Children of Chaos

'I had not gotten so far, lord. Five strokes for each day or part of a day he is absent?'

Heth pursed his lips. 'You will have to learn to be stricter than that, Runtleader, or they'll be taking advantage of you right and left.'

Triumph! Orlad struggled to conceal giddy relief behind a stern, warrior mien. 'With respect, my lord, I do not want to cripple the man on a first offense.'

'As you will.' Heth shrugged. 'If he persists, report him to me and we'll run him for the hunt.'

An inexcusable surge of nausea almost made Orlad gag, but he managed to gulp the obligatory 'My lord is kind' at Heth's departing back. Reproaching himself for unbecoming weakness, he looked down at Vargin and saw utter terror.

'You heard the first and second punishments, runt. Will you take them or go for the third?'

The delinquent lurched to his feet. 'My leader is kind,' he croaked. 'Permission to go now?'

'Granted.' But there was no point in killing the idiot. 'Vargin?'

The great loon turned. 'Leader?'

'Wear whatever you like. Take food and a canteen.'

'My leader is kind!' Vargin sounded as if he meant that, for once. He headed for the counters to gather rations.

Orlad sat down and regarded ten appalled faces. Ranthr and Snerfrik were almost green, wondering which of them would be next. There would be no further trouble.

'Runt Ranthr, will you run through the stripping drill for us?'

'My leader is kind,' Ranthr mumbled, and then parroted, 'On the command 'Strip!' the warrior will drop his pall. My leader is kind. And of course: On the command 'Dress!' the warrior will don his pall, helping his buddy to do the same.'

'We'd better find a warm place to try that.' Orlad tore off a crust and stuffed it into his mouth while he considered the problem. A pall could be removed with a yank at the sash's half-knot and then one hard tug. The heavy cloth would drop like a landslide. 'How long does a good squad take?'

'No time at all,' Ranthr said. 'Instantaneous upon the command.'

'So we'll do it faster!' Orlad ripped off more bread. One or two of the others had begun to eat again also. Most were still too stunned by the onset of full warrior discipline. Run him for the hunt?

'We all belong to holy Weru now,' Orlad said. 'We are all going to be initiated into His mysteries. And we are going to do it in record time. Does anyone doubt that?'

There was a long pause before Waels ventured to inquire, 'How much time did you have in mind, leader?'

'Before the last day of the Festival of Weru.'

No one dared look at anyone.

'With utmost respect, leader, that is only half a year.' As the leader's buddy, Waels was assuming the dangerous office of spokesman. 'I don't think any class has ever gone from probation to initiation that fast.'

'But we will. In the last ten years the last caravan has always left about a sixday after the end of the Festival. We will be ready so we can cross the Edge before winter closes the pass.' Orlad glanced around the table. 'Or are you cowards who want to sit around until next year before you join the bloodlord's horde and start killing Florengian oath-breakers?'

They shouted denials like good little Werists.

Orlad smiled approval. 'I can't wait.'

thirteen

FRENA WIGSON

gazed out her window at the lifeless docks. Not even slaves could work on a day like this, when the sun was a blur of brightness in a pallid sky and Ocean a lead sheet behind masts and rigging. She wore an appropriately virginal robe of white linen with a sprinkling of pearls. Her tar-black hair was demurely coiled but adorned with a ruby comb, which was somewhat daring for the Pantheon, a subtle display of insurrection.

Accepting noon for her appointment with High Priestess Bjaria had been a misjudgment. By the time she crossed to the bedroom door, she was damp with perspiration. Her chariot was waiting for her at the front door, with Dark and Night in the traces, but she was surprised to find Verk driving. Servants set down mounting steps for her, and he offered a strong hand to help her aboard.

'Uls is well?'

'The lady is kind to ask. He is fully recovered.'

She took the reins and he raised the brake. Why Verk to escort her, instead of her usual driver or one of the other house guards? Had Father arranged this, or was Verk contriving to speak with her in private? She did not inquire, because she had developed a stabbing headache, and it was growing steadily worse. As the chariot rocked and bounced across the bridge to Temple, thunder and lightning inside her skull felt fit to burst it.

Having no female relatives, she had informed Father that he would be Mother to drive her there. Although he had not driven a chariot in years, he had laughed and said he would be honored. She would drive home, though. She was determined to follow tradition and lead the chariot parade back from her dedication. So this trip was rehearsal as well as the obligatory preliminary call upon the garrulous high priestess.