The Drinnglennin Chronicles Omnibus

by K. C. Julius

  Grindasa had assembled a young and lively group, including a number of Roth’s cousins. Maura found them to be delightfully entertaining, and she even accepted an invitation from one of the young women to go riding. “And you must come to visit Nelvorboth,” declared Lady Hadley, “once this tiresome prohibition on travel is lifted.” To Maura’s relief, no one troubled her with prying questions about her relationship to the High King, or quizzed her on her Gralian. The ladies were far more interested in comparing the attributes of the various young lords who had participated in the Twyrn.

  “Sir Wren was my favorite,” declared Lady Erline. “He demonstrated great skill in the jousts.”

  Lady Kendra raised her eyebrows skeptically. “And his good looks have nothing to do with your preference?”

  “I’ll not deny he’s very easy on the eyes!” said Lady Erline, giggling.

  “Come now, ladies!” chided Lady Leoma. “There’s really none to compare to our own Roth.”

  “He’s our cousin! He doesn’t count.” Lady Erline waved her perfectly manicured hand dismissively.

  “In any case, it appears that Lady Maura has won that prize,” teased Lady Hadley.

  Maura felt her color rise, but couldn’t help but smile when her companions laughed approvingly. All the same, she felt slightly uneasy at the suggestion.

  “There is another contestant who bears consideration,” Lady Maitane purred, tossing her butter-yellow curls. “Braxton, isn’t he called? The one who nearly bested our cousin. I imagine he’d keep a maid warm on a cold night.”

  “Maitane, for shame! And you a betrothed woman!” Lady Leoma struck her sister lightly with her fan. “Our aunt would send you to bed at once if she heard such saucy talk!”

  “And I’d gladly go, if I had Braxton waiting in it,” replied Lady Maitane pertly. She cast a glance over her bared shoulder, then dropped her voice. “As for Aunt Grindasa, she wasn’t averse to sampling wares outside her marriage bed. Cousin Roth is proof of that, for you can be sure that bright coin didn’t drop from Uncle Nandor’s wizened purse! He was twice her age when they wed, and as frail as a cobweb.”

  A peal of titillated laughter greeted this comment.

  “Shhh!” hissed Lady Leoma. “He’s coming over!”

  And then Roth was at Maura’s elbow, cupping it gently. “I’ve too much experience with that singular titter of yours, Maitane, not to suspect you’ve raised a subject of questionable taste.” His words were censorious, but his tone was fondly indulgent. “Now I find my generosity has succumbed to my own selfish requirements. I’ve come to claim our guest for supper.”

  “Prize indeed,” murmured Lady Hadley teasingly.

  * * *

  “I hope you didn’t find the ladies tiresome,” Roth said once they were seated at dinner. “A few of them can be somewhat… limited in their interests.”

  “And how do you know I don’t share those same interests?” Maura asked.

  Roth surveyed her with his crystalline gaze. “I don’t,” he admitted, “but somehow I believe that your pursuits cover a far wider range than fashion and horses. I’m very much hoping you’ll allow me the privilege of discovering more about what interests you over the coming days and weeks… and beyond.”

  Maura hoped that soon she’d be back with Ilyria in Mithralyn. “Do you really think the High King will extend his restriction on leaving Drinnkastel for weeks to come?”

  “I think it doesn’t matter.” Roth set down his goblet. “I assumed you planned to stay in Drinnkastel regardless of your uncle’s decree.”

  Maura lowered her gaze to her trencher. “I can’t really say, sir.”

  “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  As she looked up at his woebegone expression, Maura couldn’t suppress a laugh. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Now I must beg your forgiveness, my lord. We both seem to be doing that a great deal.”

  Roth grinned. “Agreed. Might I suggest that we dispense with so much formality? Would you deem it unseemly if I asked you to just call me Roth? It’s quite common among close acquaintances at court these days, even between unattached ladies and gentlemen. I would like to think you would consider me a friend.”

