Dargonesti lh-3

by Paul Thompson

  “I–I yield to you,” he said, holding out his dagger hilt-first to Eriscodera.

  The colonel took the proffered weapon. His troopers disarmed Coryphene and bound his hands with cord.

  “Put Lord Coryphene on a horse,” the colonel ordered. “We will present him and his royal mistress to the Speaker of the Stars.”

  Coryphene and his escort galloped to the city. Eriscodera and his herald, with Gundabyr riding pillion, returned to the west bank where Uriona was being held by the militia.

  “Why does she wear that mask?” asked the colonel.

  “No one is allowed to look on her face,” Gundabyr explained. “Those that dare are killed.”

  “Shall we unmask her?” suggested a grinning soldier. Uriona stiffened visibly.

  “Certainly not!” Eriscodera snapped. “You will show Her Majesty every courtesy! No one shall lay hands upon her until she is presented to the Speaker. Understood?” The soldier who’d spoken nodded quickly.

  By the time Eriscodera’s party reached the gate at Silvanost, a transformation had occurred within the city. Where scarcely an hour earlier only soldiers could be found in the streets, now the avenues were crowded with delighted Silvanesti. From every window in the city, flowers were thrown, filling the air with sweet-smelling petals. Vixa and her tiny band entered the city first and were showered with joyous greetings.

  The cavalry, muddy but triumphant, entered the city next with the captive Coryphene. He did not look at Vixa as he passed by. Instead he scowled fiercely at the cheering Silvanesti who waved and flung flowers over their victorious troops. He shook the smothering blossoms from his own head with a violent gesture.

  Three phalanxes of militia infantry, who’d never even gotten to fight, swung jauntily into the city, smiling broadly at their reception. Then came Eriscodera, his herald, and a rough cart bearing the masked Uriona. The colonel had always been popular with the common folk of Silvanost, and they went wild as he came into view, breaking their orderly lines and mobbing his horse.

  Vixa waved at Gundabyr, who slid down from the standard-bearer’s saddle and pushed his way through the throng to his friend’s side.

  “Forgemaster,” she said simply, gripping his hand in hers. “What a change in fortune! Can you believe it?”

  “Believe it, lady.” He showed her Coryphene’s dagger. “The blueskins are finished!”

  The levies finally cleared a path for Eriscodera’s horse and Uriona’s cart. After the militia came the warriors who had defended the city until Eriscodera’s arrival. Marshal Samcadaris led his weary troops in a close column of fours, divided into two bands. Between the two came the captured Dargonesti soldiers, over three thousand of them. They were shackled or tied to each other, most of them staring at the street, ignoring the shameful downpour of flowers that rained upon their heads.

  Vixa and Gundabyr joined Samcadaris in the impromptu victory parade. The marshal seemed disoriented. Vixa clapped him on the shoulder and asked him how he fared.

  “I’m numb,” he replied. “I–I had faith in our ultimate victory, but I never dreamed it would be so near a thing, or that it would happen so quickly!”

  Vixa noticed the enthusiasm of the crowd was not so marked for Samcadaris and his brave warriors as it had been for Eriscodera and the militia. Fickle people, she thought to herself. They award the victory to those who’d made such a grand and timely arrival, not to the soldiers who’d labored so hard right before their very eyes.

  The captured Dargonesti were diverted and taken to Tower Protector. There they were placed under guard and given water. Samcadaris detailed half his remaining troops to accompany them. He and the rest went on to the Quinari.

  When they arrived, the streets were packed with spectators. Speaker Elendar, seated in a silk-draped litter atop the steps, with the robes of Silvanos around his shoulders, was receiving a report from Eriscodera about the conclusion of the battle. The huge crowd parted for Samcadaris, Vixa, and Gundabyr. They crossed the palace plaza. At the foot of the steps stood Coryphene, arms pinioned. Beside him, still masked, stood Uriona. The cart that had borne her was being wheeled away.

  They mounted the steps of the palace. The crowd gradually quieted. Samcadaris gave a terse account of the battle. Vixa, covered in soot, dirt, and the blood of friend and foe alike, gave the Speaker a flashing smile.

  “How fares Your Majesty?” she asked.

