Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [43]
“So are Sigurd and Skylan going to go ahead with this supposed Vutmana?” Treia was asking. “Why would the Legate permit it?”
“The soldiers want amusement,” Raegar stated sourly. “They need a Bone Priestess, however. I told the Legate that neither of you will have anything to do with it.”
“I might,” said Aylaen, just to be contrary and annoy Raegar.
Treia cast her a shocked glance. “You will do no such thing. I forbid it.”
“You might get hurt,” said Raegar in solicitous tones that made Aylaen’s skin crawl.
“How could I possibly get hurt?” she asked tartly.
Treia and Raegar exchanged glances.
“It is all a plot by Skylan to escape.”
“It is?” Aylaen stared at him.
“Of course!” said Raegar dismissively.
“But why would the Legate let them fight, then?”
“Acronis is not stupid. He has taken precautions.”
“But don’t you want to escape?” Aylaen asked Treia. “Don’t you want to go back home?”
She saw Treia gazing up at Raegar with adoration and knew the answer.
A wave of homesickness swept over Aylaen. She longed for her mother, who had not wanted her to go on this voyage, who had wept and pleaded with her to remain. She longed to be back in the fields where she and Garn had worked, to sit in the grove where they made love in the afternoon. She dreaded the thought of being a slave, dreaded what horrors the future might hold. Her heart leaped at the idea that they might have a chance for freedom. She hated Skylan, but she never doubted his courage and resolve. She wondered suddenly if the strange events of last night were a part of Skylan’s plan.
Aylaen glanced sidelong at Raegar, who was sitting beside Treia, airing his grievances to an appreciative audience. Seeing that he was, for the moment, not paying any attention to her, Aylaen slid the small knife out of her boot and swiftly thrust it into the leather belt she wore and arranged the folds of the tunic she wore over it, making certain that it was well concealed.
“You have not found the spiritbone?” Raegar was asking her sister.
“No,” said Treia, and she shrugged. “I doubt if we will ever find it. The Dragon Kahg has abandoned us.”
Raegar nodded in satisfaction. “That means your gods have given up.”
A soldier shouted down into the hold. “Warrior-Priest Raegar, you and the women are wanted on deck.”
Raegar assisted Treia to climb the ladder. He turned to assist Aylaen, but she drew back from his touch. He gave her a smile and shrugged and followed Treia. Aylaen came last, feeling the cold steel of the knife in her belt.
Our gods won’t give up, she thought. And neither will we.
Raegar stepped onto the deck. The Legate and Tribune Zahakis stood together in conversation in the place of honor near the dragonhead prow, watching while the soldiers erected an awning made of canvas on the deck, which would shade the Legate from the sun so that he could better enjoy the spectacle.
Acronis should have invited Raegar to join them. He was, after all, the Warrior-Priest assigned by the Priest-General to serve on the Light of the Sea. Acronis saw Raegar and he said something to Zahakis, who grinned. Raegar guessed that they were discussing him. He gave a bow. Acronis inclined his head and turned away.
Raegar was angered. As the representative of Aelon, Raegar was responsible for the souls of all those on board and that included the Legate and the Tribune. Raegar did his duty, preaching to the men about Aelon and how the God of Light cared for them and wanted them to live good and productive lives.
Raegar was sincere in his belief in his god. He was sincere in his belief that all men must be brought to Aelon for the salvation of their souls. Raegar truly believed he had the good of the Legate and the crew and even the good of his Vindrasi kinsmen at heart. True, he had betrayed his kin into slavery. But as the Priest-General often said, if Aelon sometimes casts a dark shadow, it is only because the light