away, paying no mind to their screams or their cries for mercy.
Further conversation with the boy revealed that the sacrifices were held both morning and night, every single day of the year without fail.
Shortly after freeing himself from the rope, Mika noticed that the princess had positioned herself against the bars of the door. Her ears were pricked forward, and she was growling. Mika walked over and looked through the bars but other than a cell directly across the way, he could see nothing. Nor could he see the inhabitant of the cell. Shrugging, he turned his mind to other matters. Escape would be difficult.
Along about mid-day, Mika heard the tramp of feet approaching the building. He moved to the small, high window and looked out, but all he could see was the pyramid.
'Quick, tie me up again!' Mika said, fearful that if he were found unbound, he would never get the chance to put his plan into effect.
Margraf tied him with the silken rope, and Mika wedged himself in a corner of the room, feigning a look of sullen misery that was not far from real.
Imploring cries poured out of the cells as footsteps pounded down the corridor and stopped at Mika's cell.
Margraf had been over-eager in obeying Mika's orders. By the time the door swung open and the guards entered, followed by a clean-shaven man with piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones, Mika's fingers were numb from lack of blood.
'Your date ofborning?' demanded the priest, his eyes fixed on Mika's.
'The tenth of Harvesttime,' answered Mika.
'You're lying,' snapped the priest. 'I can see it in your eyes.'
'That's pain you see in my eyes,' growled Mika. 'Why would I lie? I know my date ofborning.'
'You would lie to save your pathetic life,' said the priest, 'but it will do you no good. You will die, as will all these others, given unto the honor and glory of Exag the Magnificent. Say your farewells to this sad Oerth and rejoice, for it is a far better world that you go to.'
'Do I get a choice?' asked Mika.
'You should be happy to leave this painful world of sorrows behind,' said the priest as he leaned forward and looked into Mika's eyes, attempting to convince him. 'Your heart should be filled with joy knowing that through your sacrifice you will enable the world to turn to yet another cycle. Without your body, the sun would eat the Oerth and all would die. Does that not gladden your heart, my son?'
Mika stared into the priest's eyes, almost overcome by the intensity of the man's gaze. He blinked and drew back abruptly, suddenly more fearful than he had been before. The man was the most dangerous of all opponents, a religious fanatic who truly believed in his own dogma.
'Do you really think that it is so?' asked Mika, knowing that the only way to gain any latitude was to pretend to believe the nonsense that the priest was spewing. Denial would only infuriate the man.
'Of course,' said the priest, his eyes shining with the light of true madness.
'Then if it will serve my brothers and the world, maybe it won't be so bad,' said Mika. 'Can you promise that the next world will be a better place?'
'I know it to be true, my son,' said the priest. 'Has not the great Exag himself given us his word? It is a great honor to die for Exag. I wish that I were able to do so myself.'
'Then why don't you?' asked Mika, and he was rewarded by seeing the light of reason and caution creep into the man's eyes. So the fellow was not completely round the bend after all.
'Would that I could, my son,' intoned the priest, 'but my duties lie here. Also, I was born under another moon, and there are always many, many others who volunteer to take my place on that date.'
I'll bet there are, thought Mika. I'll bet you make very, very sure of that.
The two men stared at each other, taking each other's measure.
'Untie him,' said the priest with a gesture. 'The turning is on the morrow. Let him spend his last day and night in comfort, preparing himself for the great honor that is to come.'
The guards stripped the rope from Mika's body. At a gesture from the priest, they turned and left the room.
Mika had hoped that they would leave the rope behind, but it was not to be. As the last of them exited the cell, Mika and the priest were left gazing at each other.
'Do not think to escape,' advised the priest, 'for there is nowhere to go. My men are everywhere, and the building is stout. Best ready yourself for the morrow.'
After a last moment's pause, the priest followed his guards. As the door opened, the princess made a dash and tried to push her way through, but the priest kicked her in the chest and slammed the door in her face, locking the metal door behind him.
'Good try, girl,' said Mika as he helped her to her feet and rubbed her ribs. 'You didn't stand a chance, but it was a good try.'
The princess turned her head and looked at Mika as though he were a dolt. The look stopped Mika short. His hand froze in mid-pet as he tried to figure out what he had said to warrant such a look. The princess got to her feet and paced over to the door, where she stood growling. Mika followed her and looked through the bars in an attempt to discover what it was she was growling at, but all he could see was the occupant of the cell across the hall, a large, white-haired man who stood with his back to them.
There was something regal in the stance, something imperious-no, arrogant-that was it! Could it be? A wild thought came to Mika, and he stared down at the princess who stood with teeth bared, growling in a menacing fashion. It was! It had to be! It was the king, the princess's father!
'Are you the king of Dramidja?' Mika called to him in a low voice.
After a long moment the figure stirred and turned to look at Mika. Mika pulled back in astonishment. The man was very large, his huge head set on a thick neck. His chest was barrel-like and tapered into a narrow waist, with slender hips and legs that seemed too small to carry the immense bulk. It was immediately apparent that he was the king, for aside from the haughty gaze above the narrow, arched nose, there was the evidence of his eyes. One was blue, the other green.
The king cast his regal gaze over Mika, the wolves, and the ragged child, and dismissed them as unworthy of his time. He turned his back on them once more. The princess began barking angrily.
That single look, that single action, drove Mika into an instantaneous rage. 'Don't you turn your back on me!' he hollered, gripping the bars between his hands. 'It's your fault I'm in here!'
The king turned to look at Mika, only slightly curious. He did not speak, but quirked a single eyebrow.
'Don't even recognize me, do you?' Mika said in a cold tone. 'My name is Mika, born to the Far Fringe Clan of Wolf Nomads. I have nearly come to death and have suffered grievously on your behalf. More than two score of my men and blood kin died for you, and you do not even know of our existence or care.'
'You're right,' the king said in a laconic tone, stroking his mustache with his forefinger. 'I do not know who you are, and since I have no idea of what you speak, how can I possibly care?'
'Do you know where your daughter is?' asked Mika.
For the first time the king seemed to lose his poise. He paled, a flush of red appearing on the high bridge of his nose. He stood next to the bars and really looked at Mika for the first time.
'What do you know of my daughter?' he asked sharply. 'Where is she? What has become of her?'
'You don't care about her! What you really want to know is whether or not the demi-demon Iuz got her as you planned,' said Mika. He had the satisfaction of seeing the king's face go tense with shock.
'How-how do you know about Iuz?' he asked in a whisper.
And Mika told him.
'Then it is all over,' the king said, sinking to the bench and burying his face in his hands. 'All over.'
'Don't you even want to know what happened to the princess, your daughter?' asked Mika, unmoved by the king's sorrow for his own failed plans.
'What does it matter now? All is lost,' muttered the king over the rumbling growls of the princess.
'How could you have sent your only child-your daughter-to a certain and hideous death at the hands of a demon?' asked Mika, trying to give the man the opportunity to explain himself.
'You don't understand,' said the king, slowly straightening to lean his head back against the bars. 'You couldn't possibly understand what it means to rule, to have power. Or what it means to lose it.'
