“I won’t kill you, though I should. We will leave you here. You can make your own way to the temple. But the soldiers are looking for you now and there will be more, many more, joining them. You can bet on that. Perhaps Kebiwabes and Hinokly will stay with you. I don’t know; they have little love for you as a person, though much for you as the Queen. Perhaps they might get you through. Neither, however, is a woodsman or a good swordsman.”

  “You and that woman have hurt me very much,” she said.

  “Not intentionally. Hie good I’ve done far outweighs any involuntary injury to you. Also, you will need every warrior you can get for your struggle with Minruth. I am well-known, since I’m the winner of the Great Games. And I have proved my worth as a warrior. Men will be proud to serve under me, serving you.”

  She stared at him for a while, chewing her lip.

  “Very well. I will give my word.”

  “You will swear by Kho Herself?”

  “I will. I do. But it would please me, if after this is over, you would go to Opar and take that bitch and her cub, and that one-eyed manling, with you. I do not like the sight of any of you. I can, however, endure it until we have won.”

  “I want your word, not your love,” Hadon said.

  11

  The valley at Kloepeth was twenty miles long and fifteen miles wide.

  Unlike those between it and the Gulf of Gahete, it was heavily populated. It held a large lake and a river and many farms. Its people were relatively more sophisticated too, since it had access at the northwest end to the sea. A pass there led down to the Kemu, and a road had been built to a port there, Notamimkhu. The sea-end of the pass was so strongly fortified, however, that no army could hope to invade through it.

  The southern pass was narrow, mountains bulging on both sides of it. Long ago, the priestesses had had a defense system built above the trail.

  A month after Hadon and his group entered through it, the pass was closed. An army of two thousand men had attempted to march through it; a thousand got away alive. The avalanches, triggered by the men of Kloepeth, buried the others.

  It was a heavy blow to Minruth, who could ill afford the loss. Though his armies had retaken Mineqo and Asema, and Awamuka was on the verge of surrendering, Dythbeth still held out. Qoqada had been bypassed, an army left around it to starve the citizens out. But Kunesu, Oliwa and Saqaba had won a battle against the Sixth Army, its survivors running back to Asema.

  Still, Minruth had devastated a hundred villages and lesser cities, burning them out and slaughtering their citizens. Thousands of refugees had crowded into the rebellious cities, straining their facilities and food supplies. Disease had broken out in these areas, sending thousands down to the dark house of dread Sisisken.

  Most important at the moment, the King’s navy held the sea around the island of Khokarsa. In two pitched battles, it had sunk the fleet of Dythbeth and the combined fleet of the three cities of the southeast.

  The people of the capital had moved back in when it seemed that the volcano, Khowot, had subsided. They began the work of rebuilding the houses destroyed by the rock bombs and the lava flow. The shipyards were constructing a fleet of thirty triremes, sixty biremes and several hundred smaller craft. Men were being trained to sail these. The demand for labor was so high that Minruth had stopped the building on the Great Tower. It was said that he had flown into a rage when notified that he would have to do this, and he had cut out the tongue of the officer who gave him the news.

  Awineth had established her headquarters in the temple at Kloepeth. She was busy night and day, reading the letters sent her through the secret postal system of the priestesses, interviewing spies from all over. These came to her in a steady stream, though Minruth’s ships had set up a blockade of Notamimkhu. The fleet had tried to run the Scylla and Charybdis of the cliffs leading in to the port. After three ships had been burned by giant, oil-soaked flaming missiles shot by catapults high above, the fleet had turned tail.

  Word came that Kwasin, Hadon’s cousin, had escaped to the city of Dythbeth. And he was now its king!

  Awineth had called him and told him the news. Hadon said, “How could he do that?”

  “King Roteka was killed while fighting on the walls. His wife Weth married Kwasin the next day.”

  “Knowing him, I’m not surprised,” Hadon said. “Well, his being there will hearten the Dythbethans. Whatever else he is, he is a mighty warrior. Like a hero of old.”

