Qinnitan was stunned. She done her best to prepare herself to see the autarch's terrifying smile and she felt as though she had stepped off a cliff where she had expected to set her foot on hot coals. She didn't know what to think, except that her torment would go on a little longer, her death would be a little delayed, and she had no idea what she felt about that.
The Overseer of the Armies slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. He was tall, and looked half again as heavy as Daikonas Vo. "Well, then, if you just pass the girl over to my servants we will keep her most safe until the autarch returns."
"No."
The polemarch, who had begun to turn away, pivoted slowly on his heel, surprised. "No? Did I hear you say no to me, soldier?"
"You did, Lord. Because the Golden One himself commanded me to bring him the girl with all dispatch-me and no one else. I will need your fastest ship."
The high overseer looked from Vo to the rest of the courtiers and sol¬diers standing in the room. His mouth curled, but the smile did not hide his annoyance. "My fastest ship, eh? You are insolent, even for one of the Hounds."
Vo had recovered his equilibrium. He stared back. "There is nothing in¬solent in serving the Golden One just as he commands-in every word. Our master was most insistent."
The older man looked at Vo, and Qinnitan could almost believe they were staring at each other over a game board, a fierce bout of Shanat, per haps, like the old men played in the marketplace, everyone talking except the two competing. At last Ikelis Johar shook his head.
"Very well," he said. "We will find you a ship. You will tell the autarch, when you find him, that this was your own idea."
"I will certainly do that, High Polemarch." Vo turned. "I would like some food and drink while I wait for the new ship to be readied."
The polemarch frowned heavily, but at last sat down in his chair again. "The servants will see to it. Now you will excuse me, Vo-I have some lit¬tle work to do, after all."
"Yes. One last question, Polemarch." Vo almost seemed to be doing it on purpose now, poking Johar to see if he could make one of the world's most powerful men lose his temper. "How long ago did the autarch leave for Xis?"
"Xis?" Now the polemarch regained his good humor. "Who said any¬thing about Xis? Your journey will not be so easy. The Golden One is bound north on our fastest ship, following the coast."
"North?" Daikonas Vo, Qinnitan saw, was not feigning surprise: he was genuinely astonished. "But where is he going?"
"To a small, backwater country few have ever heard about, let alone cared to visit," the polemarch said, signaling for one of the servants to bring him something to drink. "It is so small he is only taking a few hundred sol¬diers, although they are all fine, fierce troops-your Hounds among them. And we are sending three more ships full of soldiers after him, too, as well as one of the Royal Crocodiles on a barge-one of the big cannon."
"Taking them where?" said Vo, confused. "What country? Why?"
"Why? Who knows?" Johar took his goblet and downed a long swallow. "The autarch wills it and so it happens. As to where, it is some insignificant place called Southmarch. Now take your runaway whore and let me get back to the business of destroying a real city."
41
Kinswoman to Death
The gods have reigned in justice and strength ever after, defending the
heavens and the earth from all who would harm them. The fathers of
mankind have prospered under the gods'fair leadership. Those who follow
the teachings of the three brothers and their oracles and do them proper
fealty find a welcome place in Heaven after their own deaths.
— from The Beginnings of Things The Book of the Trigon
A GULLBOAT JUST IN FROM JAEL, which had received its news from other ships newly arrived from Devonis, had brought. word to Southmarch that the Autarch of Xis had sent a huge war fleet to Hierosol. The gullboat had left southern waters before collecting any further news, but no one in Southmarch Castle doubted that holy, an¬cient Hierosol was even now surrounded and besieged.
The doings of those aboveground only seldom stirred the inhabitants of Funderling Town, but they had already heard a great deal of bad news this year-the king imprisoned, the older prince murdered, the royal twins gone and perhaps dead. Many of the small folk wondered whether the final days had truly come, whether the Lord of the Hot Wet Stone had lost his patience with mortals entirely and would soon lay waste to all they had built. There was little work, anyway, nor much to eat or enjoy, so the most pious Funderlings spent their days praying and insisting that the rest of their people join them.
Today, two of the Metamorphic Brothers were standing just inside the gates of Funderling Town, scolding all who passed for trafficking with the sinful upgrounders. Chert turned his head away from them, ashamed but also angry. As if I had any choice.
"We see you, Brother Blue Quartz!" one of them called as lie hurried past. "And the Earth Elders see you too! You of all men must immediately foreswear and repent your wicked deed and evil companions."
He choked back a bitter reply, seized by a sudden, superstitious pang. Perhaps they were right. These were ominous times, no doubt, and it seemed he was squarely in the middle of every bad omen.
Protect me, O Lord of the Hot Wet Stone, he prayed. Protect your straying ser¬vant. I have done only what seemed best for my friends and family!
His god did not send any reply that would make him feel better, only the echo of the Metamorphic Brothers shouting after him, ordering him to repent and come back to the faithful.
The castle above was in chaos. Soldiers were everywhere, and the nar¬row streets were so crowded that he needed twice as long as he'd expected to make his way through the Outer Keep. Chert began sincerely to repent one thing, at least-agreeing to return to Brother Okros.
Those few big folk who even noticed him stared as though he were some unclean animal that had slipped into a house when the door had been left open. Several bumped hard against him,in the most crowded passages and almost knocked him over, and the men driving ox-wagons did not even bother to slow when they saw him, forcing him to dodge for his life in the muddy street among wheels taller than he was.
What madness is this? Why such hatred? Are we Funderlings to blame for the fairy folk across the bay? Or for the autarch trying to conquer Hierosol? But anger, he knew, would do him no good; better simply to keep his eyes open and avoid confrontation wherever possible.
To add to Chert's miseries, the soldiers at the Raven's Gate also seemed inclined to give him a difficult time. He had to wait, furious but silent, as they mocked his size and made doubting remarks about his errand to Brother Okros. He heard the bells of the great temple begin to toll the noon hour and his heart sank: he was now late to a summons from the Royal Physician. His fortunes improved a moment later with the arrival of a wagon driver looking to enter the Inner Keep with his huge, overloaded cart of wine barrels and no proper authorization. While the soldiers gleefully began to confiscate the shrieking driver's cargo, Chert slipped past them into the heart of the castle.
Why could Okros not have met me in the Observatory as he did last time? Chert thought bitterly to himself. That is only a few hundred steps from the gate to Fun-derling Town. I would have been there already and not had to stand and be mocked by the gate guards. But the summons had said Chert must come to the castel¬lan's chambers, where Chert supposed Okros must be involved in other business. Does that mean he has carried the mirror all the way across the castle?