky body. Of course not everyone could hear him, but it would be enough that some heard him.
“The wealth and hard work of generations of Temu have been wasted on Onja. Not even a rys can rule forever. It has been twenty-two centuries and Onja is old. Look, I take her temples and her priests and nothing happens.” Taischek gestured contemptuously to the sky. “In Dursalene I looked directly into a temple orb and the Queen did not strike! The Temu are done with Onja. The Temu will no longer obey an evil rys who claims her powers make her a Goddess. The Temu are not afraid to let Onja know what we think of her. We have taken her temples and we will disband her priests!”
Taischek pivoted to view his prisoners. Chomping on his gag, Arshen glared at the King. They had hated each other for years, and the Prime Rysmavda still did not quite believe that Taischek dared to treat him so. The faces of the other rysmavda ranged from terror to resignation. The younger faces of their acolytes appeared convinced already.
“Rysmavda of Dengar Nor, I, King Taischek, ask you to return your full loyalty to your tribe and renounce your service to Onja. Do not contribute to her evil tyranny. Help your tribe to be free,” Taischek said.
His invitation met with murmurs of approval from the crowd. As always the King was fair with any Temu.
Arshen growled through his gag and struggled violently against the two warriors who kept him in place.
“Prime Rysmavda Arshen wishes to speak,” Taischek said and signaled for the gag to be removed. “Let Arshen be first to set the example and recant his belief in Onja as the Goddess.”
Arshen gasped when the gag was pulled away, but he had no intention of accepting Taischek’s offer.
“The King of the Temu brings death and damnation to the whole tribe!” Arshen immediately cried. “Remember the false prophet Lin Fal. He burst into flaming cinders in front of a thousand of his worshippers during the kingship of Semsem II. Onja tolerates no blasphemy.”
“That was a thousand years ago,” Taischek scoffed.
“Now the King of the Temu would be the puppet of a pretender rys who has already failed once against Onja. The tribe will die as did Lin Fal,” Arshen predicted.
Taischek hated to let him go on like this, but he knew he had to let the Prime Rysmavda plead his case. The King did not want his tribe to think he had gone mad. He wanted to prove to his tribe that Onja had grown weak and her theocracy could be ended.
“You know nothing of the powers of Lord Shan,” Taischek countered. “You call him a failure, but I see a rys who challenged Onja and lived! No one in history can make this claim.”
“The Goddess will consume the foolish rys and all who serve him,” Arshen insisted.
“Onja is no Goddess!” Taischek thundered. “If she were a goddess, I would have been punished already. If you will not listen to me, listen to Lord Shan.”
The rys emerged onto the platform and Arshen recoiled into the grip of his guards. The Prime Rysmavda did not want the presence of Shan to taint him.
“Do not fear me, Arshen,” Shan said. “My quarrel is not with you. Onja no longer needs priests to serve her. Her time comes to an end.”
“The Goddess is forever,” Arshen hissed.
Shan shook his head and, as he argued with the priest, he addressed the crowd as well. “Magic does not make a Goddess. Onja was very powerful and humans and rys had to bow down to her. But she is not eternal. Like all rys, Onja was born of the Rysamand that were born of the world—not the other way around. Onja cannot create life or make the weather. The true power of the divine cannot be grasped by any mortal creature.”
Turning directly to the people, Shan proclaimed, “When I am King of Jingten, I will not be called God and I will not demand tribute. The human kingdoms will be free of rys tyranny.”
People gasped in wonder and some cheered. Shan’s dream of a new world was tempting even when compared to their ingrained fear of Onja.
Shan continued, “Arshen, I do not blame you for serving Onja. It is a fact that her power was great and we all have had to obey her. But as a rys, I know that her power fades. Already it is apparent to any who would open their eyes. Onja does not strike at the Temu or me because she cannot reach this far. Her magic will let her see me, but her impotence strangles her as we speak. Her killing magic has receded into the Rysamand. The human kingdoms have no need to obey her now.”
Taischek spoke. “Even now human kingdoms exist that Onja does not rule. A new warrior has entered my household. He is from a distant land east of the Rysamand, where humans know nothing of Onja. If she was a Goddess, would there be kingdoms she did not control?”
The King beckoned to the building where Dreibrand waited, and the foreign warrior walked out. Dreibrand bowed to Taischek, but his eyes roved the faces of the priests and the spectators. The morning had turned hot and the drama of Taischek’s show trial was ripening. Dreibrand wondered how deeply the populace cared for Onja’s religion. He knew in his country priests could be very powerful and they would not be likely to recant their beliefs because that was the source of their power.
But the Temu seemed willing to give up Onja’ religion. Dreibrand attributed this to the fact that Onja was not a Goddess, and people knew that in their hearts, even if they had never dared to say it.
