Robert Asprin - Shadow Of Sanctuary

If the Prince was offended by Molin's insinuations he did not reveal it. 'Do I have special duties then?' he asked eagerly.

Molin, sensing the lad's excitement, pressed his case all the harder. 'Extremely special ones, my Prince; ones not even your distinguished late Father, the Emperor, was honoured to perform. As you are no doubt aware, Vashanka mayHisnamebe-praised - has concerned Himself rather personally in the affairs of this city of late. My augurists report that on no less than three separate occasions since your arrival in this accursed place His power has been successfully invoked by one not of the temple hierarchy.'

The Prince set down his goblet. 'You know of these things?' he asked with open -faced incredulity. 'You can tell when the god's used His power?'

'Yes, my Prince,' Molin answered calmly. 'That is the general purpose of our hierarchy. Working through the mandated rituals and in partnership with our God we incline Vashanka's blessings towards the loyal, righteous upholders of tradition, and direct His wrath towards those who would deny or harm the Empire.'

'I know of no traitors ...'

'... And neither do I, my Prince,' Molin said, though he had his suspicions, 'but I do know that our God, Vashanka - may-Hisnamebepraised - is showing His face with increasing fre-• quency and devastating effect in this town.'

'Isn't that what he's supposed to do?'

It was difficult to believe that the vigorous Imperial household had produced so dense an heir; at such times as this Molin almost believed the rumours that circulated around the Prince. Some said that he was at least as clever and ambitious as his brother's advisers feared; Kadakithis was deliberately botching this gubernatorial appointment so he would have to be returned to the capital before the Empire faced rebellion. Unfortunately, Sanctuary was more than equal to the most artfully contrived incompetence.

'My Prince,' Molin began again, snapping his fingers to the mute who immediately pushed a great-chair forward for the Prince to sit in. This was going to take longer than anticipated. 'My Prince - a god, shall we say any god but most especially our own god Vashanka - mayHisnamebepraised - is an awesomely powerful being who, even though He may beget mortal children on willing or unwilling women, is quite unlike a mortal man.

'A mere man who runs rampant in the streets with his sword drawn and shouting sedition would be an easy matter for the Hounds to control - assuming, of course, they even noticed him in this town ...'

'Are you saying, my Lord Molin, that such a vagrant is ploughing through my city? Is that why you've called me here, really? Does my suite harbour a viperous traitor?'

It must be an act, Molin decided. No one could attain physical maturity with only Kadakithis's apparent intelligence to guide him. He had attained maturity, hadn't he? Molin's plans demanded it. He was known to have concubines, but perhaps he merely talked them to sleep? It was time for a change of tactics.

'My Dear Prince, as hierarchical superior here in Sanctuary I can flatly state that the repeated incidents of divine intervention, unguided as they are by the rituals performed according to tradition by myself and my acolytes, constitute a severe threat to the well-being of your people and your mission to Sanctuary. They must be stopped by whatever means are necessary!'

'Oh... oh!' the Prince's face brightened. 'I believe I understand. I'm to do something at next week's festival that will help you get control again. Do I get to bed Azyuna?'

The light in the young man's eyes reassured Molin that the Prince did understand the purpose of a concubine. 'Indeed, my Prince! But that is only a small part of what we shall do next week. The Dance of Azyuna and the Divine Seduction are performed at the festival each year. Many children are born of such unions, many serve their ersatz-father with great dignity - I myself am a son of the Consort. But, under extreme circumstances the Dance of Azyuna will be preceded by the most sacred recreation of the Ten-Slaying itself. Vashanka - mayHisnamebepraised - rediscovers His traitorous brothers plotting to overthrow the divine authority of Savankala, their father. He slays them on the spot and takes Azyuna, at her insistence, to bed at once as his consort. The child of such a union - if there were any - would be well-omened indeed.

'My Prince, the auguries indicate that such a child will be born here in Sanctuary - of all places - and our God's activity here would lend belief to this. It is imperative that such a child be born within the strictures of the temple; it would be fitting if the child's natural father were you ...'

The Prince turned the colour of the fruit tea, though his complexion quickly levelled off at a unique shade of green. 'But Molin, that's general's work killing surrendered officers of the enemy. Molin, you don't expect me to kill ten men, do you? Why, there aren't more than ten Vashankan priests in this whole city.' I'd have to kill you. I couldn't do it, Molin - you mean too much to me.'

'My Dear Prince,' Molin poured another goblet of fruit tea and signalled the mute to bring a stronger libation for the next round. 'My Dear Prince, while I would never hesitate to lay down my life for you or the Empire should, gods forfend, the need ever arise -none the less, I assure you, I am not about to make the supreme sacrifice at this time. There is nothing in the most sacred tomes of ritual dictating the nature or rank of the ten who must be slain -save that they must be undeformed and alive at the start.'

At that moment there were shouts outside Molin's larger window and the all-too familiar sound of the gallow's rope snapping another neck.

'Very simply, my Prince, cancel these daily executions and by the Ten-Slaying I'm sure we'll have our quota.'

The Prince blanched at the thought of Sanctuary denizens whose activities so exceeded the norms of this none-too-civilized place that his judges would condemn them to death.

'They would be bound and drugged, of course,' Molin consoled his Prince, 'as is part of custom, if not tradition. Our hierarchy has suffered the discomfort of having the wrong man survive,' Molin added quickly, without mentioning that they had also suffered the inconvenience of losing all eleven to their wounds before the ritual could be completed. The hierarchy had acquired an immense practicality over the generations when its own interests were concerned.

Kadakithis stared blankly into the corners of the room; he had stared briefly out the window but the busy gallows had not brought the peace of mind he sought. Molin entertained hopes of getting new quarters in the near future. The mute offered them a fresh goblet of the local wine - a surprisingly potable beverage, given its origins. But then the priorities of the populace were such that the wine should be far better than their cheese or bread. Molin himself offered the strong drink to the Prince.

'Molin -I cannot. If it were just the Dance... well, no, not even then.' The Prince squared his shoulders and simulated a stance of firm resolve. 'Molin, you are wrong - it would not be fitting for a Prince of the blood. I mean no slurs, but I cannot be seen consorting with a temple slave at a public festival.'

Molin considered the refusal; considered taking Vashanka's role himself- he'd seen the temple slave in question. But he had been honest with the Prince; it was of the utmost importance that the child be properly conceived.

'My Prince, I do not ask this lightly, any more lightly than I informed my brethren in Ranke of my decision in this matter. The slave is of the best Northern stock; the rite is held in strictest mystery.

'The Hand of Vashanka rests heavily on your prefecture, my Prince. You cannot have failed to notice His presence. The daily auguries show it plainly. Your own Hell Hounds, the very guardians of Imperial Order, are not immune to the dangers of Vashanka's unbridled presence!'