The Gods Awaken

Methydia's death and he had used her to soothe his grief.

What a sin that had been. Even though she'd whispered to him during their embraces that she didn't mind if he was thinking of another.

Regret upon regret as he recalled what a friend she had become. Sacrificing everything to save him from Iraj. Not once displaying jealousy about Methydia, nor especially about Nerisa, the little Walarian thief who had grown into the love of his life.

What had been wrong with him? Why hadn't he realized that Leiria was above all others?

Such a sin. Such a sin. So extreme the gods would never forgive him.

And then he thought, but the gods are dead!

And that was followed by-Every woman I've ever loved suffered tragically for knowing me.

I'm not worthy.

This is why I've been condemned to dance eternally to the deadly music of Hadin.

And then he feared that at any moment he would suddenly hear the harvest drums resume their throbbing and once again the wild spellsong would compel him to dance, dance, dance. Palms slapping naked chest. Bare feet pounding the sand. On and on while a thousand others danced beside him. The beautiful harvest queen leading them on.

And the volcano ready to erupt!

But after a while, when nothing happened, he dared to wonder if somehow the cycle had been broken.

Then one day the stranger who looked like Palimak bent over Safar, pressing cool cloths on his forehead. The smell of healing incense tickling his nose. The stranger whispered words of affection, asking if there was anything he required.

He tried to speak, but his lips were numb. There was something very important he needed to say. But the words wouldn't come.

The stranger said, 'What is it, father? What do you require?'

Maybe this was Palimak. Although it seemed unlikely, because the Palimak he remembered had been quite small. But the terrible yearning in his heart pushed him past these doubts.

So he answered, 'Khysmet! Where is Khysmet?'

And he lapsed back into unconsciousness.

The Council of Elders had not met for several years. In fact, the last time they'd been together had been in Esmir when Safar had cajoled them into entering the Blacklands. For a long time, dire circumstances-such as a dead run to escape Iraj Protarus-had prevented such a gathering of Kyrania's most prominent men.

An attempt had been made to bring that traditional ruling body together after they'd landed on Syrapis, but Palimak had blocked it. A youthful witness to their endless, and, in his view, foolish debates, he'd decided to dispense with that form of village government the first time the question had arisen.

Supported by Coralean, that canny old caravan master, as well as by Leiria and the other members of the Kyranian army, he'd not so gently pushed them aside. Forming instead a loose counsel of advisers, which included Biner, Arlain and the other members of the circus troupe.

Constant warfare, plus an unbroken string of victories, had kept the Elders quiet. These men-who'd once tried to exile Safar and Palimak-held little standing with the other villagers. And those who had occasionally dared to contest Palimak's will had found themselves in a very small minority.

Once in a great while Palimak had even used the force of magic to compel the Elders to obey his commands. Actually, it wasn't so much obedience as a sudden, magically induced desire on their part to follow where he led.

At first he'd been ashamed of these tricks. His father had drummed into him the value of village democracy, where all views were accounted for and compromises made. On the other hand, when he and Safar had separated in Caluz, another message had been delivered. It was up to Palimak, his father had said, to lead the Kyranians to safety while he remained behind to confront Iraj.

And when Palimak had pleadingly asked what he should do if they refused, Safar had answered harshly,

'Then make them!'

So that was what he had done, from that moment on the Esmirian shores of the Great Sea when they had all demanded to wait for Safar's return. And Palimak, believing his father dead, had cast the greatest spell of his young life, forcing them to wait no longer and flee to Syrapis.

Since then his guilt had subsided. Now he had become accustomed to being their prince. Practically a king- although never in the history of Kyrania had its people been ruled by royalty. So when Foron, the chief of the Elders, had come to him demanding a meeting, he'd been quite irritated. Who needed these stupid old men?

But what could he do when even his grandfather, Khadji, supported Foron's request?

And so three days after they'd borne the ailing Safar to New Kyrania, Palimak convened the Council of Elders to let them have their say.

He'd expected only long windy speeches praising their native son Safar Timura and welcoming his return to the bosom of his people. Perhaps a declaration of a special feast day to celebrate it.

But that was not how it had turned out.

Masura, leader of the loyal opposition, spoke first. 'I'm a blunt man,' he said, 'so I won't shilly-shally around the point. Which is this: The miraculous return of our beloved Safar Timura-your stepfather

– proves what I have always suspected. That you have been lying to us all along!'

The young man made note of the way Masura underscored Palimak's questionable status as Safar's adopted son. He reflected briefly on Masura's hypocrisy; this man had not only opposed Safar but had been the leader of the group trying to exile him.

'I really think we should use words that aren't so incendiary,' Foron said, in minor admonishment.

'Accusations of lying are a bit strong, if you ask me.'

Palimak said nothing, only raising an eyebrow at Foron's weak defense. In the past he'd always been a strong supporter of the Timuras and certainly no friend of Masura.

Then Foron turned his gaze on Palimak. 'However, in Masura's defense,' he said, 'I must admit there is understandable concern about certain things.'

'Such as?' Palimak asked.

'You told us he was dead!' Masura accused, voice shaking with emotion. 'You convinced us to abandon him in Esmir. Lies! All lies, which has now been proven!'

Palimak glanced at Khadji, expecting some support from his grandfather. To his dismay, he saw the old man nod in sad agreement.

'It's true, my grandson,' Khadji said. 'We all protested. But you insisted.'

'And that's another thing,' Masura broke in. 'Why was it that a boy was able to insist on anything? And why did we just nod our heads and shuffle on board the ships, leaving our beloved Safar behind?'

'You didn't leave him behind,' Palimak pointed out. 'We found him here in Syrapis. I found him, actually.

So you have no point.'

'It was the work of some devil,' Masura insisted. 'I just know it was. How else do you explain your …

unusual … influence over us. You wave a hand and everyone does your bidding.'

He leaned closer, face dramatically lit by the traditional council fire. 'Perhaps I spoke in error,' he said, a wide sneer greasing his face. 'Maybe it wasn't some devil's work-but a demon's work!'

He glanced around at the others, smiling grimly when he saw they had taken his point-Palimak's status as a half-breed.

'I say there should be an investigation,' he said. 'A special committee appointed by the Council of Elders to decide once and for all if this … this … demon's spawn … has possessed us. To make us do terrible things, such as abandon our dear friend, Safar Timura.'

'That's not unreasonable,' Foron agreed. 'Eliminating certain insulting terms, of course. Such as a€?demon's spawn.a€™ Palimak is one of us, despite his background. We should treat him as such.'

'He's a good boy,' Khadji said. 'He's always been a good boy. I can attest to that.' The he sighed.

'However, there are certain questions I have myself.'