  “When giants walked the earth,” Awineth said sarcastically. She addressed the general of the Ninth Army, located in Kunesu. He had arrived a week before to report to her.

  “Keruphe, what do you think of that? Would it be better for me to go to Dythbeth or to your city?”

  The general, a short, bald-headed, bull-like man of ruddy complexion, frowned with thought. “The southeast area is well entrenched and in no immediate danger. Minruth knows this, so he is concentrating on Dythbeth, which has always been a hotbed of sedition. He is intent on conquering it before he moves on to the next biggest threat. In fact, he has sworn to kill every creature in it, man, woman and child, dog, cat and mouse. My intelligence tells me that for that purpose he has pulled out two armies, one from Minanlu and one from Qoqada.

  “Though Dythbeth is in grave danger, it is not a hopeless case. If you were there to hearten the people with Kwasin leading the defense, Dythbeth might hold out. Kwasin is a legend, you know, everybody has heard of his exploits.

  “While Minruth is engaged at Dythbeth, our armies could break through the light forces holding Mineqo. From there we could attack Asema. If we could take that, we would control the entrance to the Gulf of Lupoeth. Minruth’s navy would still have it blockaded, but that would not prevent us from controlling everything up the Gulf from Asema almost to the capital. That would cut off supplies and food to the capital. It would also threaten it. Minruth might have to draw troops from the siege of Dythbeth to make sure we didn’t attack Khokarsa.

  “On the other hand, if Dythbeth fell while you were in it, the loss would be grievous. We cannot get along without you, Your Majesty. If you died, the faithful would believe that Resu was stronger than Kho.”

  “I won’t,” Awineth said. She looked around the long oblong table. “Is there agreement on this, that I go to Dythbeth?”

  The priestesses and officers shook their heads. It was the only thing to do, since she had obviously made up her mind.

  She rose. “Very well, I’ll leave soon. Just when I won’t say now. I know that you are faithful, that you are closemouthed, but Minruth may have his spies here. I want to leave suddenly, in the dead of night, without fanfare. That way, I will be in Dythbeth before my father’s spies can get word to him.

  “In the meantime, General, we’ll coordinate a detailed campaign. I like what you propose; I think it is the best plan.”

  The officers rose, bowed and withdrew. The twelve numatenu composing Awineth’s day-shift bodyguard—among them Hadon—remained. Awineth, still seated, called him to her.

  “It will take at least two months to get everything prepared before I go to Dythbeth,” she said. “There is no hurry as far as Dythbeth is concerned, since it should be able to hold out for six months or more. My father has tried three times to storm its walls and each time has been repelled with heavy losses.” Awineth smiled and said, “That means you have two months to be with your bride.”

  Hadon kept his face emotionless, though he felt angry.

  “Then you are rejecting my petition to take her and the child and Paga along with us?”

  “Yes. They will only be burdens. I’ll be traveling in a small, fast ship; space is at a premium. Moreover, Dythbeth has enough useless mouths to feed. Besides, why should you want to take them away from here, where they are safe, to a place where they will be in grave danger?”

  “My wife says she wants to be with me, wherever I am.”

  Awineth’s smile showed that she knew he was furious and was enjoying it.

  “I think you’re both being selfish,” she said. “Neither of you are considering the well-being of the Empire. I understand why you don’t want to be parted, but this is war and we must all make sacrifices.”

  “It will be as the Queen wishes,” Hadon said stonily.

  “We may be gone for a year,” she said. “Perhaps two years. Only Kho knows how long it will be before we are victorious. In the meantime, you should be happy knowing that Lalila is safe here. And”—she paused, still smiling—“your baby.” Hadon started. “What?”

  “Yes. A messenger told me this morning that your wife is pregnant. Lalila went to the temple to determine if she was conceiving. She was immediately given the necessary ritual and was found to be with child.”

