Dragonfly (11 page)

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my plans, for it brought the Blue Crescent Princess so close to my snares. I was going to have to lure her from her island somehow but you did it for me."

Fergox reached out to a globe by his side and gave it a languid spin. "And it has all turned out far better than I could have hoped. As you may guess, the Blue Crescent is none too pleased
that you
let the Princess be taken." He gave a rough laugh at Ramil's scandalized expression. "And some, thanks to the whispers circulated by my men, think you are to blame. Rumor has it that, rather than wed her, you killed her in the forest and ran for the border."

Ramil put down his knife and fork, his appetite fled.

"There will be war between your two countries come spring. Your father will be only too relieved to receive my offer of alliance. It will appear to him most . . . timely."

"You are trapping him so you can take Gerfal without a fight?"

"Of course. I do not want to squander my men on your little kingdom when I have my sights set on the much bigger prize to the west. He'll need my armies to defeat the Blue Crescent forces. The price will be acknowledging me as overlord."

"Why not crush Gerfal, like you did Brigard?" Ramil tossed back his wine angrily.

Fergox gave him a cold smile. "What would be the point? I have a large empire to control. If I can achieve my aims without wasting resources on unnecessary battles, then I will do so."

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"And what about me?"

The warlord refilled Ramil's glass. "I will tell your father that you came here to seek my aid against those Westerners. I received you as a cousin with open arms, welcomed you into my household, took your unwelcome bride off your hands and even offered you one of my blood as your wife instead to cement the al iance."

"He'll never believe it," Ramil said defiantly, hoping his father would not think him capable of such treachery. This story made him out as a traitor to Gerfal, bringing war upon them by ill-treating a princess.

"Perhaps not, but that won't matter. This is the public story; what he knows in private is neither here nor there. By spring he will have no choice but to accept it or end up fighting on two fronts." Fergox smiled at Ramil's expression. "Don't look so sad, Prince Ramil. You will still have your throne.

It could be much worse."

"A throne, but no power." Ramil drained his glass, trying to rid himself of the foul taste in his mouth.

"Some power," corrected Fergox. "And, if you please me, my favor."

Ramil resisted the temptation to tell the Spearthrower what he could do with his "favor."

"And what of the Princess Taoshira, my unwanted bride as you called her?"

Fergox cocked his head quizzically, his eyes calculating. "Do you care what becomes of her, Prince Ramil?"

"She was under my protection, my guest--"

Fergox nodded, as if this explained everything. "Ah yes, Gerfalian chivalry, I had forgotten. I have no plans

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to harm her, if that is what worries you. Quite the opposite: I intend to give her an important role in shaping the future of her country."

"And that is . . . ?"

Fergox picked up the book he had discarded and brandished it at Ramil.

"Did you know that the Blue Crescent Islanders do not believe in God?"

"They believe in a Goddess."

Inspired by his subject, the warlord's eyes lit up with religious fervor.

"Exactly. They are in thrall to a demon, an abomination. They let women rule them, their sons do not inherit, they live in the darkness of ignorance.

Princess Taoshira is going to bring them to the light."

Ramil shifted uneasily in his chair. "And how is she going to do that?"

Fergox turned his attention back to his food and speared a piece of venison.

"By turning to the true faith, of course. Holin the Warmonger, the Father of all other gods, has shown me the way."

Ramil had heard of the Holtish name for the supreme being. Spearthrower introduced worship of this bloody deity in every country he conquered.

Images of him had been set up in temples, a warrior priesthood introduced, icons painted, many bearing a striking likeness to Fergox. It had become the most powerful religion in the world, attracting willing and reluctant adherents every day.

"And how will you persuade her? From what I have seen of the Princess, she is very devoted to her own faith."

"Pah!" Fergox spat out a bit of gristle. "She's young.

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She'll listen. When I bribed the priest on Kai to choose her, I made sure they picked someone from a family free from the influence of that foul court. I know she's had four years of it, but she is not beyond redemption. Those other three witches will be burned at the stake when we conquer the Islands, but my Tashi will ride in to Rama at my side to institute the new religion."

