As Nest-kor rode between the warrior guards, heading south on the road to Sind, she began to have vacillating thoughts about the wisdom of having the Prince arrested. She recalled the events of the last moments they had together, just prior to their separation. Nest-kor's heart had pounded with excitement when she saw the band of guards in the distance. She had anticipated that her father would have warriors combing the countryside for her. She rode up to them fully expecting them to rejoice in her safe return. She knew that in their company she could assert her rightful role as an Imperial Princess.
For reasons even she could not fully explain, she wanted to keep Akkra with her, at least until she was safely back in Lodar. The only way she could accomplish that was to have him arrested. Consequently, she had planned on having him taken prisoner. Once in Lodar, she could determine what she wanted to do with him.
The revelation that he had been responsible for her father's death changed all of that.
She did not want to believe that he was involved with her father's murder, but the statements of the warriors forced her to think the unthinkable. Everything Akkra had told her had been lies! She had the sudden realization that there might be no migration after all. But if the mountain tribes were not migrating, there could only be one reason for their assemblage in the foothills of the Zepores.
They were going to attack Lodar!
She tried to convey her concerns to the Dosar, but he brushed her comments off with a shrug that said, "What can I do?" But Nest-kor would not allow the issue to drop. She kept insisting that the Dosar do something to prepare for the invasion. Finally the Dosar spoke with the Priests of Att.
They appeared much more concerned about her information and the welfare of Lodar. They questioned her closely, learning such details as the description of the campsite, the size of the encampment, and the numbers of warriors that Nest-kor had seen. Nest-kor, unable to answer many of their questions, became annoyed with herself and exasperated with the Priests. After interrogating her for several minutes, the Priests conferred among themselves. One of them climbed onto his horse and hurriedly rode back to Lodar. The Head Priest came over to her.
"Your Highness, the information you have provided us will be acted upon, have no fear. Att will preserve the Empire from the nefarious legions of Chohan."
"I am pleased to hear that, Your Holiness," replied Nest-kor. "But doesn't this change our plans? Shouldn't I return to Lodar to help prepare for any possible invasion?"
The Priest smiled and bowed. "Your Highness is a true leader! Alas, on this issue my hands are tied. I must obey the orders of Att, and those orders require that you be taken to safety in the southern parts of Lodar. There we will await the cleansing of these northern provinces. Once they are rid of the faithless vermin, we shall reenter Lodar, triumphantly bearing the banners of Att ahead of a huge army of liberation."
Nest-kor stared at the Priest in horror. The Priests of Att were plotting treason against the Empire! Nest-kor could envision thousands of deaths occurring as the barbarians invaded. While most of those who died might be the peasantry, surely the barbarians would attack the luxurious palaces of the nobility. The entire ruling class of northern Lodar could be wiped out, leaving the princes and lords of the south in firm control of the Empire.
That was their plan!
But how could she stop them? She knew she must find a way. Then she remembered that Balder Khan's warriors were stationed in the south. Perhaps she could escape from the Priests and their Inner Army cohorts long enough to make contact with Outer Army warriors.
Unless Balder Khan was in on the plot against the Empire also.
She didn't know whom to trust! Everywhere she turned, she could only find perfidy and betrayal. She sank to the ground, too despondent to stand. The Priests issued several commands to the warriors, who pulled her to her feet and helped her back onto her horse. The true nature of her plight became painfully evident when they tied her hands behind her back. One of the priests took the reins of her horse and led the animal behind him.
The priests led the group generally eastward and southward, skirting the Jadpat road in favor of the unpaved, muddy village access roads. The journey was slow. The Priests were making certain that their prize was not taken away from them.
On the late afternoon of the next day, the sun barely touching the tops of the Zepores to the west, Nest-kor noticed a dark column of smoke rising from the earth to the sky. She thought it came from the direction in which Lodar lay, but she could not be certain.
"What is that?" she asked one of the priests who rode near her.
He looked where she nodded. "That is the wrath of Att being visited upon Lodar," he replied. "The cleansing has begun."
Nest-kor stared at the plume of smoke in fascinated horror. The dark cloud, more than anything so far, convinced her that plight was hopeless. She envisioned the Imperial Palace, lying in ruins, its wealth plundered, its tapestries and furniture wreaked and burned, the servants and inhabitants butchered and tortured.
She wept for those she would never see again. Her father, standing tall and proud in his imperial capes, dispensing justice in the the main court of the palace. Her handmaidens, who tried so hard to make her life happy and enjoyable. The three Magars who ruled the armies of Lodar, Balder Khan, Shanti Raj, and Nar Sidthar. Jab, the counselor to the Emperor, shuffling slowly along the corridors of the palace.
