The man ruled the room. The gaze he turned on us was piercing, and there was power rather than indolence in the hand that lifted and beckoned us closer. His gesture was oddly graceful. He wore his flesh as another man might have worn a wealth of jewelry or the badges of his military rank. He used his size to command. The whole purpose of the pavilion was to center our focus on the sheer body size he had attained and it worked very well indeed. I was stunned by him. Feeders came and went around him, bringing food and drink, carrying off dishes, wiping his hands with moist cloths, massaging his feet and legs. A special stand at his elbow held several elaborate pipes and heavy glass canisters of tobacco. All the faces of those serving him showed deference, even affection. I saw no sign of resentment or anything less than devotion.
With a small jolt, I recognized the attitude that was displayed. When I was a small boy, my family had gone to visit the estate of another new noble family. They had lived up the river from us, a two-day journey, and I recalled how sternly my father had admonished me that Lord Skert was to be treated with great respect, for he had made many sacrifices for his king. I had expected to see some mighty muscled giant of a man, with a big beard and a booming voice. Instead, we were introduced to a man whose legs no longer worked. He was pushed from room to room in a wheeled chair, and burn scars had smoothed and twisted the side of his face and neck. Despite his scars and his disability, he had the bearing of a soldier. In the few days of our visit, I had come to see that he wore those scars as if they were medals he had earned. He was not shamed or humiliated by them; they were a part of his service record and he displayed them as such.
So did Kinrove. The size of his body obviously hampered him. Despite the scented oils being rubbed into his feet and calves, his legs looked painful, dusky, and swollen.
When he saw us, he moved his hand slightly, opening his palm to bid us enter. He inclined his head very slightly to the left. Again, I was struck by the grace of these small movements. There was an economy of motion to them that seemed full of beauty. “So. Here you are! I have heard of your coming among us, Soldier’s Boy, trained by Lisana.” He paused, cocked his head slightly, and said slyly, “And I give welcome also to Nevare of the Plain-skins.”
Before I could respond to that strange greeting, he turned his attention back to the larger gathering and spoke loudly for their benefit. He had to pause between phrases. Even the effort of speaking taxed his wind. “You are not unknown to us. Jodoli has told us of how Olikea found you and rescued you. He has also”—and here his smile grew very wide—“told us of your first contest of might with him! It was a good tale.” He chuckled, and all around the room, his merriment was echoed in rippling laughter.
He took another breath. “So I am pleased that you accepted my invitation.” A breath. “It pleases me to confer with the Great Ones of the People from time to time, to hear from them how our war goes, to accept their thanks and to direct them as to how their efforts might best aid me.” A breath. “Jodoli had told me that you were a very substantial man, before you burned much magic in a…shall we say ‘inexperienced’ rather than ‘vain’ attempt to stop the Jhernians?”
I felt the flush of hot blood that darkened Soldier’s Boy’s face. You did this; you brought this shame on me! He thrust the fierce thought at me, but to Kinrove he smiled and said, “I do not think my effort vain if it protected our ancestor trees for another season. I will do whatever I must to keep them safe until a final solution can be found.”
“So you would do what you must to drive the invaders from our land. Good. The magic asks much of us, and much especially of your kin-clan this year. I summoned Jodoli here, as the Great Man of your kin-clan, to speak to him of the magic’s need for more dancers. Imagine my surprise when he told me that his kin-clan had not one, but two Great Men now. Of course as soon as I heard that, I knew I must send for you. Such a strange thing to my eyes you are, a Great Man who grew up among the intruders. Jodoli thinks you are the key to the final solution. So the magic told him, in a dream, he says. And so the magic has whispered to me also. What do you say to that, Nevare of the Plain-skins? Do you know a way that we have not yet tried, Soldier’s Boy? Do you know a way to drive the Jhernians from our borders and restore peace and prosperity to our folk? Perhaps with a new dance that has not yet been danced?”
He had paused often to breathe as he spoke to me. His frequent pauses made it hard for me to decide if he had finished speaking. His question sounded dangerous to me. Twice he had referred to me by both names. Inside Soldier’s Boy, I huddled small. I did not like this Speck Great One addressing me directly. He saw too clearly.