Taischek proce
eded to carefully question Dreibrand, who explained the large human civilization that existed beyond the rule of Onja. He answered that before he traveled west, he had never even heard of rys.
Then the King had Dreibrand relate the events that took place while he was in Jingten, describing the confrontation between Shan and Onja in which Onja had relented and Shan had been unharmed. Dreibrand added without prompting that Shan had saved his life when Onja assailed him with her magic.
The King whirled on Arshen. “Tell me priest of Onja, why does your Goddess only rule here? Is she not jealous of the many Gods and Goddesses who are worshipped in the east? We are allowed no idol or belief outside of her.”
“The mind of the Goddess cannot be known,” Arshen responded dogmatically but the conviction was ebbing from his voice.
“I’ll tell you why—because it is far away,” Taischek cried. “If Onja was a human, she would be no greater than the ruler of the Empire where Dreibrand Veta is from. But instead she is an evil and corrupt rys who would make us worship her.”
Arshen’s mind scrambled a defense and he regained his venom. “You would let a stranger fill your head with lies. All humans must do Onja’s will or pay for their disobedience with their souls,” he said.
“I doubt she has that threat over you,” Taischek hissed so that the crowd could not hear. “Stay stubborn, Arshen. It would not ruin my day to execute you.”
“Kill me and your domain will rise against you,” Arshen warned.
“I don’t think so. Nobody complained while you were in prison,” Taischek said.
Shan cut them off. He knew that Taischek and Arshen would degenerate into bitter name-calling if left to do it. “Arshen, there is no question what Onja has been capable of, but her power no longer reaches the lowlands. She demonstrates this by placing a bounty on my head. Why would Onja have to pay humans to hunt me?”
“The bounty is to warn humans that you are the enemy,” Arshen answered.
“It is because she cannot hurt me here. She cannot hurt any of us,” Shan persisted.
“Arshen, recant your belief in Onja as Goddess. Set the example for the rest of the rysmavda of the Temu Tribe. Deny Onja and declare your only loyalty is for your tribe,” Taischek ordered.
“No,” Arshen said.
“You know what the stakes are,” Taischek warned.
“Never!” Arshen shouted and the other rysmavda jingled in their chains with agitation.
Taischek had predicted that Arshen would refuse, but the King would not relent. He glanced meaningfully to Shan before he continued, “Arshen, do not throw away your life for an evil sorceress. Come back to your tribe that wants you. You can’t expect the people to worship evil.”
“The Goddess is not evil. Onja protects all of Gyhwen. The Temu Tribe must not turn from her. Has the story of the Deamedron grown so old?” Arshen pleaded, trying to get the people to believe. It was hard for the Prime Rysmavda when no supporters cried out from the sea of people. He knew they believed in Onja’s power. It was a fact. But the tribe was on the side of Taischek and Shan.
Will I have to die to make them believe? Will we all have to die? he thought.
As Arshen’s hungry eyes looked for support, Shan went to get Miranda. She saw him coming toward the doorway and she knew it was time. All of her nerves buzzed like hummingbird wings.
Before Dreibrand had left her, he had tenderly put his lips close to her ear and whispered that she should pretend like she was mad at him so everyone could hear. She loved how he encouraged her and his little joke helped her in this moment of terror.
Miranda followed Shan outside. She had tried to prepare herself for the crowd, but being the center of its attention was much more intense than looking at it through a door. The crowd seemed to become especially attentive, and Miranda’s mouth felt especially dry. Luckily, she did not have to speak right away as Shan introduced her.
“Tell us what Onja did to you, Miranda,” Shan prompted.
Miranda cleared her throat. Everyone was looking at her. The King, Shan, Dreibrand, General Xander, countless Temu warriors, the spectators, and the prisoners. She looked at the grizzled priests and remembered that Shan had said she must help convince them to recant. If they did not, the executions would start.
With a deep breath she found her voice. The words were halting and soft at first, but they quickly became stronger. Suddenly Miranda wanted everyone to hear her.
“I came west with my children. I have a six-year-old daughter and an infant son. Onja took them from me and said I had to be her slave. I said I would not do this, and she tortured me and left me to die on the icy mountains. Lord Shan saved me from freezing with his magic. My children still are in Jingten. I will help Lord Shan become King in his home because he will give my children back.”
Her nervousness caused her emotions to surge and she directed her anger at Arshen. “Why do you tell your people to worship Onja? She steals children and tortures people.”
Arshen had no answer, but Taischek pressed him. “Arshen, how do you expect the Temu to tolerate this behavior from Onja. Will she start to demand our children with the tribute?”
