“He’s a human,” Desandra sneered. “I can rip out his throat with one bite.”
And we were back to ripping throats. I thought of telling her that I was a human and in a throat-ripping contest between us, she’d come in dead last, but people were listening to us. Besides, threatening the body you were guarding was never a good idea. She would resent me, and without her cooperation keeping her breathing would be much harder.
“Not all humans are the same,” Andrea said.
If Desandra thought she could fight off the preceptor of the Iron Dogs, she would be in for a rude awakening. Hugh would end her with one cut, carve his way through all of her relatives and husbands, and then celebrate with a nice bottle of local wine.
* * *
The road climbed higher and higher until we finally came to a clearing lined with huge slabs of gray stone. Tucked against the sheer cliff of a mountain, the clearing fanned out in a rough trapezoid shape, with the narrow side facing the mountain. A corral built with rough timbers was set directly against the mountain. Below us woods stretched, green and lush, climbing up and down mountain curves as far as we could see.
Three stone thrones stood at the edge of the clearing, chiseled from rock with rough strokes smoothed by centuries of rains. The middle throne towered, huge, as if made for a giant, and the other two were smaller. They felt ancient, just like the stone slabs under our feet. This was an old place, permeated with age. Centuries ago some kind of king must’ve sat here, on the stone throne, surveying the mountains.
Hibla’s djigits dismounted and came for our horses. They led them to the enclosure by the mountain and tethered their feet.
Hugh sat on the throne. Oh, spare me . . .
“Ladies and gentlemen. The forests you see before you are rich with game. They’re teeming with red deer, tur—the king of mountain antelopes—gazelles, mouflon or wild sheep, and wild goats.”
He clearly had experience with public speaking. His voice resonated through the clearing, loud enough to be heard by everyone but still friendly and perfectly understandable. He must’ve given speeches to his troops. “Tonight we rape, kill, and plunder . . .”
“In these mountains we have a fine tradition of the summer hunt. The rules are simple: Teams of hunters depart in the morning and return by the end of the day. Their game is examined and judged. Only mature animals may be hunted. Those who kill juveniles or females with young will find themselves and their team disqualified. The team that wins the hunt wins the prize from the lord of the castle.”
Oh boy, oh boy.
Two djigits brought out a rectangular frame covered with indigo fabric.
“We are standing within the boundaries of ancient Colchis,” Hugh continued. “This is the cradle of Georgia itself. Long before the Common Era, a kingdom of warriors and poets flourished here. While inhabitants of Europe still struggled with crude implements of bronze, the sorcerer-smiths of Colchis mastered iron and gold. Today we pay tribute to their past glory.”
Hibla stepped to the fabric and pulled it off with a flick of her hand.
Gold shone, glowing in the bright sunlight. People around me sucked in a breath. The pelt of a ram was stretched on the frame. Each individual six-inch-long hair of its dense wool shimmered with radiant yellow gold. Wow.
“I give you the Golden Fleece!” Hugh proclaimed.
Applause rippled through the clearing. Someone howled, excited.
“Like Jason’s Argonauts, who came here seeking Colchis riches, all of you traveled here. But the riches you sought are of a different kind, the riches of wisdom and friendship. This is our gift to you. It is twelve o’clock now. You have three hours. Prove that you are the superior hunters. Prove your bravery and your skill. Hunt now and the pack that brings the best game for our feast tonight will earn bragging rights and the Golden Fleece.”
The clearing shook as a hundred people cheered in unison. Excitement charged the air. They were a hair away from going furry. The prospect of a hunt after being cooped up in the castle pushed the shapeshifters into overdrive.
“And there is a second, more humble, but perhaps more useful prize.”
Hibla raised a glass container. It held a plastic bag with a quart of the brownish paste in it. Panacea.
“It will be awarded to the shapeshifter who brings in the best kill.”
Andrea’s eyes lit up. She elbowed Raphael.
“Before I forget!” Hugh boomed. “Look to your left. You see that narrow pass between two mountains. Stay away from the pass. The creatures who live there do not welcome intruders. My people will go with yours as observers to ensure that you obey the rules of the hunt. Good luck to all!”