  Hadon had known about her condition, but he had not been aware that Lalila intended to be tested. This was done through means which only the priestesses knew, though he had heard that it involved the sacrifice of a hare.

  “Suguqateth tells me that she had a dream two nights ago about the baby,” Awineth said. “That is why she summoned Lalila to the temple this morning. Apparently, if her dream is not false, your child is destined for great things. But it will be necessary for Lalila to visit the oracle before we can learn details of her glorious future.”

  “Her?"

  “Suguqateth dreamed of a female baby. Of course,” Awineth continued, “the child may not be yours. My father raped her shortly before you rescued her, though I suppose it is unnecessary to remind you of that. And if she had been a few minutes late in slaying that outlaw chief, there might be even more doubt about the paternity.”

  Hadon mastered his desire to hit her in the face. He said, “There are not many in this land who can be sure who their father is. It does not matter.”

  “It is a good thing that Lalila had a child before she married you,” Awineth said. “Otherwise she would have followed the ancient custom.”

  She referred to the holy prostitutes. All women, if they were unpregnant at the time of their first marriage, and had never delivered before, went to a temple to be a holy prostitute for a month. Conception as a result of this attendance was supposed to be of divine origin. Theoretically, a god inhabited the body of the fertilizing male during the intercourse. The god was held to be the father of the child. It was a great honor to the family.

  Though the ancients had believed in this literally, it was known now that the male sperm was responsible for conception. But the millennia-old custom held, and the facts were ignored. The ministers of Kho claimed that this made no difference. The god still possessed the body of the man and hence the sperm was metaphysically his, though it was physically that of the human father.

  The priests of Resu, the Flaming God, held that this was a false doctrine. If Minruth triumphed this custom was likely to be suppressed, the first step in making women subordinate to men. In fact Minruth had already repealed a number of customs and laws in the capital city regarding the equality—some said the superiority—of women. To do this, it had been necessary to execute a number of resisting women and men as an example.

  The main resistance to this new order was in the rural districts. Farmers and fisherfolk were very conservative, stubborn in opposing change. They were especially hardheaded when it came to their religion. The city-dwellers were more flexible, though even they had vigorously opposed the King and the priests until a number of protesters had been publicly hanged.

  “The oracle will speak for Kho tomorrow evening,” Awineth said. “Suguqateth and I will be there. And so will you. The oracle has asked that you attend, which means that you, of course, will not refuse her invitation.”

  “I would like to be there,” Hadon said.

  He was pensive the rest of the day. As a result, he made a bad showing during the exercise with wooden swords in the afternoon. Despite his youth, he was the best swordsman in the Queen’s bodyguard, which was composed of veterans of many years of experience. But he could not concentrate properly and so lost on points to men he had always bested before.

  Awineth, watching the display, smiled each time he was beaten.

  12

  The Temple of Kho was on a high hill to the north of the town. It was _JL surrounded by giant oaks, some of which were said to be a thousand years old. The building was round and domed, composed of massive marble blocks transported through the mountain pass over eight hundred years ago. Hadon and Lalila passed through a nine-sided entrance into a chamber whose walls were decorated with murals. These were painted in cool blues and light reds and depicted stages in the creation of the world by Kho. A massive bronze tripod sat in the center; the bell-shaped bronze object on top of it emitted clouds of burning incense through holes in its sides.

  Hadon glanced through a round doorway to his right and glimpsed the room of the divine whores. It was separated into small rooms by light wooden walls, painted scarlet and blue. In its center was a great round pillar around which the women waited. Several men were talking to them, among them Paga and Kebiwabes. The manling, happening to look his way, grinned and waved. He took the hand of a blonde who was almost twice as tall as he and led her toward a room.

  The next room had a ceiling twice as high as the first. A nine-legged altar-stand squatted in its middle. The third held a twelve-legged stand; its ceiling was three times as high as the first. Here Awineth and the head priestess of the temple waited for them. Near them lounged the Queen’s nighttime bodyguard.