"What do you mean 'by your side'?"

Fergox looked up at the earnest young questioner and winked. "I also asked them to pick me a comely wench. She's to be my wife." He scratched his chin, thinking about it. "Number five, but the prettiest armful of the lot.

Number one wife is becoming a bit of a scold, thinks she's superior to the rest. I think I'll execute her when I return home." He picked up a pen and scribbled a note in the margin of his book, as if making a memorandum to unleash the imperial axeman on his unfortunate spouse.

Ramil tried not to imagine what it would be like to be number five wife to Fergox. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy, let alone the little Islander. Could the warlord be dissuaded from the plan?

"But you surely will not hope to defeat the Blue Crescent navy? You won't be able to walk in and take over!"

"You forget, Princeling, that the navy will be at the other side of the world bombarding Gerfal. I think we will have no trouble just walking in, as you put it. You're not eating. Is there something wrong with your meal?"

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Ramil shook his head. The problem was the company.

"And if the Princess does not convert, what then?" Fergox gave a heartless smile. "She'll discover I can

be very persuasive."

The next morning, Tashi was surprised to find that her ceremonial robes had been restored to her. There was a new white shift in place of the one that had got ruined on the journey, but the orange tunic, dragonfly robe, and orange sash were lying on the clothes press, cleansed of any stain.

But not my boots,
she thought with a sigh. I
don't think I'll ever see them
again.

Having no one to wait on her, Tashi went through the rituals, even remembering the absent fingerbowl as she mimed washing her hands. She then struggled into her clothes, feeling sure the layers must be all uneven at the back and the sash badly fastened. She stroked the heavy brocade with its turquoise and gold dragon-flies, admiring afresh the skill of the craftswoman who had made it many years ago on the orders of a previous princess. It really did make her feel royal when she wore it. A mirror stood in the corner. She walked over to inspect herself. It was odd to see the old Fourth Crown Princess staring back. She'd almost forgotten what she looked like.

Mergot came in without knocking. She hesitated near the doorway, no longer so sure now that the girl

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was dressed up in the strange clothes, looking so foreign. She held out a green veil, stick of kohl, and a pot of white make-up, not daring to come nearer.

"You're to put these on," she said, placing them on the floor and retreating.

"I'll be back in an hour to fetch you."

Tashi sat in the window and carefully applied her make-up, obscuring her individuality under the mask of the ruler. She supposed that the return of her robes amounted to an invitation to appear in her official capacity. Perhaps it meant that Fergox was going to treat her as a state prisoner and grant her the privileges that went with that status, giving her the chance to contact her sisters and open negotiations. She threw the veil over her hair and pinned it in place. She was ready.

Bare toes peeped out from under the robe. Almost ready.

True to her promise, Mergot reappeared an hour later, accompanied by four guards. They made the sign against evil, two fingers to their forehead, as Tashi stood up to receive them.

"My lord asks if you are fit enough to walk downstairs," Mergot muttered, not looking at her.

"I am," Tashi said simply.

"Then follow me."

The guards made way as Tashi emerged from her bedroom. They walked in pace with her down the steps and across the snow-covered courtyard. The frosty bite of the stones hurt her feet but she kept her face impassive, trying to remember she was a Blue Crescent

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princess and proud of it. Physical discomfort was nothing. Emotions were to be hidden. Ice cold and strong, she told herself, that was what she had to be for her people.

All who had gathered there--farriers, servants, soldiers--stopped what they were doing when the foreign Princess appeared among them. Their eyes were fearful; many reached for the hilts of their weapons. Tashi almost laughed at the irony: they were scared of her! A girl of sixteen with no weapons or special powers, a prisoner in the land of her enemies far from home, and yet they still trembled as she passed.

Mergot led her to the threshold of the great hall of the castle and stopped.

"You are to go in there," she said, pointing.

Tashi bowed her head in acknowledgement and pushed the door open. It swung back to reveal the great hall of the castle, decked in imperial banners.