How many of them still lived? How many of them lay in the dust, their life snuffed out by the mad conspiracy of the Priests of Att?
Then she thought of Akkra, carried away in chains to the Imperial City. What had happened to him? Did he still live, or was he counted among the casualties? Only the previous day, she had rejoiced in seeing him borne away in shackles. Now she hoped he had managed to escape. She kept searching the countryside, anticipating that he would ride around the next bend in the road, his sword flashing, as he rescued her from these captors.
But she had to admit that if his escape was unlikely, his rescue of her even less likely. After the way she had treated him, he would only be too glad to assist the priests in sacrificing her to the gods. And even if he didn't feel that way, what could he do against the warriors and priests who guarded her?
Akkra rode south past the last outskirts of Lodar. The Papil River's cold waters mingled with the Otarand, as it made its long journey south. Akkra could see the smoldering ruins of the luxurious palaces of the nobility on the other side of the Otarand River, here almost a mile distant. The fires in the warehouse district, at the tip of the confluence, were now put out. An early morning mist subdued the harshness of the reality of the devastation, giving it almost an exotic beauty.
As Akkra rode south, he had no clear idea where or how he would find the Princess. He only knew that the Priests of Att were taking her to Sind. That probably meant either Rati Bajah had a fortress there or he had Nest-kor hidden in the Temple of Att.
He would only find out when he arrived there.
He estimated that he had spent approximately one full day in the Tomb. In addition to that day, Nest-kor's captors also had a half day head start on him, as he was led off to Lodar while she was taken south. Despite their lead, he did not believe they traveled very quickly, since they would have to take village and back roads. They would want to avoid any of the major highways, in order to ensure that Nest-kor's identity remained secret. He also doubted that they would travel at night. The unrest in the northern provinces probably made travel as difficult for the Priests of Att as it did for honest people.
Under normal circumstances, the ride to Sind would take an average of three days at a fast pace or four days at an average pace. He spurred his horse onwards, hopeful that he could make up the lost time.
He avoided the larger villages, though the further south he went, the less noticeable was the impact of the violence in the north. By the time he neared the outskirts of Dwanagar, one day south of Lodar, there was almost no knowledge of the revolution.
Dwanagar, however, had not escaped the revolution. The town was in the hands of the Inner Army. The priests of Att were everywhere to be seen. As Akkra entered the town, he was not stopped at the gate. But later, after a quick meal paid for with coppers he lifted from a merchant's money belt, he was questioned quite closely when he tried to lead his horse onto the ferry barge that crossed the Otarand River. The guards were suspicious of any healthy-looking young man who might be a deserter. Akkra claimed he was the son of a fictitious minor noble who had estates just north of Dwanagar. The warriors clearly didn't believe his story, but lacked the authority to question even a minor noble.
The barge filled quickly with farmers returning to their villages. With all the people, the wagons, pack animals, and Akkra's horse, the barge was quite croweded. Akkr eyed the farmers suspiciously, and they in turn eyed everyone else with sidelong glances. Once everyone had decided that his neighbor was not a threat, the farmers began to grumple to the ferryman to hurry up and cast off. Their wagons and pack animals were empty of the produce they had brought into the city to sell, and they were anxious to get back to their villages before the sun set in the west. Judging by their sullen expressions and general lack of conviviality, Akkra assumed the market prices were not as favorable as the farmers would have liked. The lot of the farmer was always a hard one. One of them, however, did hurry over to report the incident to a bored-looking Soldar who stared at Akkra for several long minutes. Finally, the Soldar waved his warrior away, giving Akkra permission to continue.
Akkra breathed a sigh of relief and moved his horse onto the barge.
At the last minute, a half dozen warriors forced several farmers off the barge and took their places. Akkra eyed them nervously, wondering why they had boarded the barge so late. However, no incident occurred when they reached the other side. The warriors rode south, so Akkra headed north. If they did suspect him of anything, they would have thought it strange for him to head any other direction.
The Prince rode only a short distance, just enough to be sure no one was following him. Then he cut across the fields, plunging further into the rural territory that bordered both sides of the Otarand. The further back from the river he went, the poorer the fields became. The principle crops in this area were sugar cane, which already towered above a man's head. In a few short weeks, the harvest would begin. Travel through the cane on horseback was difficult, but Akkra followed the narrow paths the farmers used to get to their particular plots.
