said. ‘That worked on your mind, and you worked on other people’s minds. … My
sister, now, she was convinced her child would look like a man but be a demon.
She killed it in her womb. The only way that she’d have been able to kill it,
because they’d never have let her near it, Regli’s heir, and her having tried
abortion. But such a waste, because it was just a child, only a madman’s child.’
The sun-crowned man gripped the throat of his white tunic and ripped downwards
with unexpected strength. ‘I am Dyareela,’ it said. Its right breast was
pendulous, noticeably larger than the left. The male genitals were of normal
size, flaccid, hiding the vulva that must lie behind them. ‘The one there,’ it
said, gesturing towards the wall beyond which the coachman lay, ‘came to my fane
to shed blood without my leave.’ The naked figure giggled. ‘Perhaps I’ll have
you wash in his blood. Champion,’ it said. ‘Perhaps that will be the start of
your penance.’
‘A mad little hermaphrodite who knows a spell or two,’ Samlor said. ‘But
there’ll be no penance for any again from you, little one. You’re fey, and I
know a spell for your sort. She wasn’t much, but I’ll have your heart for what
you led my sister to.’
‘Will you conjure me by Heqt, then. Champion?’ asked the other with its arms
spread in welcome and laughter in its liquid voice. ‘Her temple is my temple,
her servants are my servants … the blood other champions is mine for a
sacrifice!’
Samlor was twenty feet away, a full turn and half a turn. He clutched his