The Godspeaker Trilogy (48 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

M
ijak’s Heart was an enormous crater in the middle of a barren red plain where the borders of Et-Mamiklia, Et-Takona and Et-Banotaj converged. The crater’s rim was bound by seven black stone godposts evenly spaced, each carved in the shape of a scorpion and topped with a warlord’s traditional sigil; though a warlord’s territory changed name to echo his own, the land’s symbol remained unchanging. A steep pathway descended from the base of each godpost to the floor of the crater. Waves of heat rose from the bare red rock, shiny like glass from its creation: it was a cauldron, an anvil, where potential futures were mixed and measured and beaten into history. Raklion led his ten warriors to the godpost marked with a striking snake and halted.

“How did you ensure we would be last to arrive?” Hekat murmured.

“The god told Nagarak how we should travel at last lowsun’s divining,” Raklion replied, just as softly. “He told me at newsun which path we should ride.”

She had not been told this, she felt her teeth clench. Nagarak was attempting to exclude her, that was something she could not allow.

One by one she stared at the other godposts, at the warlords and warriors gathered in their proper places. They could not go down into Mijak’s Heart until the summoning warlord had bared his godspark to the god in their witnessing presence. If the god did not smite him for a wicked summoning, then could their meeting proceed.

The silence in this place was oppressive, immense. There was the sky, there was the sun, there was the crater where the god’s hammered fist had punched into the earth. The warlords and their warriors sat their horses and did not speak, even their godbells were muted, muffled.

Raklion swung down from his stallion. Nagarak followed and untied the robe strapped to his horse. Hekat slid from her saddle. Her joints jarred sharply as she struck the bare ground, the heat striking fiercely through her sandaled feet.

When they looked at her, surprised, she lifted her chin. “I come with you into Mijak’s Heart. I am Zandakar’s mother, the warlords must know me.”

“No. You stay behind with the other warriors,” said Nagarak, pulling on his high godspeaker robe. “When the god’s will is made known they will be told who you are. Know your place, woman. You are not the warlord.”

She had never shown him her scorpion amulet. She showed him now, and smiled to see the arrogance drain from his face. He could feel its power without even touching it, he saw her for the first time, chosen by the god.

“I am Hekat, who swam with scorpions. I am the mother of Mijak’s future. I am here by the god’s desiring, born to its purpose as is my son. You are high godspeaker, Nagarak, you have your place here. Do not think to unseat me from mine.”

Nagarak’s robe was plain, and dirty. Dust stained it, and horse-sweat, and traces of blood, he looked like some poor village godspeaker forgotten by the god. He stared at her with eyes full of angry questions and pointed at her scorpion amulet.

“That is carved from sacred stone, it is not for a common warrior to possess!”

“Try and take it from me,” she invited. “Touch it and see your hand shrivel to dust. The god gave me this amulet, Nagarak. You may not have it.”

Nagarak glared at Raklion. “You knew she had this?”

Raklion nodded. “I did.”

“Tcha!” spat Nagarak. “You sinful man! Why did you not tell me this was in her possession? She is not bound to the god, she is untested, she cannot—”

“She survived your scorpions and bore me a son, that is test enough,” said Raklion, removing his sheathed snakeblade from his belt and tucking it for safekeeping beneath his saddle’s sheepskin cover. “Why do we bicker about an amulet when the warlords have gathered to hear the god’s desire? Let us go down into the Heart of Mijak, the god has waited long enough.”

Hekat saw in Nagarak’s eyes how he wanted to argue, his arrogance was returned as strong as ever. He was a man grown complacent in the god’s eye. Tcha . She had no time for him.

With a glance at Raklion she started down the stone path leading to the floor of the crater. Raklion followed her, and then came Nagarak. He was not happy, she could feel his rage. On the crater’s rim above them Et-Raklion’s warriors drummed their knife-hilts on their pommels, to show their loyalty and their love. Raklion smiled up at them, he punched his fist in the air, pressed it hard against his heart. A warlord’s salute.

Safely at last on the crater’s bare floor, its scorching air searing, sucking them dry, Nagarak drew Hekat sharply aside. Raklion walked to the crater’s center, raised his arms to shoulder height, dropped to his knees and tipped his face to the sun.

“ I am here, god, Raklion of Et-Raklion! I call warlord council at Mijak’s Heart! Before my brother warlords I kneel before you, my godspark bared to your seeing eye! Smite me to ashes if my cause is not just!”

