“What's been happening while we've been away?”
“Much and little.” Neathy shrugged. “Marayhir has been kicking up a stink about some cattle raid of Grath’s. He says it was illegal but his clan chief ruled against him so he wants to appeal to Menish. He refused to let Adhara make the judgement, which she was pretty annoyed about, so he's had to wait here until Menish arrived back. You can imagine how we all feel about that.
“Your friend isn't eating. Won’t you have some mein?”
“He doesn't eat either,” said Drinagish.
“It's becoming fashionable by the look of it. I suppose he doesn't talk either?”
“I speak. But food and drink are abhorrent to me.”
“So you'll starve yourself to death?”
“I do not need food. The dragons sustain me.”
Neathy nodded slowly.
“I thought you looked a bit Vorthenki. Be careful with talk of dragons in Meyathal. We don't like Vorthenki ways. There are few enough of us who will give Althak a civil greeting.”
Azkun said nothing. He would have liked to explain to Neathy that she had not understood but this did not seem the time or the place. Besides, he was distracted by something.
A tiny terror lurked in the far corner of the room. It was dimly lit there, the few windows did not light it well and the fire was too far away. He could hear a rustling and could see a grey shadow with murder in its heart. His attempts to shut it out were futile. He felt trapped. His back legs would not work and his front paws could only drag him across the straw on the floor while a gaping mouth leered over him. Something held his tail and he squeaked. The jaws closed on the back of his neck with a stab of fire. Darkness engulfed him.
He shuddered; his hand knocked Drinagish’s bowl. “Careful!”
“Oh, Kimi has a mouse!” shouted Neathy as a tawny cat carried its kill across the room towards them. “Here, Kimi, good boy.” The cat dropped the mouse on the floor near them and chirped with self-satisfaction. Neathy picked up the cat to stroke it but it wriggled free. Picking up its prey it carried it nearer the fire where it could devour it in comfort. Azkun was nearly sick.
“That's the third mouse he's caught this week. The cooler weather drives them indoors, of course, and they've forgotten their peril. And he loves it.” The last remark was half addressed to the cat who looked up, licking its lips. To Azkun it had a cruel beauty about it. The flecked, tawny coat was hard to see on the straw that covered the floor. He suspected it would blend into almost any background. Its large eyes and ears were ever alert for more victims even as it ate its present kill. Unlike Vorish’s indolent cat this one seemed terrifyingly predatory.
He felt two beasts being killed not long afterwards, reminding him that his friends were no less predatory, but they were far away and he felt them less than the mouse. Azkun stared at the fire and tried to forget death, willing down his fears with memories of the dragon.
Later, as the sun set, Menish’s folk began to arrive in the hall for the evening meal. Azkun did not want to stay. The death of the mouse had wounded his soul. He wanted to take his agony away to some quiet corner. But there were no quiet corners. As the evening deepened into night more and more people entered the palace. Many were Menish’s own folk, those who tended his herds and fields. Others were guests, either residents of the town beyond the walls come to welcome their King home, or visitors from the fringe of tents around about.
Unlike the Vorthenki the Anthorians had no tradition of speech making before getting their meat and their women served themselves. Azkun was surprised. The atmosphere was not as oppressive as it had been in Vorish’s hall. People wandered about talking and drinking. They seemed relaxed and happy, though each wore a sword. They were a contradiction. He saw the cat pestering one man for some meat. It climbed onto his shoulder and sat with its cheek beside the man’s face watching his every mouthful. Occasionally the man reached behind his head and stroked the cat and, in return, it snuggled against his neck. It was absurd. Swords and claws and teeth, all tokens of death, and yet there was affection displayed openly. Azkun did not understand it.
“Hey, Grath!” Drinagish shouted as he saw the northerner enter. They made their way across the hall towards him, Drinagish nodding greetings as he went. Althak also greeted a few people, but several turned away from him. It was as Neathy had said, Althak was not universally popular in Menish’s hall.
Drinagish and Althak greeted Grath warmly. To Azkun he seemed changed from when he had travelled with them in the north. But, of course, he was cleaner and dressed in court clothes now. He had some tale of raiding cows for them, a double raid on the same herd, which he told with relish. Azkun did not follow it very well. He was trying to avoid watching them eat.
Not long after Grath arrived Menish and Adhara entered the hall. The general noise of conversation subsided for a moment then rose to a cheer of welcome that Menish answered by climbing onto one of the benches and, with a smile, signalling for silence.
“By Aton, you all look well fed and ready to hear where I have been for the last few weeks.” There was a hearty chorus of yeses around the room. “Well you can wait until I've eaten. I'm not going to spend a moment longer up here with the smell of good Anthorian meat in my nostrils.”
There were good-natured protests, but mostly laughter as he climbed down and made his way to the food. Some time later, when he had eaten and moved among the crowd, and consistently shrugged off questions about where he had been, he climbed back onto the bench and spoke to them.
“Now that we've all eaten I'll tell you my tale,” he began amid laughter. He proceeded to give them a general description of his travels, though several things were left out. Azkun and Tenari were described as homeless wanderers and he left the impression that they had joined them from the pirate ship just as Keashil and Olcish had. He spent some time describing the fight with the pirates, dwelling on the valour of Drinagish and Althak, but he did not mention Thalissa at all. Their stay at Deenar was carefully described. Some of those present remembered Darven. Menish gave the impression that the Vorthenki chief was instilling Anthorian manners into the barbarous folk of the Vorthenki coasts, which was partly true.
When he told them of their time in Atonir he became serious. Vorish had heard from somewhere, he told them, of a possible attack from Gashan. It was only a rumour as yet, but Althak, Hrangil and Azkun were going north to see. Meanwhile they should all sharpen their swords “…for we may be hunting Gashans in the spring.” The spring games would produce a gathering point for the scattered folk of Anthor and, depending on what news the expedition brought back, they would take those ready to fight and march north when the games were over.
Chapter 22: Menish's Court
The next morning Menish held court in the main hall. While last night’s gathering had been an informal affair, mainly dedicated to eating and drinking and exchanging news, today’s was more carefully organised.
The benches and tables were pushed back to the walls and those who attended sat on the floor as they traditionally did in the Anthorian tents. There was no throne in Menish’s hall but there was a central pillar that he sat beside. Althak explained to Azkun that this represented the main post of a tent, the traditional place for an Anthorian chief.
Menish declared the court in session and asked for the first complaint. A man about Menish’s age rose to his feet to speak. Azkun heard a woman near him mutter “Oh it’s Marayhir again” with disgust in her voice.
“Three times this year my herds have been raided, twice by the King’s own household. I would like to ask when it became lawful for the King to raid his people’s herds.”
“Marayhir, I've not raided your herds. Anyone of my household will tell you that I've been journeying for weeks, not raiding. Who of my household has raided you?”
“Grath. I've witnesses who saw him.”
Menish shrugged.
“Grath is a member of my household, as you are at the moment. But your herds are not my herds. Neither are Grath’s. Don't say that I raided your herds.
“Were the raids unlawful in any other way?”
“Ah, yes, yes they were. He took all my best cows, most of them in calf. More than half of my breeding stock. They will have calved by now.”
“I protest!” Grath stood up. “On no occasion did I take more than half of what was there-”
