“Oh, I see,” Brak retorted, his voice laden with sarcasm. “That’s a good plan. Hand over the only person who can destroy you to your enemy. Now why didn’t I think of that?”
“Your disrespect wears on my nerves, Brakandaran.”
“Not half as much as your scheming is wearing on mine, Zegarnald.”
“I agreed to humour you, Brakandaran, by allowing you to assure yourself that the demon child lives. I did not agree to listen to your whining.”
Brak watched helplessly as the Karien duke left the bedchamber where R’shiel was being held. As soon as she was alone, R’shiel threw herself on the bed and stared at the ceiling, cursing softly. After a while, she gave up that futile pastime and began pacing the room. She checked the door first, but it was firmly locked. Then she went to the window and threw it open, looking down with despair at the six-storey drop to the courtyard below. Finding no joy in that escape route she sat on the edge of the bed and tentatively reached for her power, drawing back hastily as the silver collar she wore began to burn.
“Let me out of here, Zegarnald. I have to help her.”
Here was a hard place to define. The War God had him trapped between the world R’shiel inhabited and the world the gods called home. He was powerless here – at Zegarnald’s mercy. He could move around freely, but he could not be seen, nor could he affect anything that happened in the ordinary world of humans.
He could have kicked himself for walking into Zegarnald’s trap so blindly. He should have known the War God’s sudden appearance in the alley beside the Temple of the Gods meant trouble. Zegarnald probably hadn’t walked the halls of the Citadel for two centuries. Brak knew the gods well enough. He should have suspected something. And he should never have accepted Zegarnald’s uncharacteristic offer of a handshake. Touching the god had been his undoing. Once Zegarnald had a hold of him, he was powerless to resist being drawn into this grey limbo.
“She must help herself.”
“How? She can’t even touch her power. That collar is as bad as those damned staffs Xaphista’s priests lug around.”
“She can touch it. But the pain will be intolerable. If she wants to escape badly enough, she will find a way to bear it.”
“This is another of your tests, I suppose? Another part of the ‘tempering’ you’re so fond of? What happens if she doesn’t want to play your game, Zegarnald? Suppose she throws her lot in with Xaphista?”
“Then I will release you and you will destroy her.”
Brak glanced at the god warily. “You trust me to do that?”
“If the demon child joins with Xaphista, what is left of the Harshini will be destroyed. I have no need to trust you. I trust your determination to remove a threat to your people.”
The worst of it was that the War God was right. Should R’shiel give in to Xaphista he would not hesitate to kill her. He turned back to watching her, feeling like a voyeur.
“You’re taking a big risk, Zegarnald.”
“Perhaps. If the demon child is too weak to face down Xaphista, if she is willing to become his disciple, I would rather find out now than wait until she has matured.”
“The finding out could kill her.”
“Xaphista will try to win her over. He’ll not resort to force unless he has to. He wants the demon child to believe in him, Brakandaran. She is no good to him if she despises him.”
“I can’t imagine she’ll be too thrilled by your efforts,” he pointed out. “If you ask me you’re playing right into his hands.”
“I do not recall asking you.”
Angrily, Brak drew on his power and tore uselessly at the restraints that bound him to this place. Zegarnald didn’t budge. His efforts were trivial in the face of the god’s implacable will.
“Control yourself, Brakandaran. Such undisciplined behaviour ill becomes a member of your race.”
“I’m half human, Zegarnald. I’m doing my human ancestors proud.”
“Stop fighting me. You will harm no one but yourself.”
“Then let me out of here.”
“In time.”
Brak cursed and let go of the power. Fighting a god was a fruitless effort. Fighting Zegarnald was a complete waste of time. He thrived on it. Brak’s efforts were only making him stronger. The realisation brought another thought to mind and he decided to change his tactics. If he couldn’t force Zegarnald into releasing him, then he had to make him want to do it.
“Medalon has surrendered.”
“So it would seem,” the god agreed, a little wary at Brak’s sudden change of heart.
“You’re taking it pretty well.”
“What do you mean?”
“The war is over. That’s going to seriously affect your standing among the other gods, isn’t it? I mean, now that the Kariens and the Medalonians aren’t fighting any more, things are going to get very cosy. Before long they’ll be shaking hands, then they’ll start making friends. Before long they’ll be falling in love... Kalianah’s going to be very happy. And considerably stronger, unless I’m mistaken.”
Zegarnald frowned. “The Defenders will not surrender.”
“You think so? You haven’t been keeping up to date, Divine One. The Defenders are the most disciplined army in the world. If they were ordered to dress up like chickens and run around clucking, they’d do it without blinking. They won’t ignore an order to surrender.”
“Then I will have to content myself with the Fardohnyan invasion of Hythria,” the War God told him smugly.
Brak bit back another curse. He hadn’t known about that. Zegarnald needed wars to keep him strong, but he didn’t really care where they happened. A conflict between those who worshipped him would serve him just as well as one between those who didn’t.
“I suppose you’re right. Of course, you’re assuming that Kalianah won’t interfere.”
“There is nothing she can do to prevent a war.”
“Don’t be so sure. All she has to do is make the right people fall in love and your war is done for.” Brak wondered if Zegarnald knew how desperate he was. He was certain he sounded desperate.
“If you know something of her plans, then you should tell me, Brakandaran.”
He shrugged. “I merely speculate, Divine One. If Kalianah’s got something up her sleeve, you’ll have to ask her about it.”
Zegarnald’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. Trust was not a commodity the gods owned in any great quantity and they tended to take things rather literally. They were jealous creatures and were more conscious of rank than the most snobbish Karien nobleman. It dawned on Brak then that Zegarnald was afraid of R’shiel. He was afraid of what they had created. That’s why he was determined to prove that she could be trusted, before her ability developed beyond the point where the gods could take action.
Brak looked at R’shiel with new respect. It took a lot to frighten a god.
The knowledge did little to help him out of his current predicament, however. Perhaps divine jealousy would work where reason had failed. Brak had no idea if Kalianah even cared that there was a war going on. For all he knew, she was off making a hive of bees happy, somewhere. But he was certain she would not approve of Zegarnald’s plans to test the demon child’s fortitude by throwing her to Xaphista’s priests. If he could taunt Zegarnald into seeking her out, he might be able to prevail upon the Goddess of Love to release him. Kalianah was a happy-ever-after sort of god. She didn’t like her plans being disrupted and she had gone to a fair bit of trouble to keep R’shiel and Tarja together. He was clutching at straws, but at this point anything was worth a try.