Sword of the Deceiver Read Online Free Page A

is happening,” Father answered. “You are saying that our offerings and embassage of four years ago were inadequate.”
    The prince took the accusation without flinching, and met the king’s eyes. “I would never say that, Great King. You know this.”
    Father leaned forward, looking down on the kneeling man. “I thought I did, Prince Samudra.” He spoke softly, but his voice was pitched to carry through the hall. “But if the purpose of this so-called sacrifice is not to wheedle more tribute out of your protectorates, what is it for?”
    Which was the end. The big priest shot to his feet. The golden scarf around his thick neck slithered to the floor with the violence of his motion. “Barbarian!” he shouted. “How
dare
you profane the holy mysteries! You worship a vain human who dared deny the Mothers! You sit on your gilded …”
    “Divakesh!” The prince also stood swiftly. “Silence!”
    It was too much for little Bailo. A whimper escaped him and he cringed backward into his nurse’s arms. All Natharie’s other siblings took the opportunity to huddle together. Natharie made herself sit still. She was the oldest. She must remain still, as still as Mother was, as still as Father on the throne. Even while the court gasped and muttered, they would be absolutely correct. Behind them and on either side, the guards had shifted their grip on their spears and their swords.
    If the priest noticed any of these things, the only effect was to increase his rage. “I will not be silent!” His voice shook from fury. “You will tell this petty chief that his children belong to the Mothers as does any other thing They see fit to require of him! You will tell him …”
    “Priest,” said the prince, and this time his voice was low as the first rumble of the earthquake. “You will leave the hall at once. You will not reenter it unless I send for you and then you will only do so in proper respect for the great king.”
    They stood there, each daring the other with his own pride, authority, and history. Natharie risked a glance at her father, and she saw a tiny smile on his face. In that moment, she understood. Father had not been speaking to the prince at all, but always to the priest. He saw the weak link and he pressed against it until it broke.
    The priest turned on his heels and marched toward the door. Before the tension could break, Radana startled them all afresh, by leaping from her place with the other concubines and scuttling forward to claim the golden scarf the priest had let fall.
    “My lord?” She knelt in front of him as humble as any servant, holding the scarf up for him to take.
    It was a wonderful move. It broke the terrible tension his outburst had brought. Natharie was sure she heard one of the serving women snicker.
    The priest, who could not turn any more red, snatched the scarf away and left the hall. Radana bowed deeply to the king and queen and returned to her place with the other concubines, a smile of smug satisfaction on her face.
    For all this, it was now the prince who was shamed and he who must act humble. Which he did, bowing deeply. This time, his forehead touched the mat.
    “Great King, I am truly sorry for this outburst. Divakesh is diligent in his piety and it is my fault for not instructing him more carefully on the ways of the Awakened lands. It will not happen again, I promise you.”
    Father sat back, looking haughtily down his nose. “That is the man who will perform the sacrifice when it is time?”
    “Yes, Great King.” The prince sounded plainly puzzled.
    “The horse then belongs to the Mothers and he will … send it to them at the appointed time?”
    “Yes.”
    Now Father spoke with cold precision. “Given this, what did your man mean when he said my children belong to the Mothers?”
    Murmurs flitted through the air. Natharie heard again the sound of shifting weight, the faint jingling of scaled armor as the soldiers readied themselves in her defense, in the defense