‘Nice group,’ Talen murmured.
‘They conquered and enslaved their neighbours, of course – mostly desert nomads of indeterminate race – and there was a certain amount of interbreeding, soldiers being what they are.’
‘But that was perfectly all right, wasn’t it?’ Baroness Melidere added tartly. ‘Rape is always permitted, isn’t it?’
‘In this case it wasn’t, Baroness,’ Zalasta replied. ‘Any Cyrgai caught “fraternising” was killed on the spot.’
‘What a refreshing idea,’ she murmured.
‘So was the woman, of course. Despite all their best efforts, however, the Cyrgai did produce a number of offspring of mixed race. In their eyes, that was an abomination, and the half-breeds were killed whenever possible. In time, however, Cyrgon apparently had a change of heart. He saw a use for these half-breeds. They were given some training and became a part of the army. They were called “Cynesgans”, and in time they came to comprise that part of the army that did all of the dirty work and most of the dying. Cyrgon had a goal, you see – the usual goal of the militaristically inclined.’
‘World domination?’ Vanion suggested.
‘Precisely. The Cynesgans were encouraged to breed, and the Cyrgai used them to expand their frontiers. They soon controlled all of the desert and began pushing at the frontiers of their neighbours. That’s where we encountered them. The Cyrgai weren’t really prepared to come up against Styrics.’
‘I can imagine,’ Tynian laughed.
Zalasta smiled briefly. It was an indulgent sort of smile, faintly tinged with a certain condescension. ‘The priests of Cyrgon had certain limited gifts,’ the Styric went on, ‘but they were certainly no match for what they encountered.’ He sat tapping his fingertips together. ‘Perhaps when we examine it more closely, that’s our real secret,’ he mused. ‘Other peoples have only one God – or at the most, a small group of Gods. We have a thousand, who more or less get along with each other and agree in a general sort of way about what ought to be done. Anyway, the incursion of the Cyrgai into the lands of the Styrics proved to be disastrous for them. They lost virtually all of their Cynesgans and a major portion of their full-blooded Cyrgai. They retreated in absolute disorder, and the Younger Gods decided that they ought to be encouraged to stay at home after that. No one knows to this day which of the Younger Gods developed the idea, but it was positively brilliant in both its simplicity and its efficacy. A large eagle flew completely around Cynesga in a single day, and his shadow left an unseen mark on the ground. The mark means absolutely nothing to the Cynesgans or the Atans or Tamuls or Styrics or Elenes or even the Arjuni. It was terribly important to the Cyrgai, however, because after that day any Cyrgai who stepped over that line died instantly.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Kalten objected. ‘We encountered Cyrgai just to the west of here. How did they get across the line?’
‘They were from the past, Sir Kalten,’ Zalasta explained, spreading his hands. ‘The line didn’t exist for them, because the eagle had not yet made his flight when they marched north.’
Kalten scratched his head and sat frowning. ‘I’m not really all that good at logic,’ he confessed, ‘but isn’t there a hole in that somewhere?’
Bevier was also struggling with it. ‘I think I see how it works,’ he said a little dubiously, ‘but I’ll have to go over it a few times to be sure.’
‘Logic can’t answer all the questions, Sir Bevier,’ Emban advised. He hesitated. ‘You don’t have to tell Dolmant I said that, of course,’ he added.
‘It may be that the enchantment’s no longer in force,’ Sephrenia suggested to Zalasta. ‘There’s no real need for it, since the Cyrgai are extinct.’
‘And no way to prove it either,’ Ulath added, ‘one way or the other.’
Stragen suddenly laughed. ‘He’s right, you know,’ he said. ‘There might very well be this dreadful curse out there that nobody even knows about because the people it’s directed at all died out thousands of years ago. What finally happened to them, learned one?’ he asked Zalasta. ‘You said that they were extinct.’
‘Actually, Milord Stragen, they bred themselves out of existence.’
‘Isn’t that a contradiction?’ Tynian asked him.
‘Not really. The Cynesgans had been very nearly wiped out, but now they were of vital importance, since they were the only troops at Cyrgon’s disposal who could cross the frontiers. He directed the Cyrgai to concentrate on breeding up new armies of these formerly despised underlings. The Cyrgai were perfect soldiers who always obeyed orders to the letter. They devoted their attention to the Cynesgan women even to the exclusion of their own. By the time they realised their mistake, all the Cyrgai women were past child-bearing age. Legend had it that the last of the Cyrgai died about ten thousand years ago.’
‘That raises idiocy to an art-form, doesn’t it?’ Stragen observed.
Zalasta smiled a thin sort of smile. ‘At any rate, what used to be Cyrga is now Cynesga. It’s occupied by a defective, mongrel race that manages to survive only because it sits astride the major trade routes between the Tamuls of the east and the Elenes of the west. ‘The rest of the world looks upon these heirs of the invincible Cyrgai with the deepest contempt. They’re sneaky, cowardly, thieving and disgustingly servile – a fitting fate for the offspring of a race that once thought it was divinely destined to rule the world.’
‘History’s such a gloomy subject,’ Kalten sighed.
‘Cynesga’s not the only place where the past is returning to haunt us,’ Zalasta added.
‘We’ve noticed,’ Tynian replied. ‘The Elenes in western Astel are all convinced that Ayachin’s returned.’
‘Then you’ve heard of the one they call Sabre?’ Zalasta asked.
‘We ran across him a couple of times,’ Stragen laughed. ‘I don’t think he poses much of a threat. He’s an adolescent poseur.’
‘He satisfies the needs of the western Astels, though,’ Tynian added. ‘They’re not exactly what you’d call deep.’
‘I’ve encountered them,’ Zalasta said wryly. ‘Kimear of Daconia and Baron Parok, his spokesman, are a bit more serious, though. Kimear was one of those men on horseback who emerge from time to time in Elene societies. He subdued the other two Elene Kingdoms in western Astel and founded one of those empires of a thousand years that spring up from time to time and promptly fall apart when the founder dies. The hero in Edom is Incetes – a bronze-age fellow who actually managed to hand to Cyrgai their first defeat. The one who does his talking for him calls himself Rebal. That’s not his real name, of course. Political agitators usually go by assumed names. Ayachin, Kimear and Incetes appeal to the very simplest of Elene emotional responses – muscularity, primarily. I wouldn’t offend you for the world, my friends, but you Elenes seem to like to break things and burn down other people’s houses.’
‘It’s a racial flaw,’ Ulath conceded.
‘The Arjuni present us with slightly different problems,’ Zalasta continued. ‘They’re members of the Tamul race, and their deep-seated urges are a bit more sophisticated. Tamuls don’t want to rule the world, they just want to own it.’ He smiled briefly at Oscagne. ‘The Arjuni aren’t very attractive as representatives of the race, though. Their hero is the fellow who invented the slave-trade.’
Mirtai’s breath hissed sharply, and her hand went to her dagger.
‘Is there some problem, Atana?’ Oscagne asked her mildly.
‘I’ve had experience with the slave-traders of Arjuna, Oscagne,’ she replied shortly. ‘Someday I hope to have more, and I won’t be a child this time.’
Sparhawk