Black Jade

bowl to catch the blood that pumped out of her. It did not take very long for the woman to die. More priests appeared holding up a bier trimmed in satin and gold. They laid her gently upon it. Arch Uttam stood above her, raising high the blood-filled bowl for all to see.

'A virgin with all her life to live,' he called out, 'has freely given her life so that we might be stronger! An innocent girl who in her sacrifice has become the greatest of warriors! We bear her body away to lie in glory. But she will live on, forever, in us! This is the Way of the Dragon!'

So saying, he put the bowl of bone to his lips. I watched in horror as he took a few sips of living blood, his preferred drink. Then he passed the bowl to the priest nearest him, who likewise drank from it, and so it went with other priests until the bowl had been emptied.

I did not want to believe what I had seen. I bowed my head in shame. Atara stood next to me stricken as well Estrella buried her face in Iiljana's side as she began weeping without restraint. Kane stared out into the square as his hand convulsed in a death grip and he muttered, 'So, damn them forever — so, so.'

All the soldiers and townsfolk of Orun bowed their heads as well, not in shame but to honor this young woman, whose name was Yismi. I overheard an old woman say that Yismi's betrothed, Olas, had been killed in the siege of Avrian, and that she would now find happiness in joining him in death.

After that, Arch Uttam returned to the dais and sat back down. So did everyone else. And then King Arsu signalled for the entertainments to begin. From out of nowhere, it seemed. Lord Rodas hurried up to us. He seemed to have taken no more notice of Yismi's sacrifice than he would a chicken slaughtered for supper. I contemplated setting my hands around his neck and breaking it. Instead I looked down at the ground as he called out, 'Where is that fool who calls himself Garath? Well, we still have time. You are to go last, after the pairs from Avrian, but you should be ready all the same.'

We retired one by one to our cart, where we donned our costumes in Bemossed's silent company. Then we stood together outside and watched as forty youths from the nearby Kallimun school paraded out into the square. They wore golden tunics gathered in with bright red sashes. After forming up facing the King on the very spot where Yismi had been put to the knife, the priest leading them motioned with his hand for them to bow to King Arsu. Then the priest cast them a stern look and motioned for them to begin singing.

They sang like angels. Their voices rang out high and sweet I too sweet and too high for youths who were almost men. I had never heard quite such a lovely pitch and tone pouring from male throats before. But then, in the Morning Mountains, no one would ever think to geld a boy like a horse just to preserve the beauty of his voice. It shocked me to learn that many of these youths had not only submitted to their castration without complaint but had actually volunteered to be mutilated, 'offering up their manhood to the Dragon,' as they put it.

The father of one of these youths stood nearby beaming proudly, even as my father once had when I had competed with the sword at tournaments. I overheard him say to his wife: 'Who would ever have dreamed that our Dyrian would sing for the King?'

And another man a few paces away exclaimed, 'What a day this is! What great days are to come!'

I sensed in them the same passion that stirred many of those throughout King Arsu's realm: a great dream for the future, in the coming Kariad and the march into the Age of Light. But with their longing for a better world came a great fear as well, for they dreaded being left behind in the glorious crusade that Morjin led. And so they were willing to sacrifice the most precious of things to see this dream made real: not only their freedom and their children's wholeness, but their very lives.

The youths sang five songs, and it seemed that they strove for a purity of voice like that of the Galadin. Then they cleared the square for dancers wearing bright green silks and little cymbals on their fingers. I watched them gyrate, leap and jangle in front of King Arsu's box for a while. They were quite skilled in the maracheel and other traditional dances of Hesperu. After they had finished and knelt gasping for breath, King Arsu cast out gold coins to them with his own hand. Then they ran off happily, clanging their little cymbals and whooping with joy.

It came time for the pairs from Avrian to entertain the King. But before his soldiers could bring them out, a lathered horse bearing a blue-caped rider galloped down the center lane into the square. He drew up in front of the King's box. He dismounted and bowed to King Arsu, who beckoned him forward, up upon the dais. I watched as this messenger, or so he seemed, bent low and cupped his hands around King Arsu's ear. King Arsu nodded his head and smiled. Then the messenger hurried off the dais. He gathered up his horse's reins and disappeared into the throng of soldiers standing about guarding King Arsu.

