The Godspeaker Trilogy (45 page)

An eerie silence fell. Warriors milled, discipline deserted. Terrified sinners huddled in doorways, in the shelter of each other’s arms.

“ Zandakar ! You are the hammer . You are the god’s warlord in the world!” A terrible despair was in Dimmi’s face, his voice. Beneath despair, a rising anger. “ You must finish this !”

“It is finished,” he said calmly. “We are going home.”

“To Mijak ?” said Dimmi. “Zandakar, no. Conquest is not over, it will never be over, not till Mijak is the world!”

Zandakar shook his head. “The god has spoken, Dimmi. We must obey.”

“Don’t call me that, my name is Dmitrak !”

“Of course. Forgive me. Dmitrak.”

Beneath its mask of drying blood, Dimmi’s face was rock hard with rage. “You say the god has spoken? I say you hear that bitch, that piebald bitch, she is a plague in you, Zandakar! She is a disease !”

Blue-white fire shimmered over his fist. “Dmitrak . . . I warn you, do not—”

Now there was fear in Dmitrak’s eyes. Sick disappointment. Shattered belief.

I am sorry. I am sorry. I must obey the god.

“Gather the warhost, Dmitrak,” he said, suddenly exhausted. “We ride for Harjha, then for home.”

When they stopped for a brief rest halfway back to Lilit’s village, so the horses would not founder, his brother confronted him beneath the hot sun. The discreetly distanced warhost took its ease on the ground, mostly silent, exchanging long looks.

Dimmi stabbed a finger into his chest. “The Empress will not stand for this, Zandakar. She will not let you abandon the world.”

Zandakar braced his aching back. In his life he had often been tired, but never like this. Not so that lifting his ribs to breathe was almost impossible. “She will have no choice. This is the god’s desire.”

“No, it is your desire,” hissed Dimmi, vicious. “Since you fucked that piebald bitch you have not been yourself, your bones have turned soft, you have lost your thirst for blood. Am I blind, Zandakar? Am I not your brother? I know it is so, do not deny me.”

He rested his hand on Dimmi’s shoulder. “A man’s desire and the god’s can be one and the same.”

Dimmi shrugged him away. “I think you are demonstruck! You fucked with a demon and it rotted your godspark, the bitch has blighted you in the god. That thing in her belly, it is a demon unborn! Your seed is curdled, Zanda, you have sired a monster like its mother before it!”

Fury filled him, his snakeblade bit into Dmitrak’s throat. “Hold your tongue, brother , or I will cut it out. The god sent me Lilit, it desired her quickened with my seed. My son will be beautiful. He will be a man.”

Dmitrak touched his neck, beside the snakeblade. His fingers came away red, he stared at the blood. “You’ve cut me,” he said. His voice was small. Uncertain. “Zandakar, you’ve made me bleed.”

Drowning in anguish, he dropped his snakeblade. “Aieee, Dimmi, little brother! I am sorry, I am sorry —”

Dimmi fended him off, he backed away. “You are sorry , Zandakar? What use is sorry ? You abandon the god!”

“I do not abandon it! How often must I tell you? The god stayed my hand, it told me to stop!”

“ I don’t believe you !” Dimmi shouted. His face was so stark, he looked almost a stranger.

“You must believe me. When have I ever lied to you?”

Now Dimmi laughed, a bitter sound. “Every time you said the Empress loved me.”

Silence.

Zandakar felt sweat trickle down his spine, he heard a terrible roaring in his ears. The sun was hot against his skin. His witnessing warriors were on their feet.

“Dimmi . . .” His voice sounded odd, not like his voice.

“ No ,” said his brother. “You have said enough. Now I say this will be settled in the godhouse, in the god’s eye. I will ride back with you to Et-Raklion, the warhost and the godspeakers will stay behind. They will hold these lands for the god in the world. You will tell the Empress and Vortka what you claim the god whispers in your heart. And I will tell them what it has shown me .”

Zandakar could see in Dimmi’s eyes his brother would not be dissuaded. Aieee, god. God. Heal this breach between us . Letting out his breath, Zandakar nodded. “As you say. We will ride to Et-Raklion. The god will speak for itself. You will see I am not lying, Dmitrak. You will see I am telling you the truth.”