In the distance, beyond the cultivated fields, he could see the scrub forest that made up much of central Lodar. It could hardly be called a forest, since most of the clumps of trees that dotted the plain were hardly higher than a mounted horseman. Burned grass and hardy cacti filled the empty stretches between the clusters of trees.
The pathway led to a road heading southwards, so he took it. Mud wattle walls bordered each side of the road. The road was little more than a couple of ruts in the sun-baked mud, wide enough to pass one of the hay carts the farmers used to take their crops to the grain markets in the larger villages. Akkra idly wondered what happened when two carts encountered each other heading in opposite directions.
His reverie was interrupted by a shout from behind him. He turned in his saddle to see who had shouted. He groaned to himself when he spied two of the half dozen warriors who had been on the barge. They waved at him to stop and began to ride furiously.
Akkra did not wait for them to catch up with him. He kicked his horse and began to race for the south. The walled cart trail made any alternative but flight almost impossible. The only thing he could hope for would be another trail intersecting his. Such an opening appeared in the distance, but as Akkra rode closer, he was dismayed to see two more of the warriors emerge from it, blocking his forward path. There were still two more warriors to account for, but he would worry about them when he encountered them. In the meantime, he knew he would have to dispatch these.
He pulled his sword out, a signal to the warriors to do the same. By now there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the young noble was not whom he claimed to be. Too late, Akkra realized that the river guards must keep records of who crossed the river. They did not have any record of a young nobleman coming east, so one going west would arouse suspicion. Akkra should have realized that ahead of time and made up an appropriate excuse to ally their suspicions.
The two warriors ahead of him gave a shout of encouragement to the two behind him and charged at a full gallop, their swords flashing in the setting sun. Akkra slowed to meet them, watching for signs of which one would arrive first. They were almost upon him before he could tell, then he had to act almost instinctively. He dodged the first warrior's slashing cut. As the second one tried to jab at him, Akkra attacked, spurring his horse to urge it to race past the Lodarans. As he passed the second warrior, he swung his sword back, hitting the man on the neck. The rider fell from his horse, dead. Meanwhile, the other warrior realized he had been tricked, so he tried to turn his horse around. The cart trail, however, was not very wide, and he had trouble avoiding his companion's horse.
Akkra jumped off his horse and scrambled to the top of the low mud wall. Running along its top, he leaped onto the back of the warrior's horse, jabbing with his sword as he did so. The second warrior, his face still bearing the startled look as Akkra's sword pierced his heart, fell from the horse.
Akkra was now facing the two warriors who were coming up behind him before. They were surprised by the turnaround of events, and had slowed up their approach considerably. They were not about to repeat the mistakes their comrades had made.
Accordingly, Akkra changed his tactics. Riding over to the wall, he leaped from the horse's back onto the top of the wall. He climbed down off the wall and proceded on foot into the sugar cane. With no attempt at silence, he pushed his way through the cane, making a pathway anyone could follow. After he had gone in several hundred feet, he made crook in his path, then backed back out of the crook. Someone pursuing him would see the trail continue, but would not know that it ended in a cul-de-sac. He then backed off the trail parellel to his original trail. Carefully arranging some of the broken cane, he hid his current location as well as he could. He could hear hear his pursuers curse as they dismounted and climbed over the wall. Akkra remained quiet, waiting for them to draw closer. The dense growth of cane hid him fairly effectively, making sound the only useful sense.
The two warriors, despite the fact that they were following his trail, still made considerable noise as they tried to catch up to Akkra. Thus, they had no way of knowing that he had stopped forcing his way through the dense growth.
As they passed him, Akkra quietly stepped out of his hiding place and hurried up behind the lagging warrior. Using the hilt of his sword, he bashed the warrior on the head. The man dropped without a sound. Akkra leaped over his body, taking his place behind the first warrior, who was about to enter the crook. The Lodaran hurried around the bend in the path and stopped short. The trail ended, but there was no one there. He turned to tell his companion what happened. His look of puzzlement briefly metamorphosed into one of shock. He raised his sword in defense, but it was too late. Akkra thrust his sword deeply, killing the man instantly.
Akkra backtracked to the road, regained his horse and the four horses of his erstwhile pursuit. He check the horses for any supplies they might have carried, but found only a small quantity of food. He removed their saddles and bridals and sent them trotting north. He rummaged through the clothes of the warriros on the road, taking a small amount of coins and their weapones. Then he dumped the two bodies over the wall so that they were at least out of sight. The villagers would probably discover the bodies the next day, but by that time Akkra should be long gone.
He wondered where the other two warriors were who had gotten on the barge, but he did not have time to worry that issue. Nightfall was coming, and he wanted to put as much distance between him and the dead warriors as possible.
