the entire population of Coroleas hated her) that the instant this dirty secret (should it actually
exist) was made known, daggers would be sliding out of sheaths all over the empire.
“If only I knew,” StarDrifter whispered, and took a new glass of the golden wine from the
tray of a passing member of the Third. “If only…”
At that very moment Salome turned, and their eyes met.
StarDrifter lifted his glass to her—they had never talked, never made any connection
until this moment—and was somewhat amused to see her eyes narrow speculatively at him for a
moment.
Why? Was she pitying him? Marking him for seduction?
She moved away, the moment gone, but StarDrifter stood watching her for a long time,
wondering what he would do if he received a command to her bed.
Eventually he shook himself out of his speculative mood. She had pitied him, no doubt.
There would be no invitation.
And thank the stars for that, StarDrifter thought, for I would not wish to risk my life
refusing the vile woman.
Some ten paces away a man watched StarDrifter with considerable interest. Ba”al”uz had
arrived in Yoyette four days ago, and had wasted no time in acquiring an invitation to the Fillip
Day celebrations. He”d wanted to come here to observe Salome, and to discover for himself the
best and safest way to steal the deity known as the Weeper.
Ba”al”uz had realized he was staring at the solution to his dilemma.
StarDrifter SunSoar.
He could hardly believe his luck—or was it that Kanubai had arranged this for him?
When Ba”al”uz had first entered the Diamond Colonnade earlier he”d spotted StarDrifter almost
immediately. Then the Icarii man had only pricked at Ba”al”uz” interest. There”d been something
about him, something that intrigued Ba”al”uz, but he couldn”t quite put his finger on it…
So he”d asked a passing and more than half-drunk nobleman who the blond, wingless
Icarii man was.
StarDrifter SunSoar.
Axis” father.
Ba”al”uz was not one to ignore coincidences. They were not accidents, they were chances
handed you by fate, yours to seize or ignore as your abilities dictated.
Ba”al”uz was not going to disregard this coincidence.
StarDrifter was not only going to acquire the Weeper for Ba”al”uz; he was also, if
Ba”al”uz could manipulate circumstances skillfully enough, the means by which to manage Axis.
The festivities began with a sounding of trumpets and a cry of delight.
The emperor lumbered to his feet, and took a card from a golden platter held out for him
by a nobleman.
“Ahem!” the emperor called, his voice surprisingly strong and elegant for such a fat man.
“I have before me the name of she who the First love before any other, and who they desire to be
their queen on this special day!”
StarDrifter smiled around the rim of his wineglass. He could almost hear the stomachs
curdling throughout the vast hall.
“The Dowager Duchess of Sidon!” the emperor cried, flinging his arms wide. “The
Greatly Beloved Salome!”
Feigning surprised delight, Salome stepped forward, bowing at the scattering of applause
that broke out (started, StarDrifter thought, by those too drunk to realize who they were
applauding). He finished off his wine, then snatched yet another glass from a passing waiter.
Salome clapped her hands, once, twice, then a third time, demanding silence. “I thank the
gracious emperor,” she said, bowing now at the emperor, who was struggling to get back onto
his throne without overturning it. “And,” she continued, once more facing the masses crowding
the colonnade, “I declare the Day of Fillip begun! Come now, who will compete for my hand?”
The game of Fillip was, so far as StarDrifter was concerned, as tasteless, as cheap, and as
tawdry as was the rest of Corolean society. There was no finesse to it, nothing but the promise of
violence and blood and sex and humiliation and pain—the five prime ingredients for a successful
Corolean life.
Hated as Salome was, there were no shortage of takers for her challenge. The winner,
after all, not only enjoyed the services of Salome for a night, but also won the bronzed deity of
his choice, freshly made for him once the game was over. This was the aspect of Fillip that
StarDrifter loathed above all else: the winner, often badly hurt, making his bloody way down to
the slave dais to select a soul from the slave of his choice, who was then slowly murdered before
the victor”s eyes as the God Priest withdrew the slave”s soul from his or her body into the bronze
figurine.
