Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 3 - The Amber Enchantress (27 page)

The chief's eyes darted to the silver and he stuck his palm beneath the boy's nose. “Is that my coin?”

“It is now,” the youth said, dropping the silver into the outstretched hand. He remained standing before Faenaeyon while the chief massaged the coin's surface with his fingertips.

Finally, Faenaeyon said, “Grissi will fight with one arm bound to her side.”

A disapproving murmur rustled through the camp, which Faenaeyon quickly silenced with a stern glower.

From what Sadira had gathered about tribal politics, most chief's took bribes
—
but only under a suitable pretext. Her father ignored even this minor convention, however, trusting his strong arm to keep his warriors from protesting too loudly.

Cyne stepped away from the chief, sneering at Grissi triumphantly. The black-eyed woman met his gaze with a confident chuckle, then looked back to the man who had challenged her. “I'll be ready in a moment,” she said, stepping over to have her arm bound. “How about you, Nefen?”

Nefen strode forward, rubbing a last handful of yara buds over his skin. “I'm waiting now.”

Noticing that her father still had not taken his eyes off his new coin, Sadira whispered to Meredyd, “I hope you have a few silver up your sleeve.”

The pregnant elf shook her head. “I can only hope that Esylk does not have any, either.”

Grissi stepped into the ring, one arm bound to her waist, and Nefen entered from the other side. There was no formal challenge, nor any kind of declaration that the match had begun. The crowd simply quieted and the two wrestlers moved toward each other with hatred in their eyes.

Confident he could easily overpower his handicapped opponent, Nefen rushed forward. It was a bad mistake. Grissi stopped his charge with a powerful thrust kick to the stomach. As her opponent bellowed out in shock and pain, she whirled around and used her other leg to kick him again. With the momentum of the spin, this blow lifted Nefen off his feet and sent him flying out of the circle. He crashed into Esylk and they both dropped to the ground.

“That's not wrestling!” objected Huyar.

“Maybe, maybe not
—
but she won. That's what counts,” answered Rhayn, stepping forward to unbind her champion's arm before someone suggested that it remain tied for the rest of the tournament. “Who's next?”

When no one volunteered immediately, Meredyd took advantage of the lull to step over to the boulder where Faenaeyon sat. She took a beautiful belt-purse of lacquered lizard scales from beneath her cape and held it out to the chief. He continued to stare at the coin Katza's son had given him, apparently noticing neither the pregnant elf nor her gift.

“Faenaeyon, I have something here for you to keep your coin in,” she said.

The chief looked up, his eyes burning with avarice, and snatched the purse away.

Meredyd waited a moment for him to thank her, but he did not. Finally, she pressed on with her request, “It seems to me that Crekun has been Esylk's daeg long enough,” she said. “Crekun should be a Sun Runner by now.”

Unlike Katza's son, Meredyd had carefully prepared her case with the rest of the tribe. Close to half of the warriors present raised their voices in agreement, and many more nodded their heads. Only Huyar and a handful of Esylk's friends opposed the suggestion.

Faenaeyon responded to the chorus by lifting Meredyd's purse to his ear and shaking it. When he heard nothing inside, the chief frowned and looked at the woman who had given it to him. “It's empty.”

The hopeful smile on Meredyd's lips faded. “I had intended to fill the purse with silver,” she said, barely controlling her anger. “But our sudden departure from Nibenay prevented that.”

Faenaeyon shrugged, then opened the bag and slipped his silver coin into it. “My thanks for the purse, he said, tying it to his belt. ”But I fear Crekun has not forgotten his loyalties to the Sand Swimmers. He'll remain Esylk's wife for “ The chief let his sentence trail off while he eyed Meredyd's swollen belly. ”He'll remain Esylk's wife for two more months
—
unless you've a coin to put in my new purse."

Meredyd narrowed her eyes and stared at Faenaeyon with unabashed hatred. Seeing the woman's hand drop toward her dagger, Sadira moved forward to prevent her from doing anything foolish. The sorceress had no sooner stepped into the ring than Huyar followed her, with Rhayn close on his heels.

“When I was a child, my mother could speak of nothing but how wisely and well you led this tribe!” Meredyd snarled. “But now we might as well call ourselves quarry slaves as elves
—
”

Sadira caught Meredyd's arm and pulled hex away from the boulder, almost tripping over Magnus's prone form. “Come and have more broy. Perhaps the drink that's loosened your tongue will put it to sleep,” she said loudly. More quietly, she whispered, “Will getting killed help your child?”

