Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [83]
CHAPTER
8
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BOOK TWO
Zahakis took Skylan into the atrium and left him standing near a flowering hedge with two guards and orders to await the Legate’s pleasure. Skylan could see Acronis a short distance away on the other side of the hedge, which was a mass of green leaves and pink flowers. The Legate was pacing up and down on a path made of crushed pink marble. He caught sight of Zahakis and motioned for him. The two walked back and forth, discussing something with intense interest.
The rain had passed. The sun had come out, spattering the water-spangled leaves. Skylan stood where he had been told to stand, fuming and frustrated. He was not accustomed to being ordered about by anyone. He had always done what he wanted to do, and now he was sent here and told to go there and he did not think he could stand it.
Skylan eyed the bored soldier standing guard over him and considered attacking him. Or perhaps he would attack Acronis, who was not three paces from him. He and Zahakis were separated from Skylan only by the blooming hedge and a marble statue of a half-naked man leaning upon a spear. He would not stand a chance. The guards would cut him before he got near Acronis, but at this point, Skylan considered death preferable to this life, which was growing more intolerable by the moment.
Skylan was seriously considering carrying out his resolve when his attention was captured by something Acronis said. Skylan quickly forgot his self-pity and began listening.
“The Empress was told by the Priest-General that an ogre fleet is sailing toward Sinaria. A hundred ships or more, all crammed with soldiers.”
“And how does the Priest-General know this?” asked Zahakis.
“His spies—priests who permitted themselves to be captured and enslaved by ogres so they could spy on them.”
Zahakis shook his head.
“I know. I thought the same. These spies transmit their messages through the Watchers, those wretches who sit in the Shrine of Aelon day and night staring into bowls of water.”
Skylan glanced sidelong at his guards to see if they were watching him. He was having trouble keeping his facial muscles from betraying his astonishment. He had heard about the ogre fleet from Wulfe, who claimed to have heard it from his oceanaids. Skylan had not believed such a ridiculous tale. But now it seemed the Southlanders did.
His guards were paying scant attention to him. Skylan remembered something Raegar had told him when his treacherous cousin had been pretending to be his friend. Raegar had been a slave in the Southland. He had lived many years as a slave.
“Slaves are held beneath contempt in Oran. They might as well be just another stick of furniture. Their masters think they are deaf, dumb, blind, and witless. Women entertain their lovers while their slaves stand at the side of the bed. Men plot to murder a rival as their slaves pour their wine. I could have ruined half the people in Sinaria with what I overheard when I was a house-slave.”
Having never expected to find himself in such a situation, Skylan had laughed at the stupidity of the Southlanders. He was not laughing now. Being a slave in the household of Acronis could have advantages. Skylan touched the amulet he wore around his neck as an apology to Torval for doubting him.
“Ogres are poor sailors,” said Zahakis. “They will never reach here. Their ships will all be sunk before they are halfway across the ocean.”
“Do not underestimate them. Remember that year after year, these ‘poor sailors’ have managed to cross the sea to raid our northern colonies,” said Acronis dryly.
Skylan could have provided confirmation of that. The ogres had sailed after him, following the Venjekar back to his homeland.
Acronis added something about the Priest-General having assured the Empress that Aelon would raise the seas to swallow up their foes.
Zahakis interrupted him. “Best change the subject, my