To Imagine...

Chacda: Tetherel (7)

I braced for impact as I opened the door to my temporary lodging.

"What the hell was that?" The air was tousled around us as he roared, rising from the table to confront me in the doorway. Vamoré. His eyes were wild and dangerous--I made no expression, emitting a hard, stony gaze.

"Itir has accepted my terms. Now we wait." I moved past him into the open room, the only furniture a wooden table and chairs, and followed my nose to the morsel gleaming from atop the counter. I examined it, pulling pieces apart to scrutinize the inside. "That's what it was."

"Why did you not consult with us?" Vivox asked, more quietly than Vamoré but still stone-cold. "We were running blind."

"Itir needs motivation to rise from his seat of power. I believe that the boy has it in him to draw that out. We will hear from him soon." I plucked one of the bite-size pieces from the counter and tossed it in my mouth, relishing in the succulent flavor, juices bleeding out beneath my teeth. "I have given Itir access to the Orleon--"

"--The Orleon!" Vamoré balked, midway between a roar and a whisper. "Are you insane?"

I whirled on him then, chewing forcefully the food I had shoved in my mouth.

"Don't you question me, Vamoré." My tone was laced with enough poison to halt his expression of fury. "When I asked for your great sovereign insight on the issue of gaining Meyak's alliance, you told me to forget it. 'Itir will never so much as consider any offering you have to surrender to him,' you said. 'Better to force his alliance by seizing it combatively.' Really? Meyak?"

I scoffed and he raised his lip, but I wasn't done yet.

"Do you even know how long that tribe has thrived? A great power since before Tehit--hell, Meyak held a strong presence since before Perekneia. Can you even get that through your thick skull?" I tapped two fingers to my temple to emphasize my question, leaning in close enough to silence his retorts. "Centuries. Powerful. Did you feel him? What enormous power--"

I whirled on my heel then, standing straight and taking a deep breath, my veins flooded with the sensation of his--Itir's--presence in that audience room. My voice was more level when I continued to speak.

"Itir--the descendant of Skali, the great war leader who crushed Kitiki's forces in the alliance of Tehit. Skali, ruler of Schak in generations passed, with great horns that reached, spiraling to the sky--" I took a moment to interrupt myself. "What incredible power. Could I deny my alliance that scum, Itir? No. I poured over my options, and I found none. What good is Meyak without Itir?"

I turned back to Vamoré and Vivox, two twin faces staring up at me with polar-opposite expressions: Vamoré, consumed with vehement anger, and Vivox: impeccably controlled, without a drop of emotion.

"Itir is a boy less than half the size of you," Vamoré hissed through his clenched teeth, fists gripping the side of his chair and table. "He would be butchered in the sight of a true battle."

My eyebrows rose high, how ridiculous--

"And you gave him the Orleon!" Vivox exclaimed, finally showing how disconcerted he had become. "What are we to make of that!"

I smiled a little, glancing down at my meal next to me as I heard rain begin to fall outside. The gloomy clouds following us for our journey finally begun to pour.

"Ah, the great slaver's river. I hear business is booming." The twins were silent, whether from astonishment or expectation. I spoke hard, confidently, definitively: "Meyak will take Orleon, and they will triple our profits. Itir's first move will be to raise hell on the Humans in Orbis and gather the greatest accumulation of slaves Astaroth has ever known. I would like to have Shuzak at my side when this happens."