The Gods Awaken

onto her royal litter. All the gilded decorations had been daubed with lampblack so they wouldn't glitter if struck by a chance beam of light.

'That's my favorite litter,' she complained to Rhodes. 'And now you've ruined it with your stupid soldier tricks. You're going to have to commission me another one when we return home.'

'You're the only one of us who's not walking, mother,' Rhodes pointed out. He'd left all the horses behind for transport after the siege was in place. 'You're the one who insisted on bringing your litter along. Plus six useless slaves to carry you!'

Clayre sniffed. 'Some people would think you'd show more gratitude to me,' she said. 'After all, it's my magic, not your precious army, that will defeat Safar Timura.'

Kalasariz knew hand that she spoke the truth. Clayre had spent hours with the Lady Lottyr casting spell after spell to pave the way for the battle.

He whispered from within : Please, Majesty. Promise her anything to shut her up! You're nevergoing to have to deliver, remember?

Rhodes took the advice. Sighing, he said, 'Very well, mother. You'll get your new litter as soon as we return home.'

'Nothing shabby, now,' Clayre warned. 'You know how tight-fisted you can be.'

'Spend what you like,' Rhodes said. 'I'll give you a blank warrant on the treasury.'

Clayre's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Rhodes realized he'd gone too far. 'But half the cost will have to come out of your allowance,' he hastened to say. 'So don't go wild with the design.'

Clayre's suspicions vanished. Rhodesa€™ caveat was much more in character. For a flickering moment she'd wondered if her son had matricide on his mind. But on reflection, that didn't make any sense. To be sure, Rhodes had no love for her. Just as she had none for him. However, they did need each other. One held the hereditary crown, the other the magical means to secure it.

'Don't cheapen your gift by bargaining with me about its price,' Clayre said. 'I'll pay ten per cent, no more.'

'Twenty,' Rhodes said.

Clayre shook her head sadly. 'You are so mean-spirited,' she said. 'Just like your father. But for the sake of family peace, I'll agree.'

The Queen Witch had her own murderous designs. She'd discussed her hateful son with Lottyr, who had promised to aid her when the battle with Safar Timura was won. Further lessening her suspicion was her own good mood: Many magical tricks had been planned to confound the great Safar Timura.

All she had to do was bear with this barbarian lout who called himself her son for another day at the most, and then the tables would be turned once and for all!

Through the king's eyes, Kalasariz observed Clayre's shifting moods. He knew what she was thinking.

He'd had his own private discussions with the Goddess Lottyr and was well aware of the Queen Witch's plans and the agreement she'd made with Lottyr.

But what neither she nor Rhodes realized was the Goddess had ambitions of her own. Ambitions that only Kalasariz could satisfy at this most historic moment.

He laughed to himself, thinking how surprised Rhodes and Clayre would be when they joined Fari and Luka in his belly.

Then he had only to capture Iraj and he'd no longer be the power behind thrones, but the throne itself.

King of Kings. Lord and master of Lottyr's worldly realm. For a single, spine-chilling moment he recalled an old Esmirian saying he had once been fond of quoting: 'The deadliest poison ever made came from a king's laurel crown.'

But then he dismissed this once-favored saying as nonsense. It was only a thing he used to repeat to soothe his pride when Esmir was ruled by fools like Iraj Protarus.

And as Rhodes massed his troops and organized his siege engineers the spymaster dreamed of powers he'd never held before.

Forgetting another most pertinent Esmirian saying: 'When the king's spy plots his own coronation, he must first conspire against himself.'

* * * *

In the Castle of the Two Kings, Safar's warning of impending doom shook Iraj from his kingly posturing.

A man of many flaws, he'd been momentarily overcome by his weaknesses.

After a long time of being denied even a human body, he'd reveled in his power over women. Never mind that Leiria believed he was Safar-and it was Safar whom she loved-he'd been anxious to master her with his lust. Never mind that Queen Yorlain thought him her handsome savior, he'd been overcome by the idea of adding another queenly notch to his bedstead.

Once he'd been a man-a princely warrior of the Great Plains-whose very smile and ardent looks could bring women into his bed like nubile mares trotting over the hills to the wild stallion's trumpeting call.

Then he'd been a shapechanger, a creature bound by an evil spell, whose lust could only be slaked by murder and blood. As a great wolf he'd delighted in the carnage of the harem of victims he'd kept. But in those rare moments when his human side had crept in, he'd despaired at all the torment he'd caused.

And yes, on occasion he'd even condemned himself for his betrayal of Safar, his blood brother and friend. But those moments were so rare, so fleeting, that they were easily replaced by rationalizations that it was Safar who was the betrayer, not him.

The saintly Safar who claimed that he never wanted anything but to save the world from itself. The lucky Safar, whose encounters with women had always been marked by a deep friendship and love that had always been denied Iraj.

Nerisa, the little thief who had stolen a great treasure for Safar, only to die at Iraj's orders. Methydia, the beautiful witch who had doted on Safar, only to be slain by one of Iraj's soldiers. And then Leiria-fantastic, lovely Leiria-who had once belonged in the literal sense to Iraj. But he'd given her away to Safar on a whim of false friendship and now she loathed her former master and thought only of Safar.

Thoughts of revenge flooded in. He couldn't kill Safar without taking his own life. But he could make him suffer for past wrongs. Just for starters, he'd torment Leiria by seducing the queen, making her think her lover had betrayed her with another. Next he'd seduce Leiria, then cast her out like scraps from the table.

Deep in his nest, Safar also brooded angrily over past wrongs. He too schemed of ways to strike back at Iraj. His anger was so great that he even considered black spells that would burn Protarus to the core.

Only the fact that he would suffer too stayed Safar's hand.

Then he realized that Iraj's madness was stirring up a poisonous froth of bodily juices that were affecting him dangerously and might very well drive Safar over the edge as well.

He had to calm down. He had to focus on the tasks ahead-the least important of which was to free himself from Iraj's prison.

And that moment must wait until after he had confronted the Hells awaiting him in the Goddess Lottyr's machine.

Gundara said, 'It isn't Lord Timura, Little Master!'

And Gundaree added, 'Well, it is Lord Timura, but it's not exactly him.'

Palimak frowned. 'What in the Hells are you two talking about?'

Gundara said, 'It's kind of difficult to explain, Little Master. See, somehow Iraj Protarus got inside your father's body. We think he was hiding there and maybe even Lord Timura didn't know. For a while, anyway.'

'But then your father went blind,' Gundaree came in, 'and he needed King Protarus so that he could see and so your father let him out. And now your father's trapped inside his own body and Protarus is in control of everything!'

'We're just guessing about the blind part,' Gundara added.

'But it's a pretty good guess,' Gundaree said. 'Like always.'

Palimak considered. Although what the two Favorites had said was very strange, if you assumed their guess was right many things started to make sense.

Like his own perceptions of wrongness about his father, including the odd change in his hair coloring from dark to streaks of gold. If Iraj, who was a blond, had made himself into a magical parasite inside Safar, might not