The Carnelian Throne Read Free Page A

his heart. Of his turmoil, I had been instructed only by omission: he never spoke of it.
    “Why do you think it is that none of these plants and animals are known to you?” I asked him.
    “Because I have never been here before,” he answered, hacking off our dinner’s left hind leg. “Chayin, take what you will.” He who hunts eats first of the kill. They observed the old rules ever more closely, with fervor. Perhaps with desperation: that which is invulnerable is unnatural, and though they were not truly immortal, nor as yet all-powerful, they were no longer, even in their own eyes, “normal” men. This deeply troubled them, those reluctant gods. As it had troubled me when I first discovered what latitude I might exercise in this that we call life. So I said not a word while the cahndor and Sereth ripped bites from a steaming joint of the nameless meat, but waited until they were satisfied that no immediate symptoms of illness developed. For only a quick poison, one that could strike in an instant, and catch the victim unawares, could incapacitate such strengths as we now possessed. Between thoughts, must a crippling blow be landed on an intelligence so highly skilled. I waited, hardly tense, sure in my capacity to intervene should the beast-flesh prove deadly. But it did not, and soon I was crunching happily the crisped outer flesh of Sereth’s kill. The meat did hold one surprise, however: it was neither gamy nor tough, but sweet and rich. Even as I thought it, Sereth spoke:
    “We may well be expected to pay for this meal when we come upon the owner of this preserve.”
    “Why wait?” mumbled Chayin around a mouthful. He gestured with a greasy forefinger. “Our observer still lurks. Let us go greet him. Perhaps we could take a live pair home, and breed up a herd ourselves.”
    About us, the insect shrills grew strident and rhythmic. I put down the meat and lay back, stretching full-length on the alien grass. My mind, denied the search of the woods for which it clamored, peopled the forest’s orchestra, gave the nascent choir a sinister aspect as it wailed low, ululent homage to the darkness. From all around us, even echoing back from the river’s far bank, waxed that numinous evening chant. I liked the sound of it not at all.
    Further disquieted, I twisted around to face the gate. Thereupon danced a soft nimbus, surely marsh gas rising. Over the stakes it flowed, maggot-white, sentient. I pulled at the clammy straps of my stiffening leathers, shivering, and shifted my gaze back to the fire.
    But the foreboding, the ineffable hostility I sensed from the encroaching wilderness, would not be dispersed by that reassuring crackle. Its heat did not warm me, its light could not chase from my flesh the touch of a hundred hidden eyes. Sereth’s fingers enclosed mine where I fumbled with my tunic’s closures. He shook his head, let my hand fall away, and shrugged. Chayin leaned forward, stirred the branches. A knot popped, showering sparks. Somewhere inland, a beast roared. It was a roar of rage and vengeance, hovering long in the air before it tapered to a growl indistinguishable from the forest’s deep-throated mutter.
    “Sereth, free me from my vow—let me seek the sense of this place.” My voice, calm, unwavering, did not betray me. The principle on which he had based his decision of noninterference was right. The decision, I had long felt, was wrong.
    “Not yet. I would explore Khys’s—this land for what it is, not what I might assume it is, or want it to be.” I did not miss the stumble of his tongue over his predecessor’s name. It was Khys’s work here that he would explore. And alter, if he could. Khys, the last dharen, or ruler, of Silistra, had spent long periods absent from his capital., None knew where, in those days. He had made quite certain that his successor would undertake this journey to the east, to this shore so long isolate from our own culture. And, despite himself, the inheritor