He rode hard, down the southerly village roads, avoiding the main highway that paralleled the Otarand River. This was a poor section of Lodar, with small farms. Fruit orchards began to replace the poor farms. Interspersed amongst the orchards were vines for growing wine grapes. Eventually, the orchards would give way to the vinyards as the principle agricultural endeavor.
The sun slipped behind the Zepores by the time Akkra was forced to find the main highway. There were few villages in this area, and with the coming of nightfall, he did not want to trust himself to the twisting, turning backroads.
The main road was hardly better than most of the village roads. It was unpaved, at least in this area, but the ruts formed by wagons were periodically filled in with gravel. Post markers indicated how far the traveller was from various cities or towns. Akkra chanced lighting a small brand to see where he was. As the stick burned out, he smiled to himself. He was halfway between Dwanagar and Jandal. He should reach the second largest city of the Lodaran Empire before midnight.
Akkra had ridden but a short distance past the marker he checked when he stopped his horse. Had he heard something, he wondered. He sensed danger. The night insects had stopped their chirping. The warm southerly breeze played lightly on his face as Akkra sniffed the air. He could smell a variety of odors: the sweat of horses which had been ridden hard, the fishy aroma of an evening repast.
Akkra tethered his horse to a bush on the side of the road and began to walk cautiously down the road. He had gone about two hundred paces when he saw a glow of a campfire in the distance. Now using the stealthlike caution he employed when on a mission, he blended with the shadows, becoming a part of the night. The Prince was certain that the camp was a decoy, designed to lull a passer-by into either of two traps. The first trap would be sprung if the passer-by stopped at the camp. He would find it deserted. As the victim began to explore the campsite, looking into tents and searching for the camp's occupants, the warriors would come out of hiding and capture him. The other trap would be sprung if the passer-by tried to go around the camp. Then the warriors would pursue the victim until he was captured.
Akkra doubted they were using the second form of the trap. There were only two horses at the campsite, and he did not believe the two warriors had met with any patrols coming from the south. If there were only two of them, they would opt for the empty camp decoy.
He searched the shadows of the brush along the edges of the road, waiting for the telltale rustling of someone waiting impatiently for an event that might never happen. There! Was that one of the warriors? Where was the second? Ah, there he was, hidden within a copse of trees. Akkra decided to take care of the second warrior first, since he was better hidden.
He made his way in a wide circle around the camp's perimeter, coming up behind the warrior in the trees. Slowly, Akkra crept closer, until he was but an arm's length away. Tapping the man lightly on the shoulder, Akkra pounded his fist into the startled warrior's face as he turned around. The man began to crumple to the ground. Akkra caught him by the shoulders and gently eased him down. Taking the man's weapons and belts, Akkra quickly tied the man's arms and legs together behind his back. Then Akkra gagged the man, using the warrior's loincloth. Akkra smiled ruefully. The warrior's mother, like mothers everywhere, had probably advised him never to go out in public with a dirty loin cloth. Akkra hoped the man had followed his mother's admonitions.
With one man out of the way, Akkra felt more confident about being able to handle the other man. He considered trying to sneak around behind the second warrior, but that took too much time. Instead, he hurried back to where his horse was tethered. Leaping into the saddle, he rode boldly into the camp, just as he was expected to do.
Once inside the perimeter of the camp, Akkra dismounted and went through the motions of looking around for the camp's occupants. Though he appeared unwary to any observer, Akkra was in fact listening for every strange sound, alert to any peripheral movement. He did not have to wait long. The first indication of the ambush came when Akkra heard a badly done imitation of a bird call. It was clearly the remaining warrior signaling to his companion to prepare for the attack. He had no way of knowing that his companion lay trussed up in the bushes a hundred paces away.
Akkra gave no indication that he suspected anything, but his body was tense with anticipation, ready to explode into action like a compressed spring. A branch cracked behind him. Akkra spun around to face the charging warrior. The Lodaran already had his sword drawn and raised for an attack. Akkra jumped up to meet his assailant, his own sword already out. Their blades crashed together, then the camp was filled with the ringing and clunking of steel on steel.
The Lodaran soon realized that his companion had not responded to his signal. Desperately, he called out the other warrior's name, but no one responded.
Akkra laughed as he pressed his attack. "It is only you and me, friend. Your companion has deserted you to your fate!"
The warrior tried to look around him for his partner, but he could not long take his eyes off of Akkra. A few more thrusts and parries, and Akkra succeeded in cutting deeply into the man's wrist. The Lodaran dropped his sword as he tried to stem the flow of blood from his hand. The Lodaran dropped to his knees in defeat.
