XVIII
Svarta fagren, sajflikk henne, trant i glumen för d’ lunna Yngling, far t’ tvillingarna pa befanningen a Kassi ty han villa äga jener.
Gryma Kassi, feg erövren,
Belsabubb han å sa hette, stamfar han a orkahodern.
Imperator, döjd vä kjäären, klöv ijäl a mäkti Järnhann, huven ligganne i dyen hel sväädlent fra blori halsen.
Alste hon d’ mäkti kjämpe, dråvare a hennes far, han som stypte jätten Kassi.
Ålste Ynglingen å villa riska livet, bli d’ nödi a befria ham fra Drckå
[The dark seeress, black-skinned beauty, yearned to hold again the calm-eyed
Youngling, sire of her twin infants by command of the Lord Kazi so that he would hold his genes.
Cruel Kazi, cowardly conqueror,
Beelzebub had been his byname, founder of the orcish armies.
Caesar, rotting by the reed fen, smote to death by mighty Ironhand, proud head resting in the muck now, sword’s length from his severed neck lay.
Yes she loved the mighty warrior, loved the man who’d slain her father, he who’d felled the ogre Kazi.
Loved the Youngling and was willing to risk death if that was needed to deliver him from Draco.]
From THE JÅRNHANN SAGA, Kumalo translation
Moshe the Cerberus was responsible for the security of all prisoners during his watch. Very personally responsible. Should one escape or suicide, Moshe’s punishment would be slow, excruciating, and terminal. So he disliked anything not routine and would not tolerate confusion. Confusion made it difficult to monitor thoughts and feelings—nearly impossible to read the subtler nuances.
When the Master was still alive, the danger of escape had been academic, and cerberus—dungeon captain—had been an envied job, comfortable and often enjoyable, while the hazard of prisoner suicide could be minimized by denying means and by monitoring.
During the present power struggle however, two attempts had been made to free men from Draco’s dungeon, and rumors of plots were heard almost weekly. Security had been tightened and drills held regularly.
The night watch had been on duty for only minutes when the signal whistle shrilled. It was no alarm, only a signal from the entry guard above, but the two guards at the foot of the stairwell quickly nocked arrows while others clattered out of the guard quarters with pikes or drawn swords.
Moshe stepped to the speaking tube. “What is it?”
“It’s the Lady Nephthys, Sir. She wishes to come down with her attendants. She wants to look at the star people and the barbarian.”
“Wait twenty breaths, then let them pass.”
The Lady Nephthys! The clearest evidence that the Master had favored Lord Draco over the dog Ahmed was his gift to him of Nephthys. Moshe had seen her only at a little distance, but it was said that, close up, her aura was so compelling that statues had lost control of their parts and as punishment had been unmanned with hammer and chisel.
He pulled the lever releasing the entry lock, then strode out of the guard office. Protocol demanded that such a personage be met by the officer in charge. Within the tall stone stairwell he snapped his way through armed men, stopped two paces back from the stone stairs, and stood at attention, a bowman at each side with arrow ready but pointed downward. Behind them were two pairs of swordsmen. Next were four pikemen shoulder to shoulder behind tall shields. Last, just outside the doorway, two men stood by a lever, ready to drop a heavy iron door into place to shut off the stairwell should an attack threaten to succeed.
Three new men, replacing others wounded in an off-duty brawl, had been assigned to standby in the guard room until Moshe could drill them properly.
His stance became more rigid as footsteps sounded softly above; there were no orc boots in her company. Her bodyguards turned into sight—two magnificent blacks, giants, stripped to the waist, armorless except for helmets. Fleetingly beneath his screen, Moshe wondered if they were entire. They must be, he decided, for their muscles were fatless and strongly defined beneath their skin. Entire, then, and well supplied with girls so they could walk tall and haughty, their auras cold and proud despite her nearness.
As soon as she turned into sight behind them, hers was all the aura he was aware of—power, commanding beauty, and a cool sexuality that numbed his will. For seconds he was actually unaware of the presence of her female attendants. As she descended, so gracefully, her visual beauty became one with her aura, and there was no swagger at all to the stiff-spined dungeon captain when he greeted her.