The Gods Awaken

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rhodes was in an ugly mood when he tromped down the stairs leading to Queen Clayre's chamber. Who in the Hells was king here, anyway? So what if she was a witch? So what if she was his mother? How dared she think she could summon him with an imperious snap of the fingers. Didn't she know he was busy?

The earthquake had done extensive damage and he'd spent half the previous day and the entire night, plus most of today, overseeing the clean-up and rescue work. Twenty-two dead. Fifty-three more buried in rubble and possibly dead. No matter that they were only slaves. They were valuable, dammit! Brawny workers and comely women all; plus half the women were pregnant, and therefore worth double.

Rhodes did not deem himself fortunate because there had been no deaths among the citizenry. They'd only suffered injuries-two hundred minor, forty-six, serious. Pity some of his courtiers hadn't been killed instead of the slaves. In his estimation they were all a needless drain on the kingdom's treasury.

He would tell his mother all this, then give her a good piece of his mind for interrupting his labors digging out the collapsed slave quarters.

But when he came to the closed door leading into his mother's rooms, the king paused, stricken first by doubt, then by weakening resolve. Feared by thousands-no, tens of thousands-Rhodes always found himself undergoing a transformation in Clayre's presence. He was a brave man. A king who always led his troops from the front even in the fiercest battle. But when his mother spoke his nerve fled like kitchen beetles when a torch was lit.

Adding tension to this particular visit was the knowledge that his mother had been working on the plan they both had agreed would turn the tables on Palimak Timura and the Kyranians. He thought it was a good plan. Fortuitous circumstances had delivered the means into their hands. Three powerful devils who had appeared the moment after Queen Charize was killed by Palimak. Devils they could enslave and use against the Kyranians.

Still, he had grave doubts about the part he was supposed to play. Then Rhodes thought, be damned to magic! Why can't we just do things the old, honest way? Such as slipping a spy into Palimak's quarters and slitting his throat?

His mother, sensing his presence, called out: "Come in, my son. We're waiting for you." Cursing under his breath, Rhodes entered.

Across the room-looking more beautiful than ever-his mother was regally ensconced in her wide-backed, pillowed throne. Standing in front of her was a tall man, who turned as Rhodes entered.

The man had features as pale as death and he was so thin that his long face looked like a skull. His eyes were flat black-giving away nothing. He smiled when he saw Rhodes and the king thought he'd never seen such a terrible smile. Thin lips made a long red gash in the pale face.

The man nodded his head in what could have been taken for a slight and oh, so imperious bow.

"Good afternoon, majesty," the man said in deep tones. "It's a great honor to finally meet you." He held out his hand.

Rhodes was furious at this gesture. How dare this … this … common creature … offer such an intimate exchange as touching hands with the King of Hanadu!?

"Go ahead, son," his mother said. "Take his hand."

Rhodes was not only going to refuse, but his hand instantly went to the hilt of his sword. By the gods he'd cut this swine's heart out and have it roasted for supper! But, strangely, his hand swept past the hilt, rising of its own accord to find the stranger's.

"My name is Kalasariz, majesty," the spymaster said as their fingers touched. "And I understand we're about to have a great deal in common."

And then he laughed. Rhodes nearly balled up his fist to smash that laugh out of the man's head, when a shock ran up his fingers-lanced along his arm, then burst into his heart.

The king clutched his chest, but then the pain was gone. And he found himself staring into empty air.

Kalasariz had vanished!

The astonished king scanned the room. "What in the hells!" he exclaimed. "What happened to that son of a whoremaster?"

Clayre smiled gently. "Don't you remember our plan, my son?" she asked. "He's inside you now. A supremely powerful force at your instant command."

Kalasariz stared out at the queen through Rhodesa€™ startled eyes. He could feel the king's throat constrict in fear. His heart trip hammering, his veins and nerves running with ice.

The spymaster experienced the king's shudder of agony. The licking of dry lips, then an embarrassing stutter, as Rhodes said, "I … I … You didn't warn me, mother!"

