he could feel an underlying fear. Two women stood near the fire, one of them wore a sparkling gown of golden fabric with a neckline that plunged between her breasts. They were like the women at Deenar. He was afraid of them.
A servant appeared from nowhere and placed a goblet of wine on the table in front of him. For a moment their eyes met and Azkun felt the man’s mind. A confused mixture of fear and hope and a wheedling desire to please welled up at him. He had not noticed this in the other servants.
There was a mark on the side of his face, a bruise or a graze. Before he could move off to his next errand, Azkun grabbed his arm.
“What do you fear?”
“M… M’Lord?” the man stammered.
“You are afraid. What is it?”
“Azkun, leave him alone,” interrupted Althak. He nodded to the servant and the man scuttled off, his mind screaming relief.
“I wanted to help him.”
“He thought you were going to have him beaten for fumbling with the wine.”
Before Azkun could ask more questions the whole room fell silent and filled with expectancy. Heads turned towards the great door at the end of the hall which swung open. Two blue-clad trumpeters strode in and blew a fanfare that echoed in the darkness above and a voice behind them boomed, “His Magnificence, Vorish, Emperor of Relanor, Protector of the Vorthenki Coasts and High King of the Western Deserts!”
Then the Emperor himself walked into the room.
For Azkun he was a disappointment. It was, after all, only a man. He had been expecting something more, though on reflection he did not know what. He had known the Emperor was a man, yet after seeing the great palace and the fine clothes and everything else, he had supposed he was something more like a dragon.
But Vorish was only a man, not even a very big man. He was not as tall as his trumpeters, in fact he was probably less than six feet.
He walked easily among his subjects, a nod here, a smile of greeting there, as he made his way towards the throne. As he approached Azkun saw him more clearly, the red light of the flames cast a ruddy hue across his features. What he lacked in size he made up for with an easy grace; and in that easy grace Azkun saw reflections of the dancing swordsmanship that Menish and his companions had used against the pirates. Even though he had little eye for such things Azkun could see that here was one who could lead a battle.
Although he smiled happily at his people, occasionally in his long walk to the throne Azkun saw his face slip into repose. His mouth grew cruel, accentuating his eagle nose, and his dark eyes looked defiant, as if he had done things he refused to he ashamed of.
But this disappeared completely as he caught sight of Menish. It was all smiles and outstretched hands as he approached their table near the throne. Only once did his eyes leave Menish and stab at Azkun, raking him up and down for a brief second, before they returned to the King of Anthor.
In that instant Azkun was astonished at the man, for he saw into his mind and shrank from it.
He had seen many minds now and none of them clearly. The only thing he could sense acutely was pain. They were otherwise vague and fuzzy, shallow joys and ill-defined motives. Nothing but pain was clear until they spoke. He had never seen a mind like this.
Vorish had no uncertainties, no vagueness, only a massive determination. His confidence in his own abilities was staggering. Here was one who knew exactly who he was, what he wanted, and how to get it. He had never known failure, and was determined he never would.
The cruelty Azkun had seen in his face was matched by a potential for passionless brutality in his mind. He would kill without compassion if any opposed him.
All this was there even while he was smiling and laughing with Menish and the others, welcoming them to the banquet. Azkun saw genuine affection for Menish. Vorish was a man of monumental passions, and one of them was love for the King of Anthor.
A woman who had been walking behind Vorish stepped forward and embraced Menish, calling him ‘uncle’, and Drinagish, calling him ‘brother’. Menish presented Azkun, Tenari, Keashil and Olcish to the Emperor and his lady, Sonalish.
When Sonalish stood before him he was so surprised that he blurted out “You are pregnant”. He remembered the swollen belly of the woman in Deenar. Sonalish had no such obvious signs, but he could feel two minds not one. Sonalish smiled demurely.
“You are perceptive, Sir.”
Vorish raised an eyebrow.
“He is, indeed,” was all he said, although Azkun was once again raked by his dark eyes.
Another fanfare of trumpets sounded as Vorish took his seat on the great throne and Sonalish sat on an ornate chair at his feet. This was the signal for dozens of servants to swarm into the hall carrying stacks of trenchers and loaves of bread. In their midst came teams of Vorthenki giants carrying roasted oxen on spits. Azkun counted fifteen beasts that were brought in to feed the banquet before he covered his face.
Fifteen! No, more than that, for they were going back for others. And just for one night’s feasting. He thought of their deaths and shuddered. Althak had told him that, although this banquet was a special occasion because of the presence of Menish, such feasts were held often. The slaughter was appalling, and it went on and on. It had been happening for years, hundreds of years, since the coming of Gilish, and would go on for years to come. A permanent agony of death that festered like a running wound on the world.
He swallowed bile.
They brought in the largest beast last, right up to the foot of Vorish’s throne and set it down before the Emperor.
“Vorish has forbidden the use of precedence in this hall except for himself, said Althak, as the Emperor rose silently and drew his dagger. “A good thing, too,” he added with a grin. “There'd be little hot meat left if we had to witness Kopth knows how many speeches and duels before we ate.”
Vorish stood by the roasted ox with his trencher in one hand and his dagger in the other.
“I am Vorish, son of the house of Sinalth,” he said in a loud voice and hacked off a steaming cut of meat. The room burst into cheers as he loaded his trencher and returned to his throne.
When he sat down the rest of the room erupted into activity. Vorish’s rule of no precedence was only partially obeyed. Men elbowed their way through their fellows to the nearest beast to get their meat. Some gave way to more powerful guests, some shoved their lesser brethren aside.
Not far away Azkun could see a red-haired man who held a dagger the length of his forearm, and there was murder in his eyes. He pushed another man aside and disappeared from view.
“There are many knives drawn here.”
“Have no fear, the knives are for dead meat.”
“They are knives for rending flesh. Do they never fight?”
“Only once. A man killed another right before the throne. Vorish had him chained to the wall above the door until he died of thirst. Look, you can still see what's left of him.” Azkun could not see it clearly, but there was something tattered hanging above the door. “They've not forgotten.”
“It is fear that holds them.”
“Of course. Well, no doubt you're not hungry but I must fill my trencher.” He stood up and made his way to the beast in front of the throne. Menish and the others were already returning.
For a moment he thought of what Althak had said. The stench of death and the murder that lay just below the surface here welled up inside him until he thought his head would burst. His stomach lurched and he gripped the table edge almost convulsively. He had thought he was inured to these things by now, but he had never thought before of so much death.
Tenari who, with her new liveliness, pressed close to him and nibbled his ear playfully distracted him. He put his arm around her, grateful to have something warm and friendly beside him, even if it was mindless.
The guests were, for all the seeming confusion, remarkably efficient at serving themselves and it was not long before they had returned to their seats. The remains were being cleared away to be picked over by the servants. While they were still eating Vorish rose and made a speech welcoming Menish to the feast and bidding the musicians to play.