Meredyd studied Sadira for a moment, her eyes flashing with anger. “I won't let Esylk sell this baby!” she snapped.

“What my chattel produces belongs to me,” said Esylk, pushing her way roughly to the front of the small group gathered near the chief.

Sadira glared at Esylk. “A child belongs to its mother,” she said.

“Good point, Sadira,” Faenaeyon said suddenly. “You've won me over.”

Sadira glanced over her shoulder and saw that Rhayn and Huyar now stood on opposite sides of her father. Between her thumb and forefinger, Rhayn held a small circle of shimmering yellow metal. Faenaeyon's enraptured eyes were fixed on the disk, as were those of the entire tribe
—
and with good reason. On Athas, not even diamonds were as scarce as gold coins.

“From this moment forward, Crekun is a Sun Runner,” the chief pronounced. “Children sired by him are to be treated as children sired by any of our other warrior.”

Rhayn smiled. “You are wise, my chief,” she said, passing her hand over his broy and dropping the gold coin into it.

Faenaeyon's eyes widened and he drained the entire flask in one long gulp. When he finished, he took the gold coin from between his teeth and carefully polished it on his burnoose. “That's no way to treat gold,” he complained, putting the coin into the purse Meredyd had given him.

“My apologies,” Rhayn said. She picked up the skin of broy Cyne had provided earlier and refilled Faenaeyon's empty flask. “Drink up, father.”

As Faenaeyon lifted his glass again, Sadira joined her sister. “That was unusually generous,” she whispered “Or are you just trying to upset Huyar?”

“I did what was best for the tribe,” Rhayn answered, taking Sadira by the arm and leading her away from the rest of the elves. “Meredyd earned the favor of many warriors. Faenaeyon was wrong to ignore them because she had no coins.”

“But a gold coin!”
Sadira said. “Where did you find it?”

“I make a habit of saving things that might prove useful at crucial times,” Rhayn answered, walking toward her family's fire-circle. “And now, I must ask you to give me something that you have been saving.”

"Rhayn touched her finger to her lips and said nothing else until they reached their destination. All of her children were still at the wrestling match, so the two women were completely alone.

“I'm not going to give you the antidote, Sadira whispered, surmising what her long-sister wanted. ”I don't want Faenaeyon poisoned."

“Why not?”
Rhayn demanded, opening a kank pack. “You've seen what he can be like, and I have no more coins. How will you bribe our chief when Huyar demands vengeance for Gaefal's death?”

“It doesn't matter,” Sadira said. “Only Faenaeyon knows how to find the
Pristine
Tower
.”

“I'll take you to Cleft Rock,” Rhayn said. “From what Magnus tells me, you can travel on alone from there.”

The sorceress shook her head. “I'll take my chances with Faenaeyon.”

“What makes you think he'll honor Huyar's promise?” Rhayn demanded. She pulled out the wineskin that she and Magnus had filled from the poisoned cask.

“Maybe he won't, but why wouldn't he at least take me as tar as Cleft Rock?”

“Because the tribe needs money, and that well is far from any city or caravan route where we can steal it,” Rhayn answered. “But don't take my word for it. Tonight is when we make requests of the chief. Make yours and see what he says.”

Sadira studied the elf for a long time, trying to imagine a reason she should not do as her sister suggested. When she could think of none, she nodded and turned to go. “I will.”

Rhayn caught her shoulder. “You'll need a gift,” the elf said, holding out the wineskin. “Take two cups, and put the antidote in one. If Faenaeyon agrees to take you, pour his wine into the one with the antidote.”

The elf did not need to say what Sadira should do if he refused. She and Rhayn prepared the gift, then the sorceress put a few drops of the antidote on her tongue
—
in case she found herself drinking from the cup without the antidote. They returned to the wrestling circle, Sadira carrying the wineskin over her shoulder and the two mugs in separate hands.

When Faenaeyon saw the sisters, he motioned Rhayn to his side. “Daughter!” he said, giving her a mug of broy. “Come and drink with me.”

The chief touched his cup to his daughter's, then they both quaffed down the sour-smelling stuff as though it were water. When Faenaeyon lowered his flask again, Sadira stepped forward to make her request. Huyar cut her off and refilled his father's cup from his own skin.

“I'm sorry I lack a gold coin to give you, my chief,” said the elf.