"I thought it would be less of a shock, my dear," Kalasariz heard Clayre reply through the king's ears.

This is a good body, the spymaster thought. And he quite liked the mind. Although it was filled with confusion now-shot with more fears than a brutally violated maiden. But he sensed the sharpness of the king's brain, and the cunning, oh, the cunning, it was like finding a honeycomb in a bitter wilderness. It wasn't so cunning as the thinking organ that Kalasariz had himself been blessed with. But it would do. It would do.

He whispered to Rhodes, Do not trouble yourself, majesty. I am a very discreet fellow. I will donothing to interfere with your natural functions. I'm only here to advise. And to add to youralready inestimable powers.

To his surprise, the heart he shared with Rhodes went from trip-hammer to hysterical pounding. The ice in the king's veins switched to shocking fire. And he realized that his "voice" had unnerved Rhodes, coming from within as it did. Funny, came a thought as an aside. Funny, how Kalasariz had imagined his own lips moving, his vocal apparatus making words, but the entire process had been mental. Much faster than real speech.

So fast, in fact, that he could react and suggest new things with a speed that outpaced the sudden relaxed feeling growing in Rhodesa€™ bladder. There was no way Kalasariz would permit the shared embarrassment of Rhodes pissing their pants.

So he said, When the time comes, majesty, I'll help you kill your mother. Various of Rhodesa€™

organs became calmer. Kalasariz went on: She's been telling you what to do for far too long now.

Using her magic to keep you under her thumb. It's not fair, you know. A mother should allow herchild to be the man he truly is. I saw it right off. The instant I entered your body.

There was a tremble when he mentioned the part about body entering so Kalasariz hastened to add, Thisis a temporary solution for both our problems, majesty. Your mother forced me into this situation.

But rest assured, as soon as we accomplish our common goals, I have a plan to properly separateus into two delightful human beings again.

Unconsciously, Rhodes opened his mouth to reply. Kalasariz quickly jumped in. Say nothing to menow, he advised. Wait until we are in private and we can learn to communicate together withoutgiving our conversations away.

Rhodes nodded. He got the message. His heartbeat calmed and his breathing became more gentle.

Queen Clayre glared at Rhodes. "Why are you nodding your head like a fool?" she demanded. "Are you listening to me? Have you heard a word I've said?"

And to Kalasariza€™ immense satisfaction, Rhodes replied with the utmost calmness:

"Yes, mother. I hear."

Then Kalasariz internal "sight" was jarred as the king's eyes moved to the side and focused on a large mural. The spymaster saw an army marching out of a mountaintop castle. And at the head of that army was a mounted warrior armored like a king. On either side of him were women warriors-princess generals, Kalasariz guessed by the banners they flew. One of the princesses was dark-skinned and rode the most magnificent black mare Kalasariz had ever seen.

It's just a painting, he thought. Why is the king so interested? Is he a lover of fine art? Or horseflesh? Or both? He quickly became bored with Rhodesa€™ attention to the mural and attempted to turn his thoughts away to some proper planning. Maybe he'd snoop around this new body a bit to see just how well things worked. Maybe he'd talk the king into visiting his harem tonight. It had been a long time since Kalasariz had enjoyed the embrace of a woman.

But the king's fixation with the mural was so strong that Kalasariz couldn't tear his own mind away.

He felt Rhodesa€™ vocal chords open and once again experienced the rumble of the king's voice.

"What happened to the horse, mother?" Rhodes asked, finger lifting to point at the mural.

Queen Clayre turned her head to look. Nothing caught her attention, much less caused her any surprise.

She turned back to her son.

"What horse?" she asked.

Kalasariz felt the king's heart quicken. "I saw a white stallion there," he said, still pointing. "Right in front of the black mare. It was rearing up on its hind legs."

The queen snorted impatiently. "I've lived with that mural my entire adult life," she said. "And there was never a white stallion in it."

"But I only saw it a few days ago!" Rhodes protested.

"You were imagining things," Clayre replied. "It comes from drinking too much. Which I've warned you about many times. It doesn't do for a king to lose his wits to wine."

