He retched in agony until, at last, his heaving stomach became convinced further efforts would yield no further results. As he straightened—gasping, livid, his bloodshot eyes streaming tears—the little minion snatched a nameless piece of clothing from off a nearby stool and began to dab at the wet stains on the High-Lord’s attire.
Demetrios felt well served. Here was an object on which he could safely vent the anger provoked by his embarrassment and frustration. His foot lashed out viciously; it caught the hapless child in the ribs, propelling him six feet to crash into a full wine barrel. As the stunned slaveboy crumpled, one of the women rushed to kneel beside him and took his bloody little head into her lap. Dipping a piece torn from her sheer skirt into the top of the barrel, she commenced to wipe the child’s forehead and cheeks.
Despite an unsteadiness in his legs, Demetrios—horrified that one of his favorite minions should be defiled by the touch of a woman—started toward her, hissing, “You putrid, stinking bitch, you, get your hands off him this instant! Do you hear me, shameless she-thing?”
The woman appraised him briefly, sneered, then turned back to the boy. Infuriated, the High-Lord advanced until he stood over her, raised one be-ringed, fat-fingered hand to strike her .. . and was suddenly frozen by the coldest, hardest voice he had ever in his life heard.
“Touch her, you mincing pig, and you’ll lose every finger on that hand, one joint per hour!”
The speaker was seated on a low couch beside a tall, red-haired woman. He wore finely tooled knee boots, loose trousers cinched with a wide belt, and a cotton-lawn shirt open to the waist. A slender dagger was thrust into his belt, but he was otherwise unarmed amongst the weapons-bristling throng.
However, when Demetrios got a good look at the speaker’s face, he could have again been ill. A wide scar ran from high on the left temple and on down to the chin, barely missing the eye; the tip of the man’s nose was gone and so was half the right ear; but most hideous of all, at some time an inch-wide hole had been gouged or cut into the man’s right cheek and, in healing, had never closed and his eyes and hair and bone structure led the High-Lord to think that this man could be a Kath’ahrohs—a pureblood Ehleen.
With considerable effort, Demetrios partially overcame his fear and repugnance. “How … how dare you so address us! Do you know who we are?”
Even the chuckle was hard and cold. “Fat as you are, I can see why you employ the plural when referring to yourself. Yes, I know who you are, as well as what you are — and it sickens me to have to acknowledge any degree of kinship to a thing like you, cousin.
“As for me, I am Pardos, Lord of the Sea Isles. You are here to beg me for help. Seeing you, I can now understand why you need help. If you are a fair sample of what the Ehleenoee nobility of the mainland are become, may God help us. If all are such as you, cousin—a peacock-pretty pederast with a voice like a girl and no more body hair than the boy-children you beat and abuse, with less courage than a baby mouse—then mayhap a mainland ruled by clean, normal, courageous, and uncomplicated barbarians would make for better neighbors.”
Arising, the Sea Lord strode over to his “guest,” then strolled slowly around him, critically eyeing his baubles and attire. Suddenly, he snatched out the High-Lord’s sword and examined the stones of the golden hilt and guard; at length, and without apparent strain, he snapped off the two feet of dull blade and tossed the hilt to the red-haired woman.
“The High-Lord’s guest-gift to you, Kahndees.” She fingered the showy treasure—which was worth fully as much as Titos’ ship—and then her full lips curved in a mocking smile and she spoke in Ehleenokos as pure as Demetrios’ own. “I cannot truly express my thanks, My Lord Demetrios.” A hint of laughter lurked in her well-modulated voice.
Pardos flicked the tip of the broken blade at the stiffened pleats of Demetrios’ linen kilt. “A skirt suits you well, cousin. Generally, your kind are more woman than man.”