“I do not know the mind of Queen Onja,” Arshen defended.
“Do you think we can have no better Goddess than a rys sorceress who steals children?” Taischek asked.
“I cannot judge the actions of the Goddess. It is our place to obey,” Arshen said.
“Enough of this, Arshen. Onja is old, and the Temu must join with Shan to get rid of her. You cannot tell us it is to our benefit to stay subservient to her. Recant!” Taischek yelled.
“I told you no! If the Temu do not turn back to Onja, she will kill us all. Rysmavda, do not recant. We must show our people our faith,” Arshen ordered.
The prisoners stirred with mixed feelings. Taischek stomped past Arshen and addressed the prisoners at random, asking them to recant. Arshen continually yelled for the rysmavda to stand by their beliefs, until Taischek ordered him regagged.
The King reached a young acolyte. An earnest youth in the midst of his indoctrination who looked fearfully at his King.
“Recant and join your tribe,” Taischek said.
The wide eyes of the acolyte rolled toward the Prime Rysmavda, seeking guidance. He feared Onja most, but he feared Arshen first and he wanted to obey his high priest. Part of him believed he must not recant in order to show his tribe that they must not rebel against Onja. He believed that Arshen was right.
“This is your last chance,” Taischek warned. He had not anticipated that the acolyte would stand so firm.
“No, my King,” the acolyte blurted.
Taischek paused and looked at the face of the teenage Temu. This moment was as hard as he had thought it would be, but the boy could be a fanatic just like Arshen if he let him live.
“Executioner!” Taischek ordered.
The youth gasped as reality assaulted him and he grabbed for the warding crystal that no longer hung around his neck. Four warriors hustled out with the chopping block followed by an axe man who began to warm up his shoulders for the swing.
Miranda watched two guards start to drag the youth toward his sharp edged doom. She turned to Shan and then Dreibrand, but she could see that they believed this had to happen. Before it was too late to act, she rushed to intercept the acolyte and stopped his advancement toward the executioner.
Clasping his hands, Miranda implored, “You are too young to be so stubborn. Would you die for a Queen who tortured me? Your death will not change my mind. I have to fight Onja. Now tell your King that you are loyal to him.”
Her action truly stunned Taischek, but he said nothing. He saw that the acolyte could be on the verge of recanting. Taischek would never be sure if it was the truth of her words or her pretty face that worked on the youth.
The acolyte gaped at Miranda, absorbing her words. He looked at the executioner and the warrior waiting to put a bag over his head. Then he looked to Arshen, but Miranda
grabbed his cheek and turned him toward Taischek.
“Look to your King,” Miranda said.
The acolyte blinked with confusion, but he was grateful for his second chance.
“I am loyal to the Temu Tribe and King Taischek,” the acolyte said.
“Say Onja is not a Goddess,” Taischek ordered.
“Onja is not a Goddess,” the youth whispered.
“Louder,” Taischek barked.
“Onja is not a Goddess!” the acolyte wailed and fearful tears filled his eyes. He dropped to his knees, falling out of Miranda’s grasp. “My King, protect me. Onja will kill us all.”
With relieved tenderness, the King comforted him. “No. She cannot hurt us. See, we are fine.”
Filled with confidence from her success, Miranda turned to the nearest prisoner and pleaded for him to recant. He was a full-fledged rysmavda and he capitulated. Miranda moved up and down the row of prisoners asking them to recant. Her sweet invitation to live was hard to resist, and all but six priests refused with Arshen.
Speaking to Arshen, Miranda tried to convince him one last time, so the other six priests could change their minds. “Do not die for Onja. She does not even care about you.”
Arshen’s gag had been removed again so he could recant, but he said, “Stop lying to me you wandering strumpet. Onja has your children because you cannot take care of them.”
Although his harsh tone allowed Miranda to guess that he had insulted her, she did not understand every word, but Dreibrand did.
“I’ll kill you myself,” Dreibrand cried and his ivory handled dagger appeared in his hand.
Shan restrained him. “He is dead already,” he whispered.
Taischek stepped close to Miranda and said, “I thank you, but there is nothing you can do for him. Go stand by Shan.”
Miranda wanted to do more. She wanted to argue with the rysmavda all day. She could not understand their loyalty to Onja, but she obeyed the King and returned to her place. Dreibrand glared at Arshen one last time before joining Miranda with a kinder gaze.
Slipping his dagger back in place, Dreibrand said quietly, “You were wonderful.”
“You saved many lives, Miranda,” Shan added.
The rysmavda who recanted were released from their chains and their blue robes were stripped away. In their plain under tunics, the rysmavda kneeled to their King, and Taischek told them to watch closely the fate of their former brethren because all followers of Onja were the enemy of the Temu.
