He vowed that he would deal with the Lady Eyil hiVriyen if ever he got the chance.
Ruddy torchlight blazed through the door to his left. Men entered, bearing objects of dull yellow metal; others behind carried lumpy bundles of some sort; still others followed with parchments and penboxes. He squirmed up to a sitting position and saw the metallic things to be ewers, cups, and dishes. The bundles were large, rich cushions.
By all of the Aspects of Thumis, was this going to be a feast with Harsan himself as the main course?
Some of the men inserted torches into brackets around the walls. Others climbed the little stair and arranged the utensils and cushions upon a low dais which he now saw occupied the centre of the alcove. The scribes spread out their paraphernalia on the floor below and sat down, muttering and joking in low tones.
The door to his right opened, and two men stood there. One was a greybeard, long-faced, and not a little unkempt. Whitish hair straggled down over his shoulders from beneath a dun-coloured skullcap which resembled an unfired clay bowl overturned upon his head. He wore the floor-length brown vestments of a lay-priest of Sarku, shabby and stained with use, and cut in a fashion popular amongst elderly men some twenty years before.
The other person was a decade or so younger, barrel-bellied, dressed in a saffron kilt ornamented with many little dags, fringes, and clan symbols worked in gold thread, and pleated in the style of a bureaucrat of the Palace of the Realm. A shawl of fine yellow cloth swathed one shoulder, and Harsan caught the glint of a circular golden pendant upon his breast. It was a replica of the Seal of the Imperium.
This second man stepped forward and leaned over Harsan. He brushed absently at a lick of greying hair which partially hid his balding pate and unfolded a document. He smelled strongly of flowery Puru-o\.
“You are Harsan, priest of the Second Circle, of the Temple of Thumis? What is your lineage, please? You are Harsan hi — what?’ ’
“I have no lineage name,” Harsan muttered. “Who are you? Why-?”
A delicate hand emerged from the yellow shawl, palm down, two fingers extended, to show that no interruption would be brooked. “Then we must put you down as Harsan hiShahad- ‘Harsan of Slave-Lineage.’ ”
“I am no slave!” Harsan cried. “My parents are unknown, but-”
Small, pouched eyes blinked at him. “ ‘Two streams that join one another become the same.’ ” A pen scratched upon parchment.
“Why am I here? You know that I am a priest of the Temple of Thumis. I was seized illegally, dragged here with a lady, my comrade
…”
Another blink. “Legality is my concern indeed. I am Arkhane hiPurushqe, of the Clan of Sea Blue. The Petal Throne has honoured me with the post of Master of the Tolek Kana Pits. All that matters to me is legality, and what I seek now is to establish whether you are that Harsan whom this writ names.”
‘‘Writ? How can there be a writ? We were abducted from our rightful business-my temple was violated- Imperial soldiers were murdered-illegal-!” He struggled to get his thoughts together.
“Illegal? Not at all. Such a misconception shall shortly be dissipated, and you shall be satisfied that all is as it should be, in perfect order.”
Harsan could only make a strangled sound in his throat.
The other did not smile, but little crinkles of kindly humour appeared at the comers of his eyes. “Ohe, I dabble not in politics! What is done is no affair of mine, any more than it is yours to orchestrate the courses of the moons. No, I only serve here, young man. Those who come to me are treated precisely as their writs command. If it be ordered that a man may have his family about him, then so it is done: there are those here whose children and grandchildren were bom within their cells, and whole families that have not seen the light of day for three generations. On the other hand, if it be decreed that another is to have flowerpots and bolsters and fine viands, then do I provide these things most amply. And if a third person is remanded to the impaling stake to dance his last jig, then this is what is written in his Skein of Destiny. My ancestors have served here in this capacity through many reigns and a multitude of changes, and always have we performed our duties with acuity and circumspection. No, your rights shall not be violated here, young man, and you shall receive whatever honours and dignities are enjoined for you-or else suffer such other treatments as may be commanded.”
