Freda Warrington Jewelfire 2 The Sapphire Throne

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hadn't kept telling her what to say and do.
'Yet you were allowed to live, despite the fact that the Bhahdradomen were the
aggressors in that
War. Tzumezht, I appreciate your difficulty, but you cannot stay here. Nor can
you wander at will across
Aventuria.'
Serpeth put in, 'The Queen may view it as an act of aggression if you
persist.'
Tzumezht turned his face up to her, his cheeks lined with pain, his eyes
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imploring, his mouth showing long yellow teeth. 'Then tell us what we are to
do! We are not fell warriors under a dread and glorious leader such as
Ghaurthror of the Flies. We are peasants. Look at us; we have nothing, we are
less than peasants in a hostile land! Sirs, madam, we throw ourselves utterly
on your mercy. We are refugees!'
Helananthe, Serpeth and Derione all looked at each other. The mass of
Bhahdradomen looked pitiful indeed. On a visceral level, something about them
repulsed her, and perhaps they felt the same about humans; but on a rational
level, they offered no threat. Helananthe hated being cruel. If they begged
for mercy, what could she do but help them?
She and her companions withdrew and talked softly for a few minutes. Then
Helananthe went back to
Tzumezht.
'Tell me the truth,' she said. 'Have you had recent contact with anyone from
Vexor? Has something happened to cause this exodus?'
Tzumezht shook his head, a slow, insectile swaying motion. 'Those of us who
remained in Aventuria were severed from all contact with the exiles, as well
you must know.'
'No messages from Vexor? Are you sure?'
'I have told you our reasons for moving.'
'H'm. Well, since you have begged for refuge, and you are the crown's
responsibility, we have no choice but to grant it. I will arrange a holding
area for you, well away from human habitation, on certain conditions.' 'We
shall do our utmost to fulfil them, my lady.' 'These flesh-animals of yours,'
she said. 'Are they all you can eat?'
Filmy eyelids flicked over his wet black eyes. 'No, my lady. We can eat
certain fruits and grains, and some of your fish, although it disagrees with
us. The graukhim are what we prefer to eat, for the benefit of our health and
that of our hatchlings.'
A less healthy bunch she had never seen, Helananthe noted. She swallowed hard.
'When you slaughter one, can you salt or preserve the flesh in some way?'
Tzumezht hesitated. The Bhahdradomen behind him stirred and murmured. 'We can,
but 'Good, because you will have to do without them from now on.'
A resonance of shock came from them. Tiny pulses of anger rained on her from
their sullen, luminescent eyes and the stench of sour earth nearly choked her.
She went on, 'Your graukhim are the problem. They don't merely graze the grass
and foliage, they kill it. They make whole tracts of land sterile, unusable.
This can't be allowed to continue.'
Tzumezht looked distraught, as far as she could read his alien emotions. 'My
lady. I beg you. They are our staple diet. Without them, our existence, our
culture will not be the same.'
'That's unfortunate, but you give us no choice. You've failed to keep your
herds within the prescribed areas. Your herd must all be slaughtered. The
preserved meat will last you some time; after that, we will provide your
food.' 'No.' Tzumezht shook his head stubbornly. 'This is unacceptable!'
Helananthe turned away, and signalled to her soldiers. Pallid and
sour-mouthed, they set bolts to their crossbows and rode forwards.
The graukhim died hard, bellowing and raging. Only a shot through the eye,
direct into the brain, could still them. One charged a young soldier, gouging
its horn into her side before her comrades could slay the beast. As they
helped the wounded woman away, Helananthe's heart was in her mouth and she
prayed to all the gods and goddesses that her injury was not fatal.
The massacre was far from quick and clean. The stench that rose from the
animals' torn guts was abominable and their screams sounded almost human.
Helananthe looked away, shuddering.
At last it was over. The last of the flesh-animals fell heavily on to its
flank and lay motionless, its body steaming. The Bhahdradomen were like
statues.
Trying to steady herself, Helananthe turned to the spokesman again. 'I want
you to move north and east of here. Beyond that chain of hills ' she pointed,
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and all the refugees turned to look - 'there is a
good wide valley with fresh streams, the Danen Valley. That will be your
holding area for the time being.
If any more of your people come from different areas, they can live there too;
but if they bring graukhim with them, save yourselves another visit from the
army and slaughter them. If you need help salting and storing the meat, you
have only to let us know. You can keep ordinary cows and sheep, anything but
those - anything but graukhim.'
For a horrible moment she thought the Bhahdradomen were going to do something
unexpected; rush her party, unfurl weapons from nowhere, change shape into
something dark and ravening. She felt a flash of vile emotion from them,
bitter-black hatred. But the feeling vaporised. They were already turning and
moving away as she had directed, downcast and passive.
'We thank you, my lady,' said Tzumezht, with a deep bow. 'My people thank you
deeply for your mercy and munificence.'
*
*
*
As soon as the royal party dwindled into the distance, one of the quiet [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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