Shadowplay

CELL 4

The flatwagon was assembled outside the city on the Road itself, guarded by the Nistam's troops who were nervous enough to shoot without warning anyone who came too close, and their idea of close was a measure that changed with the changing tensions.

The wagon was fifteen meters wide and thirty long with six sets of double wheels individually mounted along each side and an additional four in front with twin tongues for the two teams of twenty kekelipis that pulled it.

Once the basic assemblage was finished, with the shell stage for the Three made ready, the throne of the Nistam installed above the warded cabins where the passengers would retreat for meals and sleep, teams of Kisar and Plicik women decorated everything with silk flowers, bright ribbons and gilded lace.

Royal Guards in gilded armor, Plicik men and women in beaded silks with quIckfirers In silver studded straps, Kisar Judges and Scholars in their blowing beaded crimson robes, kanaweh in flits and prowling about on the edges of the throng, in the midst of all these (sweeping along with him the angry, reluctant Avatars, Miowee and her daughter) the Nistam and his Court PROGRESSED to the wagon. ("So that's your Nistam," Shirai' whispered to Miowee. "What a weed."

"Of course It isn't," Mlowee whispered back. "The real one's even worse, he wouldn't dare stick his nose out where it could get shot off. Everyone knows that. That's his fifth double, the others were poisoned or stabbed or something. Look at the bastard sweat."

"If everyone knows, why should he be sweating, who'd waste his life on a double?"

"You're thinking rationally, Shadow. That's a mistake. Someone might lust decide to send a message to the Nistam, keep him nervous."

"Hunh! Sweet folk, yours.")

When the Procession reached the wagon, the PseudoNistam was Installed on his throne, his court settled around him behind screens of pelletproof glass. The Avatars were taken to the shell, Rohant told to sit on a massive bench at the back, the cats flanking him on their own benches as Sassa came circling down and perched on the rod at the apex of the shell. The Ciocan was a magnificent figure with his springing mane and golden eyes, his huge size and powerful musculature, the brilliant, barbaric clothing he was given to wear-black leather beaded all over In crimson and gold, azure and emerald. Against the matte white of the shell, he sprang to the eye; there was a hissing of approval from the watchers out beyond the ring of guards.

Kikun was led to a round dance platform and told to squat there. He wore a fringed harness hung with copper chains and totem dangles, and was painted head to toe in horizontal black and white stripes. There was a shudder of pleasurable fear among the watchers as he took his place.

Three Plicik honormaids took Shadith to a white bench halfway between Kikun and Rohant; she wore a long white leather robe beaded in lapis lazuli and gold with crimson beads in a diamond between her breasts, she supposed it was meant to represent her heart. Her hair was an explosion of tiny curls, the tips bleached to gold; they shimmered in the sunlight, making a gilded halo about her face. Her Plicik attendants spread out her skirt panels, arranged her limbs in the proper position, slapped her spine straight, fluffed out her hair, smoothed pearl powder over her face and arms, clucking as they always did at the darkness of her skin. She sat glowering through all this, only smiled when they brought Miowee and Kayataki to her and settled them at her feet. When the Plicik maids moved to take their own seats; she bent down. "Is this thing really supposed to move? And what happens to this foofaraw if it rains?"

Miowee snorted. "It gets wet, what'd you think?"

"You mean we get wet."

"That, too." Miowee winced as the drum corps started banging away. "Get ready, Shadow, another minute and you're on."

"Give me half a chance, I'd…"

The only way you could get out of this now is invisible or dead. Your choice."

"Fool." She laughed, tapped Miowee lightly on her head. "So… where'd they get that lot of tin-eared dead arses? They're not the ones, we practiced with." She wrinkled her nose. "I've heard more rhythm from a seaslug."

"They're Pliciks, what did you expect? They've never had to please or starve. They bought the right to make fools of themselves."