Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [168]
As he turned to go, Rhodry saw Raena, peering out of one of the tents. She held the tent-flap just open enough to look out while remaining mostly hidden behind the canvas.
“And will you come to witness,” Rhodry said, “priestess?”
Raena went dead-still, staring at him. Rhodry laughed, his high berserker's chortle.
“I'll wager you don't have the guts.” He bowed to her in the best courtly manner he could muster, being as he was holding a staff. “Not after our meeting upon the battle plain.”
“Curse you!” Raena flung the canvas aside and stepped out. “Kral! Kill this man! I command you!”
“What?” In two long strides Kral joined them. “I grovel before the holy one, but I'll not be killing a herald and an unarmed man. How, think you, would that please the good folk of the town?”
Raena stamped her foot and glared at him. She was wearing a long buckskin dress, painted with blue designs, and her long black hair was piled up on her head and bound with gold bands. The finery, however, seemed to leave Kral unimpressed. He shrugged and turned to Rhodry.
“Good herald, I do suggest that you return to your town.”
“My thanks, Rakzan, and I shall.”
As he strode off, Rhodry was grinning. Now he had only to wait and see if Raena took his challenge.
All day the dark clouds hung over Citadel. In the heat tempers ran short, especially among the militiamen, who dripped sweat inside their leather armor. Verrarc walked back and forth, speaking as calmly as he could and settling squabbles. He'd never seen the citizenry so edgy, either. With such an important decision at stake, every adult in town turned out to line up and wait on the only path up to the square. Here and there some impatient soul would try to force himself a few paces ahead of where he should be, or some woman would be carrying a baby that squalled and stank, and those standing near these nuisances would turn nasty.
Burra and Frie spent most of the morning walking back and forth along the queue of townsfolk to keep order. A few at a time the citizens left the path and walked onto the public square, where Hennis handed out the three markers, then went singly into one of the booths. Mindful of the crowd, everyone moved briskly past the jugs. On their way out they dropped the unused stones into another pot. It took all of Verrarc's will to keep from peeking into the discards, just to get some vague idea of which way the vote would swing. By noontime, Verrarc estimated that half of those entitled to vote had finished.
“I think me we'd best send out the criers again,” Admi said, “to ask the citizens still at home to stay there until this press thins.”
“Just so,” Verrarc said. “It gladdens my heart to see so many folk come out.”
Admi nodded and pulled a rag out of his pocket to mop the sweat from his face.
“Rain would be welcome,” Verrarc went on. “Though I do hope it holds off till most have decided.”
Admi said nothing. He was staring over Verrarc's shoulder with a peculiar expression on his face, half contempt, half fear. When Verrarc turned around, he saw Raena in a long Horsekin-style leather dress, her head bound in green cloth, walking briskly toward him with Rakzan Kral. Behind them came a Horsekin warrior, carrying a ceremonial staff. Kral himself carried naught but a table dagger at his belt.
“The gall of the bitch,” Admi murmured.
Verrarc wondered if he were about to disgrace himself and weep. Fortunately Kral turned and said a few words to Raena that made her stop walking. She and the guard waited a good distance away while Kral hurried over to Admi and Verrarc.
“I mayn't command the priestess,” were the first words Kral spoke. “My apologies, Councilman Verrarc.”
“No offense taken,” Verrarc said. “I never could control her either.”
Verrarc turned on his heel and strode off to the other side of the booths. Raena never came near him, not for the entire long afternoon.
Although the clouds grew darker, the rain held off throughout the Deciding. At various times one of the coun-cilmen or some of the militia would slip off to eat, then