Hugh Cook: The women and the warlords

Celadric smiled, spinning out the silence. From round the table, eager eyes watched Yen Olass. With rising horror, Yen Olass wondered what dish he was going to name. Her breasts? Her ears? Her eyes? Her fingers? 'Bring in the pig!' said Celadric.

Four men entered, accompanied by a huge black-masked executioner. The men were carrying a big cage shrouded by a triple-ply solskin horse blanket. The executioner swept cups and plates onto the floor, clearing away the litter of the banquet with the flat edge of his falchion. Still holding his sword, the executioner stepped to one side, and the men put the cage down on the table. The heavy horse blanket muffled the noise of whatever animal was inside it.

'Do you like pork, Yen Olass?' said Celadric.

It had to be a trick question. Something monstrous must be in that cage. A baby keflo, perhaps? Yen Olass did not know whether to answer yes or no. If she said 'yes', she might be offered something poisonous. If she said 'no', then Celadric might get the thing in the cage to eat her. Thinking on her feet, she found an answer of sorts:

'I shared lunch with your father once. I'd be happy to share breakfast with you.’

'My pleasure,' said Celadric.

Then he nodded to the executioner, who whipped off his black mask, revealing himself as- 'Nan Nulador!' said Yen Olass.

The horseblanket was whipped away and the thing in the cage screamed: 'Mam!’

'Monogail!' screamed Yen Olass.

She slashed the first guard who tried to grab her, laying his face open with five steel-tipped fingernails. But York grabbed her from behind, twisted her arm up behind her back and forced it almost to the breaking point. Monogail was wailing.

'You can't do this!' said Yen Olass, gasping, her eyes watering with pain. 'Not to a child. It's too cruel.’

'A child dralkosh,' said Nan Nulador, his voice heavy as death. 'An abomination.’

'Butcher it,' said Celadric curtly.

'No!' screamed Yen Olass.

And she went on screaming as Monogail was dragged out of the cage. The handlers grabbed her hands and feet and held her flat to the table.

'Don't do it,' said Yen Olass, begging now. 'Don't hurt her. Don't do it. I'll do anything, you know. Your father-’

'Do it,' said Celadric.

'She's your half-sister!' shouted Yen Olass. 'Your own flesh and blood!’

'A monster or a bastard,' said Celadric. 'Either way, I don't care. Do it! Now!’

Nan Nulador raised the falchion. And Yen Olass dropped her voice and said, in a special tone:

'Nan Nulador…’

The big man faltered.

'Sleep,' said Yen Olass.

He swayed on his feet. He staggered. Then righted himself, and shook his head, clearing his mind. 'Sleep,' said Yen Olass.

But this time, the word had no effect at all. Nan Nulador raised his sword. The weight of the falchion was all in the big swell of steel down toward the tip, so the mass of the blade was concentrated on the point where it would slice through Monogail's neck.

Nan Nulador chopped down.

And jolted sideways, felled by a single blow. The Ondrask had smashed him with a battle hammer. The falchion went flying, and clattered to the floor. Monogail screamed senselessly.

'Bear witness!' shouted the Ondrash hoarsely. 'Bear witness! The emperor executed me because I tried to stop him eating a child. Bear witness! Tell it in Gendormargensis!’

The Ondrask gasped for breath, and was about to shout again, but Celadric cut in on him:

'Silence! Not another word! What's this about eating? Don't you know a joke when you hear one? We were just ridding the world of a dralkosh, that's all. Once it's dead, we can turf it down to the flames, for all I care.’

'Give it to me,' said the Ondrask. 'I'll take care of it.’

Celadric looked at the Ondrask of Noth. He smirked. Then his voice went silky smooth, and he addressed the Ondrask by name:

'Losh Negis, children are for women. Do you want the child? This can be arranged. But we'd have to make you a woman first. All it takes is a little work with a sharp blade. Is that what you want?’

The Ondrask was silent.

'You see?' said Celadric. 'You thought you were a hero. But you're not, really. You were ready to die – but anyone can die. People do it all the time. They manage even if they haven't practised. What's difficult is living. And, as I've shown you, when it comes to living, you're no hero. Tell that in Gendormargensis, if you wish. Losh Negis made his choices.’

The Ondrask bowed his head. His attempt to shame Celadric into letting the child live had failed. Celadric had made him look like a fool. And, in some people's minds, a bit of a coward as well. Though what man in his right mind would choose to be made into a woman?

'You only want to kill the child because your father thwarted you when you wanted to kill me,' said Yen Olass, trying to see if Nan Nulador was dead or unconscious or what.

'Really?' said Celadric, raising an eyebrow. 'The emperor is not so petty. We wish to destroy the… the pig only because it is a dralkosh.’

'She's a perfectly ordinary child,' said Yen Olass steadily, 'and you know it.’

But she knew she could not win this argument.

'I don't choose to bandy words with a slave girl,' said Celadric. 'The child is a monster, and everyone here knows it. The eyes are yellow. Look!’

He lifted Monogail's head by the hair. She wailed, and Yen Olass struggled, trying to break free. York put more tension on her arm, and she hissed with the pain.

"Give me a knife,' said Celadric, holding out his hand, 'And I'll do it myself.’

Someone slapped a knife into his hand.

'No,' said a voice.

And Yerzerdayla stepped into the room, entering by way of one of the service doors.

'Yen Olass is right,' said Yerzerdayla. 'You must not kill the child. To do so would be a gratuitous murder.’

Celadric straightened up. He was sorely annoyed.

'The oracle betrayed the empire. She should feel the weight of the empire's punishment.’

'Then burn her alive,' said Yerzerdayla, who could not reasonably plead for mercy for a traitor. 'But spare the child. Or does your hold on the empire depend on your ability to murder children?’

'If you're so concerned about the child then you can have it,' said Celadric.

'Thank you,' said Yerzerdayla, with a small bow.

'Providing, that is,' said Celadric, 'that you can find a man prepared to support you and the child thereafter. A man who will guarantee to protect the empire from the child if it should prove to be a dralkosh.’

And he looked around the banqueting hall.

'Well? Which man speaks for the woman and the child? Not you, Losh Negis! You're not a man! You're half way to being a woman already! Throw him out of here!’

The Ondrask was hustled out of the hall.

'You're not being fair,' said Yen Olass. 'You don't want to give your father's child a chance to survive.’

And, with the word 'survive', she shot a glance at Draven. The pirate looked away.

'This child doesn't have a father,' said Celadric savagely.

He was really worked up now. He had meant to have the child hauled in and casually butchered so Yen Olass would feel the weight of imperial discipline. Instead, this terrible woman had managed to entangle him in a crazy debate which he should cut off – now! – by killing the pig.

'And even if it was my father's bastard,' continued Celadric, 'There's nobody here to speak for it. Nobody wants a dralkosh spawned by a bitch who's a dralkosh herself.’

Lightly, Yerzerdayla reached out and plucked the knife from Celadric's hand.

'Give me that!' said Celadric.

The emperor and his concubine confronted each other.

'You take great risks,' said Celadric, his voice very cold.

There was a sigh from Draven, and the pirate rose to his feet, slowly, reluctantly.