Free Lord of Lies by David Zindell

burned me with their fiery signature. With a sudden certainty that made my hand dose around the hilt of my sword, I knew that I knew this man all too well.
    And he knew it, too. For he raised up his head in a pride beyond mere arrogance and threw back his robe's yellow cowl. As he stood up to face me, one of the warriors called out, 'It's the traitor! It's Salmelu Aradar!'
    'He's been banished from Mesh!' someone else shouted. 'On pain of death, he's been banished!'
    'Send him back to the stars!' a familiar voice cried out.
    I looked across the hall to see Baltasar standing with his sword half-drawn as he trembled to advance upon Salmelu.
    'Hold!' my father called to him. To Salmeiu, he said, 'You have been denied fire, bread and salt while on Meshian soil Yet here you stand, having taken much more than bread with us tonight!'
    'It is true that Salmelu of Ishka has been banished,' Salmelu said. He was an ugly man, with a great bear-snout of a nose and a scar that seamed his face from his low hairline to his weak chin. His small eyes, black as pools of pitch, smoldered with spite for my father and me. 'But you should know, I am Salmelu no longer, for he is dead. You may call me Igasho, which is the new name Lord Morjin has given me.'
    On the middle of his forehead was tattooed Morjin's mark: a coiled, red dragon. Some months before, by the banks of the Raaswash, I had exposed this mark for all to behold - and exposed Salmelu as a traitor and aspiring priest of the Kallimun. In the time since then, Salmelu must have travelled to Sakai to be confirmed in Morjin's evil priesthood. And returned here as the chief of Morjin's emissaries.
    'It doesn't matter if he's called Igasho or Salmelu ... or the Dark One himself!' Baltasar cried out, sliding out his sword another inch. 'A corpse by any other name would smell as foul. Let us put this one in the ground!'
    'No, hold!' my father commanded. 'Whatever this Igasho is, he is Morjin's lawful emissary and may not be harmed. On pain of death, Baitasar - on pain of death.'
    It cost my father much to deliver these words, especially in sight of Lansar Raasharu, who was not only his seneschal but his oldest friend. Lord Raasharu sat at his table frozen to his seat; he stared at Baltasar and silently implored his son to put away his sword. As Baltasar's kalama slid back into its sheath with a loud click. Lord Raasharu breathed a heavy sigh of thanks.
    'You', my father said to Salmelu, 'defile the sacred calling of the emissary. But an emissary you still are, and you have come here to speak for Morjin. So then, speak.'
    Salmelu - or Igasho - lifted up his head in triumph. He moved toward the center of the room so that he stood directly in front of the Lightstone, and he fairly whipped out these words: 'Tonight you have heard one scryer's prophecy. I bring you another, from Sakai that the Day of the Dragon is at hand. For it has been foretold that Lord Morjin will regain the Cup of Heaven that was stolen from him.'
    Here his hand pointed like a sword straight past my father's head at the Lightstone. 'Your son, King Shamesh, stole this from Lord Morjin's throne room, and my king demands that it be returned!'
    'That's a lie!' Maram roared out, rising from his chair. 'How can Morjin claim as stolen that which he himself stole long ago?'
    Salmelu cast Maram a look of scorn as if to ask why he - or anyone - should listen to the words of a drunkard. Then he turned and pointed his finger at me.
    'You broke into the sacred city of Argattha - and broke into Lord Morjin's private rooms themselves. You are a thief who took gelstei from my lord: a bloodstone and the very Lightstone that now shines above you. You are a liar who has told false as to how you came by these things. And you are a murderer: how many Valashu Elahad, did you put to the sword in making your escape? You even butchered a poor beast the dragon, Angraboda, who was only trying to guard her eggs from you.'
    Salmelu paced back and forth in