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 I do not like rasts striking me, Queen, when I am not looking! I bellowed up at her.
She did not flinch.
Her amusement made her courtiers and her guards nervous.
 I am told you are a wild leem, Bagor. If you go on like this you will surely be beaten  She mentioned
one or three of the names for the unpleasant ways they have in Hamal of beating people  all under the
law, of course.
If I say that I couldn t take all this seriously, I believe you will understand my frame of mind. There I had
been, poised on the threshold of true discovery of the secrets of the fliers. I had the composition of the
vaol-boxes in my head. The paol-boxes would have yielded their secret to me when I challenged Ornol
again. And then I had been arrested as a thief for taking those three scales. The pouched belt of dirt had
been ditched as soon as I regained consciousness, but the scales damned me. I was weighed in them and
found guilty, so to speak. And, even after all that, I could have won free from the chain gang on the walls.
Once back in the sacred quarter I was safe as Hamun, Amak of Paline Valley. And now this Jezebel of a
queen was playing with me, having fun, dressing me up in humiliating clothing, taunting me with her lazy
power.
 What do you want of me, Queen? I bellowed.  I have a sentence to complete of three seasons. Let
me get back to the walls and smash granite for the defense of the city!
She put her pointed chin on her fist and stared down at me, over the heads of her vile jiklos, her green
slanting eyes appraising me.  You are ceasing to amuse me, Bagor.
Before I could get out the exact words with which to annoy her, a Pallan approached swiftly from the
rear side of the throne, picking his way apprehensively past the manhounds  as well he might, for they
lolled their tongues at him, and saliva dribbled down their hideously human jaws. He whispered in Queen
Thyllis ear for a few moments, and a look of cruel satisfaction slowly gathered on her face, flushing the
chiseled whiteness, lending a more venomous cast so that one saw her character in an entirely new and
altogether more hideous aspect. Truly, she had been merely playing with me!
The Pallan blew his golden whistle and guards  more of the link-mesh-clad men  dragged in a
wretch who stumbled, falling, to be dragged so that his body fairly bounced across the rich carpets. The
courtiers  a brilliant lot to whom I had given scant attention  buzzed with muted excitement.
 Stand the nulsh up so we may see the face of evil!
The man was lifted and banged down on his torn and bleeding feet. He was dressed in the brown of a
gul, much patched. He stood near me, his face puffy from blows he had not dodged, one eye closed;
blood streaked over his scalp from his tangled hair.
 This is the man, Majestrix! squeaked the Pallan. He sniffled in his eagerness.  He has been put to the
question and he has confessed all. The indictment is written fair 
 Spare the laws of Hamal in my own palace! rapped Queen Thyllis. She looked at this poor devil and I
could only liken her look to that of a voryasen in the pool of the Phokaym.  Nulsh! You have been
convicted of spying for Pandahem. You would betray my armies to your own foul lords!
The man lifted his head. He glared up, shaking in his chains, filthy, bloody, finished.
 I work for Menaham! he croaked.  Long live Menaham, beloved of Pandrite!
I had no love for The Bloody Menaham, but this man deserved well in the thoughts of a fighting-man.
Someone in the pressing crowd of courtiers, sycophants all, began a chanting and the rest took it up and
soon that high hall rang with the words.
 Syatra! Syatra! Syatra!
Instantly, I understood, and I knew the purpose of that cleared area in the hall, where ornate gilded
railings  only they were solid gold, as I afterward discovered  kept folk away from a circular slab of
marble. The noise beat against the gilded rafters, echoed in the groined vaultings, smothered all reason.
 Syatra! Syatra! Syatra!
An old Xaffer, one of that strange remote race of diffs, trundled across to the railings. Under his
directions steel-clad guards removed a section of railing and then the circular slab of marble lifted and
swung aside on rollers. A round opening in the roof suddenly cleared, allowing the twin suns rays to
spear down like spotlights. They were not quite centered over the hole in the floor. The shouting stopped,
and a hush of breathless expectancy hung in that vast and evil hall.
The spy from The Bloody Menaham shrieked as he saw what snaked, white and sucking and seeking,
up through the hole.
A syatra is a corpse-white man-eating plant, with spine-barbed leaves and many thick fleshy tentacles
sprouting from a central trunk. Growths like Venus s-flytraps, larger than coffins, grow around the trunk.
Steam drifted from the opening and a gust of raw damp air swept chokingly from the hole in the marble
floor. Inch had told me that the tropical jungles of Chem on the continent of Loh are choked with these
devilish syatras.
Despite the foul odors gushing from the hole the courtiers craned forward, rustling their bright robes,
their golden ornaments clashing like a barbaric accompaniment to the horror going forward here. I shot a
quick savage look at Queen Thyllis and as though she could read my mind she made a quick and incisive
gesture. Instantly I was seized by my chains, dragged helplessly across the floor. I shouted at her, words,
broken phrases, I know not what. The poor devil of Menaham had not stopped shrieking. He was
dragged to the lip of the pit, through the gap in the railings, and as though merely waiting for this juicy
morsel, the syatra flailed a tentacle around his waist.
Screaming, struggling, he was dragged toward the hole and the palely pink-and-green caverns of
crushing horror.
Yet still he shrieked, and then as the corpse-white syatra burst full upon his shattered senses he retained
a few final moments of lucidity  of pride and defiance!
 For Menaham! He yelled it out, strong and bell-like.  I, Tyr Dopitka ti Appanshad, spit upon you all!
And then, as the agony came on him:  Pandrite, aid me! Opaz  Pandr 
The miasmic air of malignity in that foul pit hung no more heavily than the venomous atmosphere in the
high hall. The rollers rumbled back, the marble slab closed, the old Xaffer fussily superintended the
replacement of the gold railings.
 You, Bagor ti Hemlad! Queen Thyllis spoke with caustic virulence.  One word  and that fate awaits
you!
Chapter Nineteen
Of a big toe and mockery
I, Dray Prescot, of Earth and of Kregen, with a whole gaudy raggle-taggle tail of high-sounding names,
paced my stone cell, four paces north, four paces south, over and over, and if every now and again I
thumped a fist against the stone walls so that my knuckles buzzed  I felt Zair and Opaz and Djan were
dealing most unkindly with me.
Many a Kregan in my position might think that Havil the Green, or Lem the Silver Leem, had gained an
ascendancy. I would not countenance the thought that Grodno so much as breathed in Zair s pure air 
although I had seen sights that made me realize the reality. I was locked in that reeking palace of Queen [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]