Chapter two
The Djang Tandu and his son Dalki stand watchDeldar Hirvin staggered back, away from that reaching Djang sword. His eyes opened wide. His mouth thinned into a bitter line. He spat his words when he found his voice.
“The empress? What is that to us, now? If it is true, Tandu—”
The Djang swirled his sword to encompass the others. Young Nal, behind the bunk, froze, ashen.
“True? Aye, you nidges, it is true!”
“Then,” said Hirvin, spittle slobbering, “then we are all dead men. What I say is so!” He twisted away from the point of the sword, gestured to his men. “It matters nothing to us, empress or queen. If she lives — we die!”
“Down on your knees!” thundered Tandu. “Down on your faces in the full incline!”
He knocked the bowl of water over from the table, and sent the table
