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was really getting into this. He realized that for Kochanski this was the
stuff of dreams--of ladies dressed in silken robes and warriors fair, of
distant lands that most likely never were, but should have been.
"My father, I have come again to pledge myself and my realm to you," Allic
announced, raising his arms.
He lowered his arms, and turning, looked at Mark and the others.
"He is here," Allic said evenly. "Jartan now wishes that you announce
yourselves."
Damn, this felt a little ridiculous, Mark thought. Growing up he could never
get into all the glorying and praising god stuff of his father's church. In
fact, since the day he left his parents' home, he had never again gone to a
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service. He could remember how his old man had loved it when Grace, his kid
sister, would "get the spirit" and start speaking in tongues and calling on
Jesus to help her. Mark had found the whole thing rather embarrassing. But he
had to do something.
He stepped up to Allic's side and came to attention. Trying to suppress a
grin, he snapped off a salute.
"Captain Mark Phillips, pilot 306th bombardment group, serial number 15677432,
at your service, my lord."
Ikawa and Kochanski, following Mark's lead, did the same.
Well, that ought to take care of it.
If he ever got back home this would be a hell of a good story to tell the
guys--that is, if they ever believed him in the first place.
"Do you not consider it dangerous to be flippant in the presence of a god?" a
voice boomed through the audience chamber.
Before his terrified eyes Mark saw a fiery form taking shape within the light.
The figure swirled in upon itself and with a blinding flash ignited into a
pulsing tower of blue-white flame.
God almighty, what've I done?
Mark thought.
The tower of light whirled like a tornado of flame. "I am not amused by your
thoughts," the voice boomed.
Mark felt his knees turning to jelly. He thought for a moment that he should
abase himself before this presence. But that probably wouldn't work, and
anyhow, if he was going to get blasted, he'd prefer to face it standing up.
"I am Jartan, one of the Creators of this world. And you will either obey me
or die."
Gritting his teeth, Mark stared into the coiling fire and waited stoically for
damnation.
"Good, very good," the voice whispered. Mark kept staring straight ahead, not
daring to move.
"My son has told me of you and the others. He claims that despite your faults,
you have potential."
Mark did not respond. At this point it was best to keep his big mouth shut.
"We'll talk again later," the voice whispered, and the tornado of flame pulsed
ever smaller, until the figure in the light flickered out.
Mark felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning, looked into Allic's eyes.
"Don't ever press your luck with him," Allic said, his features cold.
"Remember, he can sense your very thoughts. It was obvious that at first all
three of you had angered him. But he admires courage--he never could stand
grovelers--and that was your redemption."
"I'm sorry," Mark whispered. He could see that this might have turned out
badly for Allic if they had too greatly angered Jartan.
The sound of other voices now echoed around them. Mark felt as though everyone
in the room was watching him, which undoubtedly they were.
"Let's join the others," Allic said. "I've brought you here for a reason. Part
is my promise to help you leave after your service, and I dare say, only my
father could arrange that. But also to let others know that my strength has
been increased by the addition of you and your men. Do your part. But if you
should embarrass me..."
Mark knew better than to inquire about what had been left unsaid. For the
first time he was seeing Allic as a cold and, if necessary, hard politician
who could call his underlings to account. He had at times suspected that Allic
might be a little too free and easygoing with his responsibilities, but not
now. Mark felt a new level of respect for Allic, and he nodded, accepting the
warning.
Turning, they walked towards the crowd that filtered in around them, eager to
examine the three new wielders of power who had aroused the interest of a god.
Mark found himself being presented to a dizzying array of princes, sorcerers,
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healers, warriors, philosophers, and priests. Already he could see how most of
them were maneuvering, trying to get a grasp on these new creatures,
evaluating whether they could be allies or possibly enemies to be dealt with.
Several priests cornered Mark, and he had to tread lightly when they quizzed
him on the nature of his god. Knowing that Allic was watching, he maneuvered
and ducked, and after nearly a quarter-turning had not made a single statement
with any real content.
"Mark." Allic put a hand on his shoulder. "If your worships will forgive me,"
Allic said smoothly, "there's someone here who insists that I introduce Mark
to her at once."
Allic led him through the crowd to a small knot of people standing in the far
corner of the room. Allic broke away from Mark's side and came up to the back
of a woman and slipped his arm around her waist.
The woman slowly turned, placing her hand on Allic's shoulder. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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