  “I’ve been told I can expect to live no more than four or five hundred more years,” he quipped. “What fine trophies my warriors have brought me. This is Coryphene, I presume, and the veiled lady his queen.”

  “Uriona,” Vixa said. “The self-proclaimed goddess in mortal form.”

  “So it is sacrilegious to see her face? Well, Marshal, remove her mask. Let all of Silvanost behold it.”

  “Sire, I would not do that,” Vixa said quickly. “Defeated she may be, but Uriona is a powerful sorceress. Also, humiliating her publicly might provoke the captured Dargonesti.”

  “Hmm, yes, I see what you mean. Very well. I shall retire to the Tower of the Stars. Bring them before me, one at a time.”

  He raised his hand, and four bearers hoisted his litter. The Speaker was borne across the plaza to the Tower of the Stars. Samcadaris and Eriscodera went to escort the prisoners.

  “Now what happens?” asked Gundabyr.

  “I’m in the dark same as you, my friend,” Vixa replied. “Why doesn’t the Speaker just throw them in the dungeon and forget about them?”

  Once the leaders departed, the crowd of Silvanesti began to disperse. There was some discussion of the momentous events of the day, but for the most part the elves went quietly about their business. Gundabyr and Vixa watched them, both shaking their heads at the strangeness of it all. Just when she’d begun to think the Silvanesti were not so different from her own people, Vixa was reminded anew how different the two halves of the elven nation really were.

  Chapter 24

  Strange Justice

  Speaker Elendar had taken his place on the emerald throne of Silvanesti. He was pale and drawn. White bandages were visible through the vents of his white and gold robe. An elven youth stood by with a silver ewer of nectar, ready to pour at the Speaker’s nod.

  Of Uriona, there was no sign. Coryphene stood proudly on the raised platform below the throne dais. Someone had provided him with water, which trickled from his jade hair and over his battered armor. Samcadaris and Eriscodera stood at his sides, their hands on their sword hilts. Vixa and the dwarf circled around them, coming to a halt beside the nectar bearer.

  “Hey, lad, pour me a spot of that,” Gundabyr whispered. The willowy youth turned a scandalized look upon his Speaker. Elendar nodded, his smile fleeting.

  “So, Lord Coryphene, what have you to say for yourself?” the Speaker of the Stars asked.

  “Nothing,” was the reply. “You have won. I have lost. There is nothing to say.”

  “Good. I hate long, pointless speeches. Tell me, Cousin, what should I do with this worthy?”

  Vixa had been pondering just that question. Her expression as she looked at the captive Dargonesti had nothing of pity in it. “He’s too dangerous to let go, Sire. I would have his head.”

  “I’m with her,” said Gundabyr, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He held out his cup for more nectar.

  “What do you say, Marshal of Silvanost?”

  The weary Samcadaris inhaled slowly, carefully considering the question. “From what I know, Great Speaker, this one is but an instrument of our true enemy. As such, he deserves some mercy. I would commend him to imprisonment for life.”

  “And you, Colonel? As his captor, your voice carries weight,” said the Speaker of the Stars.

  Eriscodera spoke without hesitation. “I, Great Speaker, would parole him.” Vixa and Gundabyr started in surprise-the dwarf choking on his third cup of nectar.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Vixa exclaimed. “Parole him for what reason?”

  The S
ilvanesti colonel ignored her, addressing himself directly to the Speaker. “Majesty, as lord of a defeated army, Coryphene has no power left. If we send him home in disgrace, his own people will likely disown him. We will not have the keeping of him, and he will not trouble us again.”

  There might have been something in what Eriscodera said, but Vixa couldn’t countenance letting Coryphene go. She enumerated his many crimes, from the sinking of unsuspecting ships with the kraken, to his enslavement of free elves and men, and his murder of many of those same prisoners. To that she added the destruction of Thonbec, and the wrongful deaths of many Silvanesti subjects. During her long, impassioned plea, Coryphene stood straighter, as if proud of the record she recited.

  “Enough,” said the Speaker at last. “I am convinced of the villainy of Lord Coryphene. Hold him at our royal convenience until further notice.” Four guards came forward to claim the Dargonesti. Before he was led away, his eyes met Vixa’s. She flushed with fury at what she saw in them: an arrogance undiminished by his capture.