Taischek returned his attention to the expectant crowd. “Temu, you have seen twenty four rysmavda recant their belief in Onja as Goddess and return their loyalty to their tribe. Unfortunately, the Prime Rysmavda and six foolish priests refuse to join us even though I have clearly shown that Onja has grown weak and that Onja is evil. It grieves me to put this sentence on men who were born Temu, but the tribe cannot suffer enemies to live among us. They are sentenced to death.”
Excitement rippled through the crowd and people pressed against the ring of warriors who held back the spectators. General Xander hollered orders for more warriors to reinforce the barrier and he hollered to the civilians to stop pushing.
Taischek leaned close to Arshen and said, “I should have done this to you a long time ago.”
“Your soul will serve the Queen for eternity in harsh bondage,” Arshen snarled.
“At least I get to see you die first,” Taischek retorted with satisfaction. “Enjoy watching your men die, Arshen. You go last,”
With a victorious flourish Taischek left the condemned rysmavda and stood by Shan. A warrior beat a slow and solitary rhythm on a drum and one rysmavda was dragged toward the executioner.
“Your faith honors the Goddess,” Arshen shouted.
Miranda watched the rysmavda facing his executioner. When she had pleaded for him to recant, his eyes had not even looked at her, but he lost his composure when a warrior pulled the bag over his head. The rysmavda struggled in terror as insistent hands pushed him toward death.
A simple basket that might have been used to collect long stemmed flowers or even carry a baby was placed by the chopping block. Miranda fought the urge to turn away, knowing she must watch to show how much she believed in Shan’s cause.
The blind prisoner was bent over the block now and the axe was raised. The entire throng of people seemed to hold its breath, then the axe fell, and a great roar rose from the throats of the Temu. The head fell cleanly into the waiting basket, but the body jerked with alarming animation before flopping away from the axe man. Blood spurted in quantity and two warriors immediately wrapped the body in a shroud and tossed the head in the package. The corpse was dragged to the foot of the steps, leaving a red trail on the polished stone.
The axe took the life of the second rysmavda with all efficiency, but the third rysmavda collapsed in the grip of his captors, shrieking for mercy. He recanted his belief in Onja as goddess and begged the King to accept him back into the tribe. Taischek had to be merciful but he ordered the rysmavda put back in prison because he had taken too long to recant.
Three more rysmavda died, leaving only Arshen. As the warriors took the Prime Rysmavda to the block, he again warned Taischek of his doom.
“Enough of your empty words. You have always been against me, Arshen,” Taischek said.
Prime Rysmavda Arshen, master of all Temu temples and servant of Onja died on the block. The axe fell with a meaty thud. The crowd no longer cheered, exhausted by the violence. The drummer stopped and an eerie silence held the city as if the people waited for Onja’s reply.
The bloody remains of Arshen were tossed onto the pile of bodies.
Taischek signaled to General Xander to proceed with their planned finale. The temple on the opposite side of the square was heavily guarded in case the crowd became frenzied and decided to loot the temple themselves. The doors of the temple opened and a squad of workers hauled out a cart bearing the temple statue of Onja. Warriors parted the crowd so the statue could be brought before the King.
Taischek placed his hands on his hips and surveyed his people, waiting for the perfect moment to speak.
“Temu Tribe, this was an easy day. Harder days lie ahead. Like the fools executed today, some people in other tribes will stay loyal to Onja. Enemies will gather against us, but with the power of Lord Shan, we will prevail. The Temu will help Lord Shan return to his home and end the Age of Onja!”
The workers pulled the statue off the cart. It crashed onto the pavement and one blue stone arm broke away. Sledgehammers had been loaded on the cart as well, and the workers each seized one and began to demolish the statue. The heavy hammers soon bludgeoned the lovely face of the Queen of Jingten into chunks and dust.
When the King left, the crowd took a long time to disperse. The spectators who wanted souvenirs from the historic day gleaned every shattered scrap of the statue from the pavement.
Upon returning to the castle, Miranda could not relax. She paced alone in her apartment while Dreibrand had lunch with the King and Shan. It bothered her somewhat that she had not been invited, but other things bothered her more at the moment. The bloody images of the executions played through her mind over and over.
A sharp pain started in her temple and she had to lean on the mantle of the fireplace. A headache had not struck her for many days, and she wondered if the stress of the morning had caused her to relapse. Next a couple drops of blood came from her nose and she hurried to wipe it away. Perhaps the power of Onja could not punish the rebellious Temu, but Miranda still felt the touch of Onja’s wrath.
The nosebleed ended and she was cleaned up just as Dreibrand returned. He carried a covered plate of food and Miranda greeted him with a forced smile.
