too.”
Ranowr stared at him, his breath frozen. This was it. This was what they’d been waiting for.
“Set everyone to gathering the food and the wagons,” he said to Krar.
To Tral he said: “Inform the females and then meet me at the prison with two Mrem and a handcart. Bring your medical kit.”
Then he headed for the guards.
“The young goddess needs you in the great hall,” he told them. “Something terrible has happened. I think Captain Thress has struck down the great goddess.”
Saksh, the head of Hissah’s guard stared at him for a moment, then slapped him.
“How dare you say such a thing?” He pulled out his whip. “I’ll have your back in shreds for that!”
Just then a guard came running up to them.
“The great goddess is dead!” he gasped. “Captain Thress is fallen!”
Saksh stared at him, then at Ranowr. “You and your fellows go back to your dormitory and stay there!” he ordered and ran off with the other guards trailing him.
Ranowr then nodded at Krar who began rallying the other Mrem and then headed for the prison at a run.
“The young goddess has commanded all the guards to report to the great hall,” he told the guard at the prison gate.
The guard looked uncertain, but he’d been given orders by this Mrem before. He immediately turned the problem over to his superior.
“We’ve just been given charge of Captain Thress,” that one said. “Why would she order us to abandon him?”
“Because he’s safely locked up and she needs your support?” Ranowr suggested.
The guard weighed that in his mind and decided that it made sense; everyone knew rewards and punishments flew full and wild during a change of power. He blew a whistle and the other guards came running.
“Fall in,” he ordered and they marched off.
Ranowr watched them go in disbelief. This is going almost too well, he thought and headed into the prison. As he rushed down the corridor he heard Thress’s voice from behind a door. Pausing to glance through the grill he saw the captain lying motionless on the dirt floor.
Seeing him, Thress narrowed his eyes. “You! Her pet! Come to gloat, have you?”
“No, Captain,” Ranowr said. “I have neither the time nor the interest.” And he was gone.
He removed the bar from the door of the Mrem’s cell and entered. Canar Trowr lay panting on dirty straw, no longer chained. Chains were no longer needed. His feet were a bloody mess as were his hands. As was most of him. Ranowr’s heart went cold. If they were too late it was all for nothing. Tentatively he reached out and touched him.
Instantly the prisoner sprang alert, only to sink back again.
“Who are you?” he asked in a voice that grated.
“Ranowr. I’ve come to get you out.”
Canar Trowr laughed weakly. “Surely you could have waited a bit longer?”
“Not if we want to get out of here. Can you walk at all?”
“No. But I will anyway. Help me up.”
He did so. There wasn’t a place he could touch that wasn’t wounded, but aside from a few groans the prisoner kept his pain to himself. Then, when he was upright and leaning heavily on Ranowr they stumbled awkwardly from the cell.
Once outside Tral and the others were there to meet them with a handcart. They stared at the prisoner; the two helpers in amazement to see a stranger Mrem, Tral in horror at his wounds.
“Take him,” Ranowr said, “hide him. As soon as you’re ready head for the gates. That’s where I’m going now.”
“That is what the new great goddess has commanded,” Ranowr said for the third time.
“But it makes no sense!” The guard said.
“Still, those were her orders. Perhaps it’s a loyalty test,” Ranowr suggested, hoping that would move the stubborn fool.
The guard looked over the Mrem’s shoulder and blinked. Ranowr followed his gaze. The first wagons were coming in sight and the gate remained closed. He’d been telling the guard that the Mrem were all to gather at the great bundor herd until Hisshah called them back, but the guard persisted in resisting.
Ranowr turned back to him, his face and manner calm. Everything about him proclaiming, “I am following orders. What about you?”
At the wagons’ inexorable approach the guard’s resistance crumbled and he shouted to his fellows to open the gates.
Watching them go through Ranowr saw Prenna sitting in one of the wagons. She met his eyes and raised a hand shyly. He smiled and gave the barest nod and ruffle of whiskers, then she was gone.
Now his people were on their way, he had one last thing to do. Towards the end of the slow-moving column he found Tral.
“The sleeping draught that kills,” he said, “does it work on Liskash?”
“Even better than it does on us,” Tral said. “They’re so much smaller.”
“Give me what you have,” Ranowr said. “And give my love to Prenna for me.”
Tral handed over the flask. “What are you saying?” he asked.
“It may be some time before I catch up. Don’t wait for me,” Ranowr told him. Then he turned and trotted away.
Hisshah was glowing with pleasure. She had accepted the oaths of all of her mother’s court, her court now, and had just finished deciding a case that her mother had been neglecting in favor of the plaintiff she hated least.
Suddenly Ranowr was there, offering her a goblet of wine.
“You must be thirsty, great goddess,” he said, smiling.
She was parched, but also suspicious. How had he gotten into the great hall? And whence this good will?
But then…he has been very useful. Dangerous, but useful. A cunning Mrem could be even more useful in the future. I must sleep. If I make him hated enough, he will help guard me…perhaps a Mrem guard? I need never fear their trying to overthrow me…
“It is the custom here,” she said, “for the one who offers wine to taste it first.”
He took a sip, then offered the goblet again.
“You might as well drink it all,” she told him. “I won’t drink from the same cup as an animal.”
Still, part of her was gratified to think that even the Mrem were pleased to have her as the new great goddess.
Ranowr hesitated. “It is so fine,” he said. “Never meant for the likes of me.”
“Drink it,” she insisted, watching him closely.
He did, gulping it down in four swallows. “It’s good!” he said. “Thank you, great goddess.”
She laughed and reached out a hand for another goblet. He took another from the tray and filled it for her. Then she also gulped the fine wine down, gaily smashing the cup to the floor where it shattered, the dregs splattering a few unlucky courtiers. She laughed at that.
“Wine for everyone!” she said. “I would have us drink a toast to my new reign.”
As the servants began to circulate, she gestured to Ranowr for another cup and he quickly filled one for
