The Altar of My Fate (The Rosteval Saga Book 1) by Michael R. Schultheiss

Author:Michael R. Schultheiss [Schultheiss, Michael R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lyamgallal Press LLC
Published: 2021-12-25T00:00:00+00:00

The evening came, and with Menhiltet still fussing at us about something called “etiquette,” we put on reasonably clean clothes and formed up to head out to the palace. Kurjayak had chosen a slave-girl from among our stock, and planned to present her to Janthur as a gift.

I put Sabtemor in charge of our warriors and told him to take the slaves out for a stroll. “Wouldn’t do for our poor lots to be stuck in cages,” I said.

He nodded, and though his face seemed flat and inexpressive, I saw the glint in his eyes. He was readying himself for tonight.

As we approached the palace, I noted the presence of numerous armed guards. Cat-Eye Pon and Kurjayak had already explained that these were mostly slave-soldiers, sourced from the Diyalla-land, Rigabara-land, and sometimes the Turikalla-land—this last was apparently a land to the south of Diyalla, and it stretched as far as the River Ocean.

I didn’t entirely understand the differences between these lands and peoples, but as we approached the palace, Kurjayak took a look at the guards and nudged me. “Turikalla-men,” he said in a low voice, a smirk on his lips. “Good enough in a fight, but quick to flee if things go against them.”

I noted they had arched, keel-like foreheads, and their hair was curled like wool, but with a marvelous flaxen color. None of them seemed to have more than stubble on his chin.

Menhiltet kept up a steady patter, along the lines of: “And remember to do such-and-such, unless some-other-thing happens…” I ignored most of it.

We were ushered into the palace and found ourselves in a large garden courtyard with many palm trees, fragrant jasmine, caged colorful birds, and lords and ladies.

A man lounged on a couch on a raised dais, and he had a cheetah collared and leashed beside him. I knew at once this was Janthur.

“And here we have His Gracious Majesty Janthur,” Menhiltet said. “Now, approach, and bow low…”

I ignored him and walked toward the dais, Ghaitta and the rest of our party behind me. “Your Gracious Majesty King Janthur,” I said in the Shaper-tongue. I sketched him a bow. After all, best to put him at ease.

Janthur was a paunchy sort of man, with bleary, heavy-lidded eyes, and he waved a jeweled goblet at us. He said something in Tamnool, and Ghaitta translated it as: “Ha! Men from beyond the Sebaiya have come to my court, to pay tribute to the might of King Janthur.”

“True words, King Janthur,” I said, still speaking the Shaper-tongue.

Menhiltet sniffed. “Really, your pronunciation… you should let me translate if you are going to try to speak.”

Janthur belched and nibbled at a piece of chicken with a honey-looking glaze—surely fit for a king. His thick-lidded, puffy eyes narrowed. He spoke again.

“′Ketaryatra, they are taking an interest in the trade in slave-girls, then?’” Ghaitta translated.

I laughed. “His Majesty King Hamarvan makes war against his enemies on his borders. He does not concern himself with matters beyond the Sebaiya.”

After Menhiltet had translated this, Janthur chortled and drained his goblet, then held it up.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.