“Here, I brought something for you to try. The Temu call it palalai. It is just great. You have to try it,” Dreibrand said. He removed the cover, revealing a crispy fruity pastry but Miranda quickly turned away.
“I cannot eat,” she said.
&nbs
p; Dreibrand reconsidered the dessert and set it down. He moved close to her and massaged her shoulders.
“Everything went very well today. Taischek is very pleased,” Dreibrand reported. “He is a popular king and after today his tribe will not doubt his decisions. And most of the tribute had already been collected by the temples for this year and that will more than finance Shan’s war.”
Miranda heard the good news but she could not forget the men who had just died.
“Why didn’t they listen to me, Dreibrand? Why did they choose death when they could have lived?” Miranda asked.
“They are priests. It is their job to be faithful. Nothing you could have said to Arshen would have changed his mind. Taischek and him have been feuding for many years I am told. Arshen would not have sided with Taischek for any reason. He preferred to die thinking he had won,” Dreibrand explained. “Miranda, just think about the rysmavda you saved. Some of them would not have recanted if you had not asked them as you did.”
Miranda sighed, knowing she must see this day as a victory. “I just cannot believe I saw six men get killed,” she murmured.
Dreibrand moved his hands around her body and kissed the side of her face. “You really impressed me today. The most powerful Atrophaney lady could not have done better,” Dreibrand praised.
Miranda remembered her experience in front of the crowd. She had worried about her foreign accent, but Shan had coached her carefully and she had spoken with success. It had been good to feel important.
“Now do that again at the Confederate Council and we shall have many allies,” Dreibrand predicted.
“I will have to speak at the council?” Miranda asked with a share of excitement and surprise. She turned in Dreibrand’s arms to face him, waiting for the answer.
“Yes, Shan told me so. But he said we should not talk about that. He has some details to work out with Taischek,” Dreibrand said.
“When do we leave?”
“The day after next,” he replied. “Now you must stop moping about those executions. They were servants of Onja and you must think only of that. Pleasant things remain to be done today. We need to go shopping.”
“Shopping?” Miranda said, confused by the frivolous proposal.
“Yes. You need more clothes and I need more clothes. And I want to buy us two new horses before we leave,” Dreibrand said.
She looked at him skeptically.
“Dengar Nor is a fine and beautiful city. You must want to see some of it,” Dreibrand urged.
Dreibrand always made everything sound like a good idea and she did not protest. She had only seen the city from the main road or the city square, and it would be a marvelous thing to walk the streets of a real city. Hoping her headache would fade, she agreed to go because she needed the distraction.
28 ~ Intoxicating Possibilities ~
Dreibrand managed to spend almost half his gold in one afternoon. The large crowd after the executions offered a tempting market for the merchants and they stayed open late. Dreibrand picked out a handsome bay stallion for himself and a roan gelding for Miranda along with hand-tooled leather saddles and bridles.
He hired two tailors and had himself and Miranda fitted for several outfits. He spared no expense on fabric and insisted that Miranda pick out only the best quality. She had protested at the cost and insisted that she did not need so many things, but Dreibrand had firmly instructed her not to care about the money. He spread a little extra gold between the tailors to make sure the orders were complete when they returned from the Confederate Council.
Miranda had not protested as much about the purchase of the horses and the next morning she waited with Dreibrand for their delivery to the castle. The horse dealer was not late and he rolled into the courtyard in a cart with his youthful assistant. The saddles were in the cart and the horses were tied behind it. Jumping down from the cart, the dealer shook hands with Dreibrand and bowed politely to Miranda. He was an amicable man with chubby cheeks and an abnormally unruly head of hair that his crooked braids could not quite tame.
“Thank you for bringing them up here today,” Dreibrand said.
“For you, no problem. Let other warriors in the King’s household know who has the best horses,” the dealer said happily. “You want to ride?”
They nodded and the dealer hollered to his assistant to saddle the horses. Dreibrand had inspected the animals thoroughly and rode them the day before, so he only checked them briefly on delivery. Once the horses were saddled, Dreibrand thanked the merchant and gave him a few more coins.
“Thank you, sir. I hope you need more horses soon,” the dealer beamed.
“I will look for you first,” Dreibrand assured him.
As the dealer departed, Miranda grumbled, “You did not have to give him that money. You did not even talk him down enough when you bargained yesterday.”
“We are foreigners, Miranda. It is important people around here like us,” Dreibrand explained.
Miranda supposed he was right, but she wished he would take a little more care with his gold. The dealer had liked him well enough yesterday.
The castle occupied only part of the mesa overlooking the city, and Taischek had tracks for riding and fields for practicing the arts of war on the rest of the high land. Here, Dreibrand and Miranda put the new horses through their paces and had fun racing each other.
