Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [151]
“Meradan!” Dar called out. “You come to offer slavery, not an alliance of free men. You want grooms and ostlers, not allies. You'll take those fields and starve their owners to feed your horses. I've met you on the battlefield. I know you through and through.”
Kral stood as straight as he could muster, threw his head back, and let the wind catch his mane of hair. He sneered, one lip curled as if he would speak. Dar broke into a brief run, leapt halfway up the stairs, leapt the rest of the way onto the platform, and strode toward Kral. Dangling on his chest the pendant seemed to catch the sunlight and glow—oddly brightly, really, for a single jewel. All at once Dallandra realized that sunlight had nothing to do with it. The enormous sapphire seemed to burst into flame, a cold silver leap and lick of fire that reached out like hands for the Horsekin leader. Kral yelped and staggered back. When Dar followed, the silver fire exploded from the jewel. It leapt up, spread, spiralled round upon itself until it seemed that Dar carried a burning silver shield in front of him. Kral screamed.
“Coward!” Dar snarled. “Kneel before the children of the gods!”
The rakzan knelt so fast and hard that he grunted. Behind the platform his men did the same, dropping into the dirt. Dallandra could see their lips moving; she could guess that they were muttering prayers. The townsfolk went silent; Dallandra had never heard so many persons make so little noise. On the platform, Chief Speaker Admi tried to speak, failed, and seemed about to choke on shock, but he held his ground.
“This town lies under my protection,” Dar went on. “Think you to add to the ancient sins of your people?”
“Never, never,” Kral said. “Forgive! No curses upon us!”
“If you would be spared Ranadar's curse, then listen to me! The people of Cerr Cawnen will choose their alliances. It's not for the likes of you to force yourselves upon them.”
“So it's not, not in the least. I swear to you! I'll not say another angry word.”
“Good.” Dar smiled, but it was a ghastly sort of smile— tight-lipped and hard. “Then you may live.”
Kral touched his forehead to the platform, then scrambled up, yelling to his men. When he jumped down, they flocked around him, muttering and waving helpless hands in the air. From somewhere in the crowd someone laughed; another person took it up, then another, and like a breaking wave the laughter crashed and howled, washing over the Horsekin and flooding them out of the gates. With his men close behind, Kral raced for the safety of their camp.
By then the silver fire had shrunk back into the sapphire and died. Dar waited until the last Horsekin was out of sight, then stalked to the edge of the platform. When he held up both hands, the laughter stilled, running away like the ebbing tide until at length the silence held.
“Citizens of Cerr Cawnen,” Dar called out. “My name is Daralanteriel tran Aledeldar, prince of the Westfolk, heir to the Seven Cities of the Far West. We have more reason to hate the Meradan, that is, the Horsekin as you name them, than ever you could know.” He paused, glancing around. “But hate them we do. Hear this! I offer you an alliance with me and my people, to stand against the Horsekin in any time of war. Our longbows brought down plenty of their precious horses in last summer's war, and we stand ready to kill more.”
The townsfolk roared their approval, stamping their feet, clapping their hands. Once again Dar flung his arms into the air, and once again they quieted.
“Let me warn you,” Dar went on, “that if you take my alliance, the Horsekin will hate you doubly. Think well on that before you make your choice on the morrow.” He turned on his heel, strode back to the stairway, and came down it in two leaps.
The crowd seemed frozen in a stunned silence. Admi hurried forward again, but when he tried to speak, his voice choked. He looked as if he'd woken from a blow to the skull. With a wave to her guards to follow her up,