and a prison cell. Come, Your Highness." She held out a hand to the little girl; Lagan pushed
Briony gently off his knee. "In view of the change in our circumstances, we will no longer
trespass on the hospitality of your court but accommodate ourselves aboard our own vessels."
The Blue Crescent delegation swept out, carrying a scared little princess with them. Lagan sat
stony faced
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as his councillors whispered among themselves. He had spent both his children now in the
service of his country and had nothing left. If this did not stop the war with the Westerners, then
he could only fight with small hope of survival.
Tashi woke the morning after Ramil's visit feeling stronger. Tucking the paper models in the
wide pockets of her black robe, she performed her rituals, then paced the cell to keep the cold at
bay. After her public trial, she hoped that the priests would leave her alone to private
contemplation. She could bear the incarceration, cold and comfortless though it was, as long as
she did not have to go through further humiliation in front of other people.
Her hopes were dashed when a young priest came to fetch her.
"You are expected to attend morning worship in the temple," he announced, keeping his eyes
averted as if he thought she would bewitch him with a look.
"But I do not worship your god," Tashi replied, her back to him as she leant her forehead against the wall for comfort, finding the stone more sympathetic than his hostile looks.
"You will come." He nodded to the temple guards who stepped into the cell.
They surrounded her, swords pointing to her throat.
Brimming with impotent fury, Tashi walked into the corridor. The priest led her out of the crypt
and into
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the temple itself. She'd had no chance to look at it properly when she had been brought this way
the day before; now she saw that a once plain and simple building had been redecorated in
honor of the new god of the Empire.
Bright frescoes of war covered the walls, gleaming with scarlet, gold, and black. The altar shone
with the polished metal of the shields and weapons of fallen foes. A huge icon of Holin hung
over the table, draped in swathes of red cloth. The priest directed Tashi to kneel on the stone
floor in front of the congregation, who were seated in relative comfort on wooden benches. Her
anger had burned itself out and was now replaced by fear, as she wondered what new
humiliation they had in store for her. Keeping her eyes lowered, she sensed the presence of
hundreds of people, all gathered eagerly for the service. The front rows were occupied by the
rich, wrapped in furs and velvet against the chill air. Fergox would doubtless be somewhere
close, sitting at the front in the place of honor. Her neck flushed as she remembered what Ramil
had said about the man wanting to wed her. If this was how Fergox wooed his wives, then
marriage to him was worse than any prison sentence.
A cymbal clashed and a drum began to beat. The senior priests filed in bearing the weapons of
their god: swords, pikes, bows, axes, spiked maces.
Junior acolytes followed, clashing wooden sticks together in time with the drum. The
congregation rose to its feet, but Tashi remained kneeling, her hands clasped loosely in her lap.
In unison, the people began to chant the hymn of
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praise to Holin. She could hear Fergox's voice booming the words out behind her.
"Praise to the war god, glorious in victory,
Crushing his enemies all over the world,
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We offer ourselves in perfect obedience,
Spilling our heart's blood and bending our knees."
The chief priest, a withered-looking man with a pinched, thin face, halted behind the altar and
raised his arms, displaying hundreds of tiny white scars.
He took a knife and in the sight of everyone made a shallow cut on his forearm.
"Honor the Warmonger!" he cried.
"All honor to his name," responded the congregation.
Tashi watched in fascination as he let the blood drip onto the white cloth spread out on the
table. He then chose two weapons from the altar and handed them to a pair of priests waiting
eagerly on either side of the table.
He gave one the mace, the other a sword. Neither was given a shield. The two men turned to
face the congregation. Tashi could see the steel caps on their boots.
"See how we fight for Holin!" they shouted in unison.
To Tashi's horror, they then swung at each other, sword angling down at the knees of the
opponent, the mace bearer going for the head. The combat was only paces away from her. She
could feel the rush of air as weapons slashed and robes whisked. The priests dodged skillfully; so
far no one had landed a blow. Tashi began to hope that this was just an elaborate 128
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dance pattern to celebrate battle without causing injury, but then the mace bearer crashed his
weapon into the skull of the swordsman, who had not moved quickly enough. Tashi flinched as
bone split and she was sprayed with a mist of blood. The victim fell onto the floor in front of her,
so close she could have touched his head. The victor yanked out the mace to the applause of the
audience. He shook it in the air and then presented it to the chief priest to take pride of place on
the altar. The dead man was left lying where he fell. Tashi was shaking, sure she was about to
vomit; she inched back to avoid the blood pooling on the steps until she felt a firm pressure on
her neck. It was Fergox. He had risen and was now standing behind her.
"Stay where you are!" he ordered.
Stooping down, he dabbled his index finger in the blood, then wiped it on the forehead of the
victorious priest who knelt before him to receive the mark of honor. Seeing Tashi's look of
horror, Fergox smiled, reached out and smeared some on her cheek. Revolted, she made to
wipe it away.
"Leave it!" he said, slapping her hand down. "Blood spilt bravely is better than white paint of falsehood." Leaning closer, enjoying her fear of him, he slowly daubed her other cheek.
Tashi trembled, close to tears, as Fergox watched her reaction with a mocking expression. She
could feel the blood drying on her cheek, pulling on the skin, but she dare not touch it.
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Fergox turned from her and raised the victorious priest to his feet. He then lifted the man's fist
in a punch of triumph.
"See how we fight and die for Holin!" Fergox shouted.
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The crowd cheered and the priests struck up a chant.
"Give your offerings of blood, gold, and service," the chief priest cried in ecstasy.
The priests divided into two columns and began moving among the people with bowls. Most of
the congregation poured out the contents of their purses, but some of the most zealous
adherents sliced their hands with a knife and let the blood fall into the basins, prompting
applause from the onlookers. As the priests brought the offerings to the altar, one paused by
Tashi and held out his bowl. Eyes on her clenched fists, she shook her head, and he continued on
to the front without a word.
The rest of the service seemed interminable to Tashi as she tried to regain some control over
herself, some calm to counterbalance the panic and revulsion she felt. Songs were sung to the