  A friend. Maura very much liked the sound of this. She was beginning to realize what an isolated existence she’d led up until this point in her life. Even in Dorf, her mother had discouraged her from mingling with other young people. Here in Drinnkastel, her only other prospect of a friend had been Borne. After he’d visited her chamber, she’d hoped they might share a kind of camaraderie, but now his grief had put him out of reach—at least for the time being. And while Leif was dear to her, he was more like a brother than a friend. Not that anyone could ever replace Dal in her affections. She would live with that loss until the end of her days.

  Ilyria had shown her that a goodly part of being dragonfast was being open to new experiences. And sharing a friendship with Roth would be an easy beginning.

  “I would be honored… Roth.”

  “Splendid! Now, Maura,” he said, lifting his knife, “let’s see about tackling this squab pie!”

  * * *

  By the time Maura slipped into her chambers back at the castle, the sky was lightening. The gay company, the dancing and music, the stroll with Roth through the magical gardens by starlight… it had all made for a most memorable evening. If she’d ever before laughed so much, she couldn’t recall it. She’d made a number of delightful acquaintances, Lady Hadley foremost among them. And throughout the evening, Roth had been charming.

  His mother had been equally gracious. “We’ll hope to see you often at Casa Cantabria, my dear,” Princess Grindasa had said, kissing Maura three times in the Albrenian fashion before seeing her off in the Nelvor carriage. “It will be an honor to have you grace our table, whenever you can find the time.” She squeezed Maura’s hand. “Please give your uncle my love, which has ever been for him alone.”

  Maura, touched by the princess’s wistful expression, impulsively hugged her. “I shall, Your Highness,” she promised.

  Now, lying in her bed, she thought perhaps she’d ask Urlion if he’d consider seeing both of the Nelvors. It might do all three of them a world of good.

  Chapter 26

  Leif

  Leif suffered much more than Maura from their self-imposed lack of social contact since arriving at Urlion’s court. While he understood why Morgan had counseled them to keep as much to themselves as possible, it was proving far more tiresome than he had imagined, especially considering Maura’s presence was often required by her uncle, leaving Leif all alone.

  And now, to make matters worse, it seemed that Maura was making new friends despite the wizard’s caution. Only yesterday, Leif had gone to her rooms to discover she’d gone out in the company of a gentleman. And this morning when he scratched on her door, a grumpy Heulwin had sent him away, saying Maura was still abed.

  “Out until dawn, was she?” he muttered as he crossed the courtyard. “Well then, I’ve just as much right to seek entertainment.”

  He’d been meaning to look for the young Glornadoorian groom he’d met before the Twyrn, and this seemed the time to do it. Whistling an elvish lay, he clattered down the stone steps leading to the royal stables, then darted through the broad doors and found an elderly groom in the first stall, currying a sturdy rouncey.

  Leif opened his mouth to ask after the boy he was looking for, then promptly shut it again. He’d never learned the fellow’s name.

  But then a rune surfaced in his memory—Aleaha. Beauty.

  The groom ran his eyes over Leif’s fine tunic. “How can I be of service, young master?”

  “I’m looking for the boy who cares for my horse, Aleaha.”

  “You mean young Digon, sir?” The groom inclined his head toward the other end of the building. “He’ll be yonder on the training grounds.
He’s working Aleaha right now.”

  Leif passed through the stables, drawn by the sounds of sparring outside. He found Digon riding the bay around a smoking bale of hay while a stablehand with wispy red hair stood close by, clashing two shields together and shouting at the top of his lungs. A particularly bloodcurdling scream was cut short when the old man sighted Leif.

  Digon reined in the mare, then slid to the ground. “Were you wanting to go riding, sir?”

  Leif grinned. “Actually, I was looking for you. Why are you tormenting my poor horse?”

  Digon’s freckled face paled. “Oh no, sir!” he protested. “We’re not doing Aleaha any harm.” He patted the mare’s flank reassuringly. “It’s standard training for warfare. She has to get used to the smells and sounds of battle.”

  “I never knew horses were actually trained for that. But of course it makes perfect sense. Can I help?”

