The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [111]
“That be a foul thing for even you to say,” Rocca said.
“Oh, does it be so?” Sidro gave her a smug smile. “If his heart be so pure, surely you’d not object to the ritual, would you? Since you do already think him fit for the worship, what harm could befall him?”
Caught, Rocca stared back and forth between Sidro and the high priestess. The two Horsekin priestesses stepped forward and began talking to Lakanza in their own language. Salamander could tell nothing of their feelings from their heavily tattooed faces, but apparently they were urging caution. Eventually Lakanza nodded her agreement and spoke in Deverrian.
“Very well,” Lakanza said. “Bring the sacred dagger forward.”
With a little smile Sidro opened the box. Salamander felt his heart freeze in his chest as Rocca’s rival took out a silver dagger. He knew now what this test would entail, and his mind went racing down long chains of lies and ruses. Holding the dagger, Sidro returned the box to the altar. For a moment she paused, looking him over with a small smile that held no good humor, while she ran one finger down the flat of the silver blade. Finally she took it by the point, then stepped forward and thrust the hilt at Salamander.
“Take it,” she growled. “Hold it if you dare. We’ll see if the sacred wyvern bites you or not.”
“Of course I dare.” Salamander grinned at her. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about it. Is it hot or suchlike?”
“Just take it.”
With a little shrug Salamander did just that. As soon as his fingers touched the dagger, blue flames exploded from the blade and leaped into the air. Salamander did his best to look dumbstruck—he yelped, flung the dagger down, and jumped back as Sidro howled in triumph. Rocca shrieked, then clasped both hands over her mouth.
“Vandar’s spawn!” Sidro said. “I knew it.”
“What?” Salamander stammered out the words. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“You lie!” Sidro said. “You may look like an ordinary man, but in your veins does run the blood of Vandar’s spawn. I call and demand that he be executed as our laws require.”
“Wait!” Rocca shoved herself in between them. “I’ve traveled with this man. There be no evil in him. I understand this not at all. Did you play some trick, Sidro? I’d not put it past you.”
“You frothing bitch!” Sidro raised one hand.
“Stop it!” Lakanza moved in and took control. “Sidro, pick up the wyvern knife, and put it properly away. There be a need on us to purify it. Rocca, please, do now hold your tongue so that I may sort this out.” She turned to Salamander. “By the testimony of this knife, either your father or your mother did come from the spawn. Be it that you dispute it?”
“Of course I do.” Salamander glanced around as if deeply bewildered. “My mother was a farmwife down near Aberwyn. We lived with my grandfather. She told me that my father was a rider in a lord’s warband. He was killed, and so we went back to her father’s farm, and—”
“Stop!” Lakanza held up one tattooed hand. “Did you ever know this man, your father?”
“Not that I remember. He was killed when I was still in swaddling bands, or so my mother told me.”
“Or so his mother did tell him.” Rocca said. “Your Holiness, I do think that she did lie.”
“It be possible. Vandar’s spawn do seduce human women now and then, winning them over with sweet words and flattery.”
“But—” Sidro was busying herself with putting the dagger away, perhaps to gain a little time. “He still be one of them.”
“I care not!” Rocca turned on her. “How can you even think of slaughtering someone who means us no harm?”
“How can you be so sure that he does tell you the truth?” Sidro drew her thin lips into a greasy smile. “Evil be his birthright, evil does lie in his heart, no matter what sweet words he may say.”
“It does not!” Salamander summoned all the righteous indignation he could. “What is this? I come here hoping