The Gods Return (62 page)

The sun was barely up, but artisans were already at work on the new Temple of the Great Gods. They weren't just the laborers constructing the temple itself, but also the skilled workmen erecting the three cult statues, which would be too big to bring in after the building's shell was complete.

Each of the Great Gods was the responsibility of a separate sculptor. The three men were present, using lamps to make out the details of the armatures their subordinates were clamping together.

A section of Blood Eagles stood nearby. The men were alert but not on edge. There could be trouble—

"
There can always be trouble!
" said Carus.

—but they no longer expected it.

Garric laughed. "The Serians are a polite people, as I recall," he said. "We could tell them that they are being notably discourteous in presuming to dictate the actions of a monarch in his own capital. On the other hand, I could simply talk to them. What is it they want?"

Across the plaza, workmen walked up the steps on the outside of a crane's twenty-foot wheel, using its leverage to sway a portion of the architrave into place. The crane's beam squealed as it straightened with its load. The foreman of the specialists waiting on the transom to make the fine adjustments shouted directions to the crane operator.

"Unofficially, what they want is to remain independent," said Liane, allowing herself a smile. "Though of course they can't discuss the matter with anyone but you."

Garric shrugged. "The Serians have never been a problem to their neighbors, not so far as I know," he said. "I don't see any reason why they shouldn't remain outside the Kingdom. Do you?"

"There are questions of trading law," Liane said. "Particularly jurisdiction over mixed cases, that is where a Serian and a royal citizen are on different sides of the dispute."

Garric looked up from his sheaf of architect's drawings. "The Serians have been trading with the other islands for years," he said in puzzlement. "Centuries, I suppose. Why should there be a problem now?"

"In the past, each island had its own arrangements with the Serians," Liane said, taking a codex out of her travelling desk but not, of course, opening it. "There's wide variation."

Garric frowned and started to speak.

"Which will cause problems
within
the kingdom," Liane continued firmly, as though she hadn't noticed her prince and husband's intent. "Now that there's real unity."

Smiling, Garric went back to the drawings. "Give it to Tadai to sort out and bring me a recommendation," he said. "Royhas has his hands full with taxation."

"A committee under Lord Tadai, you mean?" Liane said, knowing full well that he didn't.

"I
could sort it
," said the ghost in his mind, joking but not entirely. In life Carus had found administration frustrating, and death hadn't given him patience.

"No," said Garric. "But put in someone you trust—one of your father's trading colleagues, perhaps—as Tadai's deputy. I have full confidence in him, but like the rest of us, he's capable of being self-willed."

He grinned. "Tadai's not," he added, "as likely to lop somebody's head off as some of my trusted advisors are, though."

The sun fell across the rising temple. The proportions were strikingly
right
even in this incomplete state. "It's going to be beautiful," Garric said. "It's beautiful now."

"The Dalopans will insist on independence too," Liane said. "They would have even if you didn't grant that right to the Serians. Though nobody in Dalopo was organized enough to send envoys, of course."

Garric snorted. "Freedom to a Dalopan means a chance to loot his neighbor. And then eat the prisoners as well, if he's feeling peckish. Dalopo will have a military commissioner and enough soldiers to make sure the survivors learn to do what he says."

Garric put his arm around Liane. They were in public, but at the moment he didn't care. "It isn't perfect," he said. "But it's pretty good. And with the help of the Gods, we're going to make it better."

He glanced down at the drawings of the statues as they'd be when completed in gold and ivory. The Sister was weaving, of course. In relief on the wall behind Her were the figures of a man and a young girl.

The Shepherd, solid as a mountain but smiling, stood in front of sheep cropping a pasture. His staff was upright in His right hand.

In the center was the Lady. Her right hand touched the Shepherd's forearm, and Her left hand was outstretched in blessing. The rat which had recently entered Her cult gamboled on the ground at Her feet, and the wall behind Her was a mass of flowers.

"With the help of the Gods," repeated King Garric, and kissed his queen.

THE END

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