Robert Hughes - The Power and the Prophet

On the other hand, there were compensations. She glanced down at the vast plain north of the city and noted with satisfaction the growing number of pavilions that were springing up around its edge. Despite his misgivings, Kherda had followed her orders and summoned the Golden Throng. Her army swelled in size daily. Now if only Joss would hurry and get back to, take charge of it…

Bronwynn stepped down off the wall and strolled across the huge roof of her castle. Her hands clasped behind her, her head down, she was only vaguely aware that Maliff, her falconer, was diligently exercising one of his feathered charges. For his part, Maliff was not aware of Bronwynn at all. The actions of his birds totally absorbed the man’s attentions. People—even queens—were merely distractions.

In the midst of the roof there was a cavernous hole where her father’s aviary had once stood. A broad ramp spiraled down its edge toward the palace garden. As Bronwynn set foot on this, she heard animated voices from below. Kherda was bringing a group of some sort up the ramp, obviously in search of her. She sighed. Too late to turn back. She might as well meet this delegation and get it over with.

“Your Highness?” someone called up.

Bronwynn recognized the mellow voice immediately and clapped her hands with genuine affection.

“Oerrig?” she called. “Is that you?”

“Your Highness!” the burly actor called again as they came in sight of one another around a turn. “What a pleasure to see your beautiful face! For a day or two, I worried we might never see it again!”

Bronwynn warmly greeted the others in Gerrig’s company—Danyilyn, a petite actress with radiant eyes and a lovely smile, and Yona Parmi, the one man in Chaomonous who knew Pelmen best of all. These were Pelmen’s closest friends in all the Golden Realm, for this was the core of his acting troupe.

Bronwynn made a point of ignoring Prime Minister Kherda as she hooked her arm in Gerrig’s and asked,

“Exactly what do you mean?”

Gerrig frowned and turned to look at Kherda. “The Prime Minister says he’s told you about the clawsps…”

Bronwynn moaned. “Indeed. I’ve heard enough about sugar-clawsps to last a lifetime. How they eat, how they breed—”

“How they kill?” Gerrig rumbled deep in his chest, and the queen stopped walking and looked at him intently.

“How they what?”

“They kill, your Highness,” Gerrig intoned, and Danyilyn and Yona Parmi nodded in agreement.

“Explain,” Bronwynn commanded, looking at the actress.

“As you know, we’ve been performing in Pleclypsa,” Danyilyn responded. “All went well until a week ago, when we began noticing swarms of sugar-clawsps buzzing around the city—”

“Clawsps don’t swarm,” Bronwynn interrupted matter-of-factly. She felt certain of this. In the last week Kherda had read her every book in the library concerning the subject, and not one had mentioned swarming.

“That’s true, they don’t,” Yona Parmi agreed, leaning toward her. “Yet they’re swarming in Pleclypsa.

Three nights ago, they swarmed a member of our audience during a performance. You can imagine the screams. Fortunately, the poor man died quickly.”

“And he wasn’t the only one!” Gerrig burst in. “There were others that night, all leading citizens! It’s as if they’d each been chosen for assassination! By the next morning, we were on our way here!”

Utterly perplexed, Bronwynn looked at her Prime Minister inquiringly.

“It would appear,” Kherda began with his usual unnecessary formality, “that at present the southerly regions of the nation are the only areas infected. But as I warned you some days ago, my Queen, this malady among our insect population appears to be moving northward toward this city.”

Bronwynn shook her head in disbelief. “Then they really do swarm.” She missed seeing the Prime Minister’s smug nod as she turned again to the actors. “Does anyone have an explanation?”

Danyilyn shook her head, while Gerrig gave the queen an elaborate shrug. Yona Parmi, however, tapped his chin sagely and squinted his tiny eyes. “You know, of course, that Pelmen and I spent a lot of time talking. If my memory serves me, he once mentioned some Mari powershaper who could transform himself into a sugar-clawsp. I wonder. Could this all be related?”

Kherda chuckled involuntarily, then stifled it. Bronwynn looked at him in annoyance, and the Prime Minister felt obliged to explain. “Well I hardly think… I mean, a powershaper here? To what purpose? And if this should be some Mari attack, would it not start in the north?”

Bronwynn scowled at the man and looked back at the players. “Obviously our Prime Minister knows very little about shapers.” She glanced back at Kherda and went on. “Although he’d like us to believe he knows everything about everything.” She looked at Yona Parmi. “Thank you, Yona, for your suggestion.

I’ll consider it—but I certainly hope you’re wrong. I have an invasion to mount and an army to lead. I haven’t time to worry about the odd activities of a horde of insects.”

“An invasion?” Gerrig asked, raising his bushy eyebrows.

“My husband has run off to his homeland to find a war to fight in. I’m going to get him back.”

“So you’ve summoned the Golden Throng?” the huge actor asked enthusiastically, missing the exchange of rolled eyes between Danyilyn and Yona Parmi. “That explains all the warriors on the road!”

“It should.” Bronwynn nodded curtly. “But tell me, Gerrig—why do your eyes look glazed?”

“Your Highness,” Gerrig mumbled, “you know I’ve had far more experience in acting the warrior than in being one. Nevertheless, it’s always been my private dream to march with the Golden Throng…”

Danyilyn winced in obvious pain, and Yona Parmi massaged his temples. Bronwynn ignored them.

“You’re welcome to join my army any time you choose, Gerrig. But perhaps that’s a decision that should wait until you’ve rested?”

“Indeed, we’re all very tired,” Danyilyn agreed as she placed her tiny hands in the middle of Gerrig’s huge back and struggled to shove him toward their apartments.

“A rest will help us all think more clearly,” Yona Parmi nodded. “We thank you, your Highness,” he added, bowing deeply. Then he and Danyilyn ushered the big actor off the ramp and down one of the castle’s long, well-lighted corridors.

“I felt you should hear this news quickly—” Kherda began, but Bronwynn cut him off.

“It doesn’t change a thing. I’m still marching northward as soon as Joss returns from Lamath.”

The Prime Minister heaved a despairing sigh. “I feared as much. My Queen, Joss arrived this morning and went immediately to the parade grounds. He sends his apologies, but explains that, given your commands, he felt he should make as much use of the daylight as possible. He’ll come to the palace this evening to give his report.”

“Ah, Joss!” Bronwynn said enthusiastically. “It’s good to have at least one advisor with a warlike spirit!”

Kherda seemed ready to comment, then checked himself. “What about the sugar-clawsps?” he asked tentatively.

Bronwynn shrugged. “Have you ever thought of poisoning all the sugar in the city?” She didn’t wait to see Kherda’s expression but turned to climb the ramp toward her own royal suite. “I’m going to pack. Inform Joss that I expect a drill parade tomorrow. And Kherda,” she added, stopping to look back, “send the heralds to proclaim it throughout the city. I want there to be a crowd.”

Terril rode northward from Pleclypsa on a stolen pony, reflecting on the chaos he’d left behind him. The city was in turmoil. Most of its leading citizens were dead, assassinated by huge swarms of sugar-clawsps. The little creatures had done this eagerly, fanatically. They couldn’t help themselves. They were acting upon the commands of their god.