[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

narrow stare. Uneasiness rolled in Blade again. He nodded curtly.
"I would go." He pointed to Pelops. "Loose him also. He is my servant and I
need him. And we are both under the protection of the Queen."
Equebus roared with sudden laughter. He slapped his leg, leaned down to peer
closely at Pelops, then went into another gale of laughter. He pointed at the
little man with a shaking finger.
"That one? The Queen would protect that one? Bek's blood! As skinny as a post
and a weeping coward into the bargain. I know something of history his own
wife betrayed him to the slavers! Some man he must have been, eh, for his wife
to do that?"
The Captain went into more laughter. The guards joined in and poked at Pelops
with their lances.
The little man cringed in his chains and would not look at Blade.
Equebus broke off his laughter and turned gruff. Curtly he ordered the guards
to bring Blade along.
Pelops was to remain behind. "It will distress Her Majesty," the Captain said
with a leer, "to be deprived of your beauty and strength, little slave, but
she will have to endure it. She bears many Ts now this will be one more.
March!"
Pelops raised his narrow fuzzy skull and stared defiantly at the Captain. His
eyes were dry. "Do not call me slave," he said in a voice that quavered just a
little. "I am not slave I never will be again."
Equebus drew his sword and struck Pelops over the head with the flat. "You are
what I say you are!
Now we march." Blade moved too late. They knew his mettle now and there were
three men hanging on each of his arms in an instant.
He did not struggle. Pelops, not badly hurt, raised his head from the dust as
they dragged Blade away.
"I will do what I can," Blade shouted. "Do not be afraid. Be a man."
Pelops only nodded. His eyes followed Blade until the big man, well escorted,
was out of sight down a winding path that led to the plain below.
Chapter Eleven
«^»
They said of Queen Pphira that she was ageless. Legend had it that she had
never been born, having always existed, and that she could never die. As Queen
Page 48
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
she had the right to take as many lovers as she chose, where and when she
wished. The lovers might be men or women. Perversion was not in the
Sarmaian vocabulary. Probably, thought Blade, because no one had thought of it
yet. Just as nobody had thought of the wheel.
All he knew he had learned from Pelops. Now, as he faced the Queen and her
High Council of
Priests, he felt naked and unarmed and very alone. There would be no help from
Zeena. Once again he was dependent on his magnificent body and his youth. This
time he feared they would not be enough. The priests were hostile.
They were in a large chamber overlooking the harbor. There was a ring of
chairs carved from the soft white stone that was everywhere in Sarmacid. The
chair of Queen Pphira was on a low dais. Below her, ranged in a half circle,
were the chairs of the priests. The High Council or, as Pelops called them,
the
Council of Five.
Blade, as prisoner, slave, husband of Zeena he did not really know his status
yet stood on a block of stone between the throne and the semi-circle of
priests. He had been standing so for two hours and his legs were beginning to
cramp. He was bored. He was also angry, but this he contrived to conceal. This
was no time or place for anger, for he had not a single friend at court.
"The marriage is forbidden and annulled. The Princess Zeena is banished to a
punishment ship."
That was all they would tell him. All! He was forbidden to raise the subject
again. Zeena was to be forgotten. As though she had never been. Blade,
helpless for the nonce, must perforce play it their way.
Now, bathed and barbered and clipped, perfumed, wearing a leather kilt and
high gaitered sandals, naked to the waist, enjoined to silence, he stood with
his huge arms crossed and watched the Council of
Five. And bet against himself.
The Five were barefoot. They wore black robes. They were typically Sarmaian,
small with narrow skulls and opaque eyes. No man in Sarma had much facial
hair, but the priests shaved their skulls of even the fuzz. Blade thought they
looked like five aging vultures with their scrawny necks protruding from the
black robes. They made him very nervous.
Kreed, the leader of the Five, stood up to make a point. The others, long
chins cradled in skinny hands, watched. Thorus. Baldur. Avtar. Odyss. Their
eyes were dull little buttons that stared at Blade now and again. He knew they
were anxious to put him into the fiery maw of Bek-Tor.
Kreed waved a hand. "Otto the Black arrives in two days, my Queen, to collect
his annual tribute. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

razem.keep.pl