Risen at newsun, Hekat slid naked from her bed and wandered to her palace balcony. In the garden below her blue and gold godbirds flitted among the small trees, drunk with song, and flower perfumes. A spring bubbled endlessly from an underground river. Her belly gurgled, she was hungry for cornmush and sadsa with honey. She would just have time to eat and bathe before she must present herself to the people in the godtheater, where Vortka would have a white bull-calf decked with garlands and breathing its last moments in cudding ignorance, and the people of Mijak would chant her name.

In her hands she held Zandakar’s letter, her fingers caressed it as though clay were flesh, she did not need to read the symbols to know what he had written there. She missed him so much it was hard to breathe. Who would have thought six seasons could feel like a lifetime?

His letter said: Yuma, my mother, Empress of Mijak. Once you said to me, I am your weakness. You always forgive me. Please, surrender your strength and forgive me now. Here is Lilit, the god’s gift to your son. Did I not tell you it would send me a wife? Look past her outside and see her pure heart. She came to me virgin, she carries my son. If ever you believed the god has a purpose, if ever you believed I live in its eye, believe that Lilit is godchosen for me, believe when I took her I obeyed the god. Yuma, I love you. For my sake, love Lilit.

Aieee, Zandakar, Zandakar. Such a sharp snakeblade in his smile. His love was a whip, she bled from its beating. Of course she forgave him. What else could she do?

Vortka had told her: I have a letter, too, Hekat. You cannot reject this girl, she bears Zandakar’s son. This is the god’s will, you must not interfere .

He would not tell her what his letter said.

As the newsun sky brightened she returned to her chamber, tossed the clay tablet on the bed, and dressed so she might eat her breakfast with her son’s piebald woman.

Do you see my devotion, god? I hope you are pleased.

Slaves threw themselves to the floor as she passed, burying their chanting faces in the stone. “The Empress comes, the earth trembles beneath her feet, the sky blushes at her beauty, with my body and my voice shall I worship the Empress, she lives in the god’s eye, she is precious and beautiful. My blood shall spill for the Empress’s glory.”

And so it would. And so it did.

When she entered the bitch’s apartments, Zandakar’s mistake was ogling herself in front of the mirror, hands spread over the nauseating thrust of her belly. Her piebald face flushed as she lurched away from the polished silver disc and dipped her knees in a travesty of obeisance.

“Empress—you honor me—the glory of your presence—your glory—I—you honor—” Scarlet and brown, she pressed her fingers to her lips and dripped tears.

Wrong. As usual, the stupid slut got the ritual greeting wrong. Hekat’s palms itched to sting themselves against that mottled hide. Tcha , how could Zandakar find her attractive, with her milk and mud skin and her long, thin legs and dugs like melons over-ripened on the vine! An ugly people, the Harjha, fit for nothing save conquering and chains.

Zandakar, Zandakar, how could you do this to me?

She made herself smile. “The god see you, Lilit. Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Empress, the table is laid and waiting.”

Her smile tightened. That accent, warping the pure tongue of Mijak like mold on honey. What had she been thinking, allowing Zandakar to keep this bitch?

She heard his voice in the letter he sent her: Yuma, I love you, for my sake love Lilit .

Aieee, love. What stupid fools it had made of them both.

The piebald was staring. “Empress? Are you all right?”

No. She was not. “Let us eat, quickly. We are expected in the godtheater for the public sacrifice.”

The piebald nodded, looking away. She was pathetic, squeamish, she hated the blood.

Zandakar, Zandakar, what have you done?

They ate, they dressed, Vortka joined them. They traveled to the godtheater where the people and warriors and godspeakers gathered. The bull-calf was sacrificed, she plunged her snakeblade through the throat of the customary godforsaken criminal. It hurt her body as much as ever, it was expected, she had no choice. Lilit stood watching like a lump of fat, hands pressed against her thrusting belly.

A godspeaker came running as the sacrifice ended, he ran to Vortka and whispered in his ear. Vortka straightened, and came to her side. After so long as high godspeaker his face remained guarded, his eyes were alive and filled with feeling.

“Empress, Zandakar warlord approaches the city. His brother Dmitrak rides by his side.”

She stared at him, shocked. “What? What do you say?”

“Zandakar is sighted,” said Vortka. His clasped hands were trembling. “He will soon ride through Et-Raklion’s gates.”

The piebald heard him. She gasped. “Zandakar? He comes? He comes for our son?”

Oh, how she wanted to cut out that tongue. “Be quiet. I do not know why Zandakar comes.” Her heart was beating, she was burning with love. My son, my son, there is time to undo this. Cast this bitch aside, you will have a new wife . She said, “Vortka? Did you know? Did the god tell you he was coming home?”

