Kei's Gift by Ann Somerville Read Free Book Online Page A

intelligence and maps to guide him as much the will of the gods. “I hope those idiots in Urshek have the supplies right this time. We can’t go scampering back there from mid-Darshian because they haven’t calculated the weight of lem flour properly. Morale is going to be hard enough on this campaign as it is without the men going hungry.”
    “We’ve spent months on this. Ritus will have impressed on the granary merchants the importance of the task to Her Serenity.”
    Jozo barked out a laugh. “And if that doesn’t put the fear of the gods into them, nothing will.”
    “General Jozo? Sei General Arman?”
    Arman turned and saw his staff sergeant waiting politely. “What is it, Staff?”
    “The priest is ready for the sacrifice, and begs your attendance on the quarter deck.”
    Arman nodded, and the staff sergeant left. Jozo groaned. “Ugh, the smell of burning blood always makes me want to vomit. Maybe I’ll go join Loke and his bucket.”
    Arman grinned and clasped his fellow general’s shoulder firmly. “I thought you were made of sterner stuff. That’s not much of an example to set the men.”
    “Half of them are puking too. Why aren’t generals allowed to be sea sick?”
    “Because it would harm the dignity of the crown, that’s why. Come on.”
    Their troops and most of the ship’s crew were assembled on the deck, where the ship’s captain waited with the elderly priest for Jozo and Arman to join them. They took their place behind the priest on the poop deck behind his portable altar, and waited for him to begin.
    The priest lifted his hands to the sky, and spoke in a high, quavering voice. “Lord Niko, ruler of the heavens, we ask your blessing on this mighty venture, so your people may spread the glory of your name, and crush the ignorant.”
    Arman winced as the man’s voice cracked unpleasantly on the last words, and hoped the gods would not take offence.
    Rather more certain in his actions than in his voice, the priest took a black feathered fowl from the basket next to him, and, holding it over the brazier, slit its throat neatly, the blood hitting the coals with a sizzle and a sickening stench. The dying bird struggled briefly, then was still. The priest dipped his finger into a bowl of sacred oil sitting on the altar and smeared it along the cut in the bird’s neck, before nodding to the three military leaders, who came closer and knelt in front of him, heads bowed. “Bear the mark of this offering to Lord Niko, and let your deeds be also an offering to him, so that he will bless and guide them,” he said to each in turn, using his thumb to make a bloody smudge on their foreheads.
    Arman murmured, “May he bless them,” as he received the mark.
    They remained kneeling as the priest cast the corpse of the fowl across the railing, into the water. “Lord Quek, ruler of the seas, also bless this endeavour for the glory of your brother Niko, and all the gods. Preserve this ship from harm.”
    The sailors among the assembled men quietly chanted the name of the god Quek, needing a special contract with him since their very lives routinely depended on his mercy. The priest muttered a few more prayers and then doused the brazier with the last of the oil, making it flare up and spatter, clouds of acrid smoke briefly billowing up, before he quenched the fire with a dipper of water.
    That was their signal to stand. Arman was glad of the god’s mark on his face, but it itched rather unpleasantly. Reminding him of the bargain—a continent’s subjugation for the glory of the gods.
    The priest bowed to them and withdrew. Arman also bowed to the captain. “A propitious beginning, Ard Peku.” It was always good to show proper respect to the man who held your life in his hands, at least while they were on the water. Besides, the captain was the best and most senior in Her Serenity’s navy. Nothing had been left to chance on this campaign.
    “That it is, Sei Arman,” Peku rumbled. “A fair