‘No, not the rulers,’ Illyra said positively. ‘Not the Burek clan at all, the
horsemen. But the fisher-folk and boatwrights who brought the Burek here, the
Setmur – and not all of them.’ The woman smiled at the trace of a memory so grim
that its fullness wiped her face with loathing an instant later. ‘There was,’
she explained, looking away from the caravan-master, ‘a cult of Dyareela in
Sanctuary in the – recent past. The Porta cult is like that. Only a few, and
those hidden because it’s sacrilege and treason to worship other than the
Imperial gods.’
‘The Beysib have closed the temples here?’ Samlor asked. Her last statement had
jarred him into the interjection.
‘Only to human beings,’ Illyra said. ‘And the Setmur are human, even to the
Burek.’ She smiled again and this time held the expression. ‘We S’danzo are
accustomed to being animals, master. Even in cities Ranke conquered as long ago
as she did Cirdon.’
‘Go on,’ said Samlor evenly. ‘Do these Beysib think to sacrifice Star to their ‘
he shrugged ‘- octopus, their squid?’
The S’danzo woman laughed. ‘Master – Samlor,’ she demanded, ‘is Heqt a giant
toad that you might find near the right pond?’ The man touched his medallion,
and his eyes narrowed at the blasphemy. Illyra went on, ‘Porta is a god, or an
idea – if there’s a difference. A fisher-folk idea. Some of them have always had
images, little carvings on stone or shells, hidden deep in their ships where the
nobles never venture for the stink … And now they have something else to bring
them closer to their god. They have -‘ and she looked from the child’s medal,