The old officer took out a sheet of parchment and a stylus. He wrote for several seconds, then said, “Herald, you will go to the court. Here is your pass. Ask that the Speaker see these people as soon as possible.”
Many of the warriors in the rotunda protested his hasty decision. The old officer glowered and hammered on his desktop with the pommel of his dagger. The warriors fell silent. He finished writing, dusted the parchment with sand, and rolled it up. Tying it with a silken cord, he handed the scroll to Tiahmoro.
“You may wait here until the Speaker grants an audience, lady,” said the desk officer. “I will send word to those on watch.”
For the first time in many days, Vixa relaxed, at least a little. A flush of satisfaction warmed her tired body. She saluted smartly, saying, “Thank you, sir!”
The warriors dispersed, still arguing among themselves about the strange story. Tiahmoro departed, and Vixa lingered at the desk.
“Sir, may I make a request?” she asked softly.
“What is it?”
“If I am to meet the Speaker of the Stars, I would like to make myself more presentable. A bath and clean clothes would be most welcome.”
“Me, too,” grunted the dwarf.
The old elf eyed her torn and stained attire. “We have no female garments here, lady.”
“Soldier’s attire would suit me well, sir.”
He looked at her for a long, considering moment, seeing for the first time the warrior’s bearing beneath the privation and grime. He made up his mind. “Samcadaris,” he called. “See to their needs.”
The soldier led Vixa and Gundabyr away. The dwarf was taken to the soldiers’ common bathing room. Samcadaris escorted the Qualinesti princess to his own room. He called for a bath to be drawn, then departed. Servants brought fresh linen underclothes and an officer’s knee-length robe. Vixa washed the salt and dirt of many days from her sunburned skin. When she got out of the bath, she found the new clothes were an excellent fit. Sometimes her height was an advantage.
Half an hour after she’d left, Vixa was back in the rotunda, refreshed and ready to meet the Speaker of the Stars. Gundabyr was there as well, dressed in clean clothing. The elves had scrounged up leggings and a tunic for the dwarf. The hem dangled below his knees.
“Word has come back,” said the desk officer. “The Speaker of the Stars will see you this night. His Privy Councillors will be in attendance. Your audience will be in the Quinari Palace.”
Gundabyr grumbled at this. He’d hoped to see inside the Tower of the Stars.
The old Silvanesti went on, “Captain Samcadaris will accompany you. Herald Tiahmoro will conduct you.”
A short time later, Samcadaris and the herald reappeared. They had changed attire as well and were now clad in their finest dress uniforms: polished steel breastplates, greaves, and vambraces etched in gold with the monogram of the Speaker, and short red capes. Samcadaris’s helmet bore a plume from the rare golden peacock, the sacred bird of House Protector, indicating that he had distinguished himself greatly in battle.
An honor guard of forty warriors was drawn up in the street outside. Vixa and Gundabyr took their places in the center of the column. With Herald Tiahmoro in the lead, they marched away to the Quinari Palace. Idlers and couples strolling in the mild evening air stepped back and watched the glittering procession go by. They looked at Vixa and Gundabyr with surprise and unconcealed suspicion.
The cavalcade approached the gleaming facade of the palace down a long, ceremonial avenue lined with statues of former Speakers. Silvanos, in the guise of warrior, lawgiver, and father, was here. Next came Sithel, in similar poses, and then Sithas, the tragic Speaker who’d reigned through the Kinslayer War and the sundering of the elven nation.
The Quinari Palace was far larger than the residence of the Speaker of the Sun in Qualinost, and far more elaborate. Three three-story wings radiated out from a central tower. Three hundred feet tall, the tower was made of rose-veined marble. The wings were faced with colonnades of green marble, and each column had been formed by powerful magic into a graceful spiral, in imitation of a unicorn’s horn.
The honor guard halted and opened ranks. Samcadaris waved Vixa and Gundabyr forward. They mounted a long set of wide steps between double rows of fantastically clad warriors. At the top of the steps, two Silvanesti awaited them, one in armor, helmet, and the swinging gold cape of a marshal of the realm, the other richly robed in midnight blue and wearing a heavy necklace of star sapphires.
Samcadaris bowed to these two worthies. “My lord Druzenalis! My lord Agavenes! I and my charges beg leave to enter the palace of the Speaker of the Stars.”
