“I see,” said Viviana.
“She is informed,” said Urta. “She expects to receive the packet from you. She will be waiting.”
“I see,” said Viviana.
“Were I to be seen consorting with the slave, Huta,” said Urta, “questions, even suspicions, might be aroused.”
“Of course,” said Viviana.
“Now,” said Urta, “having supposedly conveyed to you the good wishes of the exarch of Telnar, who presided at your nuptials, as I pretended to do with your sister, Alacida, I think I may take my leave.”
“I take it that Alacida knows nothing of this,” said Viviana.
“Nothing,” said Urta.
“She has no dealings with Huta,” said Viviana.
“No,” said Urta.
He then smiled, bowed, turned about, and withdrew from the chamber.
Viviana sat for a long time in the heavy chair, the arms of which were carved in the likeness of the mane and head of a forest lion.
Then she bent down, and picked up the small packet.
Chapter Fifty-Six
“I thank Master for his kindness,” said Huta, kneeling humbly at the feet of Abrogastes, who sat upon his massive couch, “for permitting me to wear so lovely a tunic, white and silken, in the hall, about the compound, and here, in your chambers.”
“The rags in which you were kept by the Princess Viviana,” said Abrogastes, “ill-befitted your standing as a high slave, a preferred slave.”
“I thought such garmenture, so brief, soiled, and demeaning, was put upon me by your will,” said Huta.
“How could you think that?” asked Abrogastes.
“In it I was forced to perform the most servile tasks,” said Huta, “tasks more appropriate for a Drisriak’s Telnarian slave girl.”
“How could that be?” inquired Abrogastes.
“I fear I am not in favor with the Princess Viviana,” said Huta.
“I thought to please the princess and honor you, by permitting you to serve her,” said Abrogastes.
“I do not think the princess Viviana likes me,” said Huta.
“Why not?” asked Abrogastes.
“I have no idea, Master,” said Huta.
“Well,” said Abrogastes, “you need no longer report to her, unless summoned.”
“A slave is grateful to her Master,” said Huta. “And I thank you again for my tunic, its opacity and length, short perhaps, but modest for a slave.”
“You look well in it,” said Abrogastes.
“A slave is pleased if Master is pleased,” said Huta.
“It is a slave tunic,” Abrogastes reminded her.
“Yes, Master,” said Huta.
“My bath is drawn?” asked Abrogastes.
“All is attended to,” said Huta.
“I shall refresh myself,” said Abrogastes.
“I am happy to see you in so pleasant a mood,” said Huta.
“How so?” inquired Abrogastes.
“I confess I had feared of late that you might have begun to view me with less favor than hitherto,” said Huta.
“How could you believe that?” asked Abrogastes.
“A slave muchly fears that her Master might frown upon her, or tire of her,” said Huta.
“Put such thoughts from your mind,” said Abrogastes.
“My heart leaps with joy,” said Huta.
“Perhaps, then, we shall celebrate,” said Abrogastes.
“I shall pour your wine,” said Huta.
“From the locked, sealed stock, as usual,” said Abrogastes.
“Surely, Master,” said Huta. “You will, of course, as always, supply the keys.”
“Do you wonder,” he asked, “why that stock is locked and sealed?”
“To prevent theft, and unauthorized usage,” said Huta.
“To prevent tampering,” said Abrogastes.
“‘Tampering’?” asked Huta.
“Many are those who, in their hatred, smallness, envy, malice, and jealousy, would bring down those who stand above them,” said Abrogastes. “The small, compared with the large, cannot deny their smallness. If all are small they can pretend no one is small. Too, other dangers lurk. Rank, distance, and hierarchy rule the worlds, and many hope to replace one such arrangement with another, in which they expect to be better placed. They are not opposed to rank, distance, and hierarchy, only to the current occupants of a particular hierarchy. Does not the denunciation of hierarchy invariably lead to hierarchy anew? How could it be otherwise? They do not renounce gold, only that which is not within their own purse. And so many would praise, and hope for, the unsheathed dagger, the uncoiled strangling wire, the vial of poison, the swift, silent arrow sped from a rooftop.”
