Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [9]
Too late Jahdo remembered his sister’s premonitions. He clung to the wall, paralyzed like a rat cornered by a ferret, as Councilman Verrarc walked to the edge of the steps and looked his way. The traitor fire flared up and sent long lines of light to bind him to Verrarc’s cold blue stare. In the’ crowd several men called out a question.
“He’s heading east.” In the stress of the moment Admi dropped his rhetoric. “He says he does have business at the border. The one we share with the Slavers.”
Jahdo turned so weak and cold that he nearly fell. He grabbed the rough stones to steady himself and swung down to hide in the muttering swarm of townsfolk. Too late— Verrarc was speaking to the militiamen, summoning a pair, plunging into the crowd and heading straight for him. Jahdo tried to run, but caught in the forest of grown-ups he found no path. Verrarc laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and swung him round. The councilman was smiling.
“Meer did remember you, lad. Bring me the boy who smells of ferrets, he said. That one owns a brave heart.”
Jahdo stared into his eyes and felt again that he was spinning in a mind eddy, down and down, drowning in the lake of Verrarc’s eyes. From what seemed like far away he heard a woman screaming in rage. The screams grew louder, rushed close, turned into his mother’s voice. The spell broke. His mother’s face hovered above him.
“You mayn’t, you mayn’t! How can you even think of it?”
“It be the treaty bond, Dera!” Verrarc shoved himself back, raising one hand ready to ward blows. “It’s needful that someone go. Do you want a whole pack of Horsekin sieging us for breaking the treaty?’
“He be but ten summers! Send some other lad. Send one of the militia.”
“Meer didn’t ask for some other lad.”
With an animal snarl Dera turned away and began shoving her way toward the steps. In his mother’s strong grip Jahdo found himself dragged after as the guards and Verrarc followed, with Verrarc arguing with Dera the entire way. Jahdo could just sense the crowd thinning, swaying, as most of the citizens headed for the gate. He was willing to bet that the family of every other boy there was running for safety. In the flaring torchlight by the colonnade Meer stood waiting, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Listen, you!” Dera growled. “I do care not if you be one of the gods themselves. You’re not taking my son away.”
“Dera, please, hold your tongue!” Verrarc looked terrified. “You’ll insult our guest.”
With Niffa, Demet, and Kiel right behind him, Lael pushed through the crowd. Dera ignored him and the councilman both and waggled one finger under Meer’s flat nose.
“Just who do you think you are, anyway,” she went on. “Marching in here and—”
“My good woman, please!” Meer held one huge hand up flat for silence. “I come to you as a suppliant, as one in need. Please, I beg you, allow your son to come with me. I promise you I’ll treat him not as a slave, but every bit as well and tenderly as I would treat my very own first-born nephew.”
Dera hesitated. Verrarc muttered astonishments.
“A mother’s words are law, Councilman,” Meer snapped. “My good woman, as I traveled this day through your city, everywhere I smelt fear, except on your son. He’s like one of your weasels, very small, but with the heart of a wolf. I cannot travel alone.” He reached up to touch the rim of an empty eye socket. “My own mother wept when they blinded me, but in the end my calling pleased her well. For all I know, some great destiny lies in wait for your lad. Would you stand in his way?”
“Well now.” Dera let out her breath in a puff. “Well now. If you were going anywhere but east—”
“Truly, the name of the Slavers is not one to speak in jest. Among my own people we call them Lijik Ganda, the Red Reivers. An aeon ago they swept down upon us, and the slaughter drove us from our homeland and into sin and degradation. Woe, woe to the people of the horse that our desperation drove us to such sins! Do you think we’ve forgotten such