“So am I,” answered Faenaeyon, squinting at him drunkenly.

“It pains me to see the chief of the Sun Runners with so few coins in his purse,” Huyar continued, giving Sadira a sidelong glance. “It's a pity that the tribe's new sorceress did not also think to free your coins when she rescued you from the Slave Market
—
or perhaps she did. Could it be that Rhayn has made a gift to you of your own coin?”

“You know better than that, Huyar!” spat Rhayn “You were with us when we escaped Nibenay. Did you see any of Faenaeyon's purses?”

“That doesn't mean they weren't there ” Huyar countered. “Sadira is a powerful sorceress. It would have been a small matter for her to conceal them.”

Faenaeyon scowled at Sadira. “This is true,” he said, slurring his words heavily. “Did you steal my coins, woman?”

“No!”
Sadira snarled. “If Huyar had the sense of a drone, he'd know that you would not have been sent to the slave market with your purses hanging from your belt. By now, your coins lie in the vault of the sorcerer-king himself.” She glared at her rival, then added, “Perhaps he would like to go there and recover them for you?”

Faenaeyon looked to Huyar. “Would you?”

“What I would like to do and what is possible are different things,” said the warrior.

“A good answer,” Faenaeyon laughed. He turned his attention to Sadira, who was still holding the cups and the wineskin. “Now, what have you?”

“Wine,” Sadira answered.

“Not as good as gold, but it will do,” Faenaeyon answered, reaching for the mug that contained the antidote.

Sadira pulled it away. “First, I have a request.”

Frowning, the chief withdrew his hand. “I trust it will not be too demanding.”

“Just answer a question,” Sadira replied. “Do you intend to honor Huyar's promise? The wine is my gift to you, as long as you answer truthfully”

Faenaeyon studied her with a doubtful scowl, then shrugged. “The Sun Runners have better places to go than the
Pristine
Tower
,” he said, snatching the mug he had reached for earlier
—
the one with the antidote. “Now, give me my wine!”

Sadira cursed under her breath, but smiled at Faenaeyon and filled the cup. Before he could drink, however, she said. “Didn't you notice that I brought two mugs?”

Faenaeyon scowled. “So?”

“I thought you'd want to share your gift with your favorite daughter,” the sorceress said, gesturing at her sister. Rhayn scowled, unsure of which cup contained the antidote. Sadira smiled, hoping the gesture would reassure Rhayn, then asked, “Doesn't a gold coin deserve a fine gift in return?”

Faenaeyon smiled. “So it does,” he said, passing the mug to his daughter.

Rhayn's face went white, but she accepted the wine.

*****

Despite the festivities of the night before, the tribe was packed and ready to run by mid-morning. Sadira, who had sat up late studying her spellbook, was among the last to join the train. The sorceress rode one of her sister's kanks, leading Magnus's beast on her downwind side. The windsinger's back was covered with a fresh coat of balm, and she still found its pungent smell grossly offensive.

Sadira was glad that she had made Magnus tend her cilops's bite before she saw to his arrow stings. His song that morning had been so effective that she considered herself healed. The only remaining sign of her injury was a slight tightness in the muscle. If she had waited until after she spread the salve over the windsinger's back, however, she would still be in pain. The unguent had hardly touched his knobby hide before Magnus had grown so drowsy he could barely speak, much less sing.

Sadira located Rhayn near the front of the tribe, her youngest infant slung on her back and the rest of her children mounted on kanks behind her. As the sorceress rode up to join her sister, she could not help yawning.

“Why are you so tired?” Rhayn demanded.

“I was up late,” Sadira answered, tapping the satchel where she kept her spellbook. “I thought it wise to learn some special enchantments, in case Dhojakt comes after us.”

“A wise precaution, but it is no excuse to be tired,” Rhayn countered. “I feel wonderful, and I did not sleep at all.”

“Then how did you spend the night?”

Rhayn gave her sister a wry smile. “Bolstering my support,” she said. “Today, the Sun Runners choose a new chief
—
though they may not realize what they're doing.” She motioned for Sadira to dismount, then led the half-elf to a small gathering of warriors.

As they merged with the group, Sadira saw Faenaeyon stretched out on the ground. The chief lay with his sunken eyes shielded by a coarse cloth, and his tongue half-protruding from between his lips. His skin was flaxen, and sweat ran off his face in tiny rivulets. The sorceress's stomach felt queasy with guilt.