Blood and Iron: The Book of the Black Earth (Part One) by Jon Sprunk Page A

slaves said it meant sorcery. Is that what you think I am?”
    “ Zoanii are the rulers of the empire. Zoana is…the closest word in Arnossi would be ‘magic.’ However, it also has a divine connotation. Zoana comes from the celestial realm where the gods dwell in perfection, and the zoanii are their instruments in this world.”
    Horace tried to make sense of the words. “So, are you and Lord Ubar are both zoanii ?”
    Nasir indicated the noble's son. “His Highness, Lord Ubar, is zoanii like his noble father. I am not. Now, if you please, Lord Ubar has many questions regarding your homeland and its customs. And also about yourself.”
    Horace's first instinct was to tell them both to go to hell, but he reminded himself that he was in their power. And, for what it was worth, Ubar had shown him a measure of…well, compassion, if not kindness. “Tell him that I honestly don't know anything about this zoana . Like I told his father, I'm just a simple craftsman. I build and repair ships.”
    Nasir took some time relating this to Lord Ubar, and Horace started getting anxious. This was his chance to influence his own destiny. Ubar obviously had his father's ear. If he could convince the son that letting him go was the best option…
    He cleared his throat. “May I ask a question, my lords?”
    Ubar and Nasir halted their conversation. Ubar nodded. “Yes.”
    “The other prisoners say you're taking us to a place called Nisus. Is that right?”
    After a short discussion, Nasir answered, “Yes. Lord Isiratu has honored the temple of Amur with a gift.”
    Amur must be their pagan sun god.
    “And will we—the captives—be killed?”
    Nasir's lips turned down in a disdainful frown. “That is the talk of foolish peasants. Most of them will live their remaining years serving in the temple or tending the olive groves.”
    That didn't sound so bad, but Horace had noted something. “You say most. But not all? Me, for example. Why send a—” He was going to say a prisoner of war , but changed his mind. “—a foreigner to this temple?”
    Nasir closed his mouth. It didn't appear as if he was going to reply. Then Lord Ubar, who had been watching the exchange, interjected. Nasir nodded twice and then said, “Lord Ubar says that is his father's prerogative. Once you landed on his father's domain, you became his property. Yet things may have changed. He asked you here tonight for another purpose.”
    “Please,” Ubar said in his own voice. “With all humility, I ask. May I examine you?”
    Horace's mouth dried up as those words sank in. Examine him? He didn't think the noble's son had a medical examination in mind. He meant sorcery. Black magic. An image came to mind, of his wife Sari kneeling beside Josef's crib, praying for the Prophet to protect their son from the Evil One and his infernal host of demons. The very idea of submitting to magical “examination” was repugnant, but part of him wanted to know more about what had happened during the storm, and these people were the only ones who might have the answers.
    “I suppose that would be—” Horace started to say when the tent flap opened and two soldiers appeared.
    They addressed Lord Ubar. Horace heard something about a captive—which he assumed meant him—and Lord Isiratu. Ubar and Nasir put their heads together. Horace leaned forward. “Is something wrong?”
    Nasir broke off their conversation with a gesture from Ubar. “You have been summoned by Lord Isiratu. You are to go at once.”
    “But what about—?”
    The soldiers didn't give him time to protest as they hooked him under the arms and dragged him to his feet. Lord Ubar and Nasir followed them out. Twilight had slipped into night while they were talking. The moon hung low in the eastern sky.
    “All right,” Horace said as they pulled him out of the tent. He struggled to walk under his own power. “I said all right!”
    The soldiers let him go. Then, with as much dignity as he could muster,