by J. T. Edson
Fabia found the suggestion that Charole and Dryaka might be on better terms disturbing. Although she had failed to satisfy her curiosity at the hunting camp, one of her husband’s adherents had learned what happened in Bon-Gatah.
When the man had delivered his information, Gromart and Fabia had decided that they must find out how great the loss of the Quagga God’s favor might be. The capture of the four Amazons and the injury to her ankle had provided her with an excuse to go and investigate.
Knowing that her niece was eager to engage in combat with the Protectress, Fabia had asked Dolvia to accompany her. There had been no difficulty in bringing them together. Fabia had exercised her right to claim Charole’s hospitality and asked for Dolvia to be included in it.
However, the results of Fabia’s scheme were far from satisfactory. If the outcome of the fight was anything to go by, the Protectress was still well favored by the Quagga God. There had been moments during the fight, particularly when Dolvia had had a claw-like grasp on Charole’s right breast and was punching her in the stomach with the other fist, when it had seemed that the girl was on the verge of victory. Then, pretending to be hurt far worse than was the case, Charole had lulled her into a sense of over confidence and, escaping, had thrown her with a force that had been the turning point of the battle.
All in all, Fabia was not displeased that she had injured her ankle. It was less badly damaged than she pretended, but had given her an excuse to let Dolvia make the test instead of herself.
‘She went off like a bee’s stung her on the arse,’ Langord commented, throwing a derisive glance at the limping woman. Then she held out a hand to help her employer from the pool. ‘You did a good job of beating her bitch of a niece. Go and lie on the couch. I told Lord Dryaka you’d be along to see him in about an hour and, when he heard why you’d be that long, he said he’d wait’
‘That’s good,’ Charole sighed, shoving back her hair with both hands. Then, having removed her sodden garment, she lay face down on the couch and went on, ‘I want to be in better shape than I feel now when I meet him.’
It said much for Langord’s skill as a masseuse that when Charole entered her sitting-room, most of the aches and pains caused by the brawl had left her. While the woman had applied an ointment which would draw the discoloration quickly, the Protectress still sported the blackened eye and bruised cheek. However, no Mun-Gatah female warrior objected to carrying the marks after she had won a fight.
Certainly the High Priest showed only respect as he advanced from the window, out of which he had been feasting his eyes upon the Protectress as she lay receiving Langord’s ministrations. He had removed his elaborately carved breastplate. It, his weapon-belt and helmet were on the table by the door. The latter bore a crest made from a quagga’s mane and a facsimile of the sacred beast’s head was embossed upon each side.
Studying Charole as she came to meet him, Dryaka felt a tingle of pleasure and anticipation. He remembered the way she had responded following a fight in the days of their previous friendship and wondered if she had changed. There was, he decided, a good chance that he would soon find out. She was clad in a black robe so flimsy that it clung to her magnificent body and showed she was wearing nothing else.
Neither the Protectress nor the High Priest displayed the wary alertness that had characterized their first attempt to patch up their differences. The assassination bid made upon them which both had heeded, had been a warning, that they must stand or fall together. Nor had the treatment each had received from the Council of Elders over the past days done anything to make them change their minds.
‘Be gentle, my lord,’ Charole requested as her visitor extended his hands. I’m still feeling tender.’
For all that, the Protectress went willingly into Dryaka’s embrace and her lips met his without hesitation. She kissed him passionately, pressing her skimpily covered body against him and reveling in the pain that resulted. As always when she had been fighting, she was sexually stimulated. Nor had bathing in the pool and the thorough massage served to reduce her desire to satisfy the lust.
‘I’ve brought good news,’ Dryaka announced after they had concluded their embrace but were still in each other’s arms.
‘Is your other business in Bon-Gatah of great urgency, my lord?’ Charole inquired. ‘If not, I’ve always found that good news sounds so much better when one is—lying down.’
‘I’ve always found it that way, too,’ the High Priest declared eagerly.
