Dave Duncan - Children of Chaos

"He's gorgeous!" Hiddi stooped to peer closely at the image and caress it, which is what a true art lover would instinctively do. She was no connoisseur but she recognized sensuality. She touched the cuneiform on the base. "What does this sign say?"

" 'Eriander.' I copied it off the shrine in the Pantheon."

"Clothed? I never seen Him with clothes on before."

Benard chuckled, happy to see his work approved. "She's not wearing any more than you are."

He had based this Eriander on the image in Ingeld's chamber. The features had turned out with the same tantalizing familiarity, although he had tried to model them on those of Thod's youngest sister. It must be an illusion caused by the ambiguous shifting back and forth between genders. Hiddi began jumping up and down with excitement, demanding that the new idol be brought to her bed-chamber at once, so Benard heaved it up for the last time and carried it across to the house. He had made some progress in remaking the room, but it still contained far too much clutter. Hiddi was a slow pupil when it came to understanding the difference between quality and sheer quantity.

He set his creation in place on the sleeping platform while Hiddi removed the grotesque hermaphrodite he disliked so much.

"What does one do with an unwanted god?" she said, puzzled. "I can't throw Him out or break Him!"

"Give Her to the temple," Benard suggested. He took the offending plaque and laid it behind a chest, out of sight, where it couldn't watch him.

"This one's much prettier!" Hiddi hugged him again as they admired the figurine. "You are good to me, Bena darling!" She kissed him fondly. "Won't you help me make an offering to Him, just this once?" She kissed him again, even more so.

Knowing where this was leading, he broke free long enough to pull off his loincloth and throw it over the image of the god as a cover. "No. But I want you to do me a favor."

"Anything." She pulled him down on the mats. "Anything you want."

"I want you to make the first offering to the new god with Nerio."

" Nerio !?" Suddenly she was pushing him away indignantly. Hiddi could change direction faster than a bat. "Nerio is insolent! I hate him. He doesn't know his place!"

The place Nerio regarded as properly his was now occupied by Benard. "Dismiss him, then. Send him away and hire another swordsman. If you don't want me, I'll get started on the tiles." He reached for his loincloth.

"No!" She grabbed his arm. "How can you possibly want me to make love to Nerio? Don't you care for me at all?" Now she was a hurt child. Her moods never seemed faked. She really felt them all.

Benard folded her into his arms again and they stretched out on the mat. "I care for you very much and I want you to be happy. You're making Nerio miserable and he's upsetting the slaves. Your household isn't running as well as it used to. Now promise me—the next man you make love to here will be Nerio."

Hiddi pouted. "Oh, very well. Just for you."

"And you will be very, very nice to him? Like you used to be?"

She was purring as he stroked her thigh. "All right. I'll pretend he's you."

Benard muttered approval into the space between her breasts and nothing more was said.

twenty-seven

INGELD NARSDOR

had never baked a loaf or plucked a goose in her life and had a staff of many sixties to run the palace for her. No matter; preparations for a major festival like the Harvest Feast of Ucr still ran her as ragged as any peasant wife organizing a daughter's wedding. Paradoxically, the knowledge that Saltaja would be arriving tomorrow had turned out to be a blessing, in that Horold had flown into a panic and fled town. Confident that she would not be molested tonight, Ingeld retired early to her chamber and knelt in prayer before the hearth. The evening was chill, and she must soon order the shutters installed in the arches, but she hated to admit that winter was on its way.

Even the scent of burning godswood did not quite mask the reek of Horold that now hung in her chamber. He would return. Like Benard, the satrap was slow to change course, but nothing would deflect him when his mind was made up. Three nights now he had forced himself on her. Fortunately he did not know the proper rites for what he wanted, but the goddess could always waive ritual. Each time Ingeld had cursed his seed so it could not quicken her womb, but each rejection had proved more difficult than the last. She was using the goddess's blessing to defeat the goddess's purpose, and obviously that course would not prosper long. Veslih was showing Her displeasure by refusing to answer Her Daughter's pleas for guidance. Flames leapt in endless play, bouncing shadows off the darkness but showing nothing. Nothing except Benard, that is, which was a reminder that Ingeld must find time to rescue him from the bloodsucking Nymph.

Benard, Benard... Benard behind a bush? She knew that bush.

She jumped up and swept out through the arches into the garden, shivering as the cold air struck her heated skin. He was sitting with his knees up and ankles crossed, huddled in a dark blanket, almost invisible under the leaves.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

"Waiting."

"Get up!"

He rose, big and sheepish. The blanket cape did not quite conceal the shape at his side. Ingeld peeked and confirmed that he was armed with a dagger. A dagger with a jeweled hilt, no less.

"Where did you get that?"

He pulled the cloth from her fingers. "Borrowed it. How long until he gets here?"

It was so pathetic she wanted to wrap him in her arms and comfort him like a child. Benard as killer? "Who told you?" she said.

"Guthlag. The whole palace knows."

"The whole palace knows my husband goes to his wife's bed? Is that so extraordinary in Kosord? Come inside before you catch cold."

Benard said, "No!"

"Sit here, then. You'll have a long wait. Horold has gone hunting. He won't be back before morning." She stepped over to a bench by the pool.

He sat beside her, wrapping a meaty arm around her, so the blanket enclosed them both. "I am serious, Ingeld. I know you aren't accepting him voluntarily."

"And you really think you would have a chance against him? Oh, Bena, Bena! Even if you could creep up on him when he's—busy, let's say—which you couldn't, and even if you stuck that knife in his back, it would not kill him. He'd battleform, heal the wound, tear you to pieces, and go back to what he was doing." She felt him shudder.

But it was wonderful to have that arm around her, someone who really cared. Cutrath was long gone. The man she had married had been transformed into an animal. Bena was all she had left.

"Surely your goddess doesn't expect you to endure that monster!" he said. "Can't you curse him—burn him or something?"

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "My holy mistress would not approve of husband immolation as proper wifely behavior. Horold is within his rights and Veslih is on his side. No, listen!" she said as he tried to protest. "I'm getting old, Benard, but I still owe my city and my goddess a daughter to rule after me. Horold remembered that, or someone reminded him, and he wants to be her father. The seers will tell him whose child I bear."

"Will they tell you what it's going to look like? Will it have hooves? Claws?"

"If you're going to shout you'd better come inside." Ingeld rose and headed back to the hearth. She knelt on the rug, and a moment later Benard's big shape settled beside her. The firelight made him seem haggard, as if he had not slept for days.