Inspired by his subject, the warlord's eyes lit up with religious fervor.
"Exactly. They are in thrall to a demon, an abomination. They let women rule them, their sons do
not inherit, they live in the darkness of ignorance.
Princess Taoshira is going to bring them to the light."
Ramil shifted uneasily in his chair. "And how is she going to do that?"
Fergox turned his attention back to his food and speared a piece of venison.
"By turning to the true faith, of course. Holin the Warmonger, the Father of all other gods, has
shown me the way."
Ramil had heard of the Holtish name for the supreme being. Spearthrower introduced worship
of this bloody deity in every country he conquered.
Images of him had been set up in temples, a warrior priesthood introduced, icons painted, many
bearing a striking likeness to Fergox. It had become the most powerful religion in the world,
attracting willing and reluctant adherents every day.
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"And how will you persuade her? From what I have seen of the Princess, she is very devoted to
her own faith."
"Pah!" Fergox spat out a bit of gristle. "She's young.
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She'll listen. When I bribed the priest on Kai to choose her, I made sure they picked someone
from a family free from the influence of that foul court. I know she's had four years of it, but she
is not beyond redemption. Those other three witches will be burned at the stake when we
conquer the Islands, but my Tashi will ride in to Rama at my side to institute the new religion."
"What do you mean 'by your side'?"
Fergox looked up at the earnest young questioner and winked. "I also asked them to pick me a
comely wench. She's to be my wife." He scratched his chin, thinking about it. "Number five, but the prettiest armful of the lot.
Number one wife is becoming a bit of a scold, thinks she's superior to the rest. I think I'll execute
her when I return home." He picked up a pen and scribbled a note in the margin of his book, as if making a memorandum to unleash the imperial axeman on his unfortunate spouse.
Ramil tried not to imagine what it would be like to be number five wife to Fergox. He wouldn't
wish that on his worst enemy, let alone the little Islander. Could the warlord be dissuaded from
the plan?
"But you surely will not hope to defeat the Blue Crescent navy? You won't be able to walk in and
take over!"
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"You forget, Princeling, that the navy will be at the other side of the world bombarding Gerfal. I think we will have no trouble just walking in, as you put it. You're not eating. Is there something
wrong with your meal?"
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Ramil shook his head. The problem was the company.
"And if the Princess does not convert, what then?" Fergox gave a heartless smile. "She'll discover I can
be very persuasive."
The next morning, Tashi was surprised to find that her ceremonial robes had been restored to
her. There was a new white shift in place of the one that had got ruined on the journey, but the
orange tunic, dragonfly robe, and orange sash were lying on the clothes press, cleansed of any
stain.
But not my boots, she thought with a sigh. I don't think I'll ever see them again.
Having no one to wait on her, Tashi went through the rituals, even remembering the absent
fingerbowl as she mimed washing her hands. She then struggled into her clothes, feeling sure
the layers must be all uneven at the back and the sash badly fastened. She stroked the heavy
brocade with its turquoise and gold dragon-flies, admiring afresh the skill of the craftswoman
who had made it many years ago on the orders of a previous princess. It really did make her feel
royal when she wore it. A mirror stood in the corner. She walked over to inspect herself. It was
odd to see the old Fourth Crown Princess staring back. She'd almost forgotten what she looked
like.
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Mergot came in without knocking. She hesitated near the doorway, no longer so sure now that
the girl
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was dressed up in the strange clothes, looking so foreign. She held out a green veil, stick of kohl,
and a pot of white make-up, not daring to come nearer.
"You're to put these on," she said, placing them on the floor and retreating.
"I'll be back in an hour to fetch you."
Tashi sat in the window and carefully applied her make-up, obscuring her individuality under the
mask of the ruler. She supposed that the return of her robes amounted to an invitation to
appear in her official capacity. Perhaps it meant that Fergox was going to treat her as a state
prisoner and grant her the privileges that went with that status, giving her the chance to contact
her sisters and open negotiations. She threw the veil over her hair and pinned it in place. She
was ready.
Bare toes peeped out from under the robe. Almost ready.
True to her promise, Mergot reappeared an hour later, accompanied by four guards. They made
the sign against evil, two fingers to their forehead, as Tashi stood up to receive them.
"My lord asks if you are fit enough to walk downstairs," Mergot muttered, not looking at her.
"I am," Tashi said simply.
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"Then follow me."
The guards made way as Tashi emerged from her bedroom. They walked in pace with her down
the steps and across the snow-covered courtyard. The frosty bite of the stones hurt her feet but
she kept her face impassive, trying to remember she was a Blue Crescent
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princess and proud of it. Physical discomfort was nothing. Emotions were to be hidden. Ice cold
and strong, she told herself, that was what she had to be for her people.
All who had gathered there--farriers, servants, soldiers--stopped what they were doing when
the foreign Princess appeared among them. Their eyes were fearful; many reached for the hilts
of their weapons. Tashi almost laughed at the irony: they were scared of her! A girl of sixteen
with no weapons or special powers, a prisoner in the land of her enemies far from home, and
yet they still trembled as she passed.
Mergot led her to the threshold of the great hall of the castle and stopped.
"You are to go in there," she said, pointing.
Tashi bowed her head in acknowledgement and pushed the door open. It swung back to reveal
the great hall of the castle, decked in imperial banners.
Fergox sat on a throne at the far end, surrounded by his senior officers and nobles. Soldiers
stood to attention on both sides of the room. A group of red-robed priests, heads shaved leaving
only a topknot on the crown, waited about halfway down, holding an icon of the Spearthrower's
war god.
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Standing at Fergox's right hand, looking very uncomfortable, was Prince Ramil. He gazed at her
and shook his head slightly, a gesture that was both a warning and regret.
Tashi had no choice but to enter. She took a breath and began the long lonely walk down the
chamber. The paving stones were worn, as if many supplicants
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had passed this way over the centuries. Her robes swished softly, almost the only sound in the
room. She reached the foot of the throne and stood without bowing, waiting to see what Fergox
would do.
"Princess Taoshira," announced the warlord, "Holin, the Warmonger, has smiled on you. He sees the purity of your heart and knows that you are not beyond redemption. Renounce your old
faith and kneel to his image, and you shall go free."