I grow pale. Where is my strong hand? My blade of flint?
Gone – rabbits have taken them – stolen my strong heart.
Nothing is left."
Dawd heard the door behind him open and raised a warning hand. The prince's voice was growing, filling the room, even as his thin body seemed to shrink in upon itself. There was a faint metallic click as Colmuir eased his Nambu back into the gunrig.
"Within the waters, they are singing.
The divine flowers are calling – they are intoxicated, they are shouting
The princes who are precious birds, the mighty Cuextecas.
Begin the dance!
To his house go those with spoiled flowers,
Those with plumed shields,
Those who guarded the heights,
Those who took prisoners alive,
Now they are dancing,
Vomiting blood as they go,
The spoiled flowers, those of the flowery shields.
My divine brothers."
Tezozуmoc stared gravely at the two Skawtsmen, dark eyes enormous in a pale, wasted face. "Am I so bright with glory? No – I am sitting in a dark house, fumes in my nostrils. You are warriors – far better men than I – you had to earn the arrow, the jade, the feathered shield." A thin finger stabbed at the matte black mon on Colmuir's stiff collar. "You deserve what you have been given."
The prince fell silent, clutching his head. Dawd risked a brief glance at Colmuir, who was looking curiously at him in turn. The younger Skawtsman licked his lips, looked around at the mess, and mustered up enough breath to speak.
"Mi'lord? I'm only a clanless man from Glasgow, but by the blood, you've a ringing voice and a piercing way with the ancient words. Of all men, I know how fiercely the Mйxica venerate the poet, the singer, even above warriors, even above kings. Does your father know -"
"I only recite," Tezozуmoc interrupted, anger flickering awake. "Nezahualpilli, son of fabled Nezahualcoyotl, raised his voice with those words nearly a thousand years ago. A trained monkey could do so well."
He stumbled to the nearest couch and threw himself down, utterly drained. His voice was a faint thready whisper. "Somehow, all the divine spirit which fills my father and shines in my brothers was gone by the time I came into this cursed world. Was my mother exhausted? Am I only half formed?" He raised his head, fixing Dawd with a glittering stare. "If I am truly an officer, where are my men? Where is my command?"
The Skawtsman stiffened again, face automatically settling into a stiff mask. The prince laughed softly.
"No one will trust me in the presence of warriors. I am always 'attached to headquarters' – given indefinable tasks, responsibilities without weight. If this continues, I will someday be a general without an army – save perhaps the two of you, grown old and gray."
Dawd ignored a soft snort of laughter behind him. "Why is the Jehanan girl important, mi'lord? Should we try and find her?"
Tezozуmoc's face changed, unhealthy pallor fading, eyes coming alert. "She sang to me, Sergeant. Their vocal cords are not ours, their range is higher, with abeautifulmellowtone…Ihavereada little about this place, dabbled in some books, watched the usual briefing holos. They are a very old race, very old. Their language is quite complex – even with a translator you will find a Jehanan can manage NГЎhuatl or Norman better than we can pronounce the simplest words in Uheru or Ssagatiak. But when she sang to me…" The prince's face lit with a smile. "I understood. I could feel what she felt, see what she saw."
Dawd frowned. Tezozуmoc gave him a pitying look.
"Do you think I am lying?"
"No, mi'lord!" Both Skawtsmen stiffened to attention.
"What you believe doesn't matter." The prince pushed himself up gingerly. "For a moment, my heart was light and all this gall drained away into forgetfulness. I would like to hear her sing again, if the kujen will allow such a thing. Perhaps I can learn a few of the words myself." He sighed, head drooping again. "I suppose the Fleet will depart and we will be gone before there is opportunity."
"Now…" Dawd was interrupted by a polite cough and Colmuir placed a hand on his shoulder. Obediently, the younger Skawtsman stepped back, clasping both hands behind his back. The master sergeant bowed to the prince, a comm-pad tucked under his arm.
"Mi'lord, two messages came while you were asleep. One from Grand Duke Villeneuve – he extends his apologies for not entertaining you at dinner, but the battle group has received orders to proceed to the Keshewan system with all speed. Your regiment has been left behind on Jagan to ensure the safety of Imperial interests here."
"When will they return?" Tezozуmoc looked up, concerned. Dawd was relieved the question had been broached – he detested the muggy climate here in Parus and wished to be someplace colder and drier as soon as possible. Preferably on a Fleet battlecruiser in transit back to the home systems.
"Three to four weeks, if not longer." Colmuir hesitated. "Regimental headquarters seemed a little surprised by their departure, mi'lord, and had no good answer for why only the 416th had been left behind. Apparently there is considerable unrest growing in the rural provinces against the Imperial presence. There is concern attacks against Imperial citizens or their business operations may occur."
The prince's nostrils flared, but he said nothing.
"The second message is a personal social invitation, mi'lord, from the kujen of Gandaris."
Tezozуmoc raised a weary eyebrow. "Another party?"
"A traditional hunt, mi'lord." Colmuir offered the comm-pad. "The kujen expresses his desire for the most-noble prince to join him, local dignitaries and several Imperial Army officers in searching out and destroying a pair of xixixit beasts which are preying upon the villages near his city. Apparently the xixixit are surpassing rare and not lately seen south of the mountains."
"A hunt? Are they mad?" Dawd surprised himself by speaking out of turn. Both the prince and the master sergeant favored him with disapproving glances. The sergeant decided to fade into the wall.
"I am sure my reputation as a fearsome warrior has preceded me," Tezozуmoc said in a very dry voice. "Do I make such a desirable party ornament? Don't these barbarians realize currying favor with me is utterly useless? Better they should hire a dancing clown in black and white instead!"
Colmuir pursed his lips and took back the comm-pad. "Mi'lord, this message came care of the Legation – I spoke with Mrs. Petrel, the Legate's wife, when she commed – and she implied the kujen of Gandaris is no good friend of Lord Bhrigu."
"Who is Bhrigu?" The prince's patience was waning. "Do I care?"
"Bhrigu is kujen of Parus, mi'lord. His liegeman Humara tried his best to split you in two the other night when you were…speaking…with Miss Bhazuradeha."
Tezozуmoc stiffened, staring at the master sergeant. "What? The rose-colored girl is named 'radiant sunrise'? Does Mrs. Petrel know her – I mean, personally? Would she have a comm address?"
"I have no idea, mi'lord." Colmuir sounded uncomfortable. "But it might be a good idea to leave town for a wee bit. Let things settle here, if you see."
The prince glared at the Skawtsman, then deflated abruptly. "Bhrigu is not a fool – not to have recognized her talent in the first place. He'll have her under close surveillance. She must have slipped away from him at the reception…"
"Mi'lord…"
"Hunting. Hah!" Tezozуmoc sprawled despondently on the couch. "All princes love hunting! I'm sure someone believes it's in my blood. Idiots…Yes, tell the Legation I will do my royal duty and show a brave face for the locals."
In the corridor outside, Dawd coughed discretely. "Ah, Master Sergeant?"