  Digon smiled. “We can always use another body in training. And ol’ Couch here will lose his voice soon. He can’t handle the strain these days. If you were to be a rider, we could have Aleaha practice jumping over me.”

  “I’m not much of a horseman,” said Leif. “Why don’t you jump over me?”

  Digon looked uncertain. “Are you sure? She’s done it before, but the boy who usually trains with me has gone back to his village, and Couch doesn’t like to soil his clothes, as they’re the only ones he’s got. Maybe I should—”

  But Leif was already stretched out on the ground. “I’m ready when you are!”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Digon remounted and brought the horse to a canter, heading directly toward Leif. Leif felt a moment’s apprehension, but Aleaha sailed over him easily and trotted around for another pass.

  This time Leif writhed and moaned a bit, as though he were an injured knight, and again she cleared him with a neat jump.

  For the next pass, Digon made a running circuit around the grounds before pounding at Leif, going full speed. Despite his determination not to, Leif closed his eyes at the last moment as Aleaha leapt over him at a gallop.

  “Ho, ho!” he laughed, scrambling to his feet. “That was something!”

  After that, they worked on getting Aleaha to lie down on command. “It’s for her own protection,” explained Digon, “but also in case she has to serve as a barrier to shield her rider.”

  Leif didn’t like the thought of that. “I hope she’ll never have to go into real battle.”

  “Ol’ Couch says the Nelvorbothians’ll sail to Helgrinia in a few weeks’ time, on the High King’s orders,” said Digon, “but none of our horses here in Drinnkastel will go.” He stroked Aleaha’s nose. “All the same, we must be prepared, in case the Helgrins should attack Drinnglennin again. You heard about the recent raid on Langmerdor, surely?”

  Leif had, but he was surprised it was common knowledge. “How do you come to know of it?”

  Digon shrugged. “Great men don’t pay heed to stable boys. I overheard Lord Vetch mention it to Lord Leeds, the royal commander, when he last visited the castle.” The boy looked up at the sun. “Do you have time for one more round of training?”

  When Leif nodded, Digon disappeared through a narrow door that led under the kitchens, and came back lugging a bucket.

  Leif covered his nose. “What in the name of Styra have you got there?” he groaned. “It smells like something dead!”

  Digon’s own nose wrinkled. “It’s offal—best stand back.” He scooped out a mess of bloody entrails and plunked them on the ground. “This is what battle smells like. Normally a horse will shy away from such a stench, but a war horse needs to get used to it. Here.” He handed Leif Aleaha’s reins. “You ride her around it for a while.”

  Aleaha was skittish of the foul mess at first, but by the end of the training session she could pass the pile of offal without missing a stride. Leif slid off her back and gave her an approving pat. “Surely she’s had enough for the day.” He wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt, then turned to Digon. “So, are you free now? I wanted to explore a passageway I discovered yesterday, leading under the west wing.”

  Digon blinked. “Sir, I—I can’t go into the castle without leave.”

  “You’ll be with me, and I have leave. If we’re challenged, I’ll say I insisted you come along.”

  Digon chewed on his lip. “I got to bathe Aleaha.” He bent to loosen the girth of her saddle. “And then give her a good currying.” He lifted each of her hooves in turn and examined them.

  “I ken do that fer ye,” called the previously silent Couch from the threshold of the stables. “Ye go ahead wid the young master now, Digon. Ye could do wit’ a bit of a lark.”

  “There now!” said Leif. “You have your permission.” And without giving the boy a further chance to refuse, he headed toward the stone stairs. “We won’t need more than an hour—you’ll not even be missed.”

  * * *

  Leif strode down the outer walkway skirting the west wing, with Digon behind him. The covered path offered a cool respite after the hot work in the yard.

  “Here it is,” said Leif, stopping before a narrow door. “I tried it yesterday, and it wasn’t locked, but I thought it would be more fun to explore with a friend.” He thought ruefully of Maura as he swung the door inward, revealing a dim stairway spiraling downward into the dark.

  He pulled a slender candle from his pocket and thrust it into Digon’s hand. “Hold this while I get a light.” From his other pocket, he drew the solaric stone Master Morgan had given him for his birthday. With a scratch against the wall, a spark jumped.

