Dave Duncan - Children of Chaos

Ingeld exchanged glances with Sansya. "Incredible, isn't she?"

"I am wrong?" Tene asked, worried.

"No, dear. I mean that we two can't guess within a six-day. But I think you will find that the nighthawk is your own portent of my dear sister-in-law, Saltaja Hragsdor." Ingeld contemplated the boats. Not all evil, though. Whatever news or orders or companions Saltaja was bringing had mixed implications for Kosord. Horold had reacted with predictable horror when warned that his sister was coming.

And there was Benard, striding along an alley with a sour expression on his face. He was in even worse trouble than usual. Ever since spring, when he began showing up in the embers, Ingeld had regarded Benard as a civic matter and had kept him under surveillance, so she knew exactly where he was heading. One of Eriander's hags had her claws in him.

"There?" she asked, pointing.

"The artist," Tene said, just as Sansya said, "Celebre."

Ingeld had never met a Florengian Daughter until she inducted Sansya, and she was fascinated by the way the Veslihan change expressed itself on Florengian coloring. The heavy tresses hung like ropes of reddish metal, but it was the fiery shine of Sansya's skin that most impressed; her aureoles and nipples might have been carved from enormous red garnets, glowing like lanterns in the firelight.

Now for the babe... "Where do you—" No need to ask. Ingeld could see baby, baby, more baby... It had been born, and that was why it had gone from private portent to civic. "Big healthy lad," she muttered. She could not see the mother, or even any hint as to where this brat had been dropped, but a sturdy boy it was, and the flames rejoiced around it. "There?"

"I see it," Sansya muttered. "It is a blessing for the city, my lady."

"But so much blood!" Tene cried. "Surely the mother died!"

Yes ! Even in the overpowering heat of the adytum, cold shivers raced over Ingeld's skin and her throat tightened. She rose and backed away, pulling her gown closed. "So it seems. How sad! Watch over it, please. Some of the acolytes ought to be able to see it now. Let me know if Our Lady reveals more."

♦

Puzzled and deeply troubled, Ingeld went back to her room to think on these things. She sent word to Horold to expect Saltaja next fifth-day, and left orders that she was not to be disturbed by anyone except Tene or Sansya. It was almost dark already. Many of her evenings were spent counseling brides-to-be, but at this season the young were too busy bringing in the harvest to have time for romance.

Thoughts of reaping reminded her of a verse in the Arcana ... She put her head out again and told them to let Benard in if he appeared. She was not certain he was coming to visit her, but she needed a serious talk with that unserious young man, for he had been entangled with the rogue Nymph quite long enough and should be rescued before he suffered permanent damage.

Nymphs undoubtedly performed a valuable service—without them, single men would be a public nuisance, constantly bugling like wapiti. Most Nymphs were true to holy Eriander's ideal of love freely exchanged, but some became greedy or even sadistic as they aged, and this one had offended Ingeld before. A few days before he left town, Cutrath had been caught smuggling gold plate out of the palace. In that case Horold had sent a stern warning, and the snake had released her victim, but she did not deserve another chance. It was time to draw her fangs.

The big room was still hot, although mornings were cool now. Soon it would be time to have the winter doors brought back and hung. Ingeld wondered if she should order a fire laid. Short of another public pyromancy, the only way she might gain insight into the portents was by trance, and she had not risked that for several years. Patience! If the baby had been born in Kosord, then she would certainly recognize it when it was brought to the temple next sixth-day for Veslih's blessing.

And if Benard did show up tonight, then a serious talk with him might reveal more than the state of his loins. She wondered with a flash of amusement if it were possible to wander into auguries by accident. If anyone could, it would be Bena!

As she tipped water from the ewer to the basin, intending to sponge away the heat of the day, something fell on the grass outside with a muffled thump. Then another. Benard? He would not come that way without leave, and if he did, it would be through the gate, quiet as starlight She strode over to the arches in time to see a dark shape come down, but this one fell in silence and flopped shapelessly on the ground.

For a moment she was rooted to the spot by sheer disbelief, refusing to admit that the first two had been boots and the third a pall. Then their owner came over the wall also, landing on all fours, a huge white-furred beast in the twilight. She turned and fled. He was not in battleform, but he did not need to be. She was not even close to the door when arms like tree boughs closed around her.

"I don't want to hurt you any more than I have to," he growled in her ear. "Don't bother struggling."

She gagged at the porcine stench of him, although it was mixed with scent, so he had at least tried. He had been drinking, too. She gasped several deep breaths in and out before she could speak.

"So it was yours!"

He grunted. "Been spying on me?"

"You spy on me with your seers!" She tried to pry herself loose and merely confirmed her helplessness. Her head barely reached the middle of his chest. She tried her nails on a hairy thigh, but his hide was tough as pigskin.

"They tell me you still bleed," he said. "You're still fertile. And, as of today, I know I am, too." Still clutching her tightly, he ripped the front of her gown open to the waist and began fondling her breasts. His paw was rough as earthenware. "It has teeth, but it's quite human."

She shuddered. "You are not serious!" Of course he was serious. "The mother died!"

"It was big for a newborn." He had been drinking a lot . "Women die in childbirth all the time."

"I am going to scream!"

"Go ahead. I won't mind an audience." He had both might and right on his side; she was as powerless in his grasp as that newborn baby. "Veslih will help, because this is Her business. You swore to the goddess. And you swore to me, too." He slid his hand lower.

It was true that a dynast owed her city a daughter to succeed her. On the night Stralg took over Kosord, Ingeld had negotiated the terms of her rape, standing between Ardial, her lawful husband, and the Guthlag beast, who had been quietly bleeding to death. She had agreed to bear two sons for that astonishingly handsome Werist at Stralg's side. But her promise to the goddess had come first, and he knew that as well as she did.

"One daughter and two sons, you promised," Horold said, methodically stripping away her clothes without even seeming to notice her struggles. When he had her as naked as he was, he carried her over to the platform. "Cutrath you agreed to later. Doesn't change the daughter. My daughter, to be dynast after you."

He turned her to face him. "So we have unfinished business. You're fertile, I'm fertile, and we're going to settle the matter now. I'm ready; you'll never be. Will you submit or do I force you?"

She gagged at his stench. "Get it over with, then." She lay down and closed her eyes.

♦

It probably did not last as long as it seemed, but it was terrible while it did. When he rolled off her, she lay and sobbed. The humiliation was worse than the pain and the pain had been bad. The worst part was knowing that he was right. She was old for bearing, but not impossibly so, and the goddess would hold her to her oath.

Horold stopped panting. He heaved himself along the platform until they were face-to-face again—face-to-snout. Fortunately it was too dark to see any details, but she could imagine his sneer of triumph.