Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [30]
Draya stared at her friend in shocked disbelief. “He will not answer their call for help? He will not fight? What is his reason?”
“Horg says the Torgun brought this on themselves by defying him and going raiding on their own. He says whatever befalls the Torgun is a punishment from the gods. Horg claims Torval told you that he was not to interfere. Our people don’t like it, but if the god truly said that the Torgun were to be punished . . .”
Draya understood the problem. Clans often intermarried, and many Heudjun had friends or relations among the Torgun. Even those who had blood feuds with the Torgun did not like the idea of allowing the ogres to attack fellow Vindrasi. But if Horg was correct about the Torgun going against the will of the gods, then he was entirely in his rights to refuse to interfere. The people turned to Draya, to their Kai Priestess, for judgment in this matter, and she understood now why Horg was silently threatening her.
She knew the truth. She had not given Horg a sign from Torval. He was expecting her to go along with his lie. She had done so before, when he’d made such claims about the gods, to save herself from a beating. She had felt wretchedly guilty over it afterwards.
Most Vindrasi women could divorce a man who abused them. A Kai Priestess could not divorce her husband, the Chief of Chiefs, no matter what he did to her. Brought together by the will of the gods—the holiest woman matched with the strongest, bravest warrior—she and Horg were supposed to be above the failings of ordinary mortals. He was the leader of the temporal. She was the leader of the spiritual. The survival of the Vindrasi people was reliant on the stability of their union.
“Vindrash help us!” Draya prayed in agony. “Vindrash help me.”
She clasped Fria’s hand tightly, silently thanking her for the warning; then she left her friend and walked toward the knot of warriors. Since she did not immediately speak out against him, Horg assumed she was sufficiently cowed. He gave her a smug, knowing smile and took up his conversation.
“The Torgun should have listened to me when I ordered them not to go,” he said loudly. “But Norgaard’s spoiled whelp, Skylan, always does what he wants. He took his warriors out, and the raid was a disaster. The ogres pursued them, and now the boy finds himself in trouble and he comes running to me, begging me to pull his fat from the fire! This is the gods’ punishment upon the Torgun,” Horg repeated. “I will not interfere!”
“But if the ogres slay the Torgun, lord, they will attack us next,” said one of the young warriors. “What do we gain by refusing to help our cousins?”
Horg snorted. “The Torgun warriors may have their noses bloodied and their heads cracked, but they will defeat the ogres.”
The crowd agreed with this reasoning, for all knew ogres were no match for Vindrasi. Horg should have stopped then, but he blundered drunkenly on. “And if the Torgun are all killed, we know how lazy ogres are. Once their ships are loaded with Torgun cattle and silver, the ogres will sail back to their homeland. They will not attack us. We are safe. Go to your beds.”
Faces flushed in anger. No one moved and no one spoke, not even Horg’s cronies. The Torgun would defeat the ogres, of course. They were Vindrasi, after all. Still, even Vindrasi warriors lost on occasion, and every person could picture the scene of ogres rampaging through the Torgun village, burning and looting, slaughtering their kinsmen and friends. They stared balefully at Horg.
“What is the matter?” Horg glowered at them. “I told you! It is Torval’s will! His punishment! Do you go against the will of the gods?”
“No Vindrasi warrior ever walked away from a fight, lord,” Sven, one of the older warriors, stated. “I cannot believe Torval would order us to do so now. I want to hear this from the Kai Priestess.”
Horg’s eyes shifted to Draya. His message was clear.
Support me, woman, or you will regret