Strongwind was preparing to dodge another assault when he saw that Bloodsnout was hesitating, looking past the slave at something on the promenade.
“Whalebone! It’s about time!”
He actually felt a rush of relief to see the noble ogress come trundling toward him. He pivoted and bowed deeply.
“Yes, my lady.” He quickly took the two salmon, which Tildy held out for him. “I am returning with the fish, as you requested.”
“You were dawdling!” she sniffed, with a contemptuous glance first at Bloodsnout, then at Tildy Trew. “I was waiting for you too long!”
“My apologies, mistress,” he said humbly. “There were a great many slaves in the queue, and I did not press forward as aggressively as I might have.”
“Humph!” Thraid snorted. She extended the chain and fastened the lock to Strongwind’s collar while he stood still, biting back the anger he felt at the humiliating bondage. He was ready for her to pull on the chain, and when she did he was already moving, so that she didn’t yank him off of his feet.
“Come along, then!” she snorted, stomping away, with another jerk on the chain.
He took the time for one glance backward, saw Bloodsnout glowering at him, and caught a wink and amused smile from Tildy Trew. Strongwind fell in beside Thraid, who set a brisk pace along the promenade.
“Did you speak to the wench who is your informant?” Stariz asked, glowering at Garnet Dane in the temple where they met. He cringed as he advanced, then dropped to press his face to the floor before answering. “I want to know what my husband has done with this Highlander slave!”
“Yes, your majesty. My contact had good information. She tells me that the Highlander prisoner has been assigned to none other than the Lady Thraid Dimmarkull as a house-slave.”
“What? What! My husband intends to hide his prize away in his lover’s house?”
At first, her reaction was pure outrage-how dare he? Anger surged at the thought of this further humiliation, certainly done to cater to some whim of the wench. However, as she stomped around and thought about it, a tight smile gradually creased her square face. There were ways this might be turned to her advantage. This might not be such a bad thing, not so bad at all.
“So it would seem, my queen,” replied Garnet Dane. “Do you wish to command any further action on my part or upon that of my agents?”
She looked at him, eyes narrowed shrewdly. “No. For now it is enough to know where he has been placed. I think that his spirit will still slake the vengeful thirst of our god at the ceremony of Autumnblight, though he may have other uses before then. Tell me, this informant of yours-do you trust her? Is she well placed to maintain contact with the slave?”
“I can say that she has been a trusted source of information for many years, your highness. She seems very well placed in the human slave circles, with access to many different people, and I get the impression that she is trusted by all of them.”
“Who is she? What is her station?” asked Stariz bluntly.
She was surprised when her spy straightened up, regarding her with a fearful but determined, gaze. “I cannot tell you that, my queen-this is one of those few matters where I must maintain my own counsel.”
“You are audacious besides impertinent,” she said coldly. “Have you forgotten so soon my punishment of your failure?”
“Nay, Lady Queen, nor shall I ever forget. Please know that I shall allow no failure to occur again, but there are some secrets I must maintain solely to ensure that my own value is … understood.”
The queen nodded slowly. Despite herself she admired this little show of self-protection. Besides, the identity of the spy’s agents did not seem to be a matter she needed to pursue immediately.
“Very well. See that you remember your pledge, and maintain your ties with this informant. Caution her that she must continue ultimate discretion, for now she is to watch and wait. When the time is right, we will take action.”
“It shall be as you command, My Queen,” replied the spy, his face still pressed to the floor. “Do you have more instructions for me now?”
“No. You have done well this time. Now, leave me-I have rites to peform, then I must return to the royal apartments.”
The spy hastily withdrew, and the priestess queen turned to don her ghastly mask. Quickly she entered the sanctuary with its looming black statue and knelt at the feet of the monstrous image.
“My willful master,” she began and immediately was pressed flat upon the floor as the immortal weight of Gonnas came to bear full upon her flesh. She gasped from the mixture of pleasure and pain and sobbed out her acquiescence to her lord’s every command.
“What is it you wish of me, O Gonnas?” she gasped, fighting to push the air from her throat.
The response was not verbal, but she immediately sensed images of danger and menace, images of fury and volence, storming through her mind. She quailed at a sense of barely contained rage. She pictured a bull ogre in chains, frantically raging against his bonds and coming very near to breaking free. This was her god, both thrilling and terrifying. She quivered at the thought of the unspeakable power, the massive destruction, that might be wrought by the Willful One, should his anger be fully unleashed upon the world.
A bear lurked amidst her vision this time, the bruin followed by a leaping deer, and she recognized these two sigils of the human gods. Kradok, the god of the Highlanders, was often viewed as a bear, while Chislev Wilder-deity of the Arktos-assumed the guise of a deer, bird, fish, or other wild animal at will. As she watched, the bear loomed up to embrace the deer, and the two creatures fell to the ground, rolling together and soon merging into the flesh of one animal.
“I understand, lord,” she murmured. “I know thy enemy, and she is mine as well.”
Now she was pressed with a savage weight, far more painful than before, and she groaned and screamed in agony. “How have I failed you, master?” she cried, begging for an answer.
The response came in the form of another vision, an image of a leafy tree sprouting from the barren tundra. Limbs spread wide, and verdant greenery expanded in utter defiance of the snow and ice that spread in all directions. The tree seemed to have a light of its own, an internal brilliance that drove back the wintery dusk that should properly have shrouded such a scene.
This was the sign of another god, Zivilyn Greentree, she realized, and she took the vision as a warning. A warning of what? This was a god not of humans nor of the Icereach. Rather, the green tree was a god of seafaring elves.…
She felt fear, then, as a cold, angry pain took root in the pit of her stomach.
“I will wait for the Lady Thraid here,” Grimwar Bane sourly told Thraid’s two slaves.
“Of course, Sire,” said Wandcourt, the male. He arranged a fur and several pillows on the large, sturdy divan, and the king made himself comfortable. “I would expect the Lady Thraid to return within the hour.”
“May I get Your Majesty a mug of ale or warqat?” asked the female, Brinda.
King Grimwar nodded distractedly, then gestured to the man as his wife went to fetch him a drink. “The lady’s new slave …?”
“Yes, Sire?”
“As regards the matter of discretion, I should like the slave to remain ignorant of my presence here. I want you to summon two of my grenadiers from the Terrace Level watch station and post them outside the door. They are to see that the slave remains outside when your mistress returns home.”
“It shall be done, Your Highness,” said the man, bowing then leaving the apartment.
“You were flirting with her, I saw,” Thraid remarked grumpily to Strongwind, as they made their way back down to the Terrace Level.