Akkra bound the man's arms behind his back and gagged him. Then he bandaged up the warrior's wrist. The cut, though deep, would not prove fatal.
Akkra rounded up the warrior's horses. Leading them by their bridles, he rode out of camp. The last of the Lodaran warriors glared furiously at Akkra as the Mazidaran waved a cheery goodby.
The man in charge of the group of priests and warriors that escorted Nest-kor to Sind introduced himself as Framak Jan, a High Priest of Att. Nest-kor had known only one High Priest -- Rati Bajah -- and had never seen Framak Jan in the Imperial Court. He was distinguished from the other priests by his shaved head, which was painted red to match the robes worn by all the priests. He seemed incapable of any but the most baneful stare. She shuddered each time he looked at her. She could feel his unblinking eyes penetrate her, through her clothes, through her flesh, right into the very recesses of her soul. His face was as rigid as a carving in stone, frozen into an expression of contempt, halfway between a sneer and a frown.
Framak Jan drove the party hard. For three days, they rode furiously from dawn to dusk. Even the nightly stops were foreshortened by the High Priest's insistence that they begin their travels with the first light of the morning. He was clearly anxious to get to Sind as quickly as possible.
Nest-kor noticed that the warriors and priests did not interact much. The warriors regarded the priests with dour looks of suspicion, and the priests were content to be left to themselves. She also noted that every one of the priests was as well armed as the Inner Army warriors. In fact, if they switched garments, she would have been unable to tell one group from another.
All of her attempts to get the priests to talk to her failed. She tried to question some of the warriors, a few of whom seemed more than willing to talk to her, but a warning look from the Framak Jan put a stop to any communications. Thereafter, the warriors also kept themselves apart from the Princess.
Though they said they were taking her to Sind to protect her, she was certain that she was a prisoner.
Late the third day of their forced march, Sind appeared on the horizon. Rising up out of the desert, the city shimmered in the late afternoon sun. As they grew closer, the buildings and spires of the city became more distinct. The red banners of Att waved from poles set in the city walls, proclaiming to all who might not know that this is Att's city.
The party from Lodar was met by a huge processional of priests who formed an escort for Framak Jan's group. They began to chant, the cadence of their song keeping time with their marching.
"Att is with us!"
"Att is with us!"
"Blood mixed with mire"
"Beware the God of Fire!"
"Att is with us!"
The processional stopped briefly a short ways outside the city. Framak Jan rode back towards Nest-kor. His normally dour expression had been replaced by a look of -- anticipation?
"Your Highness, I am sorry to have to do this, but we cannot take any chances this close to our destination." He gave a signal, and several priests grabbed Nest-kor's wrists and pulled them behind her back. They wrapped leather thongs around each wrist, pulling them until she cried out from the pain. They bound her feet together under the belly of the horse to ensure that she did not fall or jump off.
They passed through the massive city gates, under walls that were crowded with the citizens of Sind, anxiously trying to see the Imperial Princess. Nest-kor stared at the throngs of people in disbelief. Didn't they know that a revolution was going on? Weren't they arare that her father had been assassinated? Couldn't they tell she was a prisoner? Wasn't there one among them who would attempt to free her?
They marched through the sinuous streets of Sind, accompanied each step of the way by the thunderous applause and cheers of the masses of humanity. Slowly, they made their way towards the huge temple of Att in the center of the city. Its immense walls loomed above the city, the bas relief carvings of Att dispensing justice and vengence upon the world towered over the dimunitive people thronging the streets. As they approached the temple, the huge gates, rivaling the gates of the Imperial Palace, swung slowly inwards. A hush came over the crowd, and the last several hundred paces of the journey were completed in a frightening and eerie silence.
They stopped before the temple gates and dismounted. One of the priests hurried over to Nest-kor and cut the binding that tied her feet under the horse's belly. She turned slightly to indicate that he should cut her wrist bindings, but he pushed her towards the temple, ignoring her plea.
Now she was surrounded only by the priests who had accompanied her from Lodar. The warriors had somehow vanished into the crowd. Though she did not trust the warriors any more than the priests, she felt suddenly more alone than before. She felt tears welling up inside her head, but she fought them down. Breathing deeply, she turned to face the fate that awaited her inside Att's temple.
Only the main party passed through the huge temple portals. The escort of priests remained outside to maintain control over the huge crowds that pressed close to the temple doors.
