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might of the sword.
Even these pass away, he thought.Perhaps better in life to take on symbols ofles grandiose
stature, so that in death one might not look as ridiculous .
He checked the reins on the horse he had purchased in Sorbold, ther spurred his own, guiding it
down the rocky pathway into the open arms o the Krevensfield Plain.
A shout went up simultaneously from the Orlandan guards in the rear o: the mail caravan and the
Panjeri riding alongside their wagons.
'Hie! South! A rider!"
The caravan continued to roll, picking up a half-gait of speed, as the southern flank of guards peeled
off and formed a vanguard waiting to intercept the rider. The Panjeri caravan continued on as well.
Within the second wagon, an older woman grabbed the arm of the youngei woman called Theophila,
and shook it to get her attention.
'Theophila! Hie to the south! Isn't that the King of the Bolg in pursuit?' she said in the strange pidgin
dialect of the nomadic tribe.
'It is! I recognize his veils," said another. "Look! He's come for you, Theophila!"
The younger woman shaded her eyes with her hand, staring south to the foothills. A smile, something
the Panjeri had almost never seen on her face, crept across the corners of her mouth, but she said
nothing. The women began teasing her as the wagon slowed, and two of the caravan guards rode out to
meet the approaching rider, who was flying the standard of the dead empress and leading a second
horse.
'If'snot your skills as aghss-shairat that he covets, girl!" "No, it's your arse! You do have a lovely
arse, Theophila." "Yes, but she's been waggling it in Krentice's face through this last project. Won't he be
jealous?"
'Of the Bolg king? Hardly."
'Why not? He has the same sack in his pants that every man does "Yes! A coin purse!"
'Stop that, you peahens," the older woman scolded. "Mind your manners." The object of their teasing
put her hand into the pocket of her trousers, and fingered the coins she had taken from the eyes of the
empress and the Crown Prince after the clergy and other mourners had left and sealed the tomb high up
in the desolate mountaintop. She ran her thumb over the rough metal surfaces, still feeling regret and the
sting in her abdomen of misjudging the width of the hole she had opened in the stained-glass window. It
was this entranceway she had been sealing when the Bolg king had first seen her. "Let them twitter," she
said. "I pay them no mind, anyway." She watched with interest as the caravan guards exchanged a few
words with the rider, then tugged on the reins, peeling their mounts back to the caravan line. The Bolg
king, swathed in veils as she had seen him on the rise of the mount of windows, tossed his Sorbold
standard on the ground and eased his horse forward, leading a second one, an expensive, beautiful
gelded bay. He came to a halt before the wagon in which she was seated and shielded his strange eyes,
staring directly into her own as she rose to a stand. "Have you considered my offer?" She squinted in the
sun. "To work for tools?" "Yes. Any hand tools you can design, they will be made for you." She thought
for a moment. "And the two hundred thousand gold suns?" Achmed blinked, his voice skipping slightly as
he answered. "That was for the entire retinue of Panjeri."
'No, it was for hiring what Panjeri you needed. It was you who said you needed but one." She put her
hands on her hips. "Are you reneging on your offer?"
'No," the Bolg king said quickly. He smiled as an afterthought occurred. "It is a fair price to purchase
the unlimited time of a sealed Panjeri master."
It was now Theophila's turn to experience a skipping of voice. "Wait," she said, "Unlimited time? I did
not agree to that."
'Indeed you did. I told you I would not have you unless you were committed to finish the project, and
you rather stoutly informed me that you never leave any aspect of your work unfinished. For all you
know, my project is to line every crag in the Teeth with intricate windows depicting the geography of the
entire world, from each mountain's roots to it summit. Are you reneging on your acceptance of my offer?"
Theophila squared her chin defiantly.
'No," she snarled.
Achmed smiled slightly. "Good. Then bid your clan goodbye, assure them you will be well treated and
well paid, and come with me."
The woman turned to the Panjeri, who were staring at her in confusion, spoke a few quick words,
listening to the reply of an older man in the same wagon as she, the one that Achmed had determined to
be the leader of the nomads based on his actions the day before. She turned back to the Bolg king.
'The leader wants your assurances that you will treat me with kindness." Her voice held a hint of irony,
perhaps at the knowledge of how much kindness she herself tended to show.
Achmed sat up straighter in the saddle, then dismounted and walked to the wagon, where he stood
beneath Theophila, looking up at her.
'I treat no one with kindness," he said quietly. "You may question both my dearest friends and direst
enemies, and they shall both tell you the same thing. But you will be safe, well fed, well protected, and
well outfitted. Beyond that, I promise nothing."
The woman stood silent, considering his words. Behind her the Panjeri began whispering to one
another in their strange tongue. Achmed grew annoyed. He put out his gloved hand to her.
'Come with me," he said bluntly.
The words, his own, born of impatience, echoed in his mind. He had spoken very similar words
centuries before, a lifetime ago, on the other side of Time, in the air of a world now gone, to another
woman who was trying his patience.
Come with us if you want to live.
Theophila stared down at him; Achmed could see the instant when the decision was finalized in her
eyes. She gathered her things, took his hand, and jumped down from the wagon, ignoring the stares and
bewildered mutterings of the Panjeri, then followed him back to the horses and mounted the one he had
brought for her.
The mail caravan guards, seeing that the Firbolg king's business was com pleted, passed the word up
along the line, preparing to resume their journey. The caravan leader waited long enough for the two
strange people to begin to ride, then called to his own wagon drivers.
'Move on, lads. We have to catch up with the sun." w't took the better part of a day for the various
factions to sort through their own pecking orders enough to choose a symbol to represent their interests.
Ashe spent that time cloistered with Rial and Tristan Steward, comparing their observations and
setting an agreed standard for participation in the remainder of the colloquium.
'This nation is sorting out some of the most grievous decisions ever to face a realm," he said quietly to
the Lord Roland over their sparse noonmeal served in the cavernous dining hall of the palace; a good
number of the cooks and servants had fled after the funeral, fearing the unknown, but trusting in their
anonymity, assuming if a friendly regime took Jierna Tal, they would be re-hired, since no one would
recognize them anyway. "Whatever system replaces Leitha, I mean to see that it maintains its status as a
friend to the Alliance. And while privately I agree with you in principle, Tristan, that Sorbold is stronger [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]