Thirst for Adventure

Chapter 51

“I must,” he said, shrugging. “I must have ProNogolor’s Daughter. There are shadows in the Warlock’s eyes, I smell his fear like rank perfume. Bajadek is a vital man, his fighters are not known for mercy. Bajadek may have threatened him.”

“And risked smiting by the Labyrinth lord?”

“The Labyrinth lord does not always smite, Brook. Warlocks have broken their word before now and the Labyrinth lord has left them unsmitten. Why that must be I do not know. The Labyrinth lord is a mystery, I do not seek to understand it. I am not a high Labyrinth lordspeaker.”

“Bajadek Warlock is the cause of this trouble,” said Brook, taut with anger. “He wants a woman of Warlock bloodlines and thinks there is gain for him in discord between Shelland ProNogolor.”

“I know this,” said Jenkin, watching Geroud and Grakilon, stiffly silent, seek the exact site for the scorpion pit. “At least, he is part the cause.” And I am the rest. This is my doing, I must somehow undo it .

Brook punched his thigh, he read his Warlock too easily. “Jenkin, you are wrong. None of this is your doing. The Labyrinth lord sees you in its eye, it knows you are not a sinful man. You are dogged by demons jealous of your greatness. They kill your women, they kill your sons, you are the battlefield between the Labyrinth lord and the dark ones. Would they choose a man unseen by the Labyrinth lord in its eye for such a battle? No. To wound you is to wound the Labyrinth lord.”

Jenkin stared at him, surprised. “I thought you were my warleader, Brook, not my Labyrinth lordspeaker.”

“I am your warleader and your friend,” said Brook fiercely. “You are father and brother and Warlock to me. This time the demons will not win, Jenkin. If I must with my own hands sacrifice one thousand bull-calves and throw my last gold coin in the barracks Labyrinth lordbowl, ProNogolor’s Daughter will bear you a son. Then will I sire sons, so they may serve him as I serve you.”

Jenkin was not a man of tears, but for a moment his tongue could find no words. “Brother Brook,” he said at last, “that is an oath I will hold you to. My son could not be better served if the Labyrinth lord itself became a man and pledged its body to him.”

“When this is over,” said Brook, his voice rough with feeling, “do we punish this faithless Warlock of ProNogolor?”

Jenkin shook his head. “Let the Labyrinth lord smite him if smiting is required. I do not wish our treaty broken, Brook. It is useful, it serves us well.”

“Then do we ride upon ProBajadek with ten thousand angry fighters? Do we smite its scheming Warlock for daring to trespass on the treaty between Shelland ProNogolor? For trying to steal ProNogolor’s Daughter, promised to Jenkin Warlock before the Labyrinth lord?”

Do we ride ? Jenkin frowned at his fingers, clasped upon the reins. It could rightly be said that stealing another Warlock’s Labyrinth lordpromised wife was an act of war. Seducing another Warlock into betraying his Labyrinth lordsworn treaty was an act of war also. Bajadek had done these things. In secret, yes, but now the secret was discovered. These acts of war, could he close his eyes, turn his shoulder to them?”

No. I cannot. Bajadek is defeated here, he will try again when he thinks himself safe. Tragote’s browning will be his excuse. He will rouse the other Warlocks to envy, he will promise them a share of ProJenkin’s spoils. If I do not smite him . . .

Brook said, “A wise man might see this thwarting of his desires as a fortunate escape, he might see it as a warning from the Labyrinth lord. Bajadek is not wise. What he wants, he takes. Jenkin, if you do not smite him . . .”

He smiled at Brook. “As ever we share a single thought. When the Daughter is planted with my son I will teach unwise Bajadek his lesson.”

“And if he rides against us before she is planted?”

“Then we will meet him in battle,” he said. “But I think he will not. Bajadek is a coward at heart, he skulks in the shadows and seeks to gain his desires with stealth. When he learns the Daughter is in my bed he will lie low, he will hide his teeth. Let him skulk, and think I have no heart for fighting. I will smite him, in my time.”

Once the scorpion pit was dug, Geroud and Grakilon each sacrificed a white lamb and drank the steaming scarlet blood. Then they stripped themselves n***d and climbed into the pit. The witnessing Labyrinth lordspeakers tipped the scorpions over them, three hundred from ShellLabyrinth lordhouse, three hundred from the Labyrinth lordhouse of ProNogolor. Larger than a man’s hand, they were bred for venom and for spite.

Jenkin felt his throat scald with bile. He feared little in the world, he was a Warlock, but he feared the Labyrinth lordhouse scorpions. He stared into the pit where the scorpions scuttled and swarmed and seethed around and over the seated bodies of the two high Labyrinth lordspeakers. The men’s eyes were closed, they breathed unflinching as the scorpions crawled up their Labyrinth lordbraids, craw

led over their faces, dropped from their shoulders into their laps and sought out the softness of their unguarded genitals.

The scorpions raised their barbed tails and stung the Labyrinth lord’s high Labyrinth lordspeakers, stung them everywhere upon their flesh. Great scarlet welts bloomed in the wake of those stings, like tended gardens the Labyrinth lordspeakers’ n***d bodies grew blossoms of venom.

Grakilon began foaming at the mouth.

Watching on either side of Nogolor Warlock, the Labyrinth lordspeakers of ProNogolor cried out in terror and despair. Still foaming, Grakilon began to convulse, he thrashed and flailed, unseen in the Labyrinth lord’s eye, smitten for his lies. He vomited blood, he vomited his entrails, he emptied himself from the inside out.

Geroud sat in cool still silence, he did not watch as Grakilon died.

