Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [57]
At last Acronis shrugged and said, “I say we let them clean themselves up if that’s what they want. Dress them in their armor and their winged helms. Put on a spectacle. Then, when they fight in the Para Dix, crowds will throng into the arena to see them. Besides,” Acronis added in softer tones, “Chloe will love it.”
Zahakis smiled to himself. Chloe was the real reason. If Chloe had asked for the stars, Acronis would have found some way to rip them from the heavens. He was planning this triumphal parade solely for her benefit. A man of science, a philosopher, Acronis disliked ostentatious display. He would have been happy to have gone quietly to his villa and shut himself up in his library. Chloe adored parades and nothing would please her more than sitting with the Empress and the other noble ladies of Sinaria, watching her father, crowned with laurel leaves, as he rode in triumph past the reviewing stand.
The Torgun stripped off their clothes. The soldiers unlocked the manacles and, freed of their chains, the warriors jumped into the sea. Zahakis had posted archers on deck, their arrows nocked and ready to fly.
Once in the water, the Torgun forgot for a moment they were captives. They began to rough house, pushing each other underwater, splashing and kicking. The boy, Wulfe, jumped in with them, chattering and laughing. Aylaen watched from the deck of the Light of the Sea. By the wistful expression on her face, she would have liked to have joined them. Her sister, Treia, found her there and, looking scandalized, for the men were naked, she dragged Aylaen away.
Back on board the Venjekar, Skylan and the other Torgun scrubbed their clothes and plaited their long hair and combed their beards. They would have liked to have shaved their beards, as warriors did in the summer months—the fighting season. Beards were grown for warmth in the winter. Skylan had asked Zahakis for a razor. The Tribune had laughed heartily at that and refused.
Skylan was astonished beyond measure when Zahakis told him that he and his warriors were going to be permitted to wear their armor and helms. The soldiers hauled the armor up from the hold where they had kept it in storage. Skylan’s eyes blurred with tears as he rubbed a cloth lovingly over his chain mail. He should be wearing his armor proudly as he stood in the shield wall. He should not be wearing it as a slave, dragging his broken ship through the streets of his enemy. Skylan grit his teeth and let his anger burn away the pain. He touched the amulet to Torval.
“I hope you can take time from your battles to look down on us,” he said to the god. “We will make you proud.”
Wulfe put on the clothing given to him by the soldiers. They had started to think of the boy as lucky, for he could make dolphins come at his call, and dolphins were friends to those who sailed the seas. Boys in Sinaria wore sleeveless, short wool tunics, belted at the waist. Wulfe had grown some during the voyage, but, much to his despair, he was still not very tall. He wanted to be as tall as Skylan.
Wulfe had talked to his friends, the oceanaids, and he was worried. He sought out Skylan, found him polishing his helm. The helm being metal, Wulfe kept his distance.
“The oceanaids say that Uglies in this land hate the fae. They kill them. You won’t let them kill me, will you?”
“I won’t let them kill you,” Skylan said, only half listening.
Wulfe gave a sigh of relief and crept a little closer. “The oceanaids told me that the ogre fleet is halfway across the sea. The ogres are coming here to fight the Southlanders.”
Skylan grunted. He was concentrating on trying to remove a stubborn bit of rust and only after a moment did he realize what the boy had said. Skylan quit polishing, stared at him.
“Your oceanaids say that an ogre fleet is sailing here to Sinaria?”
Wulfe looked hurt. “I already told you that.”
“They are coming here to make war?”
“I guess,” said Wulfe. “Why else would the ogres come?”
Skylan spit on the metal and rubbed it with a cloth, all the while keeping