Part 15 (1/2)
”Lead me.” The giant did not shout. He did not menace of glower or threaten. Yet there was something in his bearing which made it impossible for the frightened Lulukee to do anything but obey. ”Yes, lord,” he said.
”Tell me--” as they started out, the boy's sled reluctantly left behind--”is this B'ronth the Utalian in Retoc's pay?”
”No, I don't think so. He works alone, lord. Reaping profit wherever he can.”
”And he took the girl unwillingly?”
”Yes, lord.”
”He won't profit in this venture,” Bram vowed.
The wind howled behind them. Six jeks ahead of them was Nadia City.
”Can't you see I'm busy? Can't you see I have no time for the likes of you?” Prokliam the seneschal whined in self-pity.
”Then make time,” B'ronth said boldly, his cowardice obscured by dreams of avarice. ”What I have brought through the Ice Gates is important to your ruler.”
”Bontarc of Nadia,” said the seneschal haughtily, ”does not waste his time on every Utalian vagabond who reaches his court.”
”True. But I a.s.sume Bontarc of Nadia wishes to know exactly how his brother, the Prince Jlomec, died?”
Prokliam fought to keep his puckered old face impa.s.sive. But his mind was racing and his heart throbbed painfully. Could the Utalian know anything about that? If so, and if he, Prokliam, brought this B'ronth before the Princess Volna as she had ordered....
”Wait here,” Prokliam snapped arrogantly. ”And keep your cloak on. We don't want invisible Utalians floating about the palace.”
B'ronth offered a mock bow. Prokliam turned to go, then whirled about again. ”If you're lying, wasting my time--”
B'ronth smiled unctuously. ”In the ante-room, being amused by your palace guards, is one who has been on the Plains of Ofrid quite recently.”
”So?”
”When the Prince Jlomec was there. She saw him slain.”
”Wait here,” said Prokliam a little breathlessly. He pushed the hanging aside and stalked down a corridor, and around a bend, and up a flight of stone stairs. He was busy, all right. That had been no lie.
Preparations must be made for the funeral games of the Prince Jlomec, to which all the n.o.bility of Tarth had been invited. But this, obviously, was more important. On this Prokliam's life might depend....
”Are they checking way-pa.s.ses, lord?” Lulukee asked the big, silent man at his side. Ahead of them, filing slowly through the Ice Gates, were hundreds of visitors entering Nadia City for the funeral games. A flat-bottomed air-car hovered overhead, peltasts leaning over its sides, ready. Guards flanked the Ice Gates with drawn whip-swords, as if admitting the superiority of Abarian weapons of war.
”We'll get through,” Bram Forest vowed. ”Tell me, Lulukee, if you brought a prisoner to the city who might be worth much to the Abarians but also to the Nadians, and if you were intent on getting the biggest profit, where would you take her?”
”If I had great courage, lord?”
”If you dreamed of reward.”
”I would take her to the royal palace, lord, to Bontarc the King or to his sister, Princess Volna the Beautiful, who, some say, is the real power behind the Nadian throne although Bontarc is a great soldier.”
They had reached the gate. ”Way pa.s.ses,” a bored guard said.