The marshal, Druzenalis, held up his baton of command. “Enter, all. His Majesty awaits within,” he intoned. The civilian called Agavenes said nothing, but Gundabyr and Vixa felt his hard gaze raking over them as they passed.
The interior of the palace was cool and dimly lit. It gave off an essence of great age, and to the nervous Vixa, felt cold and forbidding. She still remembered running and playing with her cousins and siblings in the corridors of Speaker Silveran’s residence. She couldn’t imagine anyone rough-housing or talking above a whisper in this place. It was as solemn as a temple.
Courtiers gathered in side passages to stare at them. The Silvanesti ladies were all fabulously beautiful and fabulously dressed. Vixa tugged uncomfortably at the neck of her borrowed attire. One nervous hand combed her damp hair, which had a tendency to dry into unruly ringlets.
Stop it, she commanded herself. You’re behaving like a fool. How many of these delicate, ethereal beauties, in their robes of silver silk or tissue of ruby, have ever fought chilkit on the bottom of the ocean? These fine damsels in their gauzy trains wouldn’t know one end of a sword from the other. It was certain that none of them had raced through the ocean waves in the guise of a black-and-white dolphin. Vixa’s back straightened. The Silvanesti ladies were surprised to see a smile appear on the sun-reddened face of the tall Qualinesti girl.
Bronze doors two stories tall swung apart for them. The black polished floor beyond was like a mirror. A scarlet carpet led from the doorway deep into the throne room. Columns soared to the dark ceiling. Druzenalis and Agavenes entered first, bowed to the distant throne, stepped aside. Glancing right and left, Vixa saw that Tiahmoro and Samcadaris were as nervous as she. Their faces were frozen; their hands clenched the hilts of their ornamental swords. Only Gundabyr appeared relaxed in the face of this magnificence. Vixa envied him his composure.
They passed beneath living arches of ivy and vines laden with grapes. Off to one side, a band of musicians played a delicate tune on instruments made entirely of glass. Vixa could see a dais ahead, with the throne upon it. Like the Speaker of the Sun in Qualinost, the Speaker of the Stars used a chamber in his palace for the day-to-day running of his kingdom. The audience hall in the great Tower of the Stars was saved for more auspicious gatherings.
Vixa found herself squinting at the throne. It was occupied, but she couldn’t make out any details. It was as if fog veiled the throne dais. Gundabyr, too, rubbed his eyes.
The air around them shimmered. For a moment it seemed a magical illusion, but then they felt a light touch on their heads and faces. It was like a cobweb, no more substantial than that. Gundabyr put out his hand and snagged a wisp of something. The dwarf peered closely at the gossamer threads. Gold! Spun as fine as any spider’s web. Now he was impressed.
Three more wispy veils, and they could see the throne more clearly. The larger, taller seat was occupied, but the consort’s chair next to it was empty. Nobles of the realm stood in two lines on either side of the dais. About five paces from its base, the crimson runner ended. Vixa stopped there, and held Gundabyr back so he wouldn’t violate protocol by approaching too close.
The absolute ruler of the Silvanesti sat in an oddly casual posture-slouched down in his marble throne, one leg straight out in front of him, the other bent. A scroll lay across his lap. Its length spil
led down his stretched leg and lay loosely coiled on the floor. The Speaker of the Stars appeared to be engrossed in his scroll. He didn’t even look up at his visitors’ approach.
Vixa cleared her throat. The Silvanesti lords glared at her. The Speaker looked up from his reading.
He was moderately young, less than two hundred years old, Vixa guessed. He had the hazel eyes and white-blond hair of the line of Silvanos, but Speaker Elendar’s face was surprisingly free of the haughty expression that seemed the norm for his courtiers. While Vixa and Gundabyr studied him, he studied them as well, peering through a gold wire frame in which was set a polished glass disk.
“A dwarf. I’ve never seen a dwarf before,” the Speaker said, his voice deep and resonant.
Quite devoid of self-consciousness, Gundabyr stumped forward and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty.” The air was filled with elven gasps. Gundabyr compounded his indiscretion by asking, “What is that thing you’re holding?”