His words thrummed and bounced and shivered round the crater, doubled and redoubled into thundering echoes.

The god did not smite him, Hekat knew it would not. Nagarak cried out to the watching warlords. “ Aieee! You are witness! Raklion of Et-Raklion is in the god’s seeing eye, it does not smite him, his cause is just !”

As Raklion stood, the other warlords and their high godspeakers began their own descents to the crater’s hot floor. Hekat stood with Raklion and Nagarak, watching them come. She had never seen Mijak’s other warlords face to face, their sigils told her who they were.

Mamiklia, heavyset but still in his prime, his skin was lighter than the others’, his eyes pale blue and narrow with suspicion. For the moment treatied with Takona and Zyden, they would be fools to turn their backs on him.

Takona, a younger man and virile, he walked lightly on the ground. As he descended he glared at his brother warlords, his fingers curled as though he held a knife.

Zyden, even older than Raklion. He had a son to follow him but showed no sign of dying. Nor, so Raklion said, did his son seem eager to put him on a pyre. That was a rare thing among the warlords.

Jokriel, the warlord who might have ruled her village in the savage north if his long-dead forebear had not abandoned it. He was near to Raklion’s age, worn thin and dry by his profitless lands.

Tebek, sullen in his recent defeats by Raklion, stung and eager to prove himself. A stupid boy, he should have followed his father’s wisdom and kept the treaty with Et-Raklion.

Banotaj, most dangerous of all. Poisoned by his father Bajadek into belligerence and blood. Greedy, vicious, treacherous as a demon.

Hekat smiled at the warlords walking down to the crater’s red floor. They could die soon, I would not weep . She glanced disinterested at the high godspeakers walking with them. They were the god’s business, it would deal with them. If they truly lived in its eye they would hear Nagarak’s words and know he spoke for the god. If they were false the god would smite them.

Around her neck, the stone scorpion shivered.

At last the warlords and their high godspeakers reached the crater’s red floor. Stiff with dignity and with pride they spread out beyond arm’s reach of each other; even unarmed and some of them treatied, still they were wary.

“The god see you, my brothers,” Raklion greeted them calmly. “May it see you in its judging eye.”

Banotaj ignored the greeting. “What is that ugly bitch doing here? You insult us before we begin!”

“She is no bitch, she is Hekat,” said Raklion. His face and voice were cold with temper. “Mother of Zandakar, my son, born the hope of Mijak. She is my finest knife-dancer, you should beware.”

Banotaj laughed, a harsh crude bark. “You coupled with a common barracks slut? That is the bloodline of your precious son?”

“Common?” said Hekat, before Raklion could answer. “I slew your sinning father, Banotaj. I am Hekat, I am not common. Your tongue is common, if you are not careful the god will pluck it out.”

“ Tcha .” Banotaj stabbed his brother warlords with a look. “He was never fit to be a warlord, here is more proof. A barracks bitch. Ha!”

The other warlords said nothing. Hekat watched them carefully, saw the ones with daughters frown, considering. Could they find a way into Raklion’s good temper, tempt him with female flesh for his son?

No. You could not. Zandakar is destined for greater things than rutting with the offspring of weak, godblinded fools.

Banotaj threw back his shoulders. “What do you want, Raklion? Why are we brought here? Speak quickly, we are not slaves to be sent for at a whim.”

“Of course you are slaves,” said Nagarak. “Slaves to the god. You are here to learn how you will serve it in its new age.”

Takona’s high godspeaker spat on the red glassy ground. “Be careful you do not choke on your arrogance, Nagarak. The god does not love a conceited man.”

“Nor does it love a man deaf to its desires,” Nagarak retorted. “Open your heart, Vijik, or see it eaten by the god.”

Vijik high godspeaker’s fleshy face grew ugly. “The god be blind to you, Nagarak, I am not some novice in your godhouse to be spoken to like a clod of earth! I have a godhouse, I—”

“ Peace !” said Raklion, and raised his hands. “We are not here to bicker, we gather at the god’s will so you might learn its desire.”

“That is godspeaker talk,” said Zyden, his eyes suspicious. “And you are no godspeaker. I will tell you my desire! I desire to know why my lands are dying when Et-Raklion is green and fat!”

“That is my desire also,” said Takona, broad hands fisted at his sides.

“And mine!”

“And mine!”

“And mine!”

“And mine!”