When they returned to the castle stables, Miranda appeared almost carefree and happy. Dreibrand hoped she had put aside the trauma of the executions the day before.
“Now I have two horses,” Miranda said, celebrating the fact.
Dreibrand was glad that he had been able to provide her with something she liked. Every day he thought he loved her more. They made love every night, losing themselves in pleasure. Dreibrand enjoyed his good quarters, good food, and his good woman and never recalled being happier, but he wondered if Miranda shared the same feelings. Her passion had a hunger that thrilled him endlessly, but he could not tell if her feelings went beyond this.
He lent her a hand as she dismounted and asked how her arm was holding up. It was thin and pale, but she said it had not caused her any discomfort.
“I will have my old strength back soon. Then I want to practice archery again. I can almost pull my bow back already,” Miranda said.
Pleased that she was recovering, he told her to practice as much as she wanted.
They arranged stabling for their new horses and checked on Starfield and Freedom while they were there. The horses thrived on good hay and good oats and were getting a well deserved rest.
As they left the stable, Dreibrand said, “I have to go to a meeting with Taischek and Shan. I will see you tonight.”
“I want to go,” Miranda said.
Dreibrand paused with uncertainty. “I am not sure if that is allowed,” he said.
“Why?”
Awkwardly he avoided her gaze. “Miranda, you know how things are around here.”
“Do you not want me there?” she asked, and her voice revealed a hint of vulnerability.
“That is not it,” he answered.
“It is because I am not a man,” she surmised bitterly.
“Do not look at me like that,” Dreibrand defended. “You know I do not judge you that way. Atrophaney women do not have restrictions like the Temu. But we are here, and I do not think you can go.”
“Have you asked about this?” Miranda pressed.
“Well no,” he admitted.
“Then take me with you. I am sick of hearing about what you and Shan plan after the fact. I need to be there,” she insisted.
Dreibrand completely sympathized with her but she needed to be aware of her chances of attending the meeting.
“I want you there, but I cannot just change the Temu. Please understand this,” he warned.
“I will tell Taischek he has to let me,” Miranda said.
Dreibrand scowled and said very firmly, “Taischek is a King. You do not tell him anything.
You ask. Do not go and upset him. We are Taischek’s guests and he treats us very well. His customs deserve respect.”
“Then I will ask,” Miranda said wearily.
Taischek and Xander were engaged in a heated conversation in their own language when Dreibrand and Miranda entered the council chamber. They stopped talking and Taischek quickly gave Dreibrand his attention, apparently glad to drop the discussion he was having with Xander.
Respectfully Dreibrand bowed. “I hope that I am not late, King Taischek.”
“Oh, no, no.” The King invited Dreibrand to sit in one of the high-backed chairs at the long table. “It is Shan who can’t tell time.”
Dreibrand cleared his throat, thinking of his words carefully. “King Taischek, Miranda wishes to sit with our council this afternoon.”
Taischek frowned and flatly told Miranda that it was not allowed.
She stepped forward and addressed her royal host, “Good King, this war concerns me closely, and I will hear what is talked about.”
Dreibrand shot her a look that she ignored. Taischek raised his eyebrows with surprise. Vua had mentioned how willful Miranda could be, but he had not been prepared for outright pushiness. Not even his most spoiled daughter spoke to him with such an assertive tone.
“These affairs concern me too, and I will conduct my meeting in my way. This is not your place,” Taischek said.
Remarkably unintimidated, Miranda protested, “This is my place. I was good enough for you yesterday when you wanted to show your tribe what a good cause this war is.”
Dreibrand shifted uneasily. He did not want to lose the favor he had risked his life to earn from Taischek because Miranda chafed under Temu custom. The position she placed him in was impossible, but he blamed himself. He should have guessed her antagonistic mood and advised her better.
The usually jovial King used a stern tone. “Miranda, I understand that you have a great interest in how this war is conducted, but such decisions are for men to make. Dreibrand Veta, you will escort her out and see that your woman observes her manners in the future.”
Dreibrand felt suddenly sick. He had worried this would happen, and he was not sure if Miranda would forgive him for what he had to now do. They needed the friendship of Taischek and he could not let her jeopardize that.
He was about to obey the King when Shan walked in and dissolved the confrontational moment.
“Hello, Miranda,” the rys said breezily as he seated himself beside Taischek.
“She was just on her way out,” the King growled.
“Oh Taischek, let her stay. I know it is not proper, but indulge me,” Shan said. “We could all learn of bravery from Miranda. Have you ever drawn your sword face to face with Onja?”