Inside the temple, Nest-kor's escorts led her back into the dark recesses of the temple hall. There were only a few scattered torches lit, so most of the hall lay hidden in darkness. As the group approached the altar, however, priests emerged from side and back rooms to light torches. Soon the entire altar area was bright from the flickering flames.
The huge statue of Att filled the entire altar area. Standing almost thirty paces high, the black-faced god peered down at his worshippers. His eyes burned red, his lips curled into a snarl of contempt. His red arms were outstretched from his red body, as though he were about to sweep all on-lookers into his arms and crush them against his chest.
Behind the statue, carved into the walls, were the huge mushroom clouds that represented the power and terrible tribulation of Att.
The priests slowly neared the statue, their eyes riveted upon the eyes of Att. Nest-kor was startled to see the eyes appearing to follow their progress across the floor. Then she realized that someone must be moving levers inside the statue to make the eyes seem to move.
Framak Jan, after bowing reverently to the god, came over to Nest-kor. He pulled out a knife and quickly sliced through the leather thongs that bound her wrists. Her wrists hurt as the blood rushed into her reddened and swollen hands. Once again, she fought down the urge to cry. She would not allow these priests the satisfaction of seeing her fear.
The priests backed away from the Princess, forcing her to stand alone before the statue. She thought about trying to run away, but the impracticality of that hit her almost as soon as the idea came. Where would she run to? The temple crawled with priests, and she would be caught before she had gone ten paces.
She looked up at the statue and drew back involuntarily. Although she knew the god was merely an inanimate collection of stone and wood, it certainly did appear that Att's eyes were staring right down at her. It was frightening how the statue knew just where she was.
She averted her eyes, looking around for the priests who had brought her here. She could see no one. Either they had left the hall or were hidden in the shadows. She started to back away from the statue, only a couple of hesitant steps, when she stopped. A booming voice, loud as thunder, and much more frightening since this was unexpected, filled the temple.
"YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN, NEST-KOR, TO BECOME THE MATE OF THE GOD ATT! YOU WILL BEAR HIS OFF-SPRING AND INTRODUCE A NEW ERA ON EARTH! ATT COMMANDS HIS SUBJECTS TO PREPARE YOU FOR THE NUPTIAL CEREMONY!"
As suddenly as it had started, the voice stopped. As soon as the statue had completed its last command, however, the room filled with the red-robed priests. Several of them came and led her by the arms out of the hall.
"Where are you taking me?" demanded the Princess.
"Silence, woman, the God Att has spoken. You are to become his bride!"
Nest-kor tried to suppress a contemptuous laugh. "How can I become the bride of a statue?" she demanded scornfully.
The priest smiled knowingly. "Att has the power to assume human form, Your Highness. Of course you won't marry the idol. You'll marry Att in his human incarnation."
Nest-kor's heart skipped a beat. She tried to swallow, hoping that the answer she expected to her next question would not come. "And who is Att in his human form?" she asked.
"Why, Rati Bajah, of course!" The priest's laughter echoed mockingly in the huge hall.
Nest-kor blanched, but said nothing. The priests pulled her along, none too gently, down a long corridor, down a flight of steps to a lower level. A party of priestesses met them and took charge of Nest-kor. Though they treated her deferentially, Nest-kor could tell from their demeanor that they did not intend being any more lax than their male counterparts in guarding her.
She was taken to an austere room that contained several sunken tubs. The tubs were filled with hot water. Clouds of steam rose up into the room. The priestesses began to disrobe the Princess, ignoring her protestations. Finally Nest-kor resigned to the inevitable and allowed them to remove all her garments. She stepped into the hot water, and for a brief moment luxuriated in its warmth. She recalled a similar instance up in the Zepores, but that, by comparison, was a much happier time.
The priestesses did not allow her to enjoy her bath, however. They began to scrub her body with dried sponges, until all vestiges of her recent travels were dissolved away. Her hair was washed and combed until it shined. Her fingernails and toenails were meticulously cleaned and manicured.
The priestesses indicated that she should get out of the tub. They dried her off, then began to apply facial makeup, nail polishes, and perfumes to body. A red wedding dress, so exotically sheer that it revealed more of her body than it covered, was brought out and fitted onto her. A jeweled girdle was strapped around her waist, and dozens of gold bracelets were put on her wrists and ankles. Heavy gold mesh veils were drapped over her head and shoulders, and necklaces of gold and the finest rubies she had ever seen were put around her neck.
One of the priestesses held up a mirror so that Nest-kor could see herself. Had the occassion not been one that evoked so much dread and loathing in her, she would have been pleased with the results.
