There was something in his manner — his voice, his posture — that reeked of menace. Backing up a step, Amero reminded himself of all the good services Pa’alu had rendered to the village and to Karada’s band.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked lightly.
“Here and there. Hunting. Watching.”
Amero had the distinct feeling he’d found a viper sunning on a rock, and his questions were as welcome as poking the serpent with a stick.
“We’ve missed you,” he said, choosing his wording carefully.
“Who? You? Karada?”
“All of us, I’d say.”
Pa’alu picked at the moss growing in the chinks between the stones. “Where is the dragon?” he asked.
Amero’s eyes darted around, searching for a convenient way out of this conversation. “Gone for a day, looking around. He does that.”
“And Karada?”
“She’s at the harvest.”
Amero heard movement behind him, but before he could react, he was thrown facedown to the ground. A knee pressed hard into the small of his back, and his wrists were secured by a long strip of rawhide. His captors rolled him over on his back. Glare blinded him until Pa’alu stepped over him, blocking out the sun.
“What’s this? Let me go, Pa’alu!”
“I thought you were clever,” Pa’alu replied coldly. “This place, this village of yours is full of clever things. But you’re stupid and blind.” He knelt and cupped his hands together. “I put her in your hands, and you never even realized it.”
“What are you talking about?” Amero demanded.
At a nod from Pa’alu, his companions hauled Amero to his feet. They were Hatu and Nacris. He was stunned to see these three working together. There were footholds on the backside of the rock pile, and using them, Hatu swiftly climbed atop the cairn. Pa’alu and Nacris boosted Amero up, and Hatu dragged him onto the stone platform. The depression in the center of the cairn, where Duranix’s oxen or elk usually lay, was filled with dry kindling and windfall wood. The sight filled Amero with horror. They wouldn’t -
Pa’alu climbed onto the cairn and stood over the helpless Amero. “It’s my turn to make an offering,” he said. “Too bad the dragon isn’t here to appreciate it.”
“You waited for Duranix to leave!”
“Yearling bucks can do little when the bull is with the herd.” He strained against the rawhide restraints and tried to get to his feet. Pa’alu calmly kicked him in the ribs. Gasping, Amero lay still.
To the others Pa’alu said, “It’s done. Tell the rest.”
Hatu climbed down and ran toward the bridge, the only way to the gardens across the lake. Nacris ran away too, but doubled back among the houses until she was within a few paces of the cairn. She hid in the shadows and kept her eye on the erect figure of Pa’alu, standing atop the dragon’s altar.
Slowly, his agony faded, and Amero was able to breathe again. He avoided moving too much, lest he provoke more punishment from his captor.
“Pa’alu, may I speak?” he said.
“Say what you will.”
“Let me go, Pa’alu. I don’t know what ill you think I’ve done you, but you’re wrong. I’ve done nothing knowingly to injure you. You must believe me!”
The plainsman’s face was as hard and empty as the high peaks around them. “I don’t do this on a whim, Arkuden. I’ve had many days and nights to think about it. I’ve been kicked about by chiefs and great ones with no more thought than if I were a pine cone — Karada, Duranix, Greengall, the elf priest, you. You’ve all made me do things I never wanted to do, but that’s over now.”
He’s mad, Amero thought in horror. Nianki’s insanity had passed from her to him.
Striving for a calm, reasoned tone, Amero said, “What did I do, Pa’alu? How did I hurt you?”
“You were given a great gift, and you scorned it. It’s true I didn’t mean for you to have it, but have it you did, and you turned your back on it.”
“Please,” said Amero. “I don’t understand. Tell me what this gift is.”
“Karada’s love.”
Amero heard the words, but couldn’t fathom them. Of course he had his sister’s love — why wouldn’t he? He didn’t want to challenge a madman in his delusions, but he didn’t understand at all. He was afraid there wasn’t anything to understand, that Pa’alu was simply crazed, and no amount of reasoning could bring light to the dark pit of his mind.
“I love my sister,” he said. “I know you care for her too, and she won’t have you.”
“Karada’s an idiot,” Pa’alu replied. “She thought love made a person weak. Then the amulet showed her how love felt, and you didn’t even notice!”
“Amulet?”
Before Amero could explore the puzzle of the unfamiliar word, the noise of an approaching crowd came to their ears. Pa’alu pulled a resinous pine branch out of the pile of wood and set to work lighting it with a flint. Horror washed over Amero.
“Pa’alu!” he said desperately. “What do you mean? What’s an amulet?”
Once the pine branch was flaming, Pa’alu sat down on the edge of the platform, letting his legs dangle over the side. He looked down at Amero.
“Not so clever, are you? An amulet’s a piece of metal, round, flat, with spirit markings on it. The elf priest made it for me when I gave him the yellow stone.”
Amero grimaced. Vedvedsica had gained the spirit stone after all.
“What was the amulet for?” he asked.
“To make Karada love. She was supposed to love me, but you picked up the amulet that night instead of me, and she was stricken with love for you.”
All at once the strange events since the feast came into focus. Nianki’s behavior, her odd, disturbing questions, all of it made sense now — terrible, frightening sense. The amulet caused her to love the one man in the world she shouldn’t desire. No wonder she nearly went mad!
Pa’alu stood up, the flaming torch in his hand. The sound of the crowd had grown much louder, though from his position lying atop the cairn, Amero couldn’t see them. Pa’alu faced the village houses, the direction people would come from the orchard. By listening and watching his captor’s face, Amero could tell when the villagers and nomads were close at hand.
There were shouts, and Pa’alu held the torch high above his head. Amero expected him to plunge the brand into the kindling with his next breath, but the crowd noise subsided, and he lowered the torch safely to one side.
“Pa’alu! Come down from there!” It was Nianki’s voice. “Throw the torch on the ground and free Amero!”
“I’m not taking your commands any more, Karada. This may be the day I die, but if I do, I’ll take Arkuden to the spirit world with me.”
There were shouts of “No!” and “Let him go!” and Amero hoped his people or Nianki’s would storm the cairn and save him, but he quickly realized that the torch was so near the dry kindling that no one dared move.
Duranix! Duranix, if you can hear me, I need your help! he thought frantically. How far away could the dragon hear him? A league? Two leagues? Ten? How far had the dragon walked in half a morning?
“Why are you doing this?” Nianki called out. “Amero’s done you no harm.”
“I’m doing this because you betrayed me — betrayed us! You promised us greatness, Karada. You said that under your leadership we would rule the plains! Yet we live in this tiny valley, relying on the favors of strangers, laboring for them in exchange for a little meat and a place to pitch our tents. Is this the greatness you promised, Karada?”
Her response was to throw herself at the cairn. She ran and leaped, landing halfway up the sloping stone sides. Without ready footholds, she had to climb, and that slowed her down. Pa’alu calmly shoved the torch into the pile of wood. Smoke curled from the broken branches, followed by a puff of red flame.
Nianki hauled herself up as far as the upper edge of the altar before she misplaced her foot and slid back to