Fergox sat on a throne at the far end, surrounded by his senior officers and nobles. Soldiers stood to attention on both sides of the room. A group of red-robed priests, heads shaved leaving only a topknot on the crown, waited about halfway down, holding an icon of the Spearthrower's war god.

Standing at Fergox's right hand, looking very uncomfortable, was Prince Ramil. He gazed at her and shook his head slightly, a gesture that was both a warning and regret.

Tashi had no choice but to enter. She took a breath and began the long lonely walk down the chamber. The paving stones were worn, as if many supplicants

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had passed this way over the centuries. Her robes swished softly, almost the only sound in the room. She reached the foot of the throne and stood without bowing, waiting to see what Fergox would do.

"Princess Taoshira," announced the warlord, "Holin, the Warmonger, has smiled on you. He sees the purity of your heart and knows that you are not beyond redemption. Renounce your old faith and kneel to his image, and you shall go free."

Tashi swayed as if he had struck her: this was the last thing she had been expecting. A demand for a ransom or treaty, threats and bargains: she had been prepared for all these, but an order that she recant was startling and offensive. Seeing her surprise, Fergox smiled and beckoned the priests.

They moved in behind Tashi, pacing forward to the beat of a solemn low chant. Unnerved, she turned to find the icon elevated in front of her, the frowning god with his spear and axe looking down on her like Fergox's angry twin. The chief priest struck his staff on the ground.

"Pay homage to Holin!"

Tashi faced Fergox and clasped her hands in an appeal. "Lord Fergox, I am a ruler of my country and should be treated with the respect due to my rank. I stand here as a helpless prisoner. You should not abuse your power over me with insults to my faith."

Fergox descended the step and took her shoulders. He pulled her round to face the priests again.

"Come now, my little princess, all you need do is kneel and this will all be over," he said in her ear.

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Tashi shook her head. "I cannot do what you ask, sir."

He frowned. "I feared as much." He nodded to the priest and raised his voice. "The delusion remains. The girl must be cleansed before she can accept the truth. I entrust her to you and your brethren." He gave Tashi a little shove between the shoulder blades.

"But, sir!" Tashi cried. "I am a state prisoner! You cannot treat me like this!"

Fergox continued to walk back to the throne, not even paying her the courtesy of looking at her as he spoke. "You are an infidel in need of salvation. I can treat you as I see fit." He sat down. "It's for your own good."

Two acolytes seized Tashi's arms. The chanting grew louder, swelling around her so that her protests could no longer be heard. The chief priest snatched off her veil and orange sash and cast them into the fireplace. He then ripped off her dragonfly gown and orange tunic, tearing the priceless fabric as he did so. When Tashi was clad only in white, he put round her shoulders a long black robe.

"The mark of the penitent," intoned the chief priest to his audience.

He held up a cloth to be blessed by sacred water sprinkled from a gold cup.

"The falsehoods of the demon goddess will be wiped from your heart as we wipe the mark of her from your face." Tashi tried to duck but the two acolytes pinned her arms to her sides. With rough movements of the cloth, the chief priest removed the white paint from

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her face. "You return to us as a humble petitioner for the mercy of the all-powerful Warmonger."

"No!" Tashi shouted. She wanted everyone to hear that she resisted this and would until her last breath. "No, no! I am the Mother's servant. I am--"

The chanting grew louder.

"You will come to our temple to seek enlightenment," announced the chief priest. "You will dwell there to be schooled out of your errors until you are ready to avow publicly your repentance."

"I won't!" Tashi sobbed. "I won't! You can't make me!"

The body of priests bowed to Fergox and filed out of the chamber, forcing Tashi along in their midst. Silence fell as the doors closed on them.

"Well," said Fergox, jumping to his feet and rubbing his hands as the dragonfly robe smoldered in the fire, "I thought that went very well." He clapped Ramil on the back. "She'll make an excellent penitent. I am looking forward to forgiving her."

The priests placed Tashi in a cell in the temple crypt. It was freezing cold but they appeared to think that earthly comforts would impede her conversion.