Hammer of God by Karen Miller

Author:Karen Miller [Miller, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Epic, Fiction, Fantasy, General, Fantasy Fiction, Historical, Queens, Slaves
ISBN: 9780316008372
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2009-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Zandakar?” said Vortka. His voice was a whisper, his body shaken head to toe. “Zandakar, am I dreaming?”

He tried to smile, his throat was so tight. Here was Vortka, his friend from boyhood, the man who had saved him when Yuma would kill him, when Dimmi would kill him. His face deeply lined, his eyes weary beyond anything, but he was still Vortka.

“No, high godspeaker. I am here, the god has brought me. We have much to speak of, the god tasks me with its want.”

“Zandakar,” said Vortka, and seized him close in a suffocating embrace. “Aieee, the god see me, you are come home.”

Never in his life had Vortka embraced him, never had the high godspeaker wept out his name. Something cold and hard within him broke, then, and he held tight to Vortka like a man drowning in a sea of grief, or joy.

At last Vortka released him and stood back. His godbraids were silver, as silver as his godbells. “You are not dead, the god told me you were not.”

“No, I am not, I am safe in the god's eye,” he said. Aieee, tcha, it was good to speak in the tongue of his people, the music of Mijak flowing like wine. “The god has kept me safe, Vortka, it is a journey!” Turning, he caught sight of the novice Banto's astonished face. “High godspeaker, this boy cannot be here now, he cannot remember I came to you.”

Vortka shook his head. “No, he cannot.” Stepping forward swiftly he took Banto by the shoulder, he pressed his palm to Banto's cheek. “Forget, Banto novice, let the god take this night from you.” Heat and light flared beneath Vortka's pressing palm. The novice cried out softly, his eyes rolling in his head.

“Stop that!” shouted Dexterity. “Are you hurting him? Are you killing him? Stop that at once!”

Zandakar turned. “Wei, Dexterity, Vortka wei hurt or kill.”

“What is this?” said Vortka, startled, as the power faded from his touch. “Who do you speak to, Zandakar? What strange tongue is that?”

“Send this novice away, Vortka,” he said. “Then I will tell you. I have much to say.”

Vortka stared deep into the novice's glazed eyes. “Return to the quiet time in the streets of Jatharuj, Banto. You came to the godhouse to tell me of night bats, you feared they were an omen, you thought I should know. I told you there was nothing to fear, bats are bats, they are not demons.”

“Bats are bats,” murmured Banto. “They are not demons.”

“The god see you, Banto novice,” said Vortka, and patted the boy's shoulder. “The god see you in its eye as you serve it in the quiet time.”

“The god see you, Vortka high godspeaker,” the novice Banto replied, all anxiety wiped from his face. The glowing mark of Vortka's power shimmered like moonslight on water, then sank into his skin. Smiling serenely, he left Vortka's chamber.

“Always Banto thinks he sees demons,” said Vortka, closing his chamber door behind the boy. “No-one will question that he came to me because of bats.

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