Three quarters of an hour later, stretched naked alongside the equally nude Dryaka on her comfortable four-poster bed, the Protectress learned of the latest development in the matter of the ‘Thunder Power’. Needing her help, he kept nothing back.
‘I’ve sent a message to the People-Taker, telling him to collect a whole Telonga village and bring them to me,’ Dryaka concluded. ‘That way, we’ll have plenty of workers to gather the ingredients to keep making the “Thunder Powder”.’
‘The Council of Elders won’t take kindly to that if they learn of it,’ Charole warned, snuggling closer. ‘They’ve opposed you every time you’ve tried to increase the size of the collections for fear that doing so might offend the Quagga God.’
‘We’ll face up to that if it arises,’ the High Priest declared, ‘Won’t we?
‘I’m with you all the way, my lord,’ the Protectress stated.
‘That’s all I needed to know,’ Dryaka replied. ‘And with this new way of using the “Thunder Powder” we have a very potent weapon.’
‘Yes,’ Charole agreed, almost absently. The love making they had just participated in had assured her that the High Priest was still as capable as he had been during their previous friendship and she wanted more. ‘It’s a pity we can’t light the branch like we do a lamp, then it would be even more potent.’
With that, the Protectress pressed her face against Dryaka’s. Her tongue pushed apart his lips to enter his mouth. Almost immediately, he pulled himself away from the embrace.
‘What was that you just said?’ the High Priest asked, with such urgency that Charole’s indignation at his action immediately cooled.
‘Why?’ she asked, after having repeated the comment on lighting the branch, ‘You’ve given me an idea,’ Dryaka answered. ‘And, if it works, we’ll have such a potent weapon that neither our people nor any other nation, even the “Apes” will be able to stand against us.’
Chapter Three – Have A Care, Lord Dryaka!
Shortly before noon the High Priest of the Mun-Gatah nation and the Protectress of the Quagga God were entering the Council Chamber at the capital city, Bon-Gatah. As side by side they started to descend the flight of a dozen wide stone steps which led to the floor of the enormous main room, they studied its other occupants and exchanged glances. Several days had elapsed since they had consolidated their alliance, but this was the first time they had made the fact public.
Ever since Dryaka had received notification that he must appear before the Council of Elders, without any explanation of why he had been ordered to attend, he had anticipated trouble.; So, although Charole’s presence had not been requested—or demanded as his own clearly was—he had suggested that she accompany him to serve as a warning that they were allies and ready to support each other. From what he could see, he concluded that he had made a wise decision.
The Council Chamber occupied the major part of the large stone building which faced the Temple of the Quagga God across the circular main plaza in the center of the city. Oblong in shape, its floor was sunk below the level of the plaza and the rest of the building. In addition to supplying the six Elders with living quarters, the building housed their Brelef bodyguard which also acted as the city’s watch and police force.
There was no need for artificial illumination in the Chamber during the daytime. Its roof was a dome of thick glass panes supported by stout steel frames, with a vent in the center through which the fumes and smoke of the lamps used at night could pass.
Along the east and west sides were wooden walled enclosures for use by the various grades of gatah riders who had business with the Council of Elders, or who wished to see the course of justice in action. The seating facilities in them improved the further one went to the south, due to the status of the occupants becoming higher. Facing the main entrance, which was at the north end, was a wide, massive and shining wooden table and, behind it, six throne-like chairs. Beyond them, on either side of the smaller set of double doors in the south wall, were two luxuriously furnished enclosures. These were the exclusive province of people whose social standing allowed them to ride quaggas. As a reminder to the High Priest and the Protectress that they were subordinate to the Council, there was no special seating allocated to them.
