Viperhand - Douglas Niles [21]
What kind of god would ask such a price? And what kind of people would obey? Maztica remained a dark puzzle to Hal, a place that made him feel very much lost and alone.
Yet, despite his loneliness, there was Erix. Hal couldn't help but contrast the frightening aspect of Maztica with her. Even if he had another place to go, Hal wasn't certain that he could leave her.
"Do you remember that night, back in Payit, when we thought we had escaped?" he asked her. The warmth of that night, which they had spent sleeping-albeit chastely-in each other's arms was a memory that seemed to grow warmer with each reminiscence. It had been a time before their enemies surrounded them, when the land had seemed to beckon them with opportunity.
Also, it had been a night of closeness they had not repeated since. He studied her face as he asked the question.
"Yes-yes, of course," she said quickly. A flush crept over her features, and she looked away from him.
"I wish, somehow, that we could go back to that feeling of…"
Of… what? Simple love? He couldn't define even for himself what he was trying to say. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Why couldn't he tell her how he felt?
Erix stood and looked at him with understanding. "We can't go back to that. We have enemies now… the priests of Zaltec and the Ancient Ones certainly still seek us, though perhaps we have avoided them for a while. And the Golden Legion-will your old comrades leave us in peace?"
As if to emphasize her remarks, at that moment they heard a call from beyond the reed curtain doorway to their apartments.
"Enter," called Erix.
A tall Maztican man entered and bowed stiffly. He wore a headdress of red feathers and a cape of feathers, golden, green, and white. Two large pendants of solid gold hung from his ears, and his lower lip bore a golden ornament. He was followed by two slaves dressed in clean white tunics.
The visitor's eyes met Halloran's. "The Revered Counselor, Nahecona, requires your presence in his throne room."
"Allow me a few minutes to prepare," replied Halloran after a moment's pause. The invitation wasn't a surprise, but it had caught him off guard. He wanted to polish his breastplate and carefully don his armor for this meeting. "We will be ready soon."
"You are to come alone," said the courtier. "Without the woman." His eyes never wavered from Halloran.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hal saw Erix clench her jaw. "I need her to translate" he objected.
"The counselor was most specific. Females are never allowed into his sight during the day, unless he specifically requests their presence."
Hal searched for another objection, feeling very vulnerable about the prospects of going on his own. He was surprised when Erix gestured, and he turned to look at her.
"Go!" she told him, in the common tongue. "You must not dispute the will of Naltecona."
"Very well," he agreed, watching as she stalked from the garden into her own sleeping chamber. Switching back to Nexalan, he told the richly garbed messenger that he wished to dress. The man stood silently as Hal donned his breastplate and boots and set his helmet on his brow. Girding his sword to his belt, he followed the man from the apartment, cursing the haste that had given him no time for spit and polish.
They inarched silently down several long corridors, then stopped before a pair of massive doors. Here, to Hal's surprise, the courtier doffed his feathered accoutrements, handing them to an attendant who gave him in return a tattered leather shawl. The nobleman placed this shawl over his shoulders.
The attendant lifted another of these ragged cloaks, looking meaningfully at Halloran. But the noblemen shook his head slightly, leading the former legionnaire into the throne room as the slave looked after them in surprise.
Halloran's steps slowed as awe overwhelmed him. The inside of the chamber was huge, with