8. Prophecy

The rocks stop fly­ing and the crowd hushes. Col­lapsed beneath Gil, Kiddu groans. The wound on her shoul­der smears blood on his robe.

Wide-eyed Native
What did the boy say?
Right­eously Angry Native
We all heard his blas­phemy. Do not repeat it.
Gil
You can ask Jaruna! Go ahead!
Right­eously Angry Native
We shall not wake Lord Jaruna to bother him with your absur­dity. Imper­son­at­ing a mujasha­triya? Curse you! You have merely added the weight of more sin onto your despi­ca­ble corpse, Akka­dian—
Kripa
WHAT IS THIS!?

The big native bursts through the crowd, caus­ing sev­eral stone-hefting natives to fall face-first in the sand. Hat­van darts through Kripa’s wake, clutch­ing his whip­like weapon with one hand.

Right­eously Angry Native
Kripa! Hat­van! You have neglected your guard duties! Four and a half peo­ple bear wit­ness that these two have sinned in the sight of Asham. Do not pre­vent jus­tice from being done—
Hat­van
You did not think to check with the mujasha­triya, Mosheh?
Mosheh the Angry Native
The mujasha­triya is asleep! I am cer­tain the young mas­ter would approve of the Law being car­ried out—
Kripa
R’GAAAH!

Mosheh is angry—but Kripa is enraged. The big war­rior strides over and, with one hand, grabs Mosheh around his throat. With his other hand, he raises his giant club.

Kripa
You think we are FOOLS, you SNAKE? You have been aching to kill these two all week!
Dron­aja
Kripa!

The crowd, as one, turns to the side and parts down the mid­dle.

Jaruna emerges, flanked by his sis­ter and Dron­aja.

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