Not only the enclosures of the grar-, ocha- and banar-gatah riders had a number of occupants, all six members of the Council of Elders—clad in their ceremonial scarlet cloaks, decorated on each breast and the back by a rampant quagga stallion in full color, and helmets in the shape of that animal’s head—were seated at the table. Armed with spears or heavy, highly polished but no less effective wooden clubs and wearing white tunics emblazoned by a standing quagga, the Brelef bodyguard were present at full strength. In the quagga riders’ enclosures, two on either side of the southern doors, were four of the District Administrators. As Dryaka’s examination of the other enclosures had revealed, each of them had brought an escort of at least a dozen well armed men. In addition, he had seen a number of Bon-Gatah citizens who were not committed to any faction, but ready to join whoever wielded the power. He could guess what had brought them.
Giving little sign of his interest, Dryaka was conscious of the way in which the Elders and Administrators were studying him. Even Hulkona, formerly his stoutest supporter on the Council, was registering disapproval.
All in all, Dryaka was not sorry that he had arrived wearing his helmet, breastplate and sword instead of visiting the temple and changing—as custom. dictated—into his formal attire. Suspended on shoulder straps, he had a perforated metal ‘fire box’ and a leather pouch at his left and right hips.
At the High Priest’s side, Charole was also clad in her everyday clothing. Her halter and skirt were of gold lame mesh. Significantly, instead of sandals with straps crisscrossing on her shapely thighs to knee level, she had on brown leather greaves like those worn by Dryaka and his adherents. She too was carrying a ‘fire box’ and pouch. In her case, as she had not been summoned officially, the garments were acceptable.
For all that, the Protectress noticed how her uncle, Elder Temnak, was eyeing her with something close to animosity. He had never forgiven her for the disappearance of another, more favored, niece. For a moment, Charole found herself wondering what had happened to Sabart. Elidor, who had been Dryaka’s favorite female adherent at the time, claimed her party and Sabart’s had separated during the hunt for Dawn ‘of the Apes’ and she had not seen the others after capturing the foreign girl. xvii
However, Charole thrust the thoughts aside. Like the High Priest, she sensed trouble and danger from the way the assembled crowd were watching them. Having arrived in Dryaka’s company she knew she would be considered as an accessory to whatever he had been called upon to account for. So the Council’s wrath was likely to descend upon her as well as the High Priest. Nor, going by Temnak’s expression, could she rely upon him to take her part in whatever lay ahead.
With each step carrying him further away from the main entrance, which had been closed after his arrival, Dryaka continued to study the faces of the men behind the table. He was growing increasingly uneasy, although it did not show, and wondered if the precautions he had taken would be adequate under the circumstances.
From the moment that the High Priest had received the Council’s summons, he had had a shrewd idea of what it was about. If he was correct and things went wrong, his position would be precarious. Not only did he have a large party guarding the gorge in which Zongaffa was still working, but there had been other drains upon his fighting force. He had sent a number of his adherents to assist the People-Taker and a more recent development, the recapture of Dawn ‘of the Apes’—news of which had arrived the previous afternoon—demanded that he sent extra men to act as her escort and ensure her safe delivery.
Although Dryaka had taken what precautions he could, he had not anticipated that the four Administrators—each with a sizeable escort—would be present. There was, however, one thing he felt might be in his favor. The various rivalries between the Elders and Administrators made any concerted and ‘deliberately planned action against him unlikely. None of them would trust the others sufficiently to unite.
On reaching the table, the Protectress and Dryaka came to a halt simultaneously. Although convention required that the High Priest—having been summoned to appear before the Council—should do so, neither he nor Charole offered to speak for several seconds. There was an aura of defiance about them as they stood, on spread apart feet and with their left hands on the hilts of the swords. They conveyed the impression that, despite convention, they were waiting for one of the glowering and clearly indignant Elders to open the conversation.
‘Greetings, my lords,’ Dryaka said at last, his voice hard and, under the circumstances, his attitude far from respectful. Every instinct he possessed suggested that a showdown was in the offing, particularly if he was correct about why he had been summoned, so he was determined to put on a bold front. ‘My apologies for arriving dressed in this fashion. But when you asked me if I could come, I thought the matter must be of great urgency and did not wait to change.’
