As Krozairs of Zy, Drak and Zeg would attend. Delia said, simply, “I’m not letting you out of my sight again, and you needn’t think otherwise.”
I gave orders that resulted in a disheveled, bloody, swearing Grogor being brought in and dumped down, all messy and filthy, before me. “Jiktar Grogor!” I said and his head snapped up. “You will do a certain thing for me, or, by Zair, you’ll find out where our lord Gafard has gone!”
“Gadak-?”
He shook his head, stunned, when he was told.
So we took our fleet of skyships off to Zy. Seg and Inch had simply stolen the huge vessels. What the emperor would say did not worry them. He had been mean with Drak, saying that what consequence was it to him of a struggle in some distant and forgotten sea around the world? I promised to sort him out when we returned to Vallia. And before I could do that the Apushniad must be removed. I recalled the scarlet and golden Gdoinye, and the white Savanti dove. Vast forces moved behind the scenes here, supernatural powers that sought to control our lives, and I felt a hint of evasiveness, a suggestion of a lack of full control. I wanted to see Zena Iztar again; but she made no occult appearance. And so we flew to Zy.
You may well imagine the carryings-on in the skyships as our old friends rejoiced. It had been a long time. The news! The events that had passed on Kregen — well, all will be told in due time, as they fit into the jigsaw of motives and events of my life on Kregen under the Suns of Scorpio. The Krozairs of Zy had been apprised of our coming and awaited us in the Outer Hall, for so many with me were not Krozairs. Pur Kazz, the Grand Archbold, sat on the Ombor Throne, for that was proper. The Krozairs sat ranked in their stalls along one side and my people sat on the other. If it came to a fight I would not like to predict the outcome. I most certainly felt torn. But a few four- armed Djangs, and Hap’s Clansmen, and the Archers of Valka, and the Blue Mountain Boys, and — well, the Krozairs of Zy are renowned warriors, and I feel that had we come to handstrokes a Kregan Gotterdammerung would have ensued. Pride is a fearful thing. I determined to remain cool. It was a good intention. Pur Zenkiren, vastly recovered and almost back to his old self, greeted me kindly. “Pur Kazz is sick, Dray. He has ordered certain things that I, for one, cannot approve of. I think you may find support — if your cause is just.”
“I did not answer the Call because I was unable to do so. I take my vows as a Krzy far too seriously to lie about them. I was not able to answer the Call, and after I have told Delia, you will be the first to hear what, I fear, you may not believe.”
Then he said something that rocked me.
“I have talked with Zena Iztar. She is a remarkable woman. She tells me she works for Zair.”
I gaped at him like any onker. He went on quickly to tell me that Zena Iztar confirmed my inability to answer the Azhurad. From what he said I understood he did not know the full extent of Zena Iztar’s supernatural powers — that I had not been on Kregen at the time of the Call. But he was fully aware that some of the mysticism of the Krozairs — of which I do not speak — had revealed itself. The adjudicator sat on his throne. Pur Kazz, on the Ombor Throne — the genuine one moved here, for there is only the one — leaned over and spoke to the adjudicator and the proceedings opened.
‘This is a preliminary hearing,” said the adjudicator. Well, of course. The Krzy would not settle so important a matter with so many non-Krozairs present. If I could win here, then the final hearing in the Hall of Judgment should also be won. But not necessarily. The case was put afresh.
“You, Dray Prescot, Apushniad, stand condemned on two counts. It is known that it is impossible for a living Brother not to hear the Call. If you did hear and did not come, you stand condemned. If you did not hear, you were never fully a Krzy, you were never pure enough of spirit, your ib remained befouled, and you stand very properly condemned Apushniad.”
“Ib-befoulment cannot be proved against me. I have worked for Zair. There are witnesses.” I detested this crawling and pleading; but I wanted to go home. “I pretended to turn renegade and serve the vile Grodnims and their evil Grodno. Thus in the end perished this Zair-forsaken king Genod.”