Added to these two exquisite pleasures, the winner also won the admiration of the entire
collected First, and could look forward to a year of privilege, free dinners and sex, and perhaps
even a small fortune to be had from listening to the whispered secrets about the bedrooms and
dinner tables of the First”s most rich and fortunate.
The loser died.
Normally this did not happen in Fillip. Usually the loser was the one who lapsed into
unconsciousness first, but this was just a very special day.
Salome slowly walked about the small throng of men who had stood forward, all
high-ranking members of the First. There were elderly men and youths who had yet to beard up,
thin men in the final stages of the wasting disease (no doubt hoping for a loss and a relatively
quick exit from their suffering), and men as obese as the emperor. There were generals and
diplomats, princes and scoundrels, assassins and cheats—men representing all the qualities for
which the First were known. It was Salome”s task to select from this menagerie two men to battle
it out for her favors, the deity, and a year of delights.
Her reward came not only in the selection (which would clearly indicate her current
bedroom tastes), but in the choice of weapon. The woman over whom the men battled always
chose the weapon with which they tried to beat themselves unconscious (or into death, on this
day). The weapon could be anything at all, not necessarily something of great value on the
battlefield. Thus was derived Salome”s greatest joy in this shambolic tragedy—choosing the
weapon that would most humiliate her two suitors.
She stopped, her finger to her chin in a parody of thoughtfulness, then slowly smiled,
seductive and murderous.
“You,” she said, pointing, “and you.”
The crowd gasped, the emperor mottled (thinking, correctly, that this was a gibe at him),
and StarDrifter”s jaw dropped open in a mixture of surprise and disgust: Salome had selected two
of the most massively obese men he”d ever seen. The fact that she was going to have to sleep
with one of these creatures at the end of the day appalled him, as did the idea that they would
undoubtedly humiliate themselves during the process of the game.
He wondered again, briefly, at whether or not she had Icarii blood within her. If she did,
then she”d managed to get only the worst of the Icarii heritage. StarDrifter could not imagine any
Icarii ever acting like this.
What? whispered an unwelcome voice deep in his mind. Not WolfStar? Not
StarLaughter? Not some of the worst blood imaginable—and so much of it SunSoar?
As the disappointed suitors melted back into the crowd, the two winners divested
themselves of their clothing, leaving themselves naked. Great folds and rolls of flesh covered
their arms and legs, their buttocks were doughy and pockmarked, and their bellies dewlapped
down almost to mid-thigh, hiding their genitals.
Before them, Salome snapped her fingers, and a servant came forth bearing a large tray
covered with a silver dome.
The weapons tray.
For a long, taunting moment Salome held everyone in suspense, then she oh-so-slowly
lifted the dome and held up the two weapons.
Two lengths of silken cord.
StarDrifter frowned. That was almost too obvious, and too easy. Two lengths of
cord—the victor would be the one who strangled the other first.
But just as the two men reached for the cords, Salome smiled, shaking a finger at them.
She picked up one of the cords and, moving to one of the combatants, tied his wrists
loosely behind his back.
Then she tied the hands of the other behind his back.
“Use your teeth,” she said. “Gnaw each other for my pleasure.”
The men went pale, but StarDrifter had no doubt they would do it. There was no other
possible outcome save that one of these two men would, somehow, manage to murder the other
with his teeth to then take Salome, and the slave”s soul of his choice embedded in a bronze
figurine, in victory.
And everyone here would stay to watch, drinking themselves into a stupor in the process.
Sickened, StarDrifter put down his glass, turned, gave the slaves one last wretched glance
of sympathy, and left the colonnade.
Deep in the shadows of the aisles, Ba”al”uz saw him leave, then followed.
CHAPTER THREE
FarReach Mountains, and the Northern Reaches of the Ashdod