“Yes. . Ethis,” Drakis repeated the name as though trying to convince himself that he knew it. Part of him recalled the chimerian as a trusted and valiant comrade in arms who had served with him for many years-but he also knew that was a lie. Drakis had no real memory of Ethis before three weeks ago. Yesterday he had trusted this creature with his life-now he knew him a stranger he could barely trust at all.
“How did you know where. .?”
“Belag,” the chimerian answered quickly. “He told me where we were to meet.” Ethis held a squat figure firmly by its collar with a third hand. “I also found an old friend of ours that I thought you might want to talk to before he skulked off-but I would not recommend spending a lot of time in conversation.”
Ethis shoved the dwarf forward, his newly shaved skull glistening with sweat by the light of the conflagration.
“Jugar.” Drakis spat the name as though it carried its own venom.
“This most noble chimerian warrior is certainly correct, Drakis,” Jugar began talking at once with an earnestness that left Drakis feeling both amazed and disgusted at the same time. “Our lives depend upon staying ahead of the news of our escape. As soon as those most dreaded hunters of the Empire-the Iblisi-learn of what happened here, they will descend upon us like winged death. We must travel far and fast. .”
Nine notes. . Seven notes. .
Children hear the calling song of dreams.
Return to past longings. .
Then, pushing through the song, other voices and visions, too, from inside his head rising suddenly into his conscious mind, drowning out the music in his mind.
. . Se’Djinka’s face snarled at him. “You’re barely worth the food to keep you alive. .”
“. . Sure, Drakis, your father came from the northlands beyond the dwarves,” his mother said as they washed their master’s clothes. His feet dangled from the edge of the stone shelf. “Must I tell you again of how we were freeborn in the wilds. .?”
“. . Run!” screamed the voice behind him. “Run or we’re all dead!. .”
“. . Hello, Mother. .” he heard his younger self say, but now he could see it was a different place and a different mother. .
“. . Forget it, Dre,” the tall boy said smiling down at him as they worked under the sunshine in the fields. “It’s too far to walk no matter how long. .”
Drakis let go of his sword, pressing his hands hard against his ears. The blade dug into the earth then fell onto its side. Drakis growled at the ghosts suddenly occupying his head. “Go away! Stop it!”
He thought that he might be going mad. He was certain that others had-he had seen it in the hall; slaves from all the races suddenly plunged into a living insanity in which they had experienced things, seen things, and said things that. .
“Drakis, my Lord!”
The human opened his eyes at the roaring of his name, uncertain he had heard the words properly.
Belag, his slave’s tunic shredded and his fur matted in places with both his own blood and that of others, now lay prostrate on the ground before Drakis, face against the ground with his massive hands laid out wide in front of him. Different races, Drakis had heard Se’Djinka say time and again, show their submission in different ways. Humans usually kneel facedown and bow before their conqueror. Chimera show their open hands and sit back on their haunches. Manticores, however, were said to submit when they lay facedown, exposing their back to attack. Drakis thought it only a lie as no manticore he had ever known would allowed himself to live long enough to submit to anyone. Yet now tears streamed from Belag’s eyes as he lay prone, gazing with a fixed, wondering stare at Drakis.
It shocked the human to see his fellow warrior in such a state. Nor was he alone in his astonishment as a human and another manticore were standing behind Belag gaping at the humbled lion-man as well.
“Please. . Belag, in the name of all the gods, get up, will you?”