“All that is very well!” screeched down Pur Kazz. I glared at him. I felt very differently from the dazed wretch who had stood under his enmity in the Hall of Judgment. The terrible scar down his face drew his mouth into a cruel grimace. His eyes gleamed in the lamplight like two feral leem’s eyes. I felt sorry for him. But if he stopped me, as he apparently still intended, I must deal with him. Once, he had been a fine Krzy. “You are condemned and no man here will alter that. I will not allow it, not allow such blasphemy.”
His voice rose still higher, screeching like steel across metal, and he lapsed into an unintelligible screech. I believe at that point I realized I would win this just fight.
I will not go into all the tortuous arguments. Casuistry is a high art among the Krozairs. I based my claim on deeds open to all. I offered the instance of the clearing of the Grodnims from the southern shore, a process still proceeding but all too plainly about to finalize successfully for the Zairians.
“Impious braggart!” shouted Kazz. “You claim this great work is your doing, when the thanks go to Zair?”
“I helped,” I said. I heard the growls from my people and I hoped they wouldn’t break out. At least, not yet.
Pur Zenkiren said, “I speak for the Apushniad. He has accomplished much. I would give him the High Jikai!”
“Aye!” bellowed my people. “Dray Prescot! Hai Jikai!”
“If they do not behave they will be ejected,” snarled Kazz.
Of them all it had to be Korf Aighos who laughed. I wondered how much loot he had stuffed into his sacks, the great reiver.
The arguments went on. It was becoming clear to all that Pur Kazz, while still retaining his mystical authority as Grand Archbold, was in very truth a sick man. The wound across his face had driven deep into his mind as well as his body. And yet he was the Grand Archbold, and he owed the allegiance of the Krozairs for his position, and his near-divine ordinances must be obeyed. No one there would cross him. I detested, as I say, what I was slowly being forced to do. In good times a maniacal Grand Archbold may be tolerated. But in times of war and stress, a man is needed at the helm who may hold total affection from Krozairs as well as total authority. Krozairs may not be driven by the whip, to shouts of
“Grak.”
So I began a new tack in the arguments. I reiterated that I had been unable to answer the Call, and then went on subtly to gnaw away at the position of Pur Kazz himself. I cited his rages, his incoherences. I said that Pur Zenkiren through his great knowledge of the Mysteries knew I spoke the truth, that all who knew the truth knew I did not lie. The Krozairs remained very quiet. My people, too, remained reasonably quiet.
I said, harshly, “Pur Kazz has been wounded. The sword that struck his face struck through to his ib. He is no longer one of us. He is Makib! Makib! He is unfit to hold the high office! The supreme man who should have held the high office of Grand Archbold was foisted off, was betrayed. Now he should receive the high due he deserves. It is Pur Zenkiren who should be Grand Archbold!”
My people were not slow to take up the call, and the yells of Pur Zenkiren for Grand Archbold racketed out as though we shouted for our favorite riders in the zorca races. Pur Zenkiren flung me a startled look. He stood up and somehow silence returned.
“It is not fitting that such grave matters be discussed in the Outer Hall. These are weighty things. You speak aright, Dray Prescot, and yet I will not speak for myself.”
At this Pur Kazz foamed and raved and tried to speak and only produced an eerie gargling. The poor devil was mad, right enough; Makib; insane through no fault of his. But he was not the man to hold down the supreme post of Grand Archbold. The other Krozairs saw this, and yet could do nothing. So Pur Kazz and I fronted each other.
I just hoped none of my men would shaft the onker.
The final stroke seized him as the adjudicator, alarmed, rose to suspend the proceedings. Pur Kazz, foam around his mouth like the foam as a chunkrah runs itself to death, flopped over the side of the Ombor Throne. He was dying as his aides reached him. In a last moment of lucidity, he said, “Krozair! I am a Krozair of Zy!” Then he died, and, despite all, I was sorry for the poor devil. After that we adjourned to the Hall of Judgment, where only Krozair Brothers might venture. I will not detail the events there, for, although I was in the right, the means I had used to prove my point did not exactly make me feel pride. In the event, Pur Zenkiren was unanimously elected Grand Archbold, and I was purged of the Apushniad. Once again I was a Krozair of Zy. Then I set forth my son Jaidur, Jaidur of Valka, Prince of Vallia, also known as Vax Neemusbane, for election. He had completed his training.