Rhodes opened his mouth to argue, but Kalasariz moved in. Never mind the horse, he advised. Wecan talk about it later.

The king suddenly relaxed. "I'm sorry, mother," Kalasariz heard him say. "I was obviously thinking of a different mural."

But in his mind was a blazing image of his mother tied to a stake, flames leaping up around her as she writhed in agony.

Very good, majesty, Kalasariz thought-whispered. A most appropriate image. And I'd be pleased tohelp you make that dream come true. But only at the proper time, hmm? We have other businessto attend to first.

As if she had been listening in, Clayre said, "We have pressing business to attend to, my son. Business I think you will quite enjoy."

With a flourish she placed a small wooden container on the table. It was made of some kind of rare dark wood-polished and giving off a pleasing scent. It had hinges made of white gold, with a tiny lock also of white gold.

"I made this two years or so ago," the queen mother said, eyes narrow as she poked something into the lock-a minuscule key, Rhodes supposed. "About the time you lost your first battle to the Kyranians."

Her voice dripped with accusation.

The king flushed at the humiliating memory. The Kyranians had presented a much smaller force than had the Syrapians. But as Rhodes and his army had marched into the valley the Kyranians had occupied, the airship had appeared overhead.

It was Rhodesa€™ first experience of aerial bombardment and on nights when memory of the incident kept him awake until dawn, he recalled in vivid and frightening detail the fire raining from the sky. The screams of his men set ablaze. The smell of burning flesh. The shock of realization that his army had turned tail and was running down the hill. Men hurling their shields and weapons away in their haste to escape.

"It wasn't my fault," he muttered.

"Of course it wasn't, my son," Clayre said, waving her hand airily, as if the notion had never entered her head.

Then her voice hardened. "I can understand it happening the first time," she said. "There was the surprise of a new and mighty weapon. But it kept on happening, didn't it? Every time you faced Palimak Timura in battle. It was the same old story. He'd draw you into a trap. The airship would show up.

"And once again the Kingdom of Hanadu would suffer a humiliating defeat because the king was too stupid-or too cowardly-to come up with a solution."

Rhodes burned with fury and embarrassment. Kalasariz said nothing to soothe him, curling himself up in a little ball of indifference just beneath the king's heart. Wisely staying out of the confrontation.

Clayre opened the box and took out a strange multi-colored object. She placed it on the golden tiles in the center of the table.

Rhodes puzzled over it for a moment, then realized it was a diorama of the Kyranian stronghold. It was a perfect replica, from the forested peak it sat upon to the old stone fortress his spies had identified as the place where Palimak and his key people were ensconced. Below the fortress was the village proper, market place in the center, slant-roofed homes spread out on either side.

Rhodes studied the terrain with a professional military eye, searching out the weak points.

Then his frown deepened. "If this model was made two years ago, mother," he said, "then how have you managed to put in details my spies didn't map out until several weeks ago?"

He pointed at the turreted gatehouse guarding the entrance to the fortress. "That's where Palimak has set up his command post and sleeping quarters. Two years ago it was in ruins. And my spies have only just reported its reconstruction."

The witch queen chuckled, in that maddeningly condescending manner she had. "Either my spies are better than yours, my son," she said. "Or your spies work for me first-and you-second."

Clayre gave him an amused look. "If I were you I'd decide in favor of the former, because the latter would only put you to unnecessary anguish and work. This is not the time to dispose of all your spies, you know. You'd have to train a whole new crew."

Another chortle. "And you still wouldn't know if they were yours or mine."

Rhodes lost all patience. "What exactly do you want, mother?" he snapped. "All my young life you said your greatest desire was for me to be king. But now that I'm king you seem to do everything to subvert me."

Clayre pretended to be shocked at his charges. "Me?" she mocked. "Subvert you? My only son? My heart's desire?"

She placed an insincere palm across her shapely bosom. "Why, I only want what is best for you. I have no other ambition but to see you become king of all Syrapis. Is that not our family's destiny? A destiny I have sought from the moment I learned the story behind that painting?"

