loved the gaiety and innocence of children.
One of the teenaged girls kept looking at one of the newborn babies, and StarDrifter
guessed she was its mother. Even so, even though she must have been desperate about both its
and her fate, she did not move to touch it.
None of the slaves touched. They all stood alone, islanded by their total despair and
subjection.
If he was honest with himself, these slaves were the reason StarDrifter had attended
today. He felt he owed them this, at least. A witnessing of their suffering.
In his first year here, StarDrifter had been so appalled by Fillip Day he”d tried to help the
slaves. He”d watched in stunned, heart-thumping disbelief as the God Priests started their hellish
trade on the slave who had been picked to provide the soul for the bronze deity awarded to the
victor in Fillip. StarDrifter had leapt forward, thinking only that he must do something to aid the
slave.
He hadn”t got three paces before he was seized from behind by two of the palace guards.
One of the God Priests (along with the entire massed presence of the First, amused by
this unexpected interlude) had turned in StarDrifter”s direction, a somewhat curious expression
on his face as he listened to StarDrifter scream and desperately try to wrench himself away from
the guards” grip, and then he”d laughed softly.
“Thank you,” the God Priest had said. “You have given me the strength I need to extend
this man”s suffering that little bit longer. An extra hour, at least, I think.”
StarDrifter had shut up, but he”d stayed there all that day watching as the slave suffered
while the God Priest delicately, torturously, drew out the man”s soul to inhabit the bronze shell.
When it was done, and the deity handed on to the victor of the game, the God Priest
stepped down from the altar and walked slowly over to StarDrifter. He wore only a loincloth and
a bronze necklet about his throat, from which hung a score of tiny, chiming deities.
He was covered in blood.
The God Priest had stopped before the Icarii, unflinching in the face of StarDrifter”s
seething hatred.
“You are a guest here,” the God Priest had said in a flat, emotionless voice. “You are not
one of us. You have no right to intervene in our practices. You may stay with us, but only if—”
“You foul piece of dog shit!” StarDrifter had hissed.
The expression on the God Priest”s face had not changed. “I do my duty, and I do what is
needed,” he”d said. “I do not lust after my own flesh and blood and then arrange her murder out
of spite and envy. Who is the foulest piece of dog shit between us, eh?”
And with that he”d turned his back and walked away. StarDrifter had collapsed to the
floor, overcome with guilt and horror and self-loathing. While he had not deliberately arranged
Zenith”s murder, he was responsible for it by his careless words to that arch-bitch StarLaughter,
who had set the Hawk Childs to murder Zenith.
After that, StarDrifter had been unable to interfere. He was as bad as the God Priests, and
while he loathed the Coroleans, he loathed himself more. He had caused Zenith”s death through
his own selfish thoughtlessness, and he couldn”t aid the slaves, not so much because he believed
himself of worse character than the God Priests, but because he didn”t want to be thrown out in
the cold.
At least in the Palace of the First he had a good bed and decent food to eat and
permission to while away his hours as he liked.
So, helpless, inadequate, self-loathing, StarDrifter never tried to aid the slaves again.
But he did come to Fillip Day every year to stand witness to their suffering.
CHAPTER TWO
Palace of the First, Yoyette, Coroleas
Salome strolled slowly through the colonnade, happier than she”d been in months. She
adored Fillip Day. For the past six years she had contrived to have herself crowned Fillip Queen
and, having put in the footwork, bribes, threats, and intrigue over the past few months, expected
the same today.
She”d dressed for the part. Salome wore a filmy gown of pale blue that set off her
coloring and features beautifully. It also revealed most of her body, for it was so diaphanous as
to appear almost nonexistent. She wore very little jewelry—a spot of gold at her ears and about
one ankle—sandals of the finest leather, and no bronzed deities at all.
That made the best statement of all: Look at me, envy me, for I am the one who controls
access to the greatest deity of them all, the Weeper. What need I a score of pathetic lesser
deities?
As she moved through the gathering, Salome made the best possible use of the light,
walking in and out of pools of sunlight, appearing suddenly from shadows, and dazzling all who
saw her virtual nakedness spotlighted in the golden light streaming down from the roof windows,
before slinking off again into the shadows, making people glance nervously over their shoulders,
wondering where she was, and what she might be plotting.
Everyone deferred to Salome, but no one loved her.
No one save her son, Ezra. Salome had been making her slow, dramatic way toward the
emperor”s dais at the eastern end of the colonnade when Ezra, standing just to the side of the
dais, saw her. He gave a cry of glee, making the emperor wince, and walked down to greet
Salome.
Ezra did not take after his mother in anything save her height. He was dark, somewhat
heavy of feature and body, and had none of her grace.
Ezra and Salome kissed in the Corolean manner, touching foreheads before a decorous
brushing of lips, then Salome turned and gave a light bow in the emperor”s direction. “My
Gracious Lord,” she murmured, despising him as he looked on her with lust.
“I hear you are to be Fillip Queen this year, Salome,” the emperor said. “Again.”
“Will you fight for me, Gracious Lord?”
That was going too far, even for Salome, and for a moment the emperor reddened under
her forthright gaze.
“Will you service me if I win?” he countered, and now Salome looked slightly
uncomfortable before recovering.
“Fight for me,” she whispered.
“I wouldn”t lift a finger for you, bitch,” the emperor hissed back.
Salome smiled, inclined her head, and turned back to the colonnade. There was an hour to
spare yet before the fun began, and she could use that hour to her benefit.
StarDrifter watched her from the side aisle, where he”d taken a glass of golden wine to
sip. He well knew who Salome was—there was no one who attended the court at the Palace of
the First for more than five minutes without learning her identity—and had amused himself on
many occasions in watching her from some shadowed corner.
He didn”t like her—he didn”t know of anyone who actually did—but she intrigued him.
Salome”s exotic looks and grace made him suspect a sprinkling of Icarii blood somewhere in her
heritage. It certainly wouldn”t be impossible, given that Icarii had been coming here for years
even before the Tencendorian disaster, and, combined with the total immorality of the Corolean
court, a few Icarii bastards on Corolean women might not be totally unexpected. Stars, even Axis
had come down here as a young man, and it wouldn”t have surprised StarDrifter to learn that
he”d left a few by-blows scattered about the country. StarDrifter thought that few people other
than himself would have picked up on Salome”s Icarii heritage. It was only because of his
familiarity with Axis and Azhure that StarDrifter had suspected Salome. Both StarDrifter”s son
Axis and Axis” wife, Azhure, were almost full-blooded Icarii and yet did not look it.
If it had been anyone other than Salome, StarDrifter wouldn”t have cared less. He would
have shrugged and lost interest immediately. But Salome…StarDrifter took a mouthful of his
wine, his eyes still on the woman as she trailed treachery and sex through the gathering…Salome
was virtually the most powerful member of the First, second only to the emperor. She
commanded power and fear beyond knowing.
And yet the First had a rule, their most basic and rigid rule: the First admitted no new
blood.
All members of the First could trace their ancestry back three thousand odd years to the
original founders of their caste, and had admitted no new blood to the First s ince then. The
instant a member was corrupted with outside blood, he or she (as well as any children of their
body) was dropped into the Second. Outside blood was a total disaster.
Sometimes, in his most despairing moments, StarDrifter lifted his mood by imagining
himself being able to prove the feathered shame in Salome”s past and watching her and her son
topple from their position within Corolean society.
He thought Salome would be dead within hours. She”d made so many enemies (virtually