58: HERDING SNAKES
(Grizzst’s story)
Khorvynis was one of the larger city-states that had sprouted up in the centuries after the deaths of the Eight, the rending of the voras, the dark slide into barbarity and despair. Grizzst had taken Rev’arric there to demonstrate what the god-kings had become.
And it was the nation with whom the Manol vané were at war.
Grizzst took the steps up to the main palace two at a time, ignoring the guards who were, at least for the moment, also ignoring him. When Grizzst reached the top, he encountered his first true obstacle: a group of honor guards defending a giant set of closed bronze doors (snakes in bas-relief, of course).
Grizzst scowled under his mask. “I’m here to see Ynis.”
One of the guards looked at him and hissed.
“You spoke voral the last time I was here,” Grizzst said. “I’ll repeat myself: I’m here to see Ynis.”
A guard’s cobra-like hood flared out as he said, “Ynis doesn’t want to see you.”
Grizzst heard footsteps. Several more groups of soldiers approached, from the sides, from behind. Everyone had their weapons out. Grizzst wasn’t familiar enough with thriss expressions to discern their mood, but he could make assumptions.
“I hate god-kings,” Grizzst said. “They never learn.”
The palace doors rang out like gongs as something hit them from the other side.
Once.
Twice.
On the third ring, the doors broke open.
A great snake, enormous and primeval, reared up in the room’s center as Grizzst marched inside.
“Grizzzzzzssssst,” the snaked hissed.
Grizzst folded his arms over his chest and shook his head as though he was witnessing schoolboy antics. “Change back, Ynis. I’m not going to have this conversation while you don’t even have arms. You look ridiculous.”
The snake immediately shifted, flowed, and finally settled into a form not too dissimilar from the cobra-headed men who had waited for Grizzst outside. The clothes were nicer, and he wasn’t wearing a weapon. Of course, he was a god-king. He was his own weapon.
“Really, Grizzst, do you have to be such a damn stick-in-the-mud? What have you done with my soldiers?”
“I’ll give you three guesses. Hint: the answer rhymes with ‘willed them.’” Grizzst walked forward into the throne room. “Next time, don’t try to keep me out when we still have unfinished business.”
“Next time, I’m going to rip your spine out through your heart!” Ynis shouted.
Grizzst wasn’t offended. “You’ll try, anyway.”
Ynis hissed. “We have no business with each other.”
“You still owe me from last time.”
Ynis’s tongue flicked from his mouth. “What? No, I don’t. I gave you Chainbreaker!”
“Yeah, but then you tried to double-cross me. And please note I not only honored our original agreement, but I didn’t even kill you.” He tapped the sword at his waist. “Could have. Thus, you owe me.”
Ynis eyed Urthaenriel with distaste. “I may have been a touch hasty. What did you have in mind?”
“Make peace with the vané.”
Ynis narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me? They’re the ones who started attacking my people! I’m not forgiving that.”
“You can and you will. This war’s personally inconvenient for me, so it stops. And I know you, Ynis. What did you do? They may have attacked first, but I damn well know it wasn’t unprovoked.”
Ynis hissed as he paced. “My people didn’t do anything! We were minding our own business, fishing and hunting!”
“Where?”
Ynis hesitated.
“In the Manol. You sent your people to fish and hunt in the Manol.” He shook his head. “I’m guessing you didn’t bother to ask the vané first.”
“What do they care? They never come out of their damn trees! Why should they begrudge us hunting in the swamps underneath them? It’s ridiculous!” The god-king looked disgusted.
Grizzst wasn’t in the mood to go into a lecture on how the vané felt about protecting their wilderness areas. “Let me guess: you went into the Manol because there were fewer demons there.”
“I went into the Manol because I wouldn’t be encroaching on the territory of another god-king,” Ynis corrected. “Who knew they’d be so inhospitable?”
Grizzst rolled his eyes. “Yeah, who knew they’d defend their territory like that? If I can get them to stop fighting, will you stop too?”
Ynis paused. “Maybe. But we deserve access to those hunting grounds.”
“That’s not for me to decide. I’ll get them to come to the bargaining table. You’d better make this right.” He looked over his shoulder as he walked away. “Ynis, if you screw this up, when the fighting starts back up again, I’ll be helping their side.”
The god-king of snakes made a noise like a nest of vipers. “Damn you, Grizzst! Someday, I’m going to swallow you whole!”
Grizzst ignored him. One of these days, Ynis was going to pick the wrong fight, and when that happened, Grizzst would take great pleasure in ending him.1
By the time the peace treaty was finally signed, Grizzst wanted to kill everyone involved. Ynis had proved just as insufferable in conference with Sovereign Khaevatz as he was in private with Grizzst. Meanwhile, the vané didn’t understand why Ynis and his people couldn’t just go away.
Bringing both sides to the bargaining table took months, but eventually, finally, they reached an agreement. The thriss would be allowed inside the Manol’s boundaries on a limited basis and with the understanding that they stay at ground level. More so, if they caused any damage to the Manol’s trees, all bets were off.
It all seemed reasonable. Grizzst bet diamonds it wouldn’t last a year. But that was fine as long as Sovereign Khaevatz let him use the Mother of Trees now.
After Ynis returned to his palace home in Khorvynis, Grizzst journeyed once more to the Mother of Trees and Khaevatz so he could finally finish resurrecting the Eight.