'The Baron refused to see you, and you simply left town?'
'We set up the siege.'
'Siege! You call this farce a siege?'
Galt shrugged, and Garth's annoyance grew.
'You accepted the word of the humans that the Baron was ill? You did not insist upon seeing him?'
'No. The captain of the guard swore by half a dozen gods I never heard of and by various parts of his anatomy that the Baron was ill in bed. I spoke last night with the man called Saram, whom you know and whom I believe you trust, and he told me that the Baron's illness is legitimate-a side-effect of his madness.'
'Did it not occur to any of you that it would be far more effective to camp in the marketplace, where you could not be so easily ignored or put off, rather than to establish a siege you cannot possibly maintain? Furthermore, a single message slipped past your pitiful line of sentries could bring the wrath of the entire Kingdom of Eramma down on you and on the Northern Waste, since a siege is undeniably an act of war. Had you camped peacefully in the square, you would have been honest petitioners, breaking no laws.'
Galt was slow to reply. 'Such an audacious action did not occur to me.'
'Audacious? The Baron of Skelleth is the audacious one! He dares to dictate terms to overmen as if we were mere peasants? To refuse your embassy an audience? It is time that we showed him the error of his ways. I propose that we march back into town; if he will still not speak with us, we will camp in the market until he does.'
'I am not sure that would be wise. I did not approve of the siege, but I think that your plan faces the same objections. We dare not push the Baron too far; we need this trade with Skelleth.'
'No, we don't. We can trade anywhere we please. The Racial Wars are over, Galt, whatever we may have believed while isolated in the Northern Waste, and regardless of what the Baron of Skelleth may have told us. I have just returned from a city called Dыsarra, where overmen are an everyday sight. The humans have forgotten their fear and hatred; remember how short their lives are! To them, three centuries are a dozen generations, almost five lifetimes.'
'How can overmen be a common sight anywhere outside the Northern Waste?'
'Ah, this is the best news of all! There are overmen living on the Yprian Coast. We are not the only survivors.'
'The Yprian Coast? That barren wasteland?'
'Is the Northern Waste any better?'
Galt did not answer that. Instead, he asked, 'Are you sure we could trade elsewhere?'
'At the very least, we could trade with the Yprians and with Dыsarra. I think we could probably go anywhere we pleased without interference; humans care more for gold than for ancient hatreds.'
'Still, any overland trade route would have to go through the Barony of Skelleth; it extends from the Yprian Gulf to the Sea of Mori.'
'What of it? Do you think the Baron's thirty-odd guardsmen can patrol the entire border?'
'It would still be preferable to have the Baron's permission.'
'Yes, it would be preferable, but it is not necessary, and it would also be preferable to make plain to all that overmen are not to be treated with the disrespect the Baron of Skelleth has displayed.'
While Galt digested this, Kyrith scribbled on her tablet, then handed it to Garth. It read, 'What disrespect? Why not go home?'
He handed it back. 'No, Kyrith, I can't go home yet. I can't go back to Ordunin until the Baron releases me from my oath.'
She made a questioning gesture.
Garth said, 'What are you asking?'
She wrote and handed him the tablet. It read: 'What oath?'
'Galt should have told you,' Garth replied. 'He was there. I swore an oath to the Baron of Skelleth when last I saw him. He proposed that in order to remove all legal impediments to trade between Skelleth and the Waste and to put a formal end to the war with Eramma, I, as Prince of Ordunin, should surrender and swear fealty to him, thereby making Ordunin and its territory-which is to say, the entire eastern half of the Northern Waste part of the Barony of Skelleth. He called this a simple and reasonable thing, but we both knew he devised it to humiliate me, as I had humiliated him once before. He insisted that I swear to present this proposal to the City Council as soon as I returned to Ordunin. I was unarmed, on a peaceful trading mission, and caught off-guard; I swore the oath he demanded. I will not present any such disgraceful scheme to the City Council, however. Therefore, if I am not to break my sworn word, I cannot return to Ordunin until the Baron releases me from my vow. This is one reason we must confront him, quite aside from trading concessions or my exile from Skelleth; he must release me. He will release me. He will release me, or I will kill him.'
Garth's voice had gone flat and toneless during this speech, which was a sign of mounting anger among overmen. Galt and Kyrith both noted it, and Kyrith put a hand on her husband's arm, attempting to calm him.
Galt noticed the gesture, and something else caught his eye as well. Koros stood behind its master, and an immense two-handed broadsword, easily six feet in length, was thrust horizontally through the warbeast's harness, along the creature's right flank. A huge red jewel was mounted in the weapon's pommel, and the gem was glowing with an eerie, bloody light of its own.
'Garth,' he said, 'that's an interesting sword there. Where did you get it?'
Garth turned to glance at the sword and froze when he saw the crimson glow. He had been working up to a murderous fury, imagining himself using the sword to impale a cowering, whimpering Baron of Skelleth; visions of blood and fire had been flashing, through his mind. Now, he struggled to suppress those urges.
For a moment he regretted leaving Frima in Saram's care; had she been there, she would probably have warned him sooner.
When he thought he had himself more or less under control, he said, 'I found it in Dыsarra, in a ruined temple. It appears to have some sort of enchantment to it.' He found himself curiously reluctant to speak of it, and therefore did not explain the nature of its power over him and did not mention Bheleu or any other deities.
'It's magical? Is that why it's glowing?' Galt was fascinated; he had heard of magic, but had never before seen any at first hand. He looked more closely. The glow seemed to have dimmed somewhat, but it was still clearly visible.
'Yes'
Galt stepped around the other two, to get a better view of the strange gem.
'Don't touch it!' Garth roared.
Startled, Galt stepped back. 'I wasn't going to.'
Garth was annoyed with himself; there had been no need to bellow at Galt. He was unreasonably touchy about anything having to do with the sword, it seemed; he told himself that he would have to keep that in check. He would also have to get rid of the sword, and quickly; its hold on his emotions seemed to be getting stronger and had been quite dangerous enough before. It would not do to go into a killing frenzy while negotiating with the Baron of Skelleth.
On the other hand, it was a beautiful weapon, a magnificent blade; it would be a very impressive thing to have along during negotiations. He would take it, he decided, and keep himself under careful control. After all, he could not safely leave it lying around untended and he would not trust it in the hands of any of these idiotic volunteers. He would worry about disposing of it after he had settled with the Baron.
He had turned away as he reached this decision and therefore did not see the glow flare up brightly once more. Galt saw the increased brightness, but did not realize it had any significance and said nothing. His attention was distracted from the sword when Garth announced, 'I want the entire company packed up within an hour, so that we will have time to reach the market square and set up camp there before full dark.' Galt turned away to help in breaking camp and paid no more attention to the great sword or the shining jewel.
He had a curious feeling, however, that he was being watched.
Garth had lived with that feeling almost constantly for more than a fortnight and no longer noticed it, but he, too, was slightly troubled. He seemed to sense mingled amusement and triumph without actually feeling either emotion himself.