Once her toilet was completed, the priestesses led her out of the bath chambers and back up the flight of stairs to the upper levels. There they were met by a group of priests, who formed ranks around the priestesses. The entire procession entered a large room in the back of the temple. The room was obviously part of a living quarters, being fit out with couches, tables, and cabinets that contained many personal artifacts. The priests and priestesses then departed, leaving Nest-kor to stand alone in the room waiting for the occupant to appear.
She did not have to wait long, and she was not surprised when Rati Bajah entered the room. He was dressed in elaborately brocaded robes, bedecked with jewels and gold threads. The crimson color of Att predominated, contrasting with the golden decorations.
Rati Bajah smiled when he saw her. "Your Highness, you look absolutely beautiful! I am honored that you have consented to the wishes of Att." He came over and bowed deeply.
Nest-kor's voice was icy, and she glared at him with undisguised hatred and contempt. "I have consented to nothing, Rati Bajah. You know as well as I that I am a prisoner here. I will die before I ever marry the likes of you."
Rati Bajah smiled pleasantly. "You seem to think that you have a say in such issues, Your Highness. I can see that I must acquaint you with a few facts which you may be overlooking.
"Let me first point out that were your father alive, you would marry whomever he told you to marry. You would have absolutely no say in the matter."
"But my father is dead!" protested Nest-kor.
"Yes," nodded the High Priest, his voice quietly sympathetic. "Tragically so. Killed by the Mazidarans, working in league with Balder Khan to overthrow the Empire!
"Mith Cor's primary concern, as must be yours, is the preservation of the Empire. There is only one way to accomplish that, Your Highness. We must ally the legitimacy of the royal bloodline with the might of Att. Only through such an alliance can Lodar hope to rally the masses and defeat the usurpers of the throne and drive out the unbelieving Mazidarans!"
"There must be another way!" cried Nest-kor. "I will not, I cannot marry you!"
Rati Bajah came over to her and put his arm around her shoulder. "There is no other way, Nest-kor. We have the Empire to think about, not ourselves."
The Princess pulled herself away from the Priest, shrinking into a corner of the room. "Don't touch me, traitor. You are using my father's death to further your own ambition, and nothing more! I refuse to be a part of it. I swear, I will see you dead before I consent to such an unholy marriage."
The High Priest's features hardened. He walked over to Nest-kor and caught hold of her wrist and squeezed it mercilessly. Nest-kor cried out in pain, but Rati Bajah only tightened his hold on her. "You do not have a choice in this matter. You will do as I tell you, or you will find yourself experiencing pain like you have never imagined. Now listen to me carefully, Nest-kor. You will do exactly as I say. You will go through with this ceremony and you will convince the people who observe it that you are doing so of your own volition. If you do not do that, you will be of no use to me, and I will turn you over to my priests, who can certainly find a lot of uses for you! Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
Nest-kor nodded, her tears starting to smear the powders and rouges on her cheeks. Rati Bajah abruptly let go of her wrist, so suddenly that Nest-kor lost her balance and fell to the floor.
"Get up," he ordered. "We have time for a quick rehersal of the ceremony. After all, we wouldn't want any mistakes, would we, Your Highness?"
Nest-kor rose slowly to her feet, shaking her head slowly. She realized that she couldn't keep opposing him unless she had someone to help her. It would be better to go along until the right opportunity presented itself. "I will do as you command, Rati Bajah," she said sullenly.
The High Priest beamed happily, as if nothing had happened. "Excellent, Your Highness. Now let us see about getting you cleaned up. After all, we want you to look perfect for this auspicious moment in history."
He clapped his hands and several of the priests came in. Rati Bajah spoke to them in low tones. They left, returning shortly with one of the priestesses who dried Nest-kor's tears and reapplied the makeup to her face. When the priestess had finished her task, Rati Bajah held out his arm to Nest-kor. She stared at it for a moment, but the glare from the High Priest was sufficient to encourage her to put her hand on his arm. Slowly, they walked from the living quarters, she a pace behind him as a dutiful Lodaran bride must.
They entered the large hall dominated by the statue of Att. This time the eyes did not follow her, since Att was present in his human form in the shape of Rati Bajah. Even Att couldn't be in two places at once.
There were approximately fifty or sixty priests in the hall, as well as a dozen or so nobles. The priests assumed pre-determined positions to provide an escort of the nuptial couple up to the altar. The nobles, on the other hand, clustered close to the alter so they could see the whole proceeding more clearly.
