The Complete Tamuli Trilogy: Domes of Fire, The Shining Ones, The Hidden City. David Eddings

get married.’

      ‘That’s not fair.’

      Stragen smiled. ‘When you get right down to it, Talen, it’s not really very fair when we steal something somebody else has worked for, is it?’

      ‘That’s different.’

      Stragen leaned back in his saddle and laughed. Then he went on. ‘The Atans prized other characteristics as well – ability, strength, aggressiveness and homicidal vindictiveness. It’s strange how the combination worked out. If you stop and think about it, you’ll realise that Mirtai’s really a rather sweet girl. She’s warm and affectionate, she really cares about her friends, and she’s strikingly beautiful. She’s got certain triggers built into her, though, and when somebody trips one of those triggers, she starts killing people. The Atan breeding programme finally went too far, I guess. The Atans become so aggressive that they started killing each other, and since such aggressiveness can’t be restricted to one sex, the women were as bad as the men. It got to the point that there was no such thing in Atan as a mild disagreement. They’d kill each other over weather predictions.’ He smiled. ‘Oscagne told me that the world discovered just how savage Atan women were in the twelfth century. A large band of Arjuni slavers attacked a training camp for adolescent Atan females – the sexes are separated during training in order to avoid certain complications. Anyway, those half-grown Atan girls – most of them barely over six feet tall – slaughtered most of the Arjuni and then sold the rest to the Tamuls as eunuchs.’

      ‘The slavers were eunuchs?’ Kalten asked with some surprise.

      ‘No, Kalten,’ Stragen explained patiently. ‘They weren’t eunuchs until after the girls captured them.’

      ‘Little girls did that?’ Kalten’s expression was one of horror.

      ‘They weren’t exactly babies, Kalten. They were old enough to know what they were doing. Anyway, the Atans had a very wise king in the fifteenth century. He saw that his people were on the verge of self-destruction. He made contact with the Tamul government and surrendered his people into perpetual slavery – to save their lives.’

      ‘A little extreme,’ Ulath noted.

      ‘There are several kinds of slavery, Ulath. Here in Atan, it’s institutionalised. The Tamuls tell the Atans where to go and whom to kill, and they can usually find a reason to deny petitions by individual Atans to slaughter each other. That’s about as far as it really goes. It’s a good working arrangement. The Atan race survives, and the Tamuls get the finest infantry in the world.’

      Talen was frowning. ‘The Atans are terribly impressed with size, you said.’

      ‘Well, it’s one of the things that impresses them,’ Stragen amended.

      ‘Then why did Mirtai agree to marry Kring? Kring’s a good warrior, but he’s not much taller than I am, and I’m still growing.’

      ‘It must be something else about him that impressed her so much,’ Stragen shrugged.

      ‘What do you think it is?’

      ‘I haven’t got the faintest idea, Talen.’

      ‘He’s a poet,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘Maybe that’s it.’

      ‘That wouldn’t make that much difference to someone like Mirtai, would it? She did slice two men open and then burn them alive, remember? She doesn’t sound to me like the kind of girl who’d get all gushy about poetry.’

      ‘Don’t ask me, Talen,’ Stragen laughed. ‘I know a great deal about the world, but I wouldn’t even try to make a guess about why any woman chooses any given man.’

      ‘Good thinking,’ Ulath murmured.

      The city had been alerted to their approach by Engessa’s messengers, and the royal party was met at the gate by a deputation of towering Atans in formal attire, which in their culture meant the donning of unadorned, ankle-length cloaks of dark wool. In the midst of those giants stood a short, golden-robed Tamul. The Tamul had silver-streaked hair and an urbane expression.

      ‘What are we supposed to do?’ Kalten whispered to Oscagne.

      ‘Act formal,’ Oscagne advised. ‘Atans adore formality. Ah, Norkan,’ he said to the Tamul in the golden robe, ‘so good to see you again. Fontan sends his best.’

      ‘How is the old rascal?’ Oscagne’s colleague replied.

      ‘Wrinkled, but he still hasn’t lost his edge.’

      ‘I’m glad to hear it. Why are we speaking in Elenic?’

      ‘So that you can brief us all on local circumstances. How are things here?’

      ‘Tense. Our children are a bit discontent. There’s turmoil afoot. We send them to stamp it out, but it refuses to stay stamped. They resent that. You know how they are.’

      ‘Oh my, yes. Has the emperor’s sister forgiven you yet?’

      Norkan sighed. ‘Afraid not, old boy. I’m quite resigned to spending the rest of my career here.’

      ‘You know how the people at court like to carry tales. Whatever possessed you to make that remark? I’ll grant you that her Highness’ feet are a bit oversized, but “big-footed cow” was sort of indiscreet, wouldn’t you say?’

      ‘I was drunk and a little out of sorts. Better to be here in Atan than in Matherion trying to evade her attentions. I have no desire to become a member of the imperial family if it means that I’d have to trudge along behind her as she clumps about the palace.’

      ‘Ah, well. What’s on the agenda here?’

      ‘Formality. Official greetings. Speeches. Ceremonies. The usual nonsense.’

      ‘Good. Our friends from the west are a bit unbridled at times. They’re good at formality, though. It’s when things become informal that they get into trouble. May I present the Queen of Elenia?’

      ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

      ‘Your Majesty,’ Oscagne said, ‘this is my old friend, Norkan. He’s the imperial representative here in Atan, an able man who’s fallen on hard times.’

      Norkan bowed. ‘Your Majesty,’ he greeted Ehlana.

      ‘Your Excellency,’ she responded. Then she smiled. ‘Are her Highness’ feet really that big?’ she asked him slyly.

      ‘She skis with only the equipment God gave her, your Majesty. I could bear that, I suppose, but she’s given to temper tantrums when she doesn’t get her own way, and that sort of grates on my nerves.’ He glanced at the huge, dark-cloaked Atans surrounding the carriage. ‘Might I suggest that we proceed to what my children here refer to as the palace? The king and queen await us there. Is your Majesty comfortable speaking in public? A few remarks might be in order.’

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t speak Tamul, your Excellency.’

      ‘Perfectly all right, your Majesty. I’ll translate for you. You can say anything that pops into your head. I’ll tidy it up for you as we go along.’

      ‘How very kind of you.’ There was only the faintest edge to her voice.

      ‘I live but to serve, your Majesty.’

      ‘Remarkable, Norkan,’ Oscagne murmured. ‘How do you manage to put both feet in your mouth at the same time?’

      ‘It’s a gift,’ Norkan shrugged.

      King Androl of Atan was seven feet tall, and his wife, Queen Betuana was only slightly shorter. They were very imposing. They wore golden helmets instead of crowns, and their deep blue silk robes were open at the front, revealing the fact that they were both heavily armed. They met the Queen of Elenia and her entourage in the square outside the royal palace of Atan, which was in actuality nothing more than their private dwelling. Atan