Vortka frowned. “No. If it had, I would have said so, Empress.”

She felt her mouth suck dry with fear. Her fingers touched her scorpion amulet, it was cool, it did not wake. “I am sure there is no trouble. The god would have warned you if there was trouble.” It would have warned me .

He did not touch her, his look was a touch. “Yes, Empress. The god would have warned me.”

Zandakar, Zandakar, my beautiful son . . . “Send your godspeaker to greet him, Vortka. Have the warlord ride here to the godtheater, that his people might see him in his pride.”

“Empress,” said Vortka, and sent the godspeaker back, running harder.

Waiting for Zandakar to arrive was agony. Sitting still upon her cruel scorpion throne, remaining composed and indifferent when she longed to run to him like that godspeaker, she would rather return to the scorpion pit.

At last, he came.

Aieee, my son, my beautiful son. My heart is returned, I can breathe again.

The godspeakers in the shouting crowd had cleared a pathway for him, he rode like a warlord towards her throne with his gold-and-crystal weapon on his arm. The other one, Dmitrak, rode behind him.

Her heart beat harder. As he approached she studied his face, tcha, he looked older and worn with care. The crowd in the godtheater stopped its shouting, it slowly fell silent. All tongues were stilled.

Something was wrong.

Zandakar drew rein at the foot of the steps leading up to her throne. He slid from his horse, he climbed those stairs. Dmitrak, uninvited, unwanted, climbed them behind him, he drove his heels into the smooth stone as though he were the god.

Hekat watched them come, her blood was surging. The god was in her, it whispered beware . Zandakar did not look at her first. First he looked at the piebald bitch.

Just for that, she ached to strike him.

“The god sees you, Empress,” her son said, his voice soft. “Godtouched and precious, it sees you in its merciful eye.”

The god was not merciful . And neither was she. He brought trouble with him, it stank in the air.

“I did not look to see you here, warlord,” she said, all her love fled, her voice was stone. “Tell me of your prowess in battle. Tell me of the new lands you give me, making great the god’s Empire of Mijak.”

Zandakar rested his gaze on her face. In silence he removed the gold-and-crystal weapon from his arm. He gave it to her, his fingers were cold. “Empress, that is not why I am come.”

“Zandakar?” said the piebald bitch. “You have spared Na’ha’leima?”

In the dreadful silence, which was Zandakar’s answer, Dmitrak said, “He would not smite their godforsaken city. He says the god spoke to him. I say he lies.” His voice was vicious, his eyes full of rage.

Zandakar’s weapon slid from Hekat’s grasp. Vortka caught it before it hit the dais. She did not believe Dmitrak. He was Nagarak’s son, he was the liar. “ Zandakar ?”

Her son kissed her with his eyes. “Empress, I tell you, it is no lie. The god spoke in my heart, it told me conquest was over. It told me to come home. It has had its fill of blood.”

She looked at Vortka, whose eyes had gone blank. “ High godspeaker ?”

“Empress . . .” He shook his head. “The warlord’s purpose remains unchanged. The god sees him in its conquering eye. He is the warlord, the god’s smiting hammer. His purpose is to reshape the world.”

Zandakar said nothing. The other one, Dmitrak, shoved him with hard fists. “I knew it! You liar, you deceiver! You sinning betrayer of the god!”

“Empress,” said Zandakar. His voice was low and steady. “Yuma. I would have words with you alone.”

Her heart was shriveled, a scorpion had stung it. “We are alone,” she said coldly. “If you have words for me, speak them.”

Incredibly, the piebald bitch opened its mouth again. “Zandakar, beloved, tell us what happened. Everything will be all right.”

Hekat slid her snakeblade out of its sheath. Held it up, so the light flashed on its edge. “One more word, you will not speak another.”

“ Yuma !” said Zandakar, and reached out his hand.

“ I am not Yuma! I am the Empress !”

He dropped to his knees like a slaughtered bull. “You are the Empress,” he said, his head meekly bowed. “Empress, forgive me. I did hear the god. In my heart it told me, enough .”

She looked at Vortka. There were tears in his eyes. His scorpion pectoral weighed him down. “Hekat . . .” The tears were on his cheeks now. Vortka was weeping. “It was not the god.”

Dmitrak said, “ Tcha . I knew it. He has turned from you, Empress, as he turned from me. All he cares for is that piebald bitch. You should taste her blood, Vortka. I think she is a demon.”