Read Online The Seventh Gate (The Seven Citadels ) by Geraldine Harris - Free Book Online Page A

suddenly found himself dismissed
and led away to one of the furthest benches.
    O-grak reached out for Kerish and tugged
him down to sit at his left side. “Eat with us, Prince, if your pride hasn't
sealed your lips.”
    “My brother deserves a place of honor as
much as I do.”
    “He wears no death-rings...” began
Cil-Rahgen.
    “Neither do I,” answered O-grak, “to choose
only ten from among so many dead would be unfair. Will it satisfy you, Prince,
if I order Forollkin to be served first, or should I have sent you to eat with
the women?”
    “Do they always feast apart?”
    “Oh, the women will come in with the wine.
Not before, “ answered the Khan, picking up a slab of meat. “Do you find the
custom strange?”
    “No. I have met such customs before. In
Seld, the women eat by themselves because . . .”
    “In Seld, the women do everything by
themselves,” interrupted O grak, “except beget more women.”
    Cil-Rahgen licked the grease from his
fingers. “You have been in Seld? Men say the Queen is very beautiful.”
    “And that she has as many lovers as a snake
has skins,” added the Khan, “and changes them as often.”
    “Queen Pelameera is beautiful to look at,”
said Kerish coldly.
    “You speak as if she didn't move you. What
kind of woman does a Prince of the Godborn admire?” asked O-grak.
    “An unexpected one,” said Kerish.
    “Hah,” O-grak threw down a bone. “That's so
in every country.”
    “It's true enough of you, O-grak, “ said
Cil-Rahgen slyly. “No one expected you to choose a bud from Mintaz that might
never open, when all the flowers of Oraz were eager to be plucked.”
    The Khan did not seem offended. “Open
flowers lose their petals sooner. Ah, here is your food at last.”
    A greasy portion of meat thrust into a
split loaf was placed before the Prince. O-grak handed him a knife and Kerish
gingerly attacked the meat.
    “Daintiness fills few bellies,” remarked
the Khan, “perhaps you'll be bolder if I don't look.”
    He turned his back on Kerish and spoke
abruptly to Cil-Rahgen. “How many ships will be sent?”
    “Sixty, if it's understood that the plunder
from the Governor's Palace is to go to Chiraz.”
    “Strip it bare. All I want is space for a
garrison.”
    Kerish listened numbly as the final assault
on Viroc was casually discussed. The ancient capital of Jenoza was a formidable
fortress but it had been weakened by continuous attacks, and how long could
Jerenac hold it without hope of help from the north?
    “Why do we need to delay for a parley?”
Cil-Rahgen was demanding.
    “We do not need a parley,” answered O-grak,
“but since the quarrel is over land and not blood, it is proper to offer terms.
Prince, you shall come with me to the parley with Jerenac . . . Ah, you've
hardly touched your food. Let me help you.”
    To the amazement of the warriors at the
nearby tables, O-grak cut up the Prince's bread and meat with his own knife.
    “I suppose the Galkians will have to see
him before they offer a ransom,” began Cil-Rahgen.
    “Perhaps I shan't ask for a ransom,” said
O-grak, wiping his knife on his cloak. “There are other things one could do
with such a captive. Suppose we were to set him on his father's throne and have
him order the Galkians to lie down for us to trample on?”
    “We need no puppet Emperor,” answered
Cil-Rahgen contemptuously. “We can take the throne for ourselves.”
    “And fight over it like curs in the dust?
When will young men learn to take only what they can keep?” O-grak gave the
Envoy a jovial slap on the back and bellowed to a passing slave: “Tell my wife
to bring the wine.”
    It was obvious that Cil-Rahgen was puzzled
and dissatisfied, but O-grak launched into a lively description of the
Emperor's court and the city of Galkis.
    “There is gold enough on those walls,” he
concluded, “to fill every cauldron in Chirandermar. You look doubtful. Tell
him, Prince.”
    “The Khan is right. I'm afraid,”