  When Coryphene was gone, Speaker Elendar sagged back in his throne, his face growing paler. A healer came to him with a vial of yellowish fluid. The Speaker drank some of the nostrum. Coughing, he sat erect again and commanded, “Bring in Queen Uriona.”

  Samcadaris and Eriscodera went to one of the Tower’s small side chambers and returned with the queen. Her silver gown had long since dried, the supple musselbeard cloth looking as fresh and unsullied as if Uriona had spent the day lounging on her throne. Her head was held high, the soft silver mask covering all but her violet eyes. She halted a few paces from the throne.

  “So, lady, your plans are laid low,” the Speaker began. “What are we to do with you now?”

  “You dare not interfere with me,” she intoned. “I am the divine queen of the sea.”

  “I believe we have already interfered with you, lady. As for your divinity, well, you need only exercise it and take yourself away from here.” The Speaker paused, leaning forward. “Any time you wish.”

  Vixa saw the tendons in Uriona’s throat tense and relax, but nothing happened. Titters of laughter circulated among the ladies of the court. Vixa-almost-felt sorry for Uriona.

  “I see you have decided to stay with us,” the Speaker said. “If that is the case, you are my guest. Guests do not hide their faces from their hosts, so I’ll trouble you for your mask, lady.”

  Vixa held her breath. Nothing happened for a long minute. Just as the Speaker was about to order her unmasked, Uriona moved. One long-fingered blue hand came up in a slow, steady motion and took the covering from her face.

  Her finely sculpted features were expressionless. Lavender eyes, surrounded by thick silver lashes, regarded the Speaker of the Stars steadily, unblinking. Without a word, she let the mask drop from her fingers and put up her hands to take the tortoiseshell combs from her hair. Released, it fell in a thick, shimmering mass down to her knees. Sunlight, refracted by the jewels encrusting the Tower walls, sent rainbows dancing in the silver tresses. Speaker Elendar didn’t appear to notice that he had risen to his feet.

  Uriona bowed her head, lifting a hand to her hair once more, as though ashamed of the display she was making. The webbing between her fingers appeared nearly transparent.

  “Lady.” The Speaker cleared his throat and tried again. “Your pardon, lady, for any rudeness,” he murmured.

  “As my conqueror, you have the right,” she said.

  Beside her, Vixa heard Gundabyr sigh. Even the tough dwarf appeared affected by the loveliness of Uriona. The Qualinesti princess was not. She found herself trying to decipher the expression on the queen’s face. Was it contrition? Embarrassment? She doubted that Uriona was capable of either.

  The Speaker sat down heavily, the pain of his injured side suddenly reminding him that rash movement was better avoided for now.

  “The audience is at an end,” he announced, wincing. “Depart, all of you.”

  Everyone bowed and began to file out. Samcadaris inquired, “Sire? What of the prisoner?”

  “Take her-take her to Hermathya’s Tower. See to her comfort and security. See to it personally, Marshal.”

  “It shall be done, Great Speaker.”

  The priests and priestesses of Silvanost released the river from its magical constraints. The process had to be done carefully. All that night and through the next day, the Thon-Thalas rose slowly, gradually. By evening, the river was well on its way to filling its banks once more.

  Vixa sat in her palace room by an open window, watching the river’s return. Bathed, fed, and dressed in clean clothing, she’d stayed by the window for hours. When the day ended, she didn’t rise to light any lamps, but let the growing darkness fill the room.

  The first stars were beginning to glimmer in the purple sky when a soft knock came on her door.

  “Enter.” She did not turn to see who came.

  “Cousin?”

  Vixa recognized the Speaker’s voice. “Your Majesty,” she said, rising quickly.

  “Why, Cousin, I would not know you,” Elendar said, gently mocking. Vixa had forsaken her warrior’s garb for the admittedly more comfortable flowing gown of a highborn Silvanesti lady. The golden yellow robe was a luxury she felt she’d earned.

  The Speaker entered, leaning on a staff and limping slightly. Vixa brought a chair for him, and he gratefully took it. He regarded her, merriment dancing in his almond eyes.

  “The resemblance is even more pronounced now,” he murmured.