“My crystal? Oh, I have a weakness in my eyes that keeps me from seeing clearly things that are more than an arm’s length away,” was the calm reply. The courtiers seethed with indignation at the dwarf’s informality, but the Speaker of the Stars seemed unconcerned. “It enlarges things. See?”
Gundabyr took the proffered object and held the two-inch-wide glass disk to his eye. “By Reorx!” Turning to Vixa, he exclaimed, “I want one of these things! All those late nights I spent at the forge, trying to read recipes from the Forgemaster’s Journal …”
Speaker Elendar regarded the dwarf with unconcealed amusement. “I shall have one made for you, Master Gundabyr. And you,” he said to Vixa, “are said to be my cousin. Is this true?”
She bowed as she would to her uncle, Speaker Silveran. “I am Vixa Ambrodel, Sire. Your father and my grandfather were brothers.”
“Yes, but not very good brothers.” There was no malice in his tone. He smiled at her and added, “And now you’ve had quite an adventure, haven’t you? Oh, yes, I’ve heard it all, Cousin. You lead an active life, like all those of the line of Kith-Kanan.” The Speaker sighed.
Vixa could have sworn that there was a wistful quality to his words, as though the Speaker of the Stars, for all his power and prestige, envied her.
Agavenes and Druzenalis had come up behind the others. The Speaker asked the marshal about the current military situation.
“Great Speaker, since the destruction of Thonbec, there has been little sign of the invaders. We have reports from farmers and fisherfolk of the enemy on both sides of the river, but none have been seen more than a league north of the fortress,” reported Druzenalis.
“And what do you make of that, Marshal?”
Druzenalis did not even glance at Vixa and Gundabyr. “I say it is a diversion, Majesty. It smells of Qualinesti duplicity,” he replied coldly.
Vixa was outraged. “What? How dare-”
“What sort of invasion is it that fails to follow up on a significant victory?” the marshal went on. “Thonbec has fallen-so where are the enemy? Had they struck within a day of the citadel’s fall, the element of surprise would have been on their side. I believe, if anything, this is a diversion from the true attack, which will come from the west.”
More shocking than the marshal’s accusation were the nods of agreement from the assembled Silvanesti nobility. Vixa exploded, “That’s ridiculous! The Speaker of the Sun is devoted to peace! Everyone knows that!”
“I have stated my opinion.” Druzenalis put a hand on the hilt of his short ceremonial sword. “Great Speaker, I think this girl is a spy and a deceiver. I say she should be thrown into prison. Let her ponder the unwisdom of trying to make fools of the Silvanesti.”
The Speaker leaned forward, his blond eyebrows rising. “It is strange the enemy has not invaded Silvanost yet. Have you an answer for that, Cousin?”
Vixa took a deep breath. Angry ranting would do her no good. She must make her case calmly, sensibly. “Majesty, the Dargonesti are used to living in the depths of the sea. I can think of many reasons why they have delayed-the sunlight blinds them, the fresh water of the river could be distasteful to them, their kraken may be unmanageable-”
“The outlander is delaying,” Druzenalis cut in. “Send her to prison, Sire. And the dwarf as well.”
Until now, Samcadaris had remained silent, intimidated by his surroundings. At last he found his tongue. “Great Speaker,” he said cautiously, “may one who witnessed the fall of Thonbec speak his mind?”
The Speaker nodded. “By our leave.”
“Everything Lady Vixa and Master Gundabyr told us at Thonbec proved to be true. The Dargonesti are real. I have seen them, fought them. Twice the warriors from the sea attacked the fort, but always by night. If I were their commander-” He glanced around nervously as if to gauge how far he could go. “If I were the Dargonesti commander, I would not have attacked yet either.”
“And why not?” sneered the marshal.
“Silvanost is an island. The surest way for a water-dwelling foe to lay siege to a city as large as ours is to envelop the island.”
“With ten thousand troops? It cannot be done,” Druzenalis snapped. “A hundred thousand, or more, would be required to encircle Fallan!”
“In conventional terms, yes, sir. But the Dargonesti have an advantage. They can attack us on land, but we can’t touch them under the water.”
Vixa saw what the captain was driving at. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “The Dargonesti don’t need to defend their lines against attack, therefore they don’t need thousands of troops. By strategically placing their forces around the island, they can attack at will. And they can always retreat to the safety of the river.”
