Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [16]
“Why doesn’t he say something?” Skylan demanded impatiently.
Garn replied with the old proverb. “ ‘A fool opens his mouth. A wise man keeps it shut.’ Norgaard is trying to figure out what is going on. For example, why did the ogres not simply attack us? Why the parley?”
Skylan snorted. “Bah! They’re ogres. They have cheese curds for brains. The old man has lost his nerve, that’s all. I will say something if he won’t.”
“Stay out of it, Skylan,” Garn warned. “Let your father handle this.”
Skylan ignored his friend’s counsel. He turned to face Treia, who had said nothing during the furor and was almost forgotten. Aylaen stood near her sister, her hand resting on Treia’s arm. Both were watching Norgaard. Neither was paying any attention to Skylan, and both were startled to hear him speak.
“I call upon our Bone Priestess to refute these ridiculous claims,” said Skylan. “Priestess, tell the ogres they are wrong. Ask Torval to give us a sign to prove to them he is alive.”
Treia said nothing with her mouth. Her dark eyes glittered with anger. Her pale face remained impassive, giving no hint of her thoughts, but Norgaard noted her hands curling tightly over the arms of the chair, the knuckles white.
Skylan, pleased with his own cleverness, saw nothing of the Priestess’s inner turmoil.
Norgaard saw, and hope died within him. Treia knew all was not well in heaven. She feared that if she called upon Torval for a sign, the god would not respond, and that would embolden the ogres, who—Torval knew—did not need emboldening.
At least now, Norgaard understood why the ogres had arranged for the parley. The knowledge that the gods had abandoned them would devastate his people, weaken their resolve. Undoubtedly that was why the ogres chose to talk instead of fight. The lives of the Torgun people depended on what Treia said and did, Norgaard realized, and he desperately wished that he knew her better, had some idea of how she would react.
Treia was newly arrived in the village. Although she was Torgun and had been born here, she had been sent away from home at the age of twelve, bartered to the Dragon Goddess by her mother, Holma, in hopes that Vindrash would spare her husband’s life. Treia had gone across the bay to Vindraholm, the capital city of the Vindrasi nation, to study to be a Bone Priestess. Apparently the barter worked. Her father had lived many years afterwards. Unfortunately Treia did not know. She never again saw him.
Treia had remained in Vindraholm for sixteen years, during which time she had been initiated into the secrets of the gods. She had returned to the Torgun less than a year ago, when their Bone Priestess had died of eating tainted eels.
A morose woman, Treia was twenty-eight years old and still unmarried, with no man eager to seek her hand. She was not unattractive. She had pale skin and thick blond hair, a long narrow face, and a slender figure. Men might have been more interested in her if she ever smiled. Nothing pleased Treia or made her happy. Even during festivals, when everyone else in the village was celebrating, Treia regarded the merrymaking with disdain and would take the first opportunity to escape back to her dwelling.
Treia was extremely nearsighted, and she had developed a squint whenever she looked intently at something. Her squint and the uncanny ability she had of appearing to know what a person was thinking gave rise to the notion that she had the power to see through flesh and bone to the soul. Because of this, most of the people in the village—including the men—were daunted by her. After giving Skylan one irate look, Treia lowered her dark eyes, staring at the floor. Her sister whispered something to her. Treia shook her head.
Most of the Torgun warriors were watching Treia with smug smiles, confidently waiting for their Bone Priestess to scornfully deny the ogre’s outrageous claims and call down the wrath of Torval upon them. But Norgaard noted