Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [127]
“You mean I must kill someone,” Treia faltered. “Someone I love. . . .”
Treia’s first thought was of Raegar and she knew she could never make such a bargain. He was everything to her. More than life itself. She was devastated. All this trouble for nothing. And then a thought occurred to her.
“This could be anyone?”
“Anyone at all,” said Hevis. “So long as you hold this person dear.”
Treia’s palms were clammy. Her stomach twisted. A horrid taste filled her mouth. She recoiled from herself in horror at the very thought, but she recalled what was at stake, what she stood to gain. She swallowed the bitter taste and said firmly, “Teach me the ritual. You will have your sacrifice.”
Hevis looked into her heart and was satisfied.
Wulfe dove down among the blankets the moment the god appeared. He could not see the face of the god, nor did he want to. He could feel the heat and he lay shivering and quaking, afraid the dread god of the Uglies would find him.
Wulfe could hear the discussion between Treia and the god quite clearly, but the boy was frightened half out of his wits and the words made no sense to him.
Just when Wulfe thought he would die of terror beneath the blanket, the god left, taking his horrid heat with him. Treia sat for a long time in the dark. Wulfe lay beneath his blanket hating her and wishing she would leave.
Finally he heard her stirring about at the other end of the hold, and he shoved aside a corner of the blanket and was finally able to draw a breath of fresh air.
Treia was taking off the ceremonial robes. She bundled them back into the chest and put on the gown of a priestess of Aelon. She took one final look about the hold. Wulfe held very still. Then Treia left, climbing up the ladder and walking swiftly across the deck.
When Wulfe was no longer able to hear her footsteps, he scampered up the ladder and saw her hurrying across the compound. He kept watch until she was gone, then he went back to look up at the dragon’s head, which was still blocking his way to the hiding place of the spiritbone.
“Please, can’t I give it back?” Wulfe asked plaintively.
The dragon’s red eye glittered fiercely.
Wulfe sighed and wandered off to find something to eat.
CHAPTER
4
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BOOK THREE
A rumor that the Empress was bringing in a new player to fight in the Para Dix spread about the boxes of the nobility, rippling among them like wind across a field of barley. People leaned into their neighbors to hear the exciting gossip, then they turned to impart the information to those seated beside them.
Chloe heard the rumor from Rosa, her house-slave, who had heard it from a slave belonging to a nobleman, who had heard it from a friend of a noble lady, who was currently a favorite with the Empress. Rosa was agog with excitement when she told her young mistress and talked so rapidly Chloe had trouble making sense of what she was saying. Well aware of Rosa’s tendency to exaggerate, and also somewhat suspicious of Rosa’s sources, Chloe longed to ask someone more reliable.
Although she was seated in the Empress’s royal box, Chloe was a small moon compared to the glorious sun that was Her Imperial Majesty—allowed to bask in the light and feel the warmth, but only from a distance. And, as of now, the royal box was still benighted, for the Empress had not arrived. Generally she came to the games only in the evening, to watch her champion team. Today, word flew that the royal party was on their way to the arena. The Empress was, of course, taking her time, for it was fatiguing to travel in the heat of the day. The game would be delayed to await her arrival.
The delay and the fact that the Empress was going to be in attendance added credence to the rumor. Chloe wished someone would visit with her, but though the noble lords bowed to her and their lady wives blew kisses from the tips of their fingers, no one came to sit beside her and chat.
Chloe understood. Her father was a wealthy man and, as such, the members of the