Dave Smeds - The Schemes of Dragons

When Geim heard the question, he sighed. "It is better now. I serve Struth. Before that, when I simply wandered…" He shrugged, and in the gesture Toren suddenly knew a great deal about the course of Geim's adult life.

"It's good to live for something," Geim concluded. Then, changing the subject, he pointed toward what he had discovered.

Far below, they saw the spur of a river valley. Where it opened out onto the plain, the sun sparkled on glass and white-washed structures.

"The city of Headwater," Geim said. "Our destination."

They continued to descend for two days, passing several riders and small caravans heading the other way-not, according to Geim, as many as there should have been. The reports from the war had made merchants wary. Then they stood before the city gates.

The older part of Headwater was tucked into a gorge where the Slip River spilled out of the mountains in a phantasmagorical waterfall. Bridges, many of them elaborate, ancient constructions, spanned the stream, connecting the two halves of the community. Downstream the houses and shops fanned out onto the valley floor, most of them contained by the fifth and outermost of the city walls, though new buildings poked up outside the gates.

"We are now inside the old boundaries of the Calinin Empire," Geim said as they made their way down the streets. "In fact, Serthe is still part of the commonwealth, tied by treaty to Xais. Headwater was one of the ten great cities of the empire. Alemar Dragonslayer was raised here."

The commentary washed right over Toren. The concept of a dozen large, civilized nations and an equal number of protectorates, all under one centralized government for a period of centuries, staggered him. The only times Vanihr tribes had united were for the campaigns against the Shagas and the Alahihr, and these alliances had lasted only for the duration of raids and sorties. The lands of the Fhali, which had seemed so vast, now seemed like a tiny hunting range.

They passed beggars in rags; guardsmen in fine, polished armor; merchants in loose, wraparound robes; and hordes of vendors. Blacksmith shops belched smoke, bakeries taunted them with the aroma of fresh loaves being drawn from the ovens, jugglers and musicians provided entertainment in the larger squares and plazas. By comparison, Talitha had been only a sleepy river town. Few people stared at Toren and Geim now. Their appearance seemed mild compared to the bright orange braids and immense breasts of the Cotani slave girls washing clothes at the public fountains, or to the short, stocky dark men-"Drelbs," Geim called them-pushing their wheelbarrows down an alley. They even saw another Vanihr, partaking of wine and cheese in an open air cafe.

At length they came to a less crowded, cleaner section of the city, where they boarded their oeikani in a stable. They continued down a street lined with great edifices of marble and granite. Toren heard chants filter out of one temple, and through the portal of another saw men kneel and touch their foreheads to the tiles while a eunuch beat on a large brass gong.

"A god for every persuasion," Geim said dryly. "They have one thing in common. They all require plentiful offerings to appease them."

"Even Struth?"

"Especially Struth."

Even as he spoke, Geim indicated the stone wall they were approaching. It towered twenty feet high, surrounding grounds more extensive than any they had seen thus far. Brawny sentries patrolled the top, and more stood in the archway beside a set of imposing doors, looking fierce but otherwise ignoring everyone. The doors hung wide open, and through the gap, in and out, flowed a small but constant stream of supplicants. Geim, Deena, and Toren filtered inside.

They passed through a foyer and came to a spacious amphitheater. Several dozen people, perhaps a hundred, were queued at the far side, in front of a gigantic statue of a frog. The chiselled image rose so tall that the crest of its head was even with the top of the walls, framed by the open sky above.

"The Oracle of Struth, the frog god," Deena whispered to Toren.

Immediately in front of the statue, separating it from the throng, was a broad, rectangular pool. One by one, worshippers approached a tiny dais and cast coins into the water. As they did so, the supplicants asked questions, some of which Deena translated for Toren. A farmer asked if the danger of frost had ended. A merchant wanted to know if the price of iron would drop soon. A middle-aged matron asked what her new son-in-law should do to prosper in his trade. None were answered. But when a small boy demanded, rather insistently, to know if he would travel to faraway places when he was older, a reply came.

"Yes."

The deep voice made Toren jump. The meaning penetrated far more directly than any common sound could. It seemed to come from the head of the stone frog, yet at the same time, it came from all directions. There was no need for translation. A murmur ran through the crowd, and the boy, grinning with self-importance, stepped down from the dais and headed for the exit.

The supplicants came from all walks of life, from nobles in embroidered finery to beggars in rags. Toren and his companions did not join the line; they waited near the entrance, observing for the better part of an hour. Toren grew restless, but Geim told him to pay attention, to try to see a pattern to the oracle's actions.

At first, it seemed that there was none. About one in five petitioners was answered, some at length, more often with a simple yes or no, with no direct relationship between the amount of money thrown, or the sophistication of the question, and receipt of an answer. But over time, Toren saw that larger offerings did increase one's chances. And once, something unusual happened.

A man in the livery of a Calinin high family came forward, dropped several gold pieces, and said, "Who is my lord's hidden enemy?"

"He who sleeps with your lord," the oracle replied.

The man blanched, then nodded knowingly. Then, as he stepped off the dais, the frog god spoke again.

"Bide with me for a time."

The man jumped, then both he and the rest of the crowd turned toward a curtained alcove behind the statue. The cloth parted, held by a stunningly beautiful woman. She beckoned the petitioner, who burst into a smile and walked quickly into the passageway. Men left behind licked their lips and watched with envious glances.

"I don't understand," Toren said.

"That man has just been favored with the hospitality of Struth," Geim said. "I'll explain later. It's time we went inside. We'll use a less public route."

They left the way they had come. They continued along the wall and around a corner into an untrafficked alley. Geim stepped up to a small door and rapped four times.

The peephole opened, then the door. A drelb stood there. He greeted Geim and Deena by name, spoke a few words, and made way for them.

"He says I'm to go to the high priestess," Deena told Toren. "You and Geim are to wait in the Wine Room." They continued on. The dwarf remained by the door.

They passed through a small anteroom into a garden of lush trees, vines, and fronds. Deena vanished down one path, while Geim led Toren down another between a series of pools-deep rock grottoes stocked with exotic fish, and shallow ponds spotted with lilies and water grass. Frogs croaked. The garden ended in one large, clear pool of flat tile, in which four women waded, each as lovely as the one in the oracle's hall. They smiled and waved at Geim, who waved back.

The temple itself ascended in many tiers, artfully accented with balconies, stairways, columns, hallways, and patios, trellises of flowering vines, and stained glass windows. It did not fit with the houses of religion elsewhere along the street.