Dray is Apushniad. It is common knowledge.”
Vax did not say a word.
“Certainly Pur Drak is the son of this accursed Dray Prescot,” said Trazhan. “But Pur Drak is an honorable man. He is well worthy of the trust of the Krozairs of Zy and the respect of ordinary men.”
That was a clear and chilling reminder that Krozairs were not as ordinary men. Nor are they, by Zair!
Vax did not step forward, and his voice was almost steady, as he said, “And his brother, Pur Zeg?”
“At sea, upholding the glory of Zair for the Brotherhood.”
“Do these two brothers speak of their father?”
I heard a noise and saw that Duhrra had rolled into the High Hall, yawning. He gazed around sleepily, puffy faced.
“They say of him that what has been ordained is just.” Trazhan peered into the shadows at Vax. “Why do you ask?”
Before Vax could answer, I said, “Do these brothers hate their father as much as this young man Vax hates his?”
I own I wanted to stir it a bit, feeling vicious; but at the same time I wanted to know the answer to my question.
Trazhan put his left fist onto his sword-hilt. “Who can say? They do not speak of him to others. He is Apushniad and therefore less than nothing. Now I would like to rest, and-”
“You are, Pur Trazhan,” I said, trying not to sound too cold, “I trust, empowered to stay and fight with us?”
“Well-” he began.
I admit, with only a little shame, that I wanted to hit out. I owed the Krozairs nothing at this time. One of their number was fair game. They had done what they had done to me, and I was going to prove them wrong; but right now I would make this high and mighty Krzy wriggle a trifle. “After all, Pur Trazhan, you have admitted that Zy is not attacked, therefore your duty cannot lie there. Zimuzz is about to fall, and so to go there is useless. Here in Zandikar we successfully resist the cramphs of Grodnims and will never surrender. I would have thought a man’s duties lay here. Particularly if he happened to be a Krozair of Zy.”
He took a half-step, and paused, and peered belligerently into the shadows.
“Who are you, who speaks thus to a Krozair?”
“I am Dak.”
“Dak,” he said. “I think the name is familiar-”
“Oh, there may not be as many Daks as there are Naths and Naghans and Nalgres; but there are a lot of us.” I shot the last words at him like crossbow bolts. “Are you staying or not?”
He swung his head at me, and then looked at Miam.
“Who is this man?”
Before she could speak I took a pace or two forward and planted myself in front of him. I glared at him evilly.
“You may be a Krozair of Zy. But you address the queen of Zandikar in a proper and respectful fashion, or, by Zair, I’ll pull your damned tongue out!”
He wanted to start on me, then and there, but I would have none of it, not with poor Miam looking on distressed, and I backed away and bellowed for everyone to calm down. I finished, “And this great and famous Krozair, this Pur Trazhan, will be happy to stay with us and fight for Zandikar. He will honor his oaths. And, anyway,” I ended with gruesome levity, “we have ample mergem to feed him and his crew.”
After the fuss Trazhan agreed to stay and fight. Of course, poor devil, he could do nothing else. Mind you, I was not altogether happy about his performance. No Krozair I had known, for all we put no great store by kings and queens, would have flung up so brusque a question to a young queen like that. To some fabled Queen of Pain, perhaps. . Maybe standards were lowered in the Krozairs and they were being forced to let in a rabble. I own I can be most arrogant when it comes to those people and institutions in which I put value. But I had, at this time, still to remember I was an outcast, Apushniad. Just before we all left about our business, Queen Miam lifted her hand and we fell silent. She said something that was unnecessary and yet, at the same time, it made me feel warm to her. I figured Zeg would be a lucky fellow.
“This man Dak,” said Queen Miam, “is the heart and soul of the defense of Zandikar.”
While it was not true — well, not altogether — it had a pretty ring. I bowed to her, and from somewhere deep in the bowels of Cottmer’s Caverns, I shouldn’t wonder, I scraped up a smile for her. She smiled back, so I fancy my face indicated some grotesque caricature of a smile.
“We shall hold Zandikar, Queen Miam,” I said.
“I wish to talk to you privately for a crooked mur, Dak.”
By “a crooked mur” Kregans mean a minute or two. We went into the small luxurious room behind the throne where she might doff the heavy robes of state and the crown and mortil-headed staff. When she was clad again in her own simple white gown she shooed out her handmaidens and turned to me, one hand to her breast.
“I wanted to ask you, dear Dak, of your goodness, not to mention that you know Prince Zeg, Pur Zeg, to be Vax’s brother. It is a thing he would not wish known.”
“Why does he not ask me himself?”
“I rather think he does not realize what he has let slip to you as to me. If it is known. . Is this Dray Prescot, then, so terrible a beast?”
I looked at her in the lamplight. She was beautiful. I felt for Zeg, not envying him, but feeling happy for him.
“I think most young men take against their fathers at some time in their lives. When they mature they come to a better understanding — if their fathers are worthy, of course.”
“You do not answer my question.”
“No, Miam, I do not. I do not know. I have heard stories. I think it probable he was unjustly stricken from the Order of Krozairs of Zy. To be made Apushniad is a horrible fate.”
“Oh, yes!”
“He will be your father-in-law. I think you would make any man see reason.”
We passed a few more words, then she said, “And you will remember about Vax and his father?” and I said, “I will,” and we parted.
The name of Dray Prescot, the Lord of Strombor, once Krozair of Zy, could arouse as passionate a response here in Zairia as it inevitably could in Green Grodnim. I had heard more than one old soldier curse and spit and say he wished to Zair that Pur Dray was not Apushniad and could be in the forefront of the battle with his comrades in his accustomed place in the struggle against the rasts of Magdaggians. I was there, although they did not know it. But I wanted the Krozairs to reinstate me, not so that I might fight on for Zair, but so that I might go home to Delia.
A few days after that, as the siege dragged on, Prince Glycas tried a new trick. He must have had the beasts landed from animal-carrying broad ships and driven them up to the walls of the city. The shouts rose as the lookouts bellowed the warning in a misty dawn light. By the time I was up onto my favorite tower, midway along the inland wall, with a fine varter to hand, I could see the mists coiling and rising, emerald and ruby in the mingled streaming light of Antares, see the huge rounded backs of the turiloths as they waddled ponderously on, see the crowding warriors following these mammoth beasts.
“Turiloths! Turiloths!” the cries racketed about.
Archers began to shoot. Their shafts simply bounced off the hard gray upper hide. The turiloth’s hide altered in color to a dark bottle-green along the sides and a grayish streak ran along the belly. Sixteen legs has a turiloth, with six tusks and a tendrilous mass of whiplash tails, a veritable forest of Kataki tails at his rear. He has an enormous underslung mouth equipped with suitable fangery, and he is keen scented and he has three hearts. If this description sounds familiar, I assure you it is; the turiloth of Turismond is very similar to the boloth of Chem. I had fought a boloth on a notable occasion in the arena. Now we had twenty of these gigantic beasts plodding along to smash down the gates of Zandikar and let the swarm of warriors in to an orgy of destruction.
A paktun near me screamed, “All is lost! We are doomed! Doomed!” He scrambled madly down the tower, running away. The panic spread.