“Do not look to me for an answer, brothers!” cried Raklion to the hostile warlords. “Look to yourselves and to your high godspeakers! If the god smites you how am I to blame?”

“You are to blame if the god does not smite us!” said Tebek. “ Demons might smite us, with you their master!”

“You accuse me of consorting with demons?” Raklion’s face twisted with fury. “When one of you called on demons to blight my seed, murder every son born to me before Zandakar? I am not touched by demons! If I were it would have killed me when I knelt before it in this crater. You were all witness, I was judged pure. You proud warlords, you haughty high godspeakers, if you love the god you will listen to Nagarak. If you do not there will be a harsh reckoning.”

The warlords and their high godspeakers drew apart and huddled, they whispered and poked fingers, they threw hot glances over their shoulders. Smiling, Hekat touched her fingertips to her scorpion amulet.

They are blind, stupid men, their ruling lives are over and they cannot see it.

Raklion turned to Nagarak. “Is the god in even one of them?” he asked amazed.

Nagarak shrugged. “The god is in me, warlord. It speaks to me, I hear its voice. That is what matters. These other mere men are dust on the wind.”

The huddling warlords and their godspeakers broke apart. “Say it is true,” said Jokriel. His voice was reedy, thin as his godbraids. “Say Et-Raklion is not protected by demons. What do you know of the god’s desire that has not been revealed to any of us?”

Raklion said, “Brother, it is not for me to speak of the god. Nagarak will tell you of sacred things, but know this: I have been shown wonders and omens, the god has whispered in my heart. What Nagarak will tell you is its truth.”

“Speak then, Nagarak,” said Mamiklia, his raised fist a threat silencing Banotaj and Tebek. He had an odd voice for such a large, square man, high-pitched and fluting. “We will listen.”

“You please the god,” said Raklion, and glanced at his high godspeaker. “Tell them, Nagarak.”

Nagarak tipped back his head, rolling his eyes to crescent slivers. His arms stretched wide, his robe fell open, revealing his scorpion pectoral.

“ I am Nagarak, the god’s high godspeaker!”

His voice rolled round and round the glassy crater, full of echoes and strange harmonies.

“ I am the god’s vessel, I speak its words, I dress its words in my voice that they might fall like honey from my truthful tongue!”

As Raklion stared at his high godspeaker, Hekat watched the faces of his brother warlords and their high godspeakers. Anger, suspicion, fear, hatred: she saw all these things and felt herself tense.

“ Hear the god’s words, you warlords and you high godspeakers !” Nagarak commanded. “ You sinning men who are tasked to protect Mijak, you who have failed so your lands have turned brown, you warlords who have displeased the god! ”

The warlords muttered and looked at each other, they looked at their high godspeakers with their eyebrows raised.

“ The god desires that you are cast down, it throws you from your mighty heights, it bends your knees and lays you in the dirt before Mijak’s one warlord, its true warlord, the warlord desired by the god ,” cried Nagarak. “ You will kneel to Raklion, he will be your warlord, you will breathe beneath his godchosen fist! ”

“What demontalk is this?” demanded Zyden. “Mijak is ruled by seven warlords, you speak not for the god but for Raklion alone!”

“You dare dispute me?” Nagarak demanded. His eyes were still white crescents but he stared straight at Zyden. He tore off his robe and tossed it aside. Sunshine struck his scorpion pectoral, the scorpion-marks on his shining skin glowed fiery red in the searing light. “I warn you, warlord, the god will not be denied!”

“Your words do not come from the god,” said Tebek’s high godspeaker. “It has long been suspected you are a demon clothed in human flesh. You are not normal, Nagarak. Your power is too great.”

“My power is great because of the god!” shouted Nagarak. “Are you a high godspeaker, Trag? Is the god’s voice in your heart? Listen, fool, before it smites you!”

“No, Nagarak,” said Jokriel’s high godspeaker, a wizened old man with godbraids white as sadsa, one hand a clutching, withered claw. His spine was bent, his chin sat level with his breastbone. “What you are saying is against the god’s law. Would you destroy Mijak a second time? Curse it with one warlord, when one warlord brought us to ruin?”

“I destroy nothing, I inflict no curse, I say the words the god gives me to say,” said Nagarak. “It is the god’s desire that Raklion be your warlord, and after him his son Zandakar. Accept the god’s desire, Goruk and you others, or be destroyed in your sinning pride.”