“How dreadful, Master,” said Huta.
“And that, slender, dark-haired, charming Huta,” said Abrogastes, “explains the locked, sealed stock.”
“That it cannot be tampered with, that it cannot be poisoned,” said Huta.
“To be sure,” said Abrogastes, “it could be poisoned before being sealed, or after having been opened. Tasters militate against the first possibility, and devoted, trusted servitors against the second.”
“Tasters are employed by some of power, might, and rank,” said Huta, uneasily.
“In decadent, suspicious, wary Telnarian courts perhaps, those fraught with ambition and intrigue, where who knows who can be trusted,” said Abrogastes, “but amongst the Alemanni such things are not necessary and would be deemed insulting to servitors, shieldsmen, and allies, men bound together by blood, spear oaths, and sword oaths.”
Abrogastes then delivered the keys to the wine chest to Huta, turned about, and left the room, to take his bath.
“I will pour your wine, Master,” called Huta.
“A red kana,” he called, “from Larial IV.”
Larial IV was noted for the quality of its wines.
“Yes, Master,” said Huta.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“I trust you poured the wine carefully,” said Abrogastes, standing barefoot in his lounging robe, toweling his shaggy head of hair, looking down on the metal goblet on the small stand near the Master’s chair.
“I did not spill a drop,” said Huta.
“It came by way of Safa Major,” said Abrogastes, “received in a trade mission from Burons.”
He then slipped into sandals and reclined in the Master’s chair, putting the towel over its arm. Huta knelt at his side.
“Will Master drink before or after putting me to his pleasure?” asked Huta.
“Perhaps both,” said Abrogastes.
Huta put her head down. “Let me serve you now,” she whispered.
“If you wish,” he said.
Huta then looked up, and took the goblet with two hands.
“You are unsteady,” observed Abrogastes.
“The wine is expensive,” said Huta. “I fear to spill it.”
“Put it on the table,” said Abrogastes. “Fetch another, one less daunting.”
“No, no, Master,” said Huta. “This wine is fine. On this day I received a fine tunic, on this day I am reassured of the favor of my Master. This night is special. Drink, dear Master, this wine, drink it tonight, a special wine on this, so special a night.”
“You are in a celebratory mood,” said Abrogastes.
“Very much so, Master,” said Huta.
“I, too, then,” said Abrogastes. “It pleases me that you, who are so beautiful, so lovely in your collar, perhaps worth twenty darins, are pleased.”
“Thank you, Master,” said Huta.
“Therefore,” said Abrogastes, lifting the goblet, “we shall share the kana.”
“Surely not, Master,” said Huta. “Such a wine is far too precious for a mere slave.�
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“Nonsense,” said Abrogastes. “You are a high slave, a favored slave, a preferred slave.”
“No, no!” said Huta.
“Drink first,” said Abrogastes. “Here.”
“Please, no, Master!” said Huta.
“It is my will,” said Abrogastes.
“I dare not,” said Huta, drawing back. “Drink before my Master! I might die of fear!”
“Very well,” said Abrogastes, “as you will.”
Abrogastes then took a deep draft of the wine.
Huta drew back, even further.
“Drink more, drink more, Master,” she said.
Abrogastes once more drank, and deeply.
“It is your turn now, lovely slave,” he said.
“The unworthy lips of a slave should not be permitted to soil the rim of a cup from which the Master drinks,” said Huta, carefully.
“Nonsense,” said Abrogastes, holding out the cup. “Drink.”
“I beg not to do so,” said Huta.
“As you wish,” said Abrogastes, once more drinking deeply.
Huta then rose to her feet, and backed away.
“How is it that you stand, how is it that you back away?” asked Abrogastes, the sentence slurred, though he seemed not to notice that.
“Because I wish to,” said Huta, taking another step back.
