The Blood-stained Belt Read Online Free PDF Page B

the assembly gets to vote.’
    Jainar planted
his hands on his hips, looked around calmly and called out, ‘We are
well acquainted with the mercies of Zabrazal towards his people and
we are grateful for them.’
    Izebol replied
dourly, ‘So you should be!’
    Jainar looked
around as confidently as if he was in the bosom of his family,
raised his eyebrows and replied, ‘We have heard that Zabrazal is
angry. But we have not heard his answer to our request.’ There was
a buzz of approval.
    Izebol rubbed
his chin and looked at Jainar narrowly before he punched a finger
at him and announced, ‘Zabrazal has an answer.’
    Jainar replied,
‘We are ready to hear it.’ He sat down amidst a roar of approval
and applause from all sides.
    Izebol glared
at the delegates and called out, ‘You want Zabrazal’s answer? Good!
Now hear the words of your god!’ He raised his rod and declaimed,
‘Zabrazal says that Keirine may have what it wants!’ There was
another roar of approval that subsided when Izebol waved the
assembly to silence and continued, ‘However, Zabrazal reminds
Keirine that it will have to deal with the consequences of its own
choice.' He stretched upwards, his imposing head turned skywards,
and cried, 'Keirine may have its king if that is what Keirine
wants!’ Then he put down the rod, glowered at the delegates and
said ominously, ‘May Zabrazal have mercy on Keirine!’
    As expected,
the delegates voted for the monarchy by a ratio of about ten to
one. When the result was announced, Izebol raised his hands and
gave a theatrical cry of exasperation. But he recovered quickly
enough – after all, it was a foregone conclusion – and called for
the sacred dice.
    Amidst a
clamour of dissatisfaction, Jainar rose and protested that the
delegates should decide and not the dice. As if oblivious to the
tumult of discontent, Izebol waved Jainar aside and cried, ‘If you
wanted the assembly to choose, then why did you come to Sininda? Go
somewhere else! Don’t ask Izebol, high priest of Zabrazal, to
officiate.’ Izebol shook his finger at Jainar, swept his gaze over
the assembly, and said with finality, ‘That is what Zabrazal
says.’
    Jainar pointed
his finger at Izebol, thought better of it, muttered something
uncomplimentary, and sat down. Into the hush that followed, Izebol
said firmly, ‘Zabrazal has spoken! Let the sacred dice decide.’
    While the
assembly settled down, Sharma whispered to me, ‘Jainar has big
ambitions but Izebol is too smart for him. He's clipped Jainar's
wings.’
    I asked, ‘What
has Izebol got against Jainar?’
    Sharma lowered
his voice and replied, ‘Jainar is strong-minded. He doesn’t respect
the priests.’
    ‘You reckon
that the person chosen by lot, whoever he is, will be
different?’
    Sharma replied,
‘Of course. The sacred dice reflect the will of Zabrazal, and
Zabrazal protects the interests of the priests.’ He winked at me
ironically.
    The dice rolled
and the priests supervised the process of elimination, tribe by
tribe and town by town, until only the family of Dorgile from the
region of Orifinre in Upper Keirine remained. Orifinre is in the
south-west of Keirine, where the mountains and the highlands give
way to the grasslands and meandering rivers of the endless
interior. The region has a long tradition of producing
entrepreneurs and traders because it not only has easy access to
Kitilat and its coastline but also trades with the fertile
hinterland across the Great River. However, then as now, the people
of Orifinre aren’t just shopkeepers and traders. They like to
remind the rest of Keirine that they also have a tradition of
producing scholars and priests from their schools and in particular
from the celebrated Academy of Philosophy. In fact, up to the time
of the Assembly five of the last eight high priests, Izebol
included, had come from Orifinre and its academy.
    Wealthier than
the other regions of the country, conscious of its sophistication
and proud of its