The Wordsmiths and the Warguild by Hugh Cook Page A

the options while the hall filled with guests. Fifty heroes, all
missing in action! Could it be true? If it was, then Raznak's offer certainly
had its temptations. So who could he trust? Who could he believe?
            His troubled mind
worried away at the problem until his cogitations were interrupted by the
announcement of the arrival of Roly Suet. The young groom, fatter than most
people but thin for a Suet, was dressed like a peacock. He looked calm - too
calm. His eyes had a glazed, fixed expression. Togura suspected he had been
drugged.
            "Enter the
sacrifice," muttered a voice.
             "The things
people do for power!" said another.
            Shortly after, the hum
of conversation in the hall fell away to an absolute silence as Slerma entered.
She was led into the hall and then seated by guides and helpers who made sure
she kept strictly to the reinforced section. At the sight of her, one tender
young lady blanched and fainted. Two old ladies, a spinster and a relict, began
to titter, and then, unable to help themselves, broke into frank and horrified
laughter.
            Slerma did not appear to
hear. She stared around her, letting her eyes ooze slowly over the vast mounds
of food which were on display.
            "Slerma will eat
well," she said. "This is good."
            Two female Suets with
fixed smiles draped a veil over her countenance, but Slerma mauled it away from
her face. She had gone to a lot of trouble with her appearance, and did not
want her efforts to go to waste.
            Slerma's makeup
represented a unique experiment in abstract art. Stains of green and red were
smeared across the flanks of her face, creating washes of gently undulating
colour which swelled and contracted as she chewed her cud. She had applied
mascara; dabs and dobs of black were scattered above her eyebrows, looking like
the distant heads of soldiers peering over the brow of extensive earthworks.
            Togura felt it rude to
stare, yet could not help himself. He was not alone. Slerma was as huge as he
had remembered - if anything, worse. A buxom girl could have been made from
each of her forearms, and a respectable whore from each of her thighs; her
belly could have given birth to a regular conclave of washerwomen. Her fingers,
as fat as sausages, looked deceptively soft and helpless; remembering the true
strength of those bone-crushing hands, Togura shuddered. To think that he had
almost been married to this!
            Watched by a
disbelieving audience, the wedding ceremony was conducted.
            "If any man alleges
prior claim to possession of this woman, let him speak now or forever
afterwards remain silent," said the marriage celebrant, looking around
sternly. No claims being forthcoming, he announced: "I find, rule and
declare that there are no prior claims on this woman."
            "What woman?"
cried a wit.
            Who was suppressed,
strenuously.
             At the
conclusion of the wedding ceremony, Slerma embraced Roly Suet, engulfing him in
her arms. She held him close. She had decided to be very loving today. After a
while, Roly began to make violent, animated movements with his arms and legs.
It appeared he was suffocating. This was highly embarrassing! Senior Suets
stood by, one openly wringing his hands, while people pushed and shoved to get
a good view, standing on tiptoe and craning their necks. Gladiatorial sports
were unknown in Sung, so they had never seen anything like it.
            Finally, Slerma released
her prey. He slid down to the ground and lay at her feet, limp but still
breathing. Taking him by the hair, she hauled him onto her lap, where he lay
like a rag doll, his face plastered with red and green and black; he had been
kissed.
            Someone cheered.
Infected by an outbreak of mob hysteria, the others took up his theme; the hall
rocked and resounded with applause. Slerma beamed. She