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the Speaker raised the lid and drew out the papers inside.
"Hmm . . . Master Feldrin's report on the progress at Pax Tharkas . . . the usual
requests for food, clothing, and other supplies . . . and what's this?" From between the
sheets of official correspondence, the Speaker pulled a small folded letter on fine vellum,
sealed carefully with a ribbon and a drop of blue wax.
He returned the other documents to the box and opened the sealed letter. "