She indicated the mural of the mounted king and princesses. The gesture took some of the heat out of Rhodes. Clayre supposed it was because of the strength of her argument. Actually, it was because Rhodes had remembered the white stallion.

Where had it gone? Dammit, he hadn't been drunk when he'd first spotted it! His brow wrinkled as he wondered if his mother had commanded one of her artist slaves to paint the horse out, just to bedevil him.

Kalasariz stirred. Something was going on. Rhodes was thinking about that horse again. And what was this about mural-painting slaves?

Clayre asked, "Do you recall the tale, my son?"

Rhodes shrugged. "Yes, mother," he said. "I remember it very well."

"Even so, perhaps I should tell it again to refresh your memory," she said. "And also for the benefit of our new friend who resides within you."

But to Kalasariza€™ disappointment, Rhodes chose this time to dig his heels in. "If you please, mother,"

he said, "let's leave it for another time. I've much to do, what with the earthquake. Besides, I'm far more interested in what you intend to accomplish with that."

He pointed at the diorama. "How will it help in our fight against Palimak Timura?"

Clayre frowned, clearly irritated at her son's impatience. Then she shrugged, "Very well," she said. "I'll leave the story for another day. As for that model, I'd intended to use it as a focal point for a spell I cooked up with Charize. A bit of magic that would cause the Kyranians no end of trouble and more than a few deaths. With luck, it might have even resulted in the rather gruesome demise of Palimak Timura himself."

The witch queen sighed. "But Charize's own death put paid to that plan. As I said before, alone I don't have enough magical strength to perform the necessary sorcery."

She smiled. "But that was yesterday's disappointment. Today, the sun is shining brightly and our hopes are reborn. For now we not only have the assistance we require, but a whole new plan to bedevil our enemies."

"When do you want to start?" Rhodes asked, assuming correctly that his role as host to Kalasariz meant his presence would be needed.

Clayre motioned at the table. "I'm never one to put off a devilish deed that needs to be done," she said.

"So why don't we begin now?" She gestured for him to approach the table.

Rhodes obediently moved forward. Then he hesitated. "There's only one thing," he said.

"And that is?" Clayre asked.

"Have you forgotten your granddaughter is being held hostage by the Kyranians?" He pointed at the model. "What if this spell endangers Jooli?"

The witch queen raised an eyebrow. "Do you really care?" she asked.

Rhodes shrugged. "Not particularly," he replied. "She's always been more of a bother than she's worth."

"My sentiments exactly," Clayre said. "As granddaughters go, she certainly lacks a certain … well, reverence." Her attention returned to the model. "Now, let us begin."

And she started to weave her spell. Inside the king, Kalasariz wriggled with delight. It was good to be back on a winning side again.

The only thing troubling him was that Rhodes didn't seem very enthusiastic. Was it because of this Jooli person? The one Kalasariz guessed might be the king's daughter?

If so, perhaps his reluctance was understandable, even though Rhodes plainly disliked his own child.

Although Kalasariz had little empathy for people stricken with parental love, he had a professional understanding of that all-too-human malady. The spymaster had relied on it many times as a lever to get his own way.

Then he caught a stray thought from Rhodes. And, dammit, he was still wondering about that horse!

That's the trouble with kings, Kalasariz thought. They can't seem to keep their minds on the job at hand.

Important tasks. Like killing people!

A blue light formed over the model of the Kyranian stronghold. Tiny figures began to appear. Men and women. Children and animals. And then the figures came to life!

Clayre said, "One thing I noticed about Palimak and his friends when they were visiting Charize was that they absolutely hate and fear rats."

She placed a cage next to the now-living model of the Kyranian stronghold. Inside was a large gray rat.

She poked it with a long needle and it squealed in pain and fury.

Clayre laughed as it attacked the bars of the cage. "I'll give them rats," she said, "like they've never seen rats before!"

And then she opened the cage and the enraged rodent leaped onto the model.