Here Bajorak’s sensual lips pulled back to reveal his straight white teeth. It was a smile meant to be charming, but due to the thick scars on his cheeks, seemed more of a leer. All the women of the Manslayers, when they entered their Society, took vows to slay a hundred of their enemy before they would be free to marry. Few, of course, ever did. But those who fulfilled this terrible vow had almost free choice of husbands among the Sarni men, who would be certain to sire out of them only the strongest and fiercest of sons. As Bajorak’s desire pulled at his blood, my own passion surged inside me: hot, angry, wild and pained. I glared at him as I gripped the hilt of my sword. Then it was Kane’s turn to wrap his hand around my arm and restrain me.
‘And so,’ Bajorak said, looking at Pirraj and Kashak, ‘my warriors and I agreed to Karimah’s strange request. We were curious. We wanted to see if all kradaks are like them.’
He pointed to the Red Knights down the stream. Then his clear blue eyes cut into me, testing me.
And I said, testing him, ‘Do you think we’re alike? The Red Knights are our enemies, as they are yours. What is strange is that you allow them to ride freely across your lands – the Zayak, too.’
‘You say,’ he muttered. He shot me a keen, knowing look. ‘I think you want us to attack them, yes?’
‘I have not said that, have I?’
‘You say it with your eyes,’ he told me.
I continued scanning the glints of red armor along the river, looking for a standard that might prove the presence of Morjin.
‘If we attacked them,’ I asked Bajorak, ‘would you join us?’
‘Nothing would please me more,’ he said, causing my hope to rise. And then my sudden elation plummeted like a bird shot with an arrow as he continued, ‘But we may not attack them.’
‘May not? They are crucifiers! They are Zayak, from across Jade River!’
‘They are,’ he said, turning to spit in their direction, ‘and Morjin has paid for their safe passage of our lands.’
This was news to us. We crowded closer to hear what Bajorak might say.
‘In the darkness of the last moon,’ he told us, ‘the Red Knights came to Garthax with gold. He is greedy, our new chieftain is. Greedy and afraid of Morjin. And so Garthax allowed the Crucifier’s knights to range freely across our country, from the Jade River to the Oro, from the Astu to the mountains in the west. They are not to be attacked, curse them! And curse Morjin for defiling the Danladi’s country!’
His warriors, savage-seeming men, with faces painted blue, braided blond hair and moustaches hanging down beneath their chins, nodded their heads in agreement with Bajorak’s sentiments.
‘Was it Morjin, himself, then,’ I asked Bajorak, ‘who paid this gold to Garthax? Does he lead the Red Knights?’
‘I have not heard that,’ he told me. ‘Were it so, we would attack them no matter if Morjin had paid Garthax a mountain of gold.’
‘It will come to that, in the end!’ Kashak barked out. Blue crosses gleamed on his sunburned cheeks to match the smoldering hue of his eyes. ‘Let us ride against them now, with these kradaks!’
‘And break our chieftain’s covenant?’
‘A chieftain who makes covenant with the Crucifier is no chieftain! Let us do as we please.’
Bajorak, too, shared Kashak’s zeal for battle. But he had a cool head as well as a fiery heart, and so to Kashak and his other men he called out: ‘Would you commit the Tarun clan to going against our chieftain? If we break the covenant, it will mean war with Garthax.’
‘War, yes, with him,’ Pirrax said, shaking his bow. ‘We’re warriors, aren’t we?’
Now Atara stepped forward, and her white blindfold gleamed in the strong sunlight. Her face was cold and stern as she addressed these fierce men of the Tarun clan: ‘It’s wrong for warriors to make war against their chieftain. Can not Garthax be persuaded to return this gold?’
Bajorak shook his head. ‘You do not know him.’
‘I know what my grandfather, Sajagax, said of Garthax’s father: that Artukan was a great chieftain who would never scrape before Morjin. Does a lion sire a snake?’
‘Garthax,’ Bajorak said, ‘is not his father’s son.’
‘Have you tried helping him to be?’
It was one of Atara’s graces, I thought, that she tried ever to remake men’s natures for the good.
‘Help him?’ Bajorak said. ‘You do not understand. Garthax quarreled with Artukan over the question of whether we should treat with Morjin. And two days later Artukan died while drinking his beer … of poison!’
‘Poison!’ Atara cried out. ‘That cannot be!’
‘No, no one wanted to believe it – certainly not I,’ Bajorak told her. ‘But it is said that upon taking the first sip of his beer, Artukan cried out that his throat was on fire. One of his wives offered him water, but Artukan said that this burned his lips. Everything … burned him. No one could touch him. It is said that he put out his own eyes so that he would not have to bear the torment of light. His skin turned blue and then black, like dried meat. He screamed, like a kradak burnt at the stake. It took him a whole day to die.’
Master Juwain’s face paled, and then he said to Bajorak, ‘If what you tell is true, then surely the poison was kirax.’
Surely it was, I thought as my heart pushed my flaming blood through my veins. And surely thus I would have died, too, if only the assassin sent by Morjin had managed to bury his arrow even a tenth of an inch into my flesh.
‘I do not know this poison, kirax,’ Bajorak said to Master Juwain.
And Master Juwain told him, ‘It is used only by the Red Priests of the Kallimun. And by Morjin.’
Bajorak’s gaze flashed from Master Juwain to Kashak and Pirraj, and he made a warding sign with his finger as he cried out, ‘Treachery! Abomination! If Garthax really was in league with the Red Priests, if he is, then …’
‘Then his eyelids should be cut off, and he should be staked out in the sun for the ants and the yellowjackets to eat!’
These terrible words came from Atara, and I felt my heart nearly break against my chest bones to hear her pronounce the age-old punishment that the Sarni meted out to poisoners.
‘He should be unmanned,’ she added, ‘and his parts given to the vultures!’
It was one of Atara’s griefs, I knew, that when her hopes for men failed, she could fall icy cold and full of judgment, like a killer angel.
‘If true,’ Bajorak said, nodding his head, ‘what you say should be done. But we know not that it is true. Only that, from what we’ve learned of Garthax, it could be.’
‘Then until it is proved,’ Atara said, ‘he is still your chieftain. And so you must persuade him with words to break this covenant with Morjin, rather than with arrows and flaying knives.’
‘Words,’ Bajorak spat out. He looked from Atara to Kane and then at me. ‘Valashu Elahad, all of you, rode with Sajagax to Tria to unite the free peoples against Morjin, with words. And what befell? Alonia is in flames, and in the Morning Mountains, the Elahad’s own Valari make war with each other. And on the Wendrush! The Zayak ride openly into our country! It is said that the Marituk have allied with the Dragon, the Janjii, too! And so the Tukulak and the Usark, and other tribes, soon will. They think to choose the winning side before it is too late. They have no sense of themselves! Whatever