“I do not understand,” said Abrogastes, slowly.
“So you are the mighty Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper,” said Huta, “the king of the Drisriaks, the terror of a hundred worlds?”
Abrogastes regarded her, his eyes half closed.
“You are nothing,” she said, “only a drunken sot, a fool, inert, a fallen tree, a bag of sand, a dull, sickened arn bear, scarcely able to move, half paralyzed, slumped in a chair.”
Abrogastes did not respond.
“I trust you are conscious for a few moments more,” said Huta. “Know that I am Huta, a former high priestess of the Timbri. You have dared to put me in a collar and have my thigh marked with the slave rose, as though I was a common woman! You have put me, who was a high priestess of the Timbri, in the garment of a slave! Even now I wear so degrading and humiliating a garment! How ugly it is! How demeaning it is! How I hate it! I shall have robes and veils, and cinctures, and stoles, and cloaks, and footwear, covered with jewels. I shall be rich, and have slaves and servants, and houses, and horses and carriages, of my own. I shall share the throne of Telnaria!”
Abrogastes closed his eyes, and then, after a moment, opened them again.
“I hope that you can hear me,” said Huta. “You have only moments, if that, to live. Know that your dread enemy is Ingeld, your son. Learn that, understand that, in your last, declining, darkening, helpless moments. Yes, he has coveted your throne for years, and now, thanks to me, will become king of the Drisriaks, hegemonic tribe of the Aatii. He will bend tribes and worlds to his will. I am his lover, and will later be his consort in Telnar, his empress. Urta, the Otung, brought poison to Tenguthaxichai, delivered it to Viviana of Telnar, who vouchsafed it to me, to administer it to you, as I have done. The poison which I have tricked you into imbibing is particular. Its effects are undetectable. It will be assumed you died of natural causes. I shall be distraught and horrified at the demise of my beloved Master. Then I will, in the cleansing games, be freed by Ingeld, and will become his queen, the queen of the Drisriaks, and, later, will sit beside him in the imperial palace at Telnar. I hope that you can hear me!”
“I can hear you, quite well,” said Abrogastes, rising from the chair.
“Master?” whispered Huta, startled, puzzled, eyes wide, stepping back, further.
“The princess, Viviana,” said Abrogastes, “unwilling to be party to your plot, brought me the powder, the poison, and explained its purpose. Accordingly a harmless powder, from the ground, sweet cane of Inez II, was substituted. It was this harmless substance which reposed in the envelop she delivered to you, that you emptied into my kana. Urta, the Otung, who delivered the poison to Princess Viviana, is in custody.”
Huta screamed in terror, turned about, and fled from the chamber.
“Your majesty,” said a guard, appearing at the portal, presumably startled by Huta’s wild departure from the chamber.
“The slave will flee from the compound,” said Abrogastes. “She will seek refuge in the forest. There she would die, being torn to pieces by wild animals, probably by tomorrow morning. Hunt her down with dogs, and bring her back.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
“How shall we judge these two, beloved son?” asked Abrogastes.
“Harshly, as they deserve,” said Ingeld.
Before the high seat of the Drisriaks on Tenguthaxichai, in the king’s hall, knelt Urta, the Otung, and Huta, the slave, once a high priestess of the Timbri, both swathed in chains. Ingeld sat at the right hand of Abrogastes, and at Ingeld’s right hand sat the princess Viviana.
“Perhaps, dear son,” said Abrogastes, “you have heard that the slave, Huta, in her failed attempt to assassinate me, sought, while the supposed poison was doing its work, to implicate you in in the nefarious plot.”
“I have heard so,” said Ingeld. “Am I expected to deny so absurd an allegation?”
“Certainly not,” said Abrogastes. “The origin of the plot lies in Telnar, deriving either from the imperial palace, governed by an Otung, a hereditary enemy of the Drisriaks, or from the exarchical palace, the residence of the exarch of Telnar, Sidonicus, who desperately sought political concessions I would not grant, or both. The Otung pig, Urta, was the tool of one or the other, and perhaps of both.”