When it was finished, the scorpions stopped stinging. Geroud opened his swollen eyes and stood. His Labyrinth lordspeakers helped him from the pit, they fastened his pectoral over his chest, they dressed him in his loincloth and robes.

“The Labyrinth lord has seen me in its eye,” said Jenkin to Nogolor. “Its desires are known beneath the sun. Bring to me ProNogolor’s Daughter. She will go to Shelland a son will follow upon our mating. Our treaty holds. We are still brothers.”

Nogolor stared down into the pit, at the Labyrinth lord’s scorpions, slowly dying, and Grakilon’s swollen, distorted body. He nodded, barely, as though movement pained him. “The Labyrinth lord sees you in its eye, Jenkin Warlock. Its desires are known beneath the sun.” He turned to his eldest son, the warrior Tebek. “Go into my Town. Ride up to my palace. Bring to this place ProNogolor’s Daughter.”

Tebek obeyed, and Nogolor returned to his staring.

Geroud said, “Your Labyrinth lordhouse must choose its new high Labyrinth lordspeaker, Warlock.”

“Yes,” said Nogolor. He sounded lost. Dazed. He wrenched his gaze away from dead Grakilon and looked to the nearest Labyrinth lordspeaker. “You. You will see to the choosing. But first take Grakilon from the pit, he—”

“No,” said Geroud. “Grakilon is unseen in the Labyrinth lord’s eye, he cannot be carried up to your Labyrinth lordhouse. He will stay in the pit, a nameless man, the dirt will cover him and—”

The Labyrinth lordspeakers of ProNogolor cried out in protest, some surged towards Geroud as though they would touch him with their angry hands. Geroud’s Labyrinth lordspeakers moved to stop them, and four were flung into the pit by Grakilon’s defenders. The dying scorpions stung them, and they died.

Geroud cursed the sinning ProNogolor Labyrinth lordspeakers with his Labyrinth lordstone, he seared them with its blinding light. They fell to the grass and wept out their suffering at his feet.

“Nogolor Warlock, I will take four of your Labyrinth lordspeakers for my own,” he said. “See this pit filled in and the grass laid upon it. Horses will ride over it, carts and wagons will roll across it. Grakilon is dead to memory. Before newsun next you must have a new high Labyrinth lordspeaker. I will know if it is not so, the Labyrinth lord will tell me, I sit in its eye.”

Nogolor nodded, subdued. “Yes, Geroud. This will be done, it is the Labyrinth lord’s desire.”

Geroud climbed back into the pit and handed up the bodies of his four slain Labyrinth lordspeakers. Those scorpions still living scuttled away from him, they did not raise their stinging tails.

Jenkin returned to his fighters to wait while Geroud made his choices from the chastened group of ProNogolor Labyrinth lordspeakers, and for Tebek to bring him ProNogolor’s Daughter, mother of his unborn son. He waited in silence and solitude, ignoring Nogolor who looked so old and defeated.

A voice beside him said, “The Labyrinth lord sees you in its eye, Warlock. That Nogolor is a stupid man. His high Labyrinth lordspeaker was stupid also, to defy the Labyrinth lord.”

Startled, he looked down. It was the ruined beauty from the knife-dancing field. “ You ?”

She looked at him through her spiderweb of scars. “That n***o, he says there is no omen for me to stop my chicken-killing and learn to dance for you with a snakeblade. I came here in the cook’s wagon, I feed your fighters salted goat and cornmush.” She nodded at the scorpion pit. “Shall I dance with the scorpions, Jenkin Warlock? The Labyrinth lord sees me in its eye, it has a use for me. I must be a warrior, Jenkin. I will dance with the scorpions and show you an omen.”

She would do it, he could see it in her eyes. He caught her by the shoulder just in time. “No, Fiona! Return to your cook-wagon. When we are safe in Shellyou will cease your chicken-killing, you will train to be a warrior in my warhost.”

Her blue eyes narrowed. “That is your word?”

“My word as the Warlock.”

Satisfied, she nodded. “I will trust it. In ProJenkin, Warlock.”

Bemused, amused, he watched her run lightly to the cook-wagon where she belonged. The four Labyrinth lordspeakers chosen, Geroud returned to his side. He seemed unaffected by his ordeal in the pit. Jenkin knew he should not be surprised, he had never seen Geroud affected by anything.

“So,” he said, as they waited for ProNogolor’s Daughter. “The Labyrinth lord was with us. Nogolor is chastened.”

“Bajadek must also be chastened,” said Geroud.

“He will be,” said Jenkin. “In my time. War is Warlock business, Geroud. I will come to you for omens, when I am ready.”

Geroud nodded. “When you are ready, Warlock. I will be waiting.”

Soon after that, Jenkin was given ProNogolor’s Daughter. She was shrouded in veils and linens, he had never seen her face. It did not matter what she looked like, only that she was the child of a Warlock and fertile. Geroud assured him she was both, it was all he needed to know of her.

“My thanks to you, Warlock,” he told silent Nogolor. Then he pulled the weeping Daughter behind him on his blue spotted stallion, and rode away from ProNogolor without looking back.

.. THIRTEEN

Three highsuns after the Labyrinth lord killed Grakilon high Labyrinth lordspeaker, rare clouds jostled the sky, then rained on the warhost returning to ProJenkin. Not for long, but heavily, so that Vortka’s novice robes were soaked to his skin. Even after the rain stopped the clouds remained to smother the sun, the temperature dropped, the world turned grey.

Cold, chafed and miserable, he plodded with the other Labyrinth lordspeakers of ProNogolor