Rai-Kirah 01 – Berg, Carol

Book Preview

Ezzarian prophets say that the gods fight their battles within the souls of men and that if the deities mislike the battleground, they reshape it according to their will. I believe it. I have seen such a battle and such a reshaping as could only come about with the gods’ devising. It was not my own soul involved-thank Verdonne and Valdis and any other god who might eavesdrop on this telling-but I did not remain unchanged.

Crown Prince Aleksander, Palatine of Azhakstan and Suzain, Priest of Athos, Overlord of Basran, Thryce, and Manganar, heir to the Lion Throne of the Derzhi Empire, was perhaps the rudest, most callow, ungenerous, and arrogant youth ever to ride the deserts of Azhakstan. From the instant of our first meeting I judged him so, though it could be said that I was prejudiced.

When one is standing naked on a slave-auction block in a wind cold enough to freeze a demon’s backside, one is unlikely to have a fair impression of anyone.

Prince Aleksander had inherited the intelligence and strength of a royal family that had ruled a constantly expanding empire for five hundred years and had been clever enough not to diminish itself through inbreeding or internal mayhem. Older Derzhi nobles and their wives despised his lack of respect even while shoving marriageable daughters into his path. The younger nobility, themselves no paragons of virtue, named him a fine fellow on the basis of the lavish entertainments he permitted them to share, though that opinion often changed when they ran afoul of the Prince’s whims and irritability. Derzhi military commanders judged him fit, as his heritage demanded, though rumor had it that they drew lots among themselves, the loser forced to serve the rash and stubborn Prince as military aide. The common folk were, of course, not allowed an opinion on the issue. Nor were slaves.