“It is true that I requested an audience with the princess Viviana for Urta, the Otung,” said Ingeld, “but it was merely that he might convey the good wishes of the exarch of Telnar to the princess. I made a similar request to Princess Alacida, spouse of my beloved brother, Hrothgar, which, as I understand it, was also acted upon.”
“The Princess Viviana has cleared you of all guilt, or even suspicion, in this matter,” said Abrogastes. “She has testified that you were not present at her interview with Urta, and that, to the best of her knowledge, his intent was unknown to you.”
“It is so,” said Ingeld.
“But the slave, Huta,” said Abrogastes, “while believing in the effectiveness of the supposed fatal toxin, and awaiting the culmination of its lethal effect, spoke of you in terms of vile treachery.”
“Perhaps the ravings of a mad slave,” said Ingeld. “I assume so palpable a canard needs no response.”
“But I am curious,” said Abrogastes.
“Pray, speak,” said Ingeld.
“What, at such a time, could be the motivation for allegations so obviously false?”
“Who knows the mind of a woman?” said Ingeld.
“May I speak, beloved father of my husband and lord,” said Viviana, “and may I speak, my beloved husband and lord?”
“By all means,” said Abrogastes.
“Surely,” said Ingeld.
“An obvious motivation suggests itself,” said Viviana, “a motivation obvious to a woman, but perhaps less so to a man. A hateful woman, desiring to darken the dying moments of a hated man, wishing to fill them with torture and misery, with doubt, suspicion, and agony, might say anything that would be germane to her malicious purpose.”
“Of course,” said Abrogastes.
“That explains the matter,” said Ingeld.
“And very well,” said Abrogastes.
“What I said was true!” cried Huta, kneeling in her chains. “Speak for me, dear Ingeld! Protect me, dear Ingeld! Act on my behalf! Do you not love me? Save me!”
“Ingeld is guilty!” cried Urta. “He was privy to the plot! Spare me, great king. I am but a minion, a negligible tool.”
“Bring the two goblets,” said Abrogast
es to a servitor.
Two identical goblets were brought and placed before the kneeling Urta.
“The deadly powder you brought from Telnar will not be wasted,” said Abrogastes. “Examine the goblets. Which contains poison? Choose one.”
“Mercy, great king,” said Urta.
“Choose,” said Abrogastes.
With trembling hands, his wrists chained, Urta lifted one of the goblets to his lips and drank.
“More,” said Abrogastes, sternly.
Urta had taken little but a swallow more when he turned white. His chains shook, as he trembled. “The poison, the poison!” he rasped.
“Take him away, to his quarters,” said Abrogastes. “There, remove his chains and wash them, lest they carry any trace of poison.”
“It will be done,” said a servitor.
“Handle them carefully,” said Abrogastes. “We know little of the nature of the toxin, other than its lethality. It may infuse sweat, oils, and flakes of skin.”
“Yes, your majesty,” said another servitor.
“The poison, the poison,” said Urta, as he was carried from the hall.
“He chose unwisely,” said Ingeld.
“Take those goblets away,” said Abrogastes. “Empty them, carefully. Do not let the liquid touch your skin. Rinse them, wash them, scour them, cut them in pieces, and cast away the pieces.”
The two goblets were removed by another servitor.
“Bring now,” said Abrogastes, “the other two goblets.”
Two more goblets were brought and these were placed before Huta.
“Mercy, Master,” begged Huta.
“Examine the goblets,” said Abrogastes. “Which contains poison? Choose one.”
“Beloved Ingeld, Master Ingeld,” wept Huta. “I have served you well and faithfully. Do you not love me? Am I not to be your queen? Am I not to be empress of Telnaria? Intervene on my behalf! Save me!”
“Drink,” said Abrogastes.
“Dear Ingeld!” cried Huta.
“Drink,” said Ingeld.
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