  “What resemblance?”

  “To your grandfather, Kith-Kanan. He and my father were twins, if you recall. You have the look of him.”

  Vixa was mildly embarrassed. “I confess I don’t see it. My grandmother, Suzine, was human, and sometimes that’s all people see, all I see as well.” She offered him nectar, which he politely refused. She asked, “What brings you here, Great Speaker?”

  Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. “I–I would like to know your mind about certain things.”

  “Such as Queen Uriona?”

  “Hmm, yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “What is your opinion of her?”

  “She is mad, hungry for power, and should never be allowed her freedom again.”

  “Yes, yes, but what do you think of her?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Cousin, is she not beautiful?”

  Vixa felt her jaw dropping in surprise. So that was the way the wind was blowing. No answer came to her. Of course the Dargonesti queen was lovely to look at, but what had that to do with anything?

  “You are well traveled, Cousin,” the Speaker went on. “You know the ways of the world. My counselors have been pressuring me to marry since I came to the throne. Marriage brings stability, they say. But I’ve never met any maid who interested me. The ladies of the court are all light laughter and mocking gossip. When you arrived, I considered asking you to be my wife-”

  “Me!”

  “Why not? You’re of royal blood, you’re brave and honest, and not bad to look at.”

  “My thanks to Your Majesty,” Vixa said tartly.

  He grinned, then turned serious once more. “It was only a fleeting thought. The nobles and priests would never accept a Qualinesti marriage for me. There’s too much bitterness remaining from the war, and the rivalry of Kith-Kanan and my father. Queen Uriona, however …” His voice trailed off.

  This time Vixa could not conceal her astonishment. “Queen Uriona? You mean you want to marry her?” the Qualinesti princess’s voice was loud with shock.

  “We cannot simply release her. What better way to keep watch on her? She’ll have no allies to plot with, no faction to support any policies of her own. She’s elven, she’s of royal lineage, and”-he shifted in his chair-“she is very beautiful. Why shouldn’t I think of marrying her?”

  “Because she’s evil!” exclaimed Vixa, jumping to her feet. “Because she’s a powerful sorceress capable of any treachery!” The
Speaker’s face reflected mild reproof, and Vixa struggled to rein in her temper. One did not screech at the Speaker of the Stars-even if he was talking blasted nonsense! She sat down again.

  Elendar said calmly, “What better place to keep such a formidable opponent than here? There’ll be none to aid her, and the mages of Silvanost are more than a match for one Dargonesti queen.”

  Vixa tried another approach. “What about the succession? The Silvanesti won’t want a half-Dargonesti as ruler after you, will they?”

  “No offspring of mine will ever become Speaker-be they half Dargonesti or full Silvanesti. That was settled long ago. When my brother, the previous Speaker, died, I was asked to rule as regent for my eldest nephew, but I refused. Then the privy council offered me the throne as Speaker of the Stars, if I would designate my nephew as heir apparent, even above any children I might have later. I agreed.”

  The complexities of Silvanesti politics were giving Vixa a headache. She could muster no argument to change his mind. He had obviously given this matter a great deal of consideration. Shrugging her shoulders, the Qualinesti princess said, “Sire, you must do as you see fit. As for Uriona, she will never love you, only herself. She may even try to murder you, thinking to capture the throne for herself. If you can live with that, then-well, it’s not my place to argue.”

  The Speaker levered himself out of the chair. “I value your honesty, Cousin. Never doubt that my eyes are open to all Uriona’s faults. But I think I shall marry her. I will have the queen of my heart’s desire, foil the reactionary nobles, and live a long life to boot. Good night, lady!”

  The next morning, the palace was abuzz with rumors that the Speaker of the Stars had made a marriage proposal to the Dargonesti queen. There were shocked mutterings, and several of the older courtiers were heard to say that such a thing would never have been allowed in the days of Speaker Sithas. However, since the succession was in no danger, the majority of the nobles supported their Speaker once the initial shock had worn off. The wedding would take place in a month’s time. Repairs had begun on the damaged portions of the city, and the entire capital, of stunning beauty already, would have to be made radiant for the coming nuptials. Everyone, citizen and noble alike, anticipated a grand celebration.