‘The matter is of great urgency,’ Hulkona agreed, his scowl having deepened at the High Priest’s emphasis on the word ‘asked’. ‘We summoned you before us so that you can explain why you have ordered the People-Taker to increase the number of Telonga slaves he’s collected.’
‘Who says that I have?’ Dryaka challenged, although the Elder’s words were confirmation of his suspicions as to why he had been ordered to appear before the Council.
‘I do,’ declared Woltarn, District Administrator for Hera-Gatah, coming to his feet. A big, burly, bearded man, his reputation as a warrior and raider stood high. If he was worried about making a statement which was sure to incur Dryaka’s disapproval and enmity, he showed no sign of it. Instead of a sword, he had a war-axe hanging on his belt. ‘I was returning from the Gru-ziak country with sacrifices for the Quagga God and ,saw them. There were twice the normal number of slaves and the leader of the escort said that the People-Taker had gone back to make another collection on your orders.’
‘Has this increase in the collections been made on your orders, Lord Dryaka?’ Elder Temnak demanded, although he felt sure that the People-Taker would not dare to make such a decision.
The Quagga God will be offended!’ Elder Eokan warned, before the High Priest could reply. Smallest of the six, his formerly hard-fleshed and stocky frame was running to fat. He glared at the High Priest, continuing, ‘You know that we’re only allowed to take ten men and five women from each village.’
‘Did you give the order, Lord Dryaka?’ Temnak insisted, ignoring the interruption in his desire to establish the blame.
‘I did,’ the High Priest confirmed without hesitation.
The two words were followed by soft spoken, startled exclamations and an exchange of glances among the Elders. While they had been certain that the People-Taker would not have acted on his own initiative, none of them had expected Dryaka to admit responsibility so readily.
Watching what went on before him, the High Priest noticed how his frank admission was eliciting much the same kind of a reaction from the four Administrators. Although he made no attempt to look at the gatak riders’ enclosures, the muted and excited rumble of conversation suggested that their occupants were equally perturbed by what was being said.
‘Silence!’ Hulkona bawled and, when he had been obeyed, brought his chilling gaze back to Dryaka. ‘Why did you?’
‘There is a need for extra slaves,’ the High Priest answered. ‘So I sent an order for the People-Taker to gather them.’
‘You had no right to do that!’ Elder Jedbar protested, his lean frame and miserable features quivering with indignation.
‘By whose authority did you do it?’ Elder Brakana demanded, knowing only he and his five contemporaries could have done so and wanting to convince the Quagga God that he was innocent of the sacrilege.
‘By my own,’ Dryaka stated calmly. ‘Of late, the Council of Elders has had so many issues of importance demanding their attention that they have not been able to confer with me on small matters. So I decided that I would make the arrangements without wasting your time on anything so trivial.’
Once again, the six men seated at the table exchanged glances. All knew what lay behind the explanation. Since the disastrous events of the hunting expedition had aroused suspicions that Dryaka might have lost the Quagga God’s favor, the Council had refused to grant him an audience on various occasions excusing themselves by claiming that they were too occupied with more pressing business. Nor, despite the subsequent evidence that the loss of favor might be less than had been anticipated, had they changed their attitudes. All of them, even Hulkona, felt that the High Priest was growing far too ambitious for his own good and suspected that he might have notions for usurping their authority. The belief had grown rather than diminished when he had started to resume his alliance with the Protectress.
‘Trivial!’ Eokan repeated, his emotions bringing an almost falsetto squeak to his nasal voice. ‘You know that the Quagga God forbids—’
‘As His High Priest, I above all others, should know His feelings,’ Dryaka interrupted and slipped his right hand into the leather bag to lift out what appeared to be a coconut. ‘So, as you are clearly still very busy, I won’t take up any more of your time and will let you get on with other, more important, matters.’