King Arsu held up his hand as he cried out in his whipsaw of a voice: 'We have had great tidings! King Orunjan has journeyed from Uskudar at our invitation, and is even now journeying up from Khevaju. A master priest sent by Lord Morjin rides with him: the renowned Haar Igasho. We are to meet soon, in a conclave of kings such as has not been held for an entire age!'

This news caused the hundreds of soldiers and townsfolk gathered around the square to let out a great cheer. It caused me to want to retrieve my sword and cut down every Kallimun priest that I could before falling upon Arch Uttam. If Haar Igasho had gained renown, it was only through betraying our own people and bringing shame upon all the Valari. I wanted to slay him for the atrocities visited upon Mesh almost as badly as I burned to cut down Morjin. Prince Salmelu of Ishka: this was who Igasho had once been, before resentment and poisoned pride led him to try to put an arrow in my back. Ra Igasho he had been called at our last meeting, after he had been made a full priest of the Kallimun. And now it seemed that Morjin had elevated him once more in reward for helping to crucify my grandmother and mother. I could only wonder why Morjin had sent Haar Igasho into Hesperu. It must be, I thought, that Morjin wished to warn the priests of King Arsu's realm to look for us in case we journeyed this way. And to aid them in identifying us and hunting us down.

I traded a quick, dark look with Kane and then Liljana. Our circumstances, already perilous, had suddenly grown deadly.

I tried to think of how we might possibly slip away from under Lord Rodas's watchful eyes and steal out of the encampment No means of escape suggested themselves to me. It seemed that we must somehow get through the day and hope that we could ride fast and far before Haar Igasho met up with King Arsu and Arch Uttam.

The next 'entertainment' made it difficult to get through half an hour. Lord Mansarian's men, in their blood- red capes, brought out the first of the pairs from Avrian: two naked men, among the last of the captive errants. Lord Mansarian had kept these defeated rebels alive in order to inspire the Haralanders along the road down to Gethun and Khevaju. Lord Mansarian's soldiers gave each of them a razor-sharp short sword, then quickly backed away. These

two men, once brothers in arms, were to fight each other to the death. If they refused this final degradation, or turned upon the soldiers guarding them, their children held hostage would be crucified.

I forced myself to look out into the square, for I wished to gauge the Hesperuks' skill with weapons. The combat was bloody and quick; in only a few moments, the taller of the two men lay fallen on the muddy grass, disembowelled and nearly decapitated. The soldiers drawn up in their ranks cheered with gusto as they had for the young singers. I hated them for that. I thought that I would never understand human beings. Perhaps we would do better simply to free Angra Mainyu from Damoom, and then to perish down to the last man, woman and child in a holocaust of flame. Three more pairs of men Lord Mansarian's soldiers brought out to fight for the pleasure of the King, pair by pair, until four men survived the first round of this deadly competition. Then they paired off these men together, and made them slay each other in another vicious round, until only two remained. These two — now bloodied and barely able to stand up — faced each other in the final combat. A rumor going around the square had it that they were best of friends, but I had no way of confirming that. If friends they truly were, then they fought with a rare passion to rend and slay. Lord Mansarian had promised the sole survivor his freedom. At last, only one of them stood, looking down over the body of his opponent. He cast his sword upon the bloody grass. He bowed his head. Then Lord Mansarian's soldiers closed in upon him to grab his arms and take him away to be crucified. He would find his freedom from his errors in excruciating agony over several days, as so many had before him.

Now Lord Rodas paced back and forth with a nervousness eating at him. Just as he was readying himself to charge into the courtesans' tent and call out once more for Garath the Fool, Maram marched out of it. He came straight over to us. His face, I saw; had fallen a sickly white as if he had met up with a ghost. 'What's wrong?' I whispered to him.

'Ah, nothing,' he whispered back. He looked over at Lord Rodas, who fairly clung to him like a tick. 'Nothing I can tell you now.' 'Was it the girl?' I said, remembering what Arch Uttam had done to Yismi.