“Quite right. Fastest way, please, rememberer. On foot or whatever.”
The rememberer’s “on foot” seemed to include gaufer feet, for both a chariot and a cart, each with its team of gaufers, awaited them near the head of the shallow valley in which they landed. Two servants, who had accompanied them in the flier, jumped down at once and began loading the Procurator’s voluminous baggage into the cart while both hitches of animals stamped their feet impatiently.
“I suggested the conveyances would make the remaining distance a bit easier,” the rememberer murmured, keeping his eyes resolutely away from Poracious’s bulky form.
“For which my thanks,” she said, heaving herself aboard the chariot with remarkable agility. She picked up the reins and gave them an experimental tug.
“I must leave you here.” The rememberer bowed. “As I’ve mentioned, those of us from Simidi-ala are not allowed to enter the sacred precincts. Neither are outlanders, of course, and I cannot guarantee an exception will be made for you. We have managed to convince the songfathers it is in their best interest to speak with you. That’s the best we can do.”
“We understand.” The Procurator nodded. “Where are they?”
The rememberer nodded toward the very top of the valley, where several figures stood athwart a shallow col, silhouetted against the sky. “High officials. And I’m afraid we’re persona non grata .” He beckoned to the servants. “As soon as I’ve gone, they’ll come for you.”
He and the servants climbed back into the flier and were whisked aloft in a great cloud of dust.
“He seemed relieved to get out of here,” commented the ex-King of Kamir, wiping the dust from his eyes as he climbed into the chariot beside Poracious.
“I can see why,” murmured Poracious, peering beneath her lashes at the black-clad men who were approaching. “They don’t look happy to see us.”
“Please allow me to speak for us,” said the Procurator from where he stood beside the left wheel. He had donned an official tabard for the meeting, one glittering with gems and fine gold embroidery. It bore upon the back panel the great arms of the Alliance, worked in pearls and sapphires, and on the front panel a grid, in each square of which was the symbol of one of the Seventeen Sectors. Stitched over the symbol of Hermes Sector was a pall of black tissue, showing it to be under threat.
The symbolism was not lost upon the approaching Dinadhi. They saw it and stopped to mumble with one another before continuing their advance.
“What has this predicament of the Alliance to do with Dinadh?” demanded the foremost, threatening with one clawlike hand.
“All your people may perish,” said the Procurator silkily, the words sinuous as snakes, demanding attention. “Dinadh is next in line.”
The Dinadhi glanced at one another, only briefly.
The speaker sneered. “We do not believe we are in any danger from … the Ularians.”
The Procurator blinked slowly. His voice gained both volume and vehemence. “If you are not in danger from them, you are in danger from the Alliance. If you alone in Hermes Sector are not destroyed by the aliens, we must assume you have made common cause with them against the rest of humanity. Is it not written, ‘All life is struggle. He who will not stand with me stands against me’? Humanity will have vengeance for such treachery. You will not be allowed to remain here unscathed while others suffer.”
The hearers shivered. Even Poracious felt her bulk quiver. Fastigacy at its finest, she told herself, maintaining her composure with difficulty. What actors they made!
“There has been no common cause with aliens,” cried one of the other Dinadhi. “Nothing such is needed! We are under the protection of our gods! Our gods are stronger than any … aliens.”
The Procurator smiled voraciously, his teeth showing. “Then we will have vengeance against your gods, Songfathers. If your gods choose some men to favor, while sacrificing others, then those sacrificed may well cry from beyond the grave for justice.”
The third man spoke. “You threaten much. We see only one old man, much bedecked, one fat woman, and one younger man who does not look dangerous. From where will this vengeance come?”