  Suguqateth beckoned them to follow her. The next chamber was the holiest, vast, oval-shaped. Its floor was paved with white tiles and a spiral of varicolored mosaics. The spiral began at the center of the floor and was composed of a line of twelve-sided pieces. On each was painted a tiny scene depicting a great historical event. The spiral went in tight curves, around and around, the outer part almost touching the walls on three sides. It ended just before the base on which stood the statue of Kho. Its termination was a still-unpainted square.

  The blank piece bothered many people. Why were there not more pieces to be painted? What did this mean? Surely the history of Khokarsa did not have only one more great event to be portrayed?

  Hadon was curious and uneasy about that too, but he asked no questions; the priestesses never divulged such information.

  The main object of attention in this chamber was a towering statue of Kho. This had a core of marble over which carved elephant ivory had been fitted. Her crown was of gold, each of its twelve points bearing silver shields inset with many large diamonds. Her eyes were painted solid blue. She was nude and held in her right hand a cornucopia stuffed with sheaves of millet. Her left hand held a sickle, an instrument used for reaping or, as among the original dwellers of this valley, also for war.

  Except for the three women and Hadon, the great room was empty. They stood for a moment, making the ancient sign of obeisance, while silence settled around them. The torches placed high above their heads, ringing the room, guttered. Shadows danced along the wall and someone in white peered from around the base of the idol.

  The chief priestess said, “We will take off our clothes. When one appears before the voice of Kho, one should be as when one is born.”

  They shed their garments, leaving them on the floor behind them. Suguqateth led them across the floor. The white-clad figure came from around the base, carrying a three-legged stool of oak. She set it down in front of the statue and removed her robe. She was a very old woman, white-haired and wrinkled. Her pupils were enormously dilated and her breath stank of something acrid.

  Hadon noticed then that there was a hole in the floor just in front of the stool. As the old woman climbed onto the tall stool, smoke began to rise from the hole. It was bluish and thin at first, but as the hag, her eyes closed, began to chant, it became denser. It rose toward a hole hidden in the shadows of the domed ceiling, its tentacles swirling out, enveloping all. Hadon coughed as he breathed in a heavy, sweetish odor, one he had never smelled before.

  The woman, swaying, chanted in the old ritual tongue. Hadon moved closer to Lalila; the priestess motioned him to return to his original place. She took Lalilas hand and led her to within three paces of the oracle priestess. Then she took three steps backward, stopping by Awineth.

  The smoke continued to pour out. The shadows seemed to thicken, to ooze out from the base of the walls. Suddenly Hadon felt cold. The air, though it had been cool when he entered, was now freezing. He shivered and his teeth chattered. Awineth looked back at him with an annoyed expression. He clenched his teeth, but he could not keep from shaking.

  Now the shadows were in fact advancing. They crept closer, at the same time building up toward the torches. Presently they were halfway toward the ceiling. They covered the torches with roiling veils, never extinguishing them but making them faint and faraway.

  Suddenly he gasped and his heart, which had been beating hard before, began racing. The Goddess Kho had moved!

  No, it was only his imagination. The statue was as still as stone; it had not stepped toward him.

  He could not be sure. Things out of the corners of his eyes were distorted, lengthened. When he turned his head to look directly, they resumed the appearance of normality.

  He leaped, uttering a strangled cry, as the sickle swooped over his head. It was a blur, casting a swift shadow, come and gone. But he had heard the hiss as it cut through the air.

  Yet Kho had not moved.

  Or had She? The blank azure eyes seemed to become liquid, as if alive. Tiny golden flashes swam through them, then lined up into three concentric circles. They began rotating, slowly at first, then more swiftly, whirling and whirling, then expanding into solid golden orbs, burning like stars.

  His legs quivered and his belly contracted. His genitals drew up. The floor felt like ice to his feet; a cold wind was blowing down his back.

  He fell to his knees, crying, “Great Kho! Spare me!”