failures following a lost fight. Indeed, he had never been beaten before, though in his time he had battled a half dozen bull ogres at once.
It was that axe! He remembered the fire that had exploded before his eyes, dazzling him, filling him with wonder. The brilliant golden-edged blade had been the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, a miracle that warmed his soul and entranced him. He had been consumed by such a sense of awe that he had gone weak in the knees just from the sight. That weakness had been enough to doom him.
Or was he doomed? With a little more determination, he wiggled around, realizing that his arm, though wrenched, was not broken. Using all of his strength, he pushed on the walls to either side and ever so slowly began to inch upward. After ten minutes he had climbed out of the narrow choke point that had pinned him and was able to support himself with his legs widespread, massive feet braced one on either side of the chasm.
He looked upward. The crevasse was not terribly wide, and he wondered if he might be able to brace himself like this all the way to the top. Grimly he pushed, lifting himself another few inches before he had to shift his feet to new perches. Now he knew he was not trapped here, not doomed.
He chuckled, a rumble echoing through the deep chasm. The chuckle boded well for him and ill for those who had left him here. He would climb out of here and go after them. It was his duty, of course, and he would not let himself fail. He had another secret reason as well. He absolutely
15
Experience had taught Stariz ber Bane that in the most secret matters of the human heart-that is, the insatiable desire for freedom-normal procedures of intelligence gathering rarely applied. Slaves who were inclined to gossip casually about trysts and alliances, who would gladly discuss thievery and betrayal in matters of lust or greed, became unreasonably tight-lipped when it came to matters of rebellion. Even bribery or torture was of little use once they clamped their mouths shut.
Thus, neither bribery nor torture was the favored tactic of the high priestess as she sought to investigate the sedition in the Nobles’ Market. Oh, certainly Garnet Dane, with his wily ways, might be able to discover a useful bit of knowledge, perhaps even a name, but when it came to learning the full truth behind such a movement, the queen of Suderhold would have to put her trust in a higher source.
Besides, she had a more important use in mind for her spy. The time was near for that crucial task, and she did not want him distracted by mundane matters.
She would pray. Her acolytes, young ogresses sworn to the service of the Willful One, came forward with her tall mask and her sleek black robes. She stood still while they climbed up onto stools around all sides of her. Two of them lowered the obsidian visage over her head, until the comfortable weight rested upon the queen’s square shoulders. She could barely see through the narrow eye slits of the mask, but it was not her eyes that would serve her best now. When she felt the fullness of the robes draped from her back and her bodice, the smooth wool rustling against the skin of her arms, she was ready.
The acolytes withdrew silently, except for one who tripped and dropped a stool. Stariz stiffened but didn’t turn. The others would identify the clumsy wench, and the high priestess would deal with her later. Instead, she fought for a return to the focus and serenity that had accompanied her donning of the ceremonial garb. Soon she was breathing deeply, seeing only slits of firelight through the mask, but aware of so much more beyond her clothing, beyond the room, the realm, and the world.
She advanced with measured steps, feeling the rumble in the floor as the great door to the inner sanctum rolled to the side. Her strides remained steady as she continued forward, until finally she stopped before the massive black statue that was, in Winterheim, the physical representation of her mighty god. Her heart filled with awe and devotion for her mighty god.
The image of that great bull ogre, carved from shiny black stone and rising more than twenty feet high, loomed in her mind. She imagined the stony eyes turning down to look at her, and she perceived the curiosity, the strength there. More than that, she knew her god was pleased with her, and she silently, solemnly pledged that he would always be pleased with her.
“O Great Gonnas,” she began, “Willful Master of this humble ogress, may it please you to open my eyes and my ears, to fill my senses with the knowledge that will protect your people from the basest of threats.”
With great dignity she slowly knelt on the floor, relishing the feel of the smooth stone against her knees. Carefully she leaned forward to brace herself on her hands. The mask, with its formed shoulder brace, rested firmly over her head as she lowered herself to lie flat upon the floor.
“Please give me a sign, O my Great Lord … a sign that I may use to work against those who seek to do your people harm. Let me know where I may find them, how I may know them.… I will do the rest in your name.”
She lay still, her face pressed to the floor, her vision nothing but blackness. Gradually, however, this impenetrable veil became shot through with stabs of light, flashes that originated in the center of her mind and seemed to radiate outward in pulsing and brilliant waves.
“You are real, O Willful One, and I feel your strength,” murmured the high priest.
The lights pulsed brighter, swirling now, remaining within the confines of her awareness instead of blasting away into nothingness. The flashes merged into a whole, a whirling image of white, and the high priestess held her breath, sensing that revelation approached.
Fear stabbed through her bosom, her guts, her loins-fear of powerlessness, of failure. She was pierced by the knowledge that her king was trying to abandon her, that he would try to escape her-and that if he did, she was finished. This was a warning, clear and direct from her deity. Her worst fears would be realized if she did not do something drastic.
Yes, indeed, it was time for Garnet Dane to perform his task.
She was prepared to rise, to put her plan into motion, but she felt the pressure of the Willful One’s presence forcing her back down for another message. She lay flat again and opened herself to communication with her god. At once she saw there was more to this vision.
She fought for the serenity, the clarity to understand. At last, there it was: an image as clear in detail as it was murky in meaning. Stariz studied that picture, memorizing every detail, unconcerned with the fact that she didn’t, as yet, understand. Full knowledge would come later after she had time to digest and analyze the vision bestowed upon her by her god.
When the image faded at last, once again leaving utter blackness, she remained prostrate for a long time, breathing slowly, reflecting, remembering. At last she pushed herself to her feet, and walking somewhat shakily, she withdrew toward the door that rumbled open to allow her egress. She stood alert without speaking, puzzling over the image she had seen.
She knew what to do about the matter of the king; that plan needed only one final command. As to the rebels, perhaps she would consult with her husband about this matter, for the significance of the sign continued to elude her. She knew there was truth there, but what? How?
Why had her god shown her an image of a dozen blocks of salt?
Grimwar Bane made his way back into his apartment, grateful that Stariz was gone. He allowed his slaves to disrobe him and draw him a bath, and as soon as it was ready he settled into the steaming water, allowing the warmth to soak into his body. He left instructions with his two bodyguards to guard the door and prevent him from being disturbed, even if it meant angering the queen herself.
He thought about Thraid, shaking his head in amazement. He had told her only yesterday about his intentions to send Stariz away. Her delight had been thrilling and her gratitude so intense that he had been left weak in the knees. In those moments of ecstacy the king saw beyond any doubt that he was making the right decision. He had promised to return to her tomorrow, as soon as he could get away, and already he was anticipating that delightful encounter.
The matter of explaining this new reality to Stariz was an unpleasant detail that he would continue to