Harsan bit his tongue in sheer frustration. “At least tell me why I am here! What does this writ say? Who has signed it?” “It was signed by myself, priest Harsan.”
Harsan wrenched himself around to see that the dais was now occupied. A figure in the brown robes and cowl of an Adept of the Temple of Sarku sat there.
“At this time I pray to be excused, mighty one.” Arkhane hiPurushqe bowed low.
“Your task is done. Stay or go as you will.” The voice was soft and colourless, with no rise or fall of intonation.
The figure arose, and Harsan saw the skull-painted face of the man for the first time: features like a slab of dry and weathered wood in which two marbles of black glass had been set for eyes.
The near-lipless mouth moved as though it had no connection with those terrible, empty orbs.
“Where is Hele’a? Let him be brought to us.” A guard sketched a bow and hurried out.
“Who-who are you?”
“Silence!” The old man who had entered with the Master of the Pits spoke for the first time. “You address a Prince of the Imperium incorrectly.”
“A Prince-!” Harsan choked. He tried again, employing the highest pronoun he had ever learned, the “You of Supernal Omnipotence.”
“Mighty Prince, I–I knew you not.”
“Your usage is still erroneous, priest. You do not address my father upon the Petal Throne in Avanthar. The appropriate pronoun for my rank is Toquntusmidalisa, the ‘You of Awed Wonder.’ ”
“I pray you-”
“Pray if you will. We are not immune to prayer, particularly if it be accompanied by the proper offerings. In this we humbly ape the almighty Gods.” The lips did not smile, but the cowled head turned from side to side as if seeking the approbation of those who sat below the dais. No one laughed.
“Loose his bonds somewhat, Vridekka. I am not accustomed to discourse with the soles of a man’s feet. Let him sit up.” Spidery fingers plucked at the knots behind his back, the metal link clattered, and Harsan found that he could now rub life back into his numbed hands, although they remained bound behind him.
“I am Dhich’une, fourth Prince of the Imperium, priest. I am told that you possess certain items which are rightfully mine.”, The lips opened to reveal brown, chipped teeth, like shards of chert. “Just now you mentioned illegality to our useful Lord Arkhane. If you have studied anything of our laws, you know that all right and authority over every being and every thing within the Empire is vested in the Omniscient Emperor. From him do these prerogatives descend to us, his offspring, and thence to the proper agencies of our Imperial government.” “Great Prince-Lord-no one can question this. But I understood the Temple of Thumis to have custody of the Llyani relics, and all the temples were to study them there. Soldiers were set to see that this was done. Yet those soldiers were slain, Lord, and I-we-were kidnapped!”
“Lives, property, all within Tsolyanu belong to the Seal Emperor. If a peasant owns a Hmelu- beast, is it not his to slaughter whenever he requires its meat? Must he hold discourse with the animal like an advocate before he applies the knife?” “No-I mean, of course not, my Lord. But could not a command have been given to our temple to relinquish the relics into your custody without murder, without-?”
“There are reasons why that was not done.” A brown-swathed arm came up. “This discussion is at an end, young man. Now will I have those objects which you have concealed.”
The old man whom the Prince had named Vridekka approached the dais.
“Great and powerful Prince, may I speak? I have used my talent of mind-seeing, as you desired, and I-”
“Come nigh, Vridekka, and tell me.” The dark cowl bent down, and the greybeard whispered and gestured. The skull-face turned to Harsan again.
“My Mind-seer, Vridekka, informs me that the artifacts are there, just ‘around the comer,’ as you think of it. Your motives in this affair are commendable-and common to many young men. To you this is still a sort of game, a comradely loyalty to your temple, a proscription against being a ‘traitor’ to your superiors, and an innocent adherence to what you conceive to be your faith. All of these things are naught but adolescent romanticism. This is no basket of Die I- fruit to be concealed by a gang of temple acolytes from the dormitory-master!”
Hele’a had entered the room. He bowed before the dais and said, “My Lord Prince, the priest says that he is