  Digon jerked his hand back. “Gor! I’ve never seen a firestone like that before.”

  Leif grinned. “There aren’t many. Steady now, hold the candle still.” He sparked the stone again, and the wick caught. Taking the candle back from Digon, he said, “I’ll lead. Close the door behind us, otherwise we’ll risk a draft.”

  They descended the short flight of stairs to a surprisingly wide corridor with a low ceiling. Leif’s own rooms were somewhere above, and he surmised this hallway might lead to the gardens below his window, but instead it ran for some distance in a straight line to the west.

  Finally it rounded a turn to the left, and just a few dozen paces ahead stood a door ajar, pale light showing through it.

  Leif laid a finger to his lips. Digon nodded, his eyes wide.

  They approached the door silently. Leif peeked through the crack, and for a heartbeat, he thought he’d somehow been transported back to Mithralyn. The bower beyond was a replica of the one outside Elvinor’s own chambers, although on a much smaller scale, right down to the same stone nymph pouring water into the tinkling fountain.

  As Digon edged forward, Leif instinctively blocked his view. “We shouldn’t be here,” Leif whispered.

  The stable boy’s face paled. “Let’s go back then.”

  Leif froze; someone was talking on the other side of the door.

  Digon tugged at his sleeve.

  “Wait,” hissed Leif, his curiosity roused. “Don’t you hear that?”

  Digon shook his head. “I don’t hear anything. Let’s go, before someone comes.”

  Someone was already there—in the garden. Leif thought he recognized one of the voices.

  “You can’t be serious!” a woman said. “To deal with one of his kind is foolhardy in the extreme!”

  Leif searched Digon’s face and could see that the boy really didn’t hear anything. Still, if they were discovered, it might be assumed he had, and that could be dangerous for them both.

  “Here,” Leif whispered, thrusting the candle at Digon. “You start back. I’ll follow in a minute. Just leave the door above open a bit.”

  Digon didn’t need persuading. Leif waited until he’d scurried off before pressing his ear again to the sliver of light.

  “… power beyond imag
ining.” A man speaking.

  “Have you forgotten about Morgan?” said the woman.

  “We’ve kept him at bay this long,” the man replied, and Leif thought he heard a hint of derision in his tone. “There’s no reason to think we can’t continue to. He’s not the wizard he once was.”

  “I rue the day I agreed to support you,” the woman said bitterly.

  The man laughed unpleasantly. “It’s far too late for second thoughts. You got what you wanted out of our agreement.”

  “Your blackmail, you mean,” she hissed. “If you proceed with this madness, you’ll bring ruin to us all.”

  Leif realized then where he’d heard her voice before—it was the veiled woman who’d sat beside him at the jousting.

  A bell chimed, and the voices abruptly ceased. Leif turned and quickly made his way back down the dark passage.

  When he emerged into the light, Digon was waiting. “What happened? Could you really hear something beyond the door?”

  “No.” Leif tried to look as if he meant it. “I think it must have been the wind.”

  As they walked silently back to the stables, neither of them commented on the fact that not a breath of breeze stirred the air.

  * * *

  Leif’s path crossed Maura’s as she was leaving the west wing. Even dressed for riding, she looked every inch a princess in a cerise gown edged with gold, along with a flat velvet hat of the same cherry red, sporting white feathers and a ruby brooch.

  “Hullo, Leif!” she said cheerfully. “Sorry I missed you when you called before.” She wrinkled her nose. “Whatever have you been up to? You smell of horse. Did you know you have straw in your hair?”

  “Never mind that. We must talk, somewhere in private.”

  Maura’s smile faded, and she dropped her voice. “What’s happened? Has someone found us out?”

  “No, nothing like that, but I’ve something to tell you. I overheard a conversation today—well, part of it— while I was exploring… and I’m not sure what it means.”

  Maura’s drawn brows relaxed. “Can it wait? I’m already late for an appointment with Roth and his cousin Hadley.”