Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [101]
Garn was far more harsh in his assessment. “You bloody fool!” Garn swore at him. “Of all the fool things you have done in your life, Skylan, this is the worst.”
Skylan flushed angrily. “Why should I not be Chief of Chiefs? I fought the battle. I risked my life! I defeated Horg! Torval gave me the victory!”
“And Torval meant you to give it to your father,” said Garn grimly. “You swore an oath, Skylan. Have you forgotten?”
Skylan stared at his friend, dismayed. He had, in truth, forgotten. His words to his father came back to him:
Your honorable wounds, a testament to your skill and valor, give you the right to select a warrior to fight in your place. If the Heudjun agree to the Vutmana, give me the privilege. I will make you Chief of Chiefs! I vow to Torval!
Skylan’s hand touched the silver axe he wore around his neck. He had never in his life broken a vow to his god.
Torval understands. He is a warrior. He would not want a crippled old man to lead his people. Torval fought at my side. He made me the winner. He intends for me to be Chief of Chiefs. As for breaking my oath, the god will overlook it. If he meant to punish me, he would have done so by now.
At that moment, the Kai Priestess took hold of Skylan’s hands.
“Skylan Ivorson, Torval has made you Chief of Chiefs of the Vindrasi,” the Kai Priestess said, and she added, almost shyly, “Our wedding will be celebrated soon, so that all may attend and be witness to our joy.”
Skylan stared at her, thunderstruck. “Our what?”
The Venjekar sailed away from the isle known popularly as Krega’s Bane, bearing the new Chief of Chiefs of the Vindrasi. Skylan walked over to where Garn stood alone, leaning over the side of the ship, his arms resting on the timber.
“My friend, I need your help,” Skylan said in a low voice.
Garn glanced at him. Brows lowering, he looked away.
“You must help me!” Skylan repeated urgently. “The Priestess says I have to marry her! Her—an old woman! How am I to get out of it?”
Garn remained silent. He did not look at Skylan or acknowledge his presence.
“Garn, I know you’re mad at me,” Skylan continued. “I know I broke my vow to Torval—”
“—and to your father,” Garn inserted.
“Would you listen to me?” Skylan said, annoyed. “I’m trying to explain. It was Torval who put the idea in my head!”
Garn frowned.
“I swear it, Garn!” Skylan protested. “Torval knows my father would not make a good Chief of the Vindrasi. The Chief of Chiefs must lead men into battle, and Norgaard can’t even walk!”
Garn shook his head. “A Chief of Chiefs is not a War Chief, Skylan. Every clan has its own War Chief. A Chief of Chiefs must be knowledgeable in the law and wise in his judgments—”
“And you’re saying I’m not?” Skylan challenged.
“You didn’t even know the law states that the Chief must marry the Kai Priestess,” Garn pointed out.
Skylan was confounded, forced to admit Garn was right. Skylan didn’t know anything about the law, but to his mind, laws didn’t matter. That was why there were Talgogroths and Clan Councils and such. The Chief of Chiefs was the War Chief of the Vindrasi, despite what Garn said to the contrary. Skylan could already see himself leading the clans to glory, and he was convinced Torval agreed with him.
Torval had given him, Skylan, his victory over Horg. Unfortunately, Torval had also given Skylan a wife.
“Garn,” said Skylan softly, “this is not what I’m trying to talk to you about. I’m talking to you about marrying the Kai Priestess! The woman is old enough to be my grandmother!”
“She’s not that old, Skylan,” said Garn, glancing sidelong at Draya. “A few years over thirty, maybe—”
“My own mother would have been that age if she’d lived, and she would be a grandmother by now,” Skylan retorted. “Besides, I can’t marry the woman. I’m going to marry Aylaen. And I can marry her now that I am Chief of Chiefs. I will have a house of my own and land and cattle. I can pay Sigurd the bride-price—”
Garn shifted away uncomfortably, his expression dark and troubled.
Skylan heaved