swain.'
'You're as beautiful as ever, my love, Safar murmured. Only a little weak from your ordeal.'
'You always did lie so sweetly, Safar, Methydia said. But it isn't the time for sugary words. There's no getting around itI'm dying.'
Safar clutched her hand tighter. I won't let you! he cried. But as he said it he could feel her slipping away. Stay with me, Methydia! he begged. I'll send for all the healers. I'll make a spell with them, a spell so strong not even the gods themselves could thwart me.'
She smiled and he felt her rally, but faint, so faint.
'Let me tell you a secret, my sweet Safar, she said. The gods aren't listening. They aren't listening now. And they haven't been listening for a long time. I know this because I'm so close to death I can see into the Otherworlds.
'And do you know what I see?'
'What? Safar asked, voice quivering.
'The gods are asleep! So deep in their slumber that not even a thousand times a thousand voices lifted at once could raise them.'
Safar thought she was raving and he kissed her, murmuring, Nonsense, Methydia. It's only a fever dream you see, not the Otherworlds.'
'I wish it were, Methydia said. I wish it were.'
Suddenly her eyes grew wider and she struggled to sit up. Safar gently pressed her down, begging her to be still.
'Listen to me, Safar! she cried.
'I'm listening, Methydia, Safar answered.
'Only you can wake the gods, Safar, she said. Only you!'
'Certainly, my love, Safar said. I'll do it as soon as you're well again. We'll wake them together.'
'I'm not mad, she said, suddenly stern and with such strength it surprised him. I'm only dying. So don't argue with a dead woman. It isn't polite. Now listen to me! Are you listening?'
'Yes, Methydia, Safar said.
'You mustn't hate Protarus for what was done to me, she said. It was an accident of war, nothing more. Promise me you won't hate him!'
'I promise, Safar said.
'Good. Now I want another promise from you.'
'Anything, my love. Anything at all.'
'Go with him. Go with Protarus. Help him. It's the only way!'
'Don't ask that of me, Methydia, Safar begged. Please! Too many people are suffering.'
'Ease their suffering if you can, she said. But help Protarus get his throne. The throne isn't important. It's only the first step. Protarus isn't important. He's only on the road you must follow. I don't know what's at the end of that road. But you'll know what to do when you get there.
'You'll know, my sweet Safar. You'll know.'
'Please, Methydia, Safar said.
'Do you promise me, Safar Timura? Do you promise?'
'I can't, Safar said.
Methydia gripped his hand, squeezing as tight as she could. Putting her all her will and remaining strength in that grip.
'Promise me! she insisted.
'Very well, Safar cried, I promise! Just don't leave me!'
Her hand went limp. Safar looked at her, tears blurring his vision.
There was a smile on her face.
An awful wailing filled the tent as the shock sank in and the other entertainers shouted their grief.
Methydia was dead.
Safar remembered Biner's words long ago when they'd first met:
'Damn everything but the circus!'
And now that circus was no more.
Safar hurried through the encampment, roughly pushing aside anyone who got in his way. Iraj wasn't at his tent headquarters. Safar snarled at a general for directions and his manner was so fierce the scarred veteran of many wars blurted the answer as if he were green stripling.
Safar found Iraj sitting on his traveling throne, which had been moved to a point about halfway down the hillside overlooking Sampitay. On either side of the throne two tall sharpened stakes had been driven into the ground.
Queen Arma's head was mounted on one stake, Prince Crol's on the other.
At the bottom of the hill long lines of the condemned were being herded to the execution blocks. Posts had been erected just beyond and naked men were tied to those posts, screeching in agony while gleeful soldiers tormented them with spears.
Iraj was surrounded by his royal guard and when some of the women saw Safar's manner they drew their swords and stepped in his way.
'Let him through, Iraj commanded.
Reluctantly they parted but they held their swords at ready.
Iraj was grim, face as pale and bloodless as Methydia's had been. He signaled his women to move farther away.
'Give us some privacy, he barked.
The women pulled back, but they weren't happy about it.
'Why did you come here, Safar? he asked. This isn't something that's necessary for you to see.'
'I want to ask a favor of you, Iraj, Safar said.
Iraj stirred, irritated. Can't it wait? This is hardly the time or place.'
Then he, too, took note of Safar's expression. What is it, my friend? What has happened?'
Safar shook his head, too overcome to answer.
Then sad understanding dawned in Iraj's eyes. Ah, I see. Your woman died, is that it?'
'Yes.'
'And you loved her?'
'Yes.'
'I'm sorry for that. I hope you don't hate me for it.'
'No.'
'It was an accident of war.'
'Methydia said the same thing before she died.'
'A wise woman.'
'She was that.'
Iraj searched Safar's face, then asked, What is it you want from me? What can I do to ease your pain?'
Safar pointed at the awful scene below. Spare them, he said.
Iraj gave him a strange look.
'Let me explain why this would be good for you, Safar said.
Iraj shook his head. You don't need to explain your reasons to me. You asked a boon. You shall have it. Freely given and without hesitation.
'After all, that is our agreement. Our blood oath pledge to each other.'
Iraj shouted for his aides and they came running up to him. Release these people, he commanded. Return them to their homes.'
'But, Majesty, one of the aides protested. What of their defiance? We must make an example of people like this.'
