The Castle Of Hape. Caves Of Fire And Ice. The Joining Of The Stone

Two deacons pulled Ram upright, forced him up the steps to the iron stake. He stared at the oil-soaked wood around his feet with a feeling of terror he could not quell, felt the bonds tighten as he was bound to the stake. He prayed then, in cold silence. The mountains rumbled. Venniver glanced up, seemed to take this as an omen to his righteousness. The kneeling people sighed faintly. Ram knew terror, knew it was too late to fight back now, he had left it too long.

“They who defy the powers of the gods shall be consumed in fire!”

“The fire! The sacred fire . . .”

“Must die! Die by fire! The Seer must die by fire!”

“Die by fire!” Their voices rose, and they began to stir.

Venniver held up his hands. Their voices stilled as one. He knelt dramatically before the funeral pyre, and the sheep sighed. Venniver seemed then to be praying, made long dramatic ritual all in silence, lighting of candles along the altar as the deacons chanted in deep, reverent voices. Ram stood watching with growing horror his own funeral, sweating, his body numbed by the tightly cutting bonds.

Venniver rose at last, made signs of obeisance before the raised altar, turned to face the temple.

Stung by fear, trying to keep himself from screaming out, Ram tried to touch Venniver’s thoughts and could not. He tried to hold steady to the Luff’Eresi’s promise and was overwhelmed by terror as Venniver took up a taper, struck flint so it flared and, smiling, thrust the flaming taper to the pyre. Flame leaped, caught, flared up Ram’s bare legs. He fought in terror, unable to control himself.

But the flame died. Died as if it had been snuffed. The sheep stared and sucked in their breath.

Venniver lit the pyre again. Again the flame leaped, again died. The taper in his hand died to blackness, and suddenly the temple door flew open. A woman screamed, men rose from their benches to stare, light poured into the temple brighter than moonlight and icy cold: blinding light, fracturing, dancing light; and from the light a voice boomed.

“Unbind the Seer! You tamper with our property, pig of Burgdeeth! Unbind the Seer that belongs to us!”

Venniver stood staring, seemed afraid—yet squared his shoulders in defiance. He seemed about to speak when suddenly his body twisted until he knelt, screaming out in pain.

“Free the Seer!”

Venniver scowled. He tried to rise and could not.

“Free the Seer, pig of Burgdeeth!”

At last, in obvious pain, Venniver nodded to a deacon, and Ram felt his bonds loosed from behind, felt the brush of a deacon’s robe.

“Bring the Seer here.”

Venniver stared at the cold light, again was twisted so he knelt; again nodded to a deacon.

Two deacons came forward, took Ram’s arms, and he was led down the steps of the altar past the sheep, and stood at last in the door of the temple facing the shattering radiance of a dozen winged gods towering over him, their horselike bodies and human torsos ever-changing in the shifting light—light that seemed a part of them. Ram went down to them, walked among them to the square with head bowed and eyes lowered as if he were their prisoner; felt their amusement and returned it with his own, wanted to shout with pleasure and release. He turned at last to see Venniver and his deacons forced out of the temple as if they were pulled by invisible lines. They tried to turn away but could not get free, and their faces were frozen in terror.

The leaders of Burgdeeth were forced toward the square and there made to kneel before the winged statue of gods. The Luff’Eresi towered around the statue, so brilliant one could hardly look, cast their light across the bronze figures so they, too, seemed alive.

The sky in the east was a dull red as the Luff’Eresi spoke again. “Call out your people, Venniver of Burgdeeth.”

The people of Burgdeeth came hesitantly to the square, mobbed together in fear just as fearful sheep would mob, stood before the Luff’Eresi at last, and then knelt of one accord; and they could not look up at that brilliance, none had the courage to look up though the brilliance touched them like a benevolence.

“Unbind the Seer’s hands! We have no need to bind our prisoners. Do you expect us to take him like a sack of meal! This is our prisoner you have so brazenly played with!”

Ram was unbound. Stood naked and free and cared not for his nakedness, felt only triumph as he saw Venniver cower before the Luff’Eresi.

“Listen well, Venniver of Burgdeeth! We tend our own sacrifices. That is our privilege. We deal with the Seers, not you. If you claim another Seer—man, child or woman—you will die. Die wishing you had never been born!

“Do you hear us well?”