Slowly Rati Bajah and Nest-kor walked towards the foot of Att. Once there, they turned to face the assemblage in the hall. During the actual ceremony, the hall would be filled to capacity with the populace of Sind and priests from all over the Lodar Empire. Now, only the priests and a few special guests were privileged to observe the practice ritual.
Nest-kor searched the faces of the nobles, new hope causing her heart to race. Though she did not know any of the noblemen individually, she could recall their faces from visits to the Imperial Palace. Surely they would not permit this tragedy to continue! They simply did not know that she was an unwilling victim of Rati Bajah's mad ambition.
Rati Bajah began to speak. "Oh, people of Lodar, rejoice this auspicious day! Behold the dawn of a new era for humankind!"
She had to escape! She had to find some way to tell the noblemen that she was a prisoner. Even if they could not stop the ceremony, they would find a way to rescue her. Even the priests of Att would not dare do anything to harm her if the nobility of Lodar but knew the truth. She simply had to find a way to tell them; then she would be safe.
"Before you I stand as the living God Att, come to earth to consumate a union between mankind and the godhood. Bow to Att and pay homage to the only true god!"
As one, the priests dropped to the ground, prostating themselves to the ground. They began to chant,
"Praise Att! Praise Att!
"Att the almighty, Att the powerful!
"Praise Att! Praise Att!"
They rose and waited for Rati Bajah to continue.
"By my side stands the God-consort, the Princess Nest-kor! Bow to Att and pay homage to the only true god!"
"Praise Att! Praise Att!
"Att the almighty, Att the powerful!
"Praise Att! Praise Att!"
Rati Bajah turned to Nest-kor. "Consort of Att, bow to Att and accept him as your lord and master!"
Instead of bowing, Nest-kor jumped back. "Never!" she cried. "Never will I yield to you or to your despicable god!"
She turned towards the nobles who stared at her in shocked surprise. "Please, you must help me! They are holding me prisoner, forcing me into this mockery of a marriage! Get help, get the Imperial Guard!"
The nobles continued to stare at her in amazement. Finally one of them turned to face Rati Bajah. "Is what she says true, Rati Bajah?" he demanded.
The High Priest glared at Nest-kor malevolently. "So, you persist in being uncooperative. Have you forgotten what I told you would happen if you opposed my desires?"
The nobleman persisted. "We can't have this kind of outrageous conduct, Rati Bajah. If necessary, cut out her tongue! She doesn't have to speak, merely be seen and bear Att's offspring! But if she makes comments like that in the actual ceremony, there may be some who question the validity of the marriage. You know what that means."
Rati Bajah cast an annoyed sidelong glance at the nobleman. "Of course I know what that means, you fool! Let me handle the Princess. I assure you, she will not make a disturbance at the ceremony."
He gestured and two of his priests hurried over to Nest-kor and grabbed hold of her arms. As she started to struggle and protest, they dragged her off behind Rati Bajah who stormed angrily towards a doorway secreted behind the statue of Att.
They went down several levels this time, deep beneath the temple. They passed living quarters for the priests, work rooms, rooms filled with armor and weapons, rooms filled with stores and supplies. Finally they arrived at their destination. A guard opened the door and the priests pushed Nest-kor inside.
She looked around in amazement. She had never before beheld such a large collection of instruments of torture in her life. She knew such things must exist, but she was shocked to find them here. With a feeling of sinking dread, she began to realize that such tools would be found in Att's temple. Att was a terrible and vicious god.
"Tie her against the wall," commanded Rati Bajah. The priests hastened to comply, and soon Nest-kor found her arms bound and stretched above her head. At another command from the High Priest, they ripped the flimsy gown and gold jewelry off her. She shivered as her naked body came in contact with the cold damp stones of the dungeon wall.
Rati Bajah went over to a table and picked up a long whip. He snapped it experimentally, pleased with the loud crack it produced. He walked over and faced Nest-kor. Though her face was pressed against the wall, she knew exactly where he was and could almost follow his every move in her mind's eye.
"Now, my Princess, you will learn what happens to those who do not do as Att wishes. Learn your lesson well, Nest-kor, since the next lesson may be your last!"
He raised the whip up and let it go in a wide, powerful snap. The whip tore across Nest-kor's back, cutting deeply into her skin. As she cried out in terrified pain, blood began to stream down her back. Rati Bajah coiled the whip up, then readied it for another strike.
"Consider carefully, Your Highness. Are you going to cooperate with Att?"
Nest-kor struggled to control her sobbing. "Never!" she cried.
Rati Bajah raised the whip again, and once more it tore through the air straight for the Princess' back. Even before it landed, Nest-kor was screaming in anticipation of the pain the whip would bring.