Part 48 (2/2)
”Merciful G.o.ds,” the Supplicant said. ”The boy must be a brute. I hope you weren't too badly injured.”
If I survive this meeting, I will place two cartloads of flowers on your altar.
”He's not permitted to take qiij,” the king noted. ”He should be punished.”
”I am the one who should be punished,” Malaq insisted, ”for failing to make it clear to him.”
”He knew,” Xevhan said. ”I told him.”
”Before he overpowered you?” the Supplicant asked.
Besul rapped the table impatiently. ”We are straying from the subject. Pajhit. Zheron. If you would sit, please. Now. As I see it, there are several issues to consider. One: the incident with the qiij. Troubling, yes, but with time so limited, we can surely afford to delve into the matter later. Two: the propriety-or impropriety-of the Pajhit giving this man a safe conduct. And the Khonsel for providing one. Again, troubling, but . . .”
The queen cut off Vazh's bellow of protest with a peremptory gesture.
”. . . but only worth exploring as it relates to issue three: the relations.h.i.+p of this man to the boy Kheridh. The boy claims they are distantly related. The Zheron claims they are father and son. If true, the boy clearly cannot be the Son of Zhe.”
”It is true,” Xevhan a.s.serted.
”The man confessed?” Vazh asked.
”He will.”
”A man will say anything under torture,” the Supplicant noted. ”In a day, we could make him swear to being Eliaxa's father. May his spirit dance forever through the green hills of Paradise,” she added piously.
”Then let us consider issue four,” said Xevhan. ”The Pajhit's obvious affection for all these tree lovers. For years, he has protested against our raids. He has protected this boy since he arrived. He even got a son on one of their wh.o.r.es. Furthermore-”
The Supplicant's hand gripped his forearm. But Vazh was already on his feet, his shouts overriding Xevhan's voice. ”Bury you! Slander the Pajhit further and I'll challenge you, priest or not.”
”Enough! Sit down, Khonsel. Zheron, you will moderate your tone.”
”And furthermore,” Xevhan continued in a softer voice, ”the man in question is not merely a performer. He is considered a hero among his people. The leader of the players recognized him. Are we to believe that the Pajhit-with his extensive knowledge of these people-did not?”
Malaq laughed. He kept on laughing until he had mastered the overwhelming desire to rip Olinio's flapping tongue from his head and batter Xevhan's triumphant face with his fist.
”Forgive me,” he said, still breathless. ”Of course, I know the legend of Darak Spirit-Hunter. But that's all it is. A legend. About as plausible as their belief that the man's brother turned into a tree. To believe that a man could march into the Abyss and free the spirit of a G.o.d makes about as much sense as . . .”
”Believing the Son of Zhe could come to earth?” the Supplicant asked.
Eliaxa gasped. ”That is blasphemy.”
”His hands are maimed,” Xevhan pointed out. ”Just as the Spirit-Hunter's are supposed to be.”
”I've got scars on my back,” Vazh said, ”but that doesn't make me the Flayed One.”
”Then we must probe the man's spirit,” Xevhan said.
”And the boy's. Today. That's the only way to learn the truth.”
The queen shook her head. ”I'm not yet recovered from The Shedding. Neither are the Pajhit and the Motixa.”
”Then at least hold them prisoner until you're stronger.”
”All this talk is giving me a headache,” the king whined. ”Why don't we just execute them now?”
”Sky's Light, the boy might be the Son of Zhe!” Eliaxa exclaimed. ”We cannot-”
”Well, execute the man then.” The king grinned. ”Or better still, sacrifice him to Zhe.”
”But he is maimed,” Eliaxa protested. ”It would not be fitting.”
”That's what makes it so perfect. Was not Zhe maimed as well? His feathers blackened and burned?” The king sat back on his throne, sickeningly proud of his reasoning.
”How wise you are, Sky's Light.” Xevhan was practically purring with satisfaction. ”What gift could please Zhe more than the living personification of his pain?”
”The Motixa is right.” Malaq fought to keep his voice level. ”Earth's Beloved, you cannot permit this sacrilege.”
”It's not sacrilege,” the king insisted. ”Not if I say it isn't. I want him sacrificed. I am the king and I say we shall. Oh, let's do it, Jholianna. I know it would please Zhe. And it would please me, too.”
Before she could answer, a guard tentatively asked permission to enter.
”What is it?”
”Forgive me, Earth's Beloved. Sky's Light.” The guard ducked his head. ”It's the Qepo. He says there's a problem with the adders.”
The queen frowned. ”Very well. Send him in.”
The Qepo trotted forward and prostrated himself.
”Speak.”
”Forgive me, Earth's-”
”Speak!”
”The adders. They are restless.”
”That's all? We're dealing with important matters here.”
”Yes, Earth's Beloved. Forgive me. But the last time they were so restless, Womb of Earth shook.”
The queen's frown deepened. ”You believe an earthquake is imminent?”
”I don't know, Earth's Beloved. I only know the adders are restless.”
”More restless than they were before the last tremor?”
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