Mina gazed at them all in pleasure that warmed the amber eyes so that they shone purest gold. Overwhelmed by the love and the adoration, she seemed at a loss as to how to respond. At length, she acknowledged the tribute with an almost shy wave of her hand and a grateful smile. She reached out and clasped the hands of Dogah and Captain Samuval, who could not speak for their joy. Then Mina walked over to stand in front of Galdar.
The minotaur fell on his knees, his head bent so low that the horns brushed the ground.
“Galdar,” said Mina gently.
He lifted his head.
Mina held out her hand. “Take it, Galdar,” she said.
He took hold of her hand, felt the flesh warm to the touch.
“Praise the One God, Galdar,” Mina told him. “As you promised.”
“Praise the One God!” Galdar whispered, choking.
“Will you always doubt, Galdar?” Mina asked him.
He looked at her fearfully, afraid of her anger, but he saw that her smile was fond and caring.
“Forgive me, Mina,” he faltered. “I won’t doubt anymore. I promise.”
“Yes, you will, Galdar,” Mina said, “but I am not angry. Without doubters, there would be no miracles.”
He pressed her hand to his lips.
“Now arise, Galdar,” said Mina, her voice hardening as the amber in her eyes hardened. “Arise and lay hands on the one who sought to kill me.”
Mina pointed to the assassin.
She did not point at the wretched Silvanoshei, who was staring at her with dumb amazement and disbelief.
She pointed at Targonne.
13
Avenging the Dead
Morham Targonne had no use for miracles. He had seen them all in his time, seen the smoke and seen the mirrors. Like everything else in this world, miracles could be bought and sold on the open market like fish and yesterday’s fish at that, for most of them stunk to the heavens. He had to admit that the show he’d just witnessed was good, better than most. He couldn’t explain it, but he was convinced that the explanation was there. He had to find it. He would find it in this girl’s mind.
He sent a mental probe into Mina’s red-crowned head, launched it as swift and straight as a steel-tipped arrow. When he found out the truth, he would denounce her to her addlepated believers. He would reveal to them how truly dangerous she was. They would thank him. . . .
In her mind, he saw eternity, that which no mortal is ever meant to see. No mortal mind can encompass the smallness that holds the vastness. No mortal eye can see that blinding light for the illuminating darkness. Mortal flesh withers in the cooling fire of the burning ice. Mortal ears cannot bear to hear the roaring silence of the thundering quiet.
Mortal spirits cannot comprehend the life that begins in death and the death that lives in life.
Certainly not a mortal mind like Targonne’s. A mind that divides honor by ambition and multiplies gain by greed. The numbers that were the sum of his life were halved and halved again and halved again after that, and he was, in the end, a fraction.
The great are humbled by even a glimpse of eternity. The mean tremble in fear. Targonne was horrified. He was a rat in that immense vastness, a cornered rat who could not find a corner.
Yet, even at the end, the cornered rat is a cunning rat. Cunning was all Targonne had left to him. Looking about, he saw that he had no friends, no allies. All he had were those who served him out of fear or ambition or need, and every one of these petty concerns were so much dust swept away by an immortal hand. His guilt was plain for even the stupidest to see. He could deny it or embrace it.
Awkwardly, the bib of his ill-fitting breastplate thumping and banging against his bony knees, Targonne knelt before Mina in an attitude of the most abject humility.
“Yes, it is true,” he blubbered, squeezing out a meager tear or two. “I sought to have you killed. I had no choice. I was ordered to do it.” He kept his head humbly lowered, but managed to steal a glance to see how his speech was being received. “Malystryx ordered your death. She fears you, and with good reason!”
Now he thought it was time he could lift his head, and he arranged his face to match his words. “I was wrong. I admit it. I feared Malystryx. Now I see my fear is unfounded. This god of yours, this One God—a most wonderful and magnificent and powerful god.” He clasped his hands.
“Forgive me. Let me serve you, Mina. Let me serve your god!”
He looked into the amber eyes and saw himself, a tiny vermin, scurrying frantically until the amber flowed over him and held him immobile.
“I foretold that someday you would kneel before me,” said Mina, and her tone was not smug, but gentle. “I forgive you. More important, the One God forgives you and accepts your service.”
Targonne, grinning inside, started to rise.
“Galdar,” Mina continued, “your sword.”
Galdar drew a huge, curved-bladed sword, lifted it. He held it poised a moment over Targonne’s head, long enough to allow the coward a moment to fully comprehend what was going to happen. Targonne’s shriek of terror, the squeal of the dying rat, was cut off by the sweep of the blade that severed the man’s head from his neck. Blood spattered on Mina. The head rolled to Mina’s feet and lay there in a gruesome pool, facedown in the mud and the ash.
“Hail, Mina! Lord of the Night!” General Dogah shouted.
“Hail, Mina! Lord of the Night!” The soldiers picked up the cheer, and their voices carried it to heaven.
Amazed by what they had seen and heard, the elves were horrified by the brutal murder, even of one who had so richly deserved punishment. Their hymns of praise petered out discordantly. They stared to see that Mina did not even bother to wipe away the blood.
“What are your orders, Mina?” Dogah asked, saluting.
“You and the men under your command will remain here to hold the land of Silvanesti in the name of the Dark Knights of Neraka,” Mina said.
“You will send rich tribute to Dragon Overlord Malystryx in my name. That should placate her and keep her eye turned inward.”
Dogah stroked his beard. “Where are we to find this rich tribute, Mina?”
She motioned Captain Samuval to release Foxfire. The horse danced up to her, nuzzled her. Mina stroked the horse’s neck affectionately and began to remove the saddlebags.
“Where do you suppose you will find it, Dogah?” she asked. “In the Royal Treasury in the Tower of the Stars. In the homes of the members of House Royal and in the storerooms of the elven merchants. Even the poorest of these elves,” she continued, tossing the saddlebags onto the ground, “have family heirlooms hidden away.”
Dogah chuckled. “What of the elves themselves?”
Mina cast a glance at the headless corpse that was being rolled unceremoniously onto the base of the funeral pyre.
“They promised to serve the One God, and the One God needs them now,” Mina said. “Let those who have pledged themselves to the One God fulfill that pledge by working with us to maintain control over the land.”
“They won’t do that, Mina,” Dogah said grimly. “Their service won’t extend that far.”
“You will be surprised, Galdar,” said Mina. “Like all of us, the elves have sought something beyond themselves, something in which to believe. The One God has given that to them, and many will come to the service of the One God. The Silvanesti who are faithful to the One will erect a Temple to the One in the heart of Silvanost. Elven priests of the One will be granted the power of healing and given the means to perform other miracles.
“First, though, Dogah, the One will expect them to prove that loyalty. They should be the first to hand over their riches, and they should be the ones who take the riches from those who prove recalcitrant. The elves who claim to be loyal to the One God will be expected to reveal to us all those who are enemies of the One God, even if those enemies are their own lovers, wives, fathers, or children. All this you will ask of them, and those who are truly faithful will make the sacrifice. If they do not, they may serve the One God dead as well as alive.”