deities of the plainsmen. It seemed the man was a person of great importance among the nomads, for he always stayed close to Yalmuk and in some ways the ambassador seemed to defer to him. The Lord of Tarsis felt that the shaman might be a man to cultivate. The problem was, with what did one bribe a shaman?
“Holy Shadespeaker,” said the lord, “is it by the will of your gods that Kyaga Strongbow has been elevated to the overlordship of the Plains of Dust?”
The man regarded him through the strings of dangling beads. His face was even harder to read because it had been painted a vivid green. “The spirits of all our ancestors came to me and proclaimed that Kyaga was indeed the one prophesied to us.”
“Ah, I see. So it was through you that he became chief?”
“Through the ancestors,” said the shaman, “and through his own might. He brought many tribes under his lordship through many years of fighting.”
“How splendid.” This looked promising. If the shaman felt that it was through his intercession with the spirits that Kyaga was elevated, he might feel himself the equal of the new leader. He would be resentful if the chieftain paid him insufficient honor. “Your lord must value you above all other men.”
“My lord listens when I speak,” said the holy man.
“He listens to his wizard,” chimed in Yalmuk. “But Kyaga knows that his glory rests on swords and bows and the hearts of his warriors!” He set his teeth into a venison pasty and washed it down with half a beaker of strong wine.
“A chief must have warriors,” the shaman said, “but the greatest bowmen are of no use to him if he has not the favor of the gods and the ancestors.”
“As you say, Shadespeaker,” Yalmuk muttered. A few minutes later Yalmuk excused himself from the table, and the lord was able to speak confidentially to the shaman.
“I think the ambassador considers himself to be your better,” commented the lord.
Shadespeaker drummed his fingertips against the taut rawhide of his tambourine. “He is a great tribal chief, second only to my lord, who values him above all others.”
“Surely that place belongs to you, the man who elevated him and made plain to all the tribes that he is their rightful leader.”
“Kyaga Strongbow chooses as he will,” said the shaman sullenly. “It is not for ordinary men to question him.”
“Of course not,” said the lord. “But here in Tarsis, we accord honor as it is deserved.” As he spoke these words Yalmuk returned to the table.
In time the shaman departed to join a group of court ladies who were interested in his tribal lore, and the Lord of Tarsis found himself temporarily alone with the ambassador.
“Your holy man seems to think highly of himself,” the lord said.
“Those spirit-speakers are mostly frauds,” grumbled the man, bleary-eyed from all the wine he had drunk. “They do no work, they own no herds, they do not fight, yet they think they can live easy and have the respect of real men.”
“I quite agree. You will notice that priests have no say in the affairs of Tarsis. We let them tend to the service of the gods while men of wealth and war direct the affairs of our city. I understand that you are the chieftain of a great tribe. It must vex you to see so much honor go to a mere shaman instead of to a worthy man like yourself.”
Yalmuk shook his head. “I would never dispute the decisions of my chief. He is not as other men.”
“Of course not. You are a man of great loyalty. I, more than any other, know how valuable are men of honor. While I know full well that you would never betray your chief, this shaman could succeed in mrning him against you. Such men can never stand to see others too high in the favor of their chieftain. Should that happen, know that you have a place here in Tarsis.”
“I have no worries on that account,” said the ambassador, but he clearly lacked conviction.
As the banquet came to a close, the Lord of Tarsis was
“Holy Shadespeaker,” said the lord, “is it by the will of your gods that Kyaga Strongbow has been elevated to the overlordship of the Plains of Dust?”
The man regarded him through the strings of dangling beads. His face was even harder to read because it had been painted a vivid green. “The spirits of all our ancestors came to me and proclaimed that Kyaga was indeed the one prophesied to us.”
“Ah, I see. So it was through you that he became chief?”
“Through the ancestors,” said the shaman, “and through his own might. He brought many tribes under his lordship through many years of fighting.”
“How splendid.” This looked promising. If the shaman felt that it was through his intercession with the spirits that Kyaga was elevated, he might feel himself the equal of the new leader. He would be resentful if the chieftain paid him insufficient honor. “Your lord must value you above all other men.”
“My lord listens when I speak,” said the holy man.
“He listens to his wizard,” chimed in Yalmuk. “But Kyaga knows that his glory rests on swords and bows and the hearts of his warriors!” He set his teeth into a venison pasty and washed it down with half a beaker of strong wine.
“A chief must have warriors,” the shaman said, “but the greatest bowmen are of no use to him if he has not the favor of the gods and the ancestors.”
“As you say, Shadespeaker,” Yalmuk muttered. A few minutes later Yalmuk excused himself from the table, and the lord was able to speak confidentially to the shaman.
“I think the ambassador considers himself to be your better,” commented the lord.
Shadespeaker drummed his fingertips against the taut rawhide of his tambourine. “He is a great tribal chief, second only to my lord, who values him above all others.”
“Surely that place belongs to you, the man who elevated him and made plain to all the tribes that he is their rightful leader.”
“Kyaga Strongbow chooses as he will,” said the shaman sullenly. “It is not for ordinary men to question him.”
“Of course not,” said the lord. “But here in Tarsis, we accord honor as it is deserved.” As he spoke these words Yalmuk returned to the table.
In time the shaman departed to join a group of court ladies who were interested in his tribal lore, and the Lord of Tarsis found himself temporarily alone with the ambassador.
“Your holy man seems to think highly of himself,” the lord said.
“Those spirit-speakers are mostly frauds,” grumbled the man, bleary-eyed from all the wine he had drunk. “They do no work, they own no herds, they do not fight, yet they think they can live easy and have the respect of real men.”
“I quite agree. You will notice that priests have no say in the affairs of Tarsis. We let them tend to the service of the gods while men of wealth and war direct the affairs of our city. I understand that you are the chieftain of a great tribe. It must vex you to see so much honor go to a mere shaman instead of to a worthy man like yourself.”
Yalmuk shook his head. “I would never dispute the decisions of my chief. He is not as other men.”
“Of course not. You are a man of great loyalty. I, more than any other, know how valuable are men of honor. While I know full well that you would never betray your chief, this shaman could succeed in mrning him against you. Such men can never stand to see others too high in the favor of their chieftain. Should that happen, know that you have a place here in Tarsis.”
“I have no worries on that account,” said the ambassador, but he clearly lacked conviction.
As the banquet came to a close, the Lord of Tarsis was
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