The Speaker’s relaxed posture vanished in an instant. He turned an intense gaze upon Druzenalis. “Could this be true, Marshal?”
Druzenalis was looking disconcerted, but he tried to wave off his junior’s ideas. “Assuming these enemies even exist, then perhaps-”
“I saw them!” Samcadaris said with heat.
“Me too,” Gundabyr put in. “And an Ironbender doesn’t lie!”
Gundabyr and Vixa were glaring at the marshal. Druzenalis kept his eyes fixed on the Speaker. The growing tension was diffused by calm words from Speaker Elendar.
“It seems you have brought a timely warning, Cousin,” he said, smiling at Vixa. “You and Master Gundabyr will remain here in the palace as my guests. Captain Samcadaris, you have served your country bravely. You are dismissed as well, with our thanks.”
At a gesture from the Speaker, two servants stepped forward. Vixa and Gundabyr bowed to the throne, and the servants escorted them from the room. She sent Samcadaris a questioning look, but the Silvanesti captain only shrugged. Vixa sighed. They had delivered the warning. Now it was up to the Silvanesti.
As they were ushered out of the audience hall, the Qualinesti princess heard Druzenalis begin a haughty denunciation of her and her story. Lord Agavenes joined in, agreeing with the marshal. Vixa was surprised to find herself feeling a bit sorry for the Speaker. He seemed to have inherited retainers from his father’s reign. Like most old retainers, each thought he knew better than anyone else-better, even, than the Speaker of the Stars.
Chapter 20
The Sword of Balif
Under the wind-tossed waves near the mouth of the Thon-Thalas, the Dargonesti were gathering. Queen Uriona’s servants erected a seaweed canopy to protect their queen from the sun’s rays in the relatively shallow water. Uriona’s throne, laboriously borne here from the distant city, was set under the canopy. The throne itself was a low, four-legged, backless chair carved of blood coral and inlaid with precious stones. Its wide seat curved up slightly on each side into arms shaped to resemble leaping dolphins.
Coryphene escorted Uriona to the place prepared for her. The queen, her face covered by a soft silver mask, seated herself.
“When will you be ready to attack?” she asked in the shrill, clicking tones of the water
-tongue.
“Soon, Divine One,” Coryphene replied. “The army even now moves to encircle Silvanost. Once I join them, we shall begin the assault.”
She nodded. Her lavender eyes-all that was visible beneath her mask-stared absently at the pearls stitched down the sleeve of her robe. After a moment, Uriona murmured, “I should be with you at the ancient capital. I should be ready to enter my city once the land-dwellers are defeated.”
“Majesty, we have discussed this. You must not be placed in danger unnecessarily. Wait, just a little while, until the enemy is conquered.”
“Are you so certain they will be overcome? Your army is few. The drylanders are many.”
“They cannot stand against us!”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “But it is well I have brought the Shades of Zura with me. If the fight proves too much for you, their magic can be brought to bear on the Silvanesti.”
“I have no need of them,” he said angrily. “I shall conquer by spear and lance, not by veils of clouds.”
All at once her abstracted expression vanished, and she turned a penetrating look upon him. “Victory is within our grasp, Coryphene,” she said softly. “I see the city in our hands. I hear Quoowahb cheers ringing through the Tower of the Stars as I am crowned queen of the ancient race. Go, Lord Protector. Liberate my city.”
“Silvanost will soon be yours, Divine One. I swear it on my life!”
Coryphene sprang up, his powerful legs sending him racing through the water. Once he was lost from sight, Uriona waved a hand, dismissing her hovering attendants. The mask moved slightly as the queen smiled.
“Soon, my brother gods, soon Uriona Firstborn will sit upon the most ancient throne of the elves,” she whispered. “Once I am crowned in the Tower of the Stars, my destiny will be complete. No power on Krynn will be able to oppose me. No power on Krynn!”
None of the Dargonesti had ever been in fresh water before, nor so close to land. A few were made ill, but the nausea and light-headedness passed quickly. The great majority found it exhilarating, like swimming through water churned up by a great storm. Coryphene was among the latter. The Protector of Urione, with a small escort, moved swiftly through the river. Once he had joined his troops, the battle for Silvanost would begin.
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