nothing to inspire superstitious terror, except among the ignorant.
He stole a sidelong glance at Orth. He would have to watch him carefully. The man had been a useful tool in Obann, by which Reesh had made the presters do his bidding; but taken away from the city, and from Temple politics, he was beginning to look useless.
“Prester Orth!”
The other man’s eyes snapped open.
“You weren’t praying, were you?” Reesh demanded.
“Praying?” Orth chuckled: there was no mirth in it. “A bit late for that—isn’t it, Excellency?”
“I was afraid the sight of that creature, a few miles back, might have undermined your courage. I hope it hasn’t.”
“I’m fine, Excellency,” Orth said. Reesh knew he was lying, but there was nothing to be done about it. Orth and Gallgoid, that was all he had—an assassin and a milksop. And the milksop would have to be the next First Prester. “At least it’s a reason to keep living!” Reesh thought.
CHAPTER 11
The Blays Find a Home
Because they were only two dozen men in a country full of enemies, the Blays took care to scout for miles around wherever they were. Thus they discovered one day that they were within a few miles of a farming village.
“I see it myself,” Shingis told Gurun. “Little village, people and cattle and pigs. They have just made harvest of their fields. Easy to surprise them, take food and other things. Maybe take girls, too.”
Gurun tried to sound like the queens immortalized in Scripture, imperious and wise.
“No, Shingis—you will not do that,” she said. “Winter will be coming soon. What will you eat? How will you keep warm? Will you live by robberies? How can I pray to the All-Father to protect you, if you turn into thieves and pirates? And what will you do when the people send to some big city for help and soldiers in armor come to hunt you? You must be more sensible than that. Tell the men I wish to speak to them.”
Shingis called them, and they came. She had them sit on the ground before her, so they’d have farther to look up. This was what she did when she prayed for them, stretching her hands to heaven and praying loudly in the language of the islands, of which none of them understood a single word. She made a display of prayer, like a king or a prophet in the Scriptures. But she prayed sincerely, for she knew these were important prayers. She did this once a day, and the Blays said they were deeply comforted by it.
Shingis stood beside her to translate.
“Listen, you men,” she said. “You’re strangers in this land, and there aren’t many of you. It would be foolish for you to live as outlaws, when there is a much better way.
“I will send Tim to the village, along with Shingis, to tell them that we are nearby, but mean them no harm. Instead, we would like to live among them, if only for the winter. We shall protect them from outlaws: with the Thunder King’s army broken up, the country must be full of them. The village will need protection. All we shall ask in return is food and shelter. Tell them we pray to the same God they do. Let Tim talk to them, and then come back and tell me what they say. I am your queen, and those are my wishes.”
The Blays discussed it among themselves. By now Gurun had learned enough of their language to understand that they were surprised by her plan, but not averse to it. It was something they hadn’t thought of for themselves.
“Queen, we do as you say,” Shingis said, when the men had reached a decision. “It is a good saying. It do no harm to try. That’s what Blays think.”
Gurun treated them to her most radiant smile and curtseyed to them. “Tell my people that their queen is pleased with them, and the All-Father will be pleased, too. They shall earn His favor by this.”
Shingis bowed. “We always try to please All-Father, while we are in His country.”
“All countries, Shingis, are His,” she said.
Gurun said a silent prayer, asking God to
He stole a sidelong glance at Orth. He would have to watch him carefully. The man had been a useful tool in Obann, by which Reesh had made the presters do his bidding; but taken away from the city, and from Temple politics, he was beginning to look useless.
“Prester Orth!”
The other man’s eyes snapped open.
“You weren’t praying, were you?” Reesh demanded.
“Praying?” Orth chuckled: there was no mirth in it. “A bit late for that—isn’t it, Excellency?”
“I was afraid the sight of that creature, a few miles back, might have undermined your courage. I hope it hasn’t.”
“I’m fine, Excellency,” Orth said. Reesh knew he was lying, but there was nothing to be done about it. Orth and Gallgoid, that was all he had—an assassin and a milksop. And the milksop would have to be the next First Prester. “At least it’s a reason to keep living!” Reesh thought.
CHAPTER 11
The Blays Find a Home
Because they were only two dozen men in a country full of enemies, the Blays took care to scout for miles around wherever they were. Thus they discovered one day that they were within a few miles of a farming village.
“I see it myself,” Shingis told Gurun. “Little village, people and cattle and pigs. They have just made harvest of their fields. Easy to surprise them, take food and other things. Maybe take girls, too.”
Gurun tried to sound like the queens immortalized in Scripture, imperious and wise.
“No, Shingis—you will not do that,” she said. “Winter will be coming soon. What will you eat? How will you keep warm? Will you live by robberies? How can I pray to the All-Father to protect you, if you turn into thieves and pirates? And what will you do when the people send to some big city for help and soldiers in armor come to hunt you? You must be more sensible than that. Tell the men I wish to speak to them.”
Shingis called them, and they came. She had them sit on the ground before her, so they’d have farther to look up. This was what she did when she prayed for them, stretching her hands to heaven and praying loudly in the language of the islands, of which none of them understood a single word. She made a display of prayer, like a king or a prophet in the Scriptures. But she prayed sincerely, for she knew these were important prayers. She did this once a day, and the Blays said they were deeply comforted by it.
Shingis stood beside her to translate.
“Listen, you men,” she said. “You’re strangers in this land, and there aren’t many of you. It would be foolish for you to live as outlaws, when there is a much better way.
“I will send Tim to the village, along with Shingis, to tell them that we are nearby, but mean them no harm. Instead, we would like to live among them, if only for the winter. We shall protect them from outlaws: with the Thunder King’s army broken up, the country must be full of them. The village will need protection. All we shall ask in return is food and shelter. Tell them we pray to the same God they do. Let Tim talk to them, and then come back and tell me what they say. I am your queen, and those are my wishes.”
The Blays discussed it among themselves. By now Gurun had learned enough of their language to understand that they were surprised by her plan, but not averse to it. It was something they hadn’t thought of for themselves.
“Queen, we do as you say,” Shingis said, when the men had reached a decision. “It is a good saying. It do no harm to try. That’s what Blays think.”
Gurun treated them to her most radiant smile and curtseyed to them. “Tell my people that their queen is pleased with them, and the All-Father will be pleased, too. They shall earn His favor by this.”
Shingis bowed. “We always try to please All-Father, while we are in His country.”
“All countries, Shingis, are His,” she said.
Gurun said a silent prayer, asking God to
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