Taischek gave Shan a sour look, but it was hard to refuse when the rys put things in such words. He glanced to Xander for the General’s opinion but he shrugged noncommittally. Secretly Xander enjoyed her presence, which was too rarely near him.
The King sighed heavily. “Perhaps a new age is truly upon us. We have more important matters to discuss. Stay if you must, Miranda, but do not cross me again.”
Dreibrand quietly let his breath out, thankful for Shan’s intervention.
“Thank you, my King,” Miranda said with sweet sincerity because she had won her way.
Xander started the meeting by reporting on Kezanada activity. The elusive mercenaries had been descending on the Temu Domain in increasing numbers and an attack was expected when the King traveled to the Confederate Council.
“There is evidence of groups of Kezanada crossing the countryside, but it is difficult to put a number to them. I have no doubt that they have many agents in the city right now,” Xander said.
“We will travel with five hundred warriors. That should be enough to fight them off if they are foolish enough to directly attack me,” Taischek said.
Shan agreed. “Yes, that will be plenty. I have observed the Kezanada and there is a group of one hundred hiding in the Nolesh Forest to the north.”
“One hundred? They must be planning something big then. Kezanada do not usually work in such large groups,” Taischek said, shaking his head.
“Have you considered that they might seek a royal hostage?” Shan said ominously.
Discomfort crossed Taischek’s face, but he nodded to Shan’s question.
“Where is Prince Kalek?” Shan asked, referring to the Temu heir.
“He is safe,” Taischek answered. “He is still on summer holiday with his brothers Doschai and Meetan in Selsha Nor near the Tacus border, but they are well guarded, and I dispatched three hundred warriors to see them home.”
Shan relaxed and said, “Wise as always, Taischek. When do you expect your son to return?”
“At the start of tribute season. I thought it was best that he stay away. I wasn’t entirely sure how the tribe would react when I dissolved the rysmavda. If there was unrest, I did not want the princes traveling the roads. Kalek rarely wants to come home early anyway,” Taischek answered.
Shan said, “Good, but let me suggest that you instruct the protectors of Dengar Nor to be alert for a Kezanada attempt to infiltrate the castle. Any member of the royal household would suit them.”
“They can’t hope to storm the castle with only one hundred warriors,” Xander said.
“No, but they can climb the mesa, scale the castle walls and sneak inside. I have seen them practice just such a thing on their own castle in Do Jempur. Why do you think I requested guards to my suite?” Shan explained.
“True enough,” Xander grumbled. He knew what the Kezanada were capable of. Abduction was an expensive specialty for the Kezanada, but the size of Shan’s bounty would merit any effort.
“The guards on the castle will be tripled, and I will send two hundred more warriors to the princes,” Taischek decided.
“King Taischek, if I may?” Dreibrand interjected.
The King looked to his foreign warrior, almost eager for his opinion.
Dreibrand continued, “Shan knows where most of these Kezanada are hiding. I say we go clean them out right now. Such enemies should not be tolerated in your domain. Let them count their dead instead of making plots.”
The corners of Taischek’s mouth curled upward. He liked the foreigner’s thinking.
But Xander groaned. “Sire, the Kezanada would just love us to take a war party into the Nolesh. They could kill many Temu and still escape.” Looking to Dreibrand, the General explained, “The Nolesh Forest is very rugged and dense. The Kezanada prefer such conditions. They can fight well on the open field of battle, but they love to strike from the shadows. They would never give us a direct battle in there.”
A little crestfallen, Dreibrand admitted that he had spoken without knowing the lay of the land.
Taischek’s smile faded because he knew Xander was right, but he still had no solution. “You are wise, General, but Dreibrand has a point. The Kezanada are our enemy now, and I would not be much of a king if I let them do as they please in my domain. Until now, they had my leave to travel my domain because their affairs did not concern me and sometimes I found their services useful. But things have changed. They have made my business their business. I will drive them out,” Taischek decided.
“Sire, that may be impossible. Yes, we could clean out the Nolesh, but as we labored there, they would only find new places to hide,” Xander warned.
“True, but they would have to hide their forces farther from the city,” the King said.
“Sire, I was not exaggerating our losses. They have the advantage in the Nolesh. That place is a den favored by thieves,” the General grumbled.
“My friends,” Shan said quietly. “No Temu need die. I caused the Kezanada to come here, and I will deal with this threat. I believe they want to ambush me on the way to the Confederate Council or worse yet abduct a royal hostage. Either way, it cannot be allowed. General Xander is right in that if they are driven from the Nolesh, they will come back in an
other place, but I will bloody their noses enough to keep them away for now. Tonight, I will go kill these hundred Kezanada.”
Taischek had hoped Shan would offer to help. “Thank you, Shan. With your magic, the Temu will have the advantage. How many warriors do you need?”
