Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [112]
Skylan laughed. “Torval gave me the victory. I killed Horg.”
“No, you didn’t,” Draya cried. “I did! The wine Horg drank was poisoned. I poisoned him!”
Skylan stared at her in alcohol-fuddled bewilderment, unable to comprehend her words.
“The wine you both drank before the battle,” Draya continued feverishly, hardly knowing what she was saying. “I gave you the drinking horn—then I wiped it with a cloth. In the cloth was a vial containing a slow-acting poison. I poured it into his wine.”
“You lying bitch!” Skylan gasped. He could feel the hair rise on his arms in horror. His throat closed. He could scarcely breathe. “Stop lying to me. I killed Horg!”
Draya jeered derisively. “Horg was a man fighting a boy! He could have slain you three times over. He drew first blood, didn’t he? I let the fight continue because I knew the poison would burn his gut and foul his senses. He would eventually make a mistake, and then you would be able to kill him.”
Skylan remembered Horg grimacing and rubbing his gut. He remembered Horg’s faltering steps and how he had doubled over, clasping his stomach and groaning, and Skylan knew with sickening certainty that Draya was telling the truth.
The woman had murdered her husband. She had stolen Skylan’s victory. Worst of all, she had usurped Torval’s judgment!
Draya suddenly realized what she had been saying. She moaned and covered her mouth with her hand. Then she hurried toward him, her hands outstretched. “My love, my lord, I did it for you!”
“Get away from me!” Skylan was cold and shaking, overcome with horror.
Draya pleaded with him. “I did it for our people!”
“Get away from me!” Skylan repeated, and he backed into a corner. He lowered his head, unable to look at her.
“Horg was an evil man,” Draya said. “He was a coward and a bully. He offended the gods by giving the ogres the Vektan Torque. He cheated the day of the Vutmana. I saw him kick you. I knew that Torval wanted you to be Chief of Chiefs, but . . .”
Draya faltered, fell silent, stood gazing at Skylan with pleading eyes.
“But what?” Skylan yelled at her.
“I dared not take the chance that Torval might make a mistake.” Draya faltered. “This was too important. This meant the survival of our people and of the gods! We need a strong, brave, courageous Chief of Chiefs. I had to make certain of the outcome. Don’t you understand, my love?”
Skylan didn’t understand. All he knew was that she had murdered Horg.
“Torval will curse you!” Skylan licked dry lips. He was trembling all over. “He will curse me!”
“Horg was a sacrifice,” Draya said. “Torval understands. Vindrash understands. Don’t you, Vindrash?”
Skylan stared at her. She was talking to someone else, and there was no one in the room. She was Kai Priestess. Perhaps the gods were here now! Skylan had faced death many times in the shield-wall. He’d known fear then, but he’d never known fear like this. He sank to his knees.
“Horg had to be sacrificed for our people to survive. For our gods to survive. And so I put the poison in his wine. . . .”
Skylan’s glance went to the drinking horn he was still holding in his hand. Draya was going on about the survival of the people, the survival of the gods. All he knew was that he’d been drinking her ale. He crawled toward the slop bucket and slumped over it and vomited, spewing up ale, spitting it out of his mouth. He kept vomiting until his stomach was empty and he brought up nothing, and then he heaved some more.
He sank back against the wall, wiping his lips.
“I have to tell my father,” he said groggily. “I have to tell him what you did. . . .”
He rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered toward the door, but he didn’t make it. He fell over a stool and landed flat on the floor. Kneeling beside him, Draya put her arms around his shoulders.
“You must not tell your father, Skylan,” she said softly. “You must not tell anyone!