Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [56]
Skylan drew in a breath. He was about to make himself very unpopular.
“I say we do it,” said Skylan. “We obey the Legate’s orders.”
“Bah!” Sigurd shrugged. “All know you are yellow as dog piss.”
“We are Torgun,” said Skylan sharply. “We are prisoners in the city of our foes. Do you want us to enter this city as slaves, hauled through the streets, driven by the whipmaster?”
Sigurd sneered and turned away, muttering to his buddy, Grimuir. Bjorn looked thoughtful, however; his brother uneasy. The rest at least decided to hear Skylan out.
“Would you enter this city as a slave or will you walk through the ranks of our foes proud with your head held high and songs of defiance on your lips?” Skylan asked.
Sigurd scoffed at them. “Don’t listen to this barking pup. Go lick Zahakis’s ass, Skylan, and leave us men alone.”
“I want to hear him,” said Farinn, quietly defiant.
“I am Chief,” said Sigurd angrily.
“And this is a council meeting,” returned Bjorn. “All have the right to speak. Go on, Skylan.”
“Look at us.” Skylan lifted his manacled hands. “We stink like pigs. Our beards are long. Our hair is filthy and matted. What do we look like? What do we smell like?”
“Slaves,” said Erdmun.
“We look and smell like slaves. I say we show these Southlanders that although they have chained our feet, they can never chain our souls.”
The others nodded at this. Even Sigurd quit scowling.
“What is your plan?” Bjorn asked.
Skylan explained. The others listened and looked at Sigurd. “I guess it might work,” he said grudgingly.
“I like it better than being whipped to death,” Erdmun said in a low voice to his brother.
That night, when Zahakis came back on board, Skylan met him on deck.
“We will do what you ask,” Skylan said. “We will haul our ship through the streets.”
“You’re a clever bastard,” said Zahakis. “How did you get Graybeard to go along? Last I heard, he was all for dying just to spite us.”
“I want something in return,” said Skylan.
Zahakis snorted. “Slaves don’t bargain.”
Skylan shrugged. “Your Legate wants to impress the people. If you grant our request, we will put on a show that the populace will be talking about for months.”
“What do you want?” Zahakis asked, a smile flitting over his lips. “Your weapons? You tried that once and we fell for it. We’re not likely to do that again.”
“We want to take a bath,” said Skylan.
Zahakis looked startled. He started to laugh, then stopped, for he saw that Skylan was in earnest. Zahakis eyed Skylan suspiciously. “What are you up to, young man?”
“Do you want live slaves or dead ones?” Skylan countered.
“I will speak to the Legate,” said Zahakis.
Skylan heard laughter and glanced back at his comrades. Sigurd was grinning at him. He said something in a low voice to Grimuir, who gave a snigger.
Skylan turned away. In death, valiant heroes meet in Torval’s Hall, friends and enemies alike. A man who dies in combat will share a drink with the honorable foe who killed him.
I will drink with Zahakis in the afterlife, Skylan determined. I will slug Sigurd.
Zahakis crossed the gangplank to the Light of the Sea. The galley rode at anchor, waiting to sail into the harbor tomorrow in triumph.
Zahakis found the Legate in his small office, planning his triumphal entry. Acronis’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“They want to what?”
“Bathe, my lord.”
Acronis shook his head. “This is a strange request. They are plotting something.”
“Of course they are, though I admit I do not know what, unless they plan to try to swim for freedom.”
“Skylan may be clever, but he is not foolhardy, nor is he stupid. He must know that any attempt by his warriors to try to flee will be hopeless. We hold his womenfolk hostage and I’ve seen the way he looks at the red-haired beauty. He is hopelessly in love with her. He would never leave her behind. And if these barbarians did somehow manage to escape, where could they go? With their blond hair and blue eyes, they could not very well lose themselves in the crowd.”
Acronis pondered long and hard. Zahakis