“None,” Shan stated, casting his eyes down on the table.
The meeting fell into a shocked silence as every person considered Shan’s claim that he could kill one hundred warriors by himself.
“What are you going to do?” Taischek asked.
Shan folded his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles. A sad ache pressed on his chest. He did not want his friends to see the cruel destroyer he was becoming, but if he could say the words, then his plan would be real.
Softly he said, “I will kill them with my magic.”
Dreibrand understood that Shan did not like to take this action. He had seen Shan kill in battle, but the rys had used weapons and assumed the pretense of a fair fight.
Miranda wanted to speak against the plan, but she remembered well that Shan had said he needed to practice killing if he were to have any hope against Onja.
“Surely you will want some warriors,” Xander said.
“I will go alone,” Shan said adamantly. “No one is to follow me. As soon as it is full night, I will leave the city. Taischek please provide me with one of your horses, so I will attract less attention. In the morning I will be back and we can depart for the Confederate Council.”
“I will be ready in the morning then,” Taischek said. It touched him deeply that Shan took this course of action to lessen the burden on the Temu.
Dreibrand protested, “Shan, at least let me go with you. I can watch over you while you do this spell. Spies might see you leave the city and pursue you.”
“I will go alone!” Shan insisted.
Dreibrand looked to Miranda for support but she had none to offer. She did not want to argue with Shan after he had just stuck up for her with Taischek, and she believed the rys had chosen the best course of action. Miranda hated the thought of Queen Vua and her household being in danger from the Kezanada.
But Dreibrand persisted. “Shan, you have said yourself you need your friends to help protect you.”
Shan explained, “It is for your safety. I have not used my power in this way before, and I will be casting a large spell. I would not want any of my allies to get hurt. After tonight I will be able to refine the spell, but it is difficult to predict what will happen the first time. It is important no one follows me. I can avoid a few spies.”
Reluctantly, Dreibrand relented even though he thought Shan’s plan was too dangerous.
Shan tried to put him at ease. “Dreibrand, you will be at my side in many battles, but this I must do alone.”
Turning to Taischek, Shan said, “Unless there is something else you wish to discuss, Taischek, I would like to prepare for tonight. Once the Kezanada threat is removed, I see no trouble between here and the Confederate Council.”
“I have nothing else for today,” the King said and dissolved the meeting.
Shan quickly left the room with his head bent in thought.
As everyone else rose from their chairs, the King said, “Dreibrand Veta, do stay.”
Dreibrand cast Miranda an exasperated look, but her face mirrored his resentment and she walked out. General Xander left as well, leaving Dreibrand alone with the King. He walked to the head of the table where Taischek sat and waited for his royal reprimand.
Taischek stood and paced with his hands clasped behind his back. “Did you put her up to this?” he finally demanded.
“No, King Taischek.”
“But you brought her to this chamber and asked me to let her stay,” Taischek said, stopping his pacing and confronting Dreibrand.
Dreibrand explained, “She wanted to come, so I told her I would ask, but I warned her that it might not be your custom.”
“It is not!” Taischek snapped.
“King Taischek, she does not mean to offend. Miranda lives every day knowing Onja has her children. She wants to know how Shan proceeds with his challenge. She did not interrupt the meeting. She did not even speak,” Dreibrand said.
“But her words were hot before the meeting,” Taischek complained. He grumbled in his own language and paced a few more steps. When his temper was calmed, he said, “Dreibrand, I realize you are from a different land with different ways. I see that you are lenient with Miranda and perhaps that is your way—although I do not see any wisdom in it. But you are in the Temu Domain now, and her behavior is your responsibility. Do you understand?”
“Yes, King Taischek, I apologize for her,” Dreibrand replied.
The King measured Dreibrand with his eyes. He respected that Dreibrand accepted his responsibility, but he did not want to scold him too much. The foreigner was a cunning warrior and Taischek liked learning about foreign places from him.
With a sigh, Taischek said, “I can see that she is a difficult woman, but she must learn not to be difficult with me. If she comes in here again and starts telling me what to do, it will be your insubordination, Dreibrand. It will be your fault.”
“Of course, King Taischek. I will see that she understands,” Dreibrand said with a bow.
“I’m sure you will,” the King said confidently. “Now, it is my understanding that Miranda has chosen to travel with us tomorrow. I presume, so she does not have to wait for news from the Confederate Council. Let this be an opportunity for her to show off her new manners, eh?”
“Yes, King Taischek.”
When Dreibrand left the council chamber, Miranda was waiting in the hall for him. She did not miss his angry look and fell in step beside him as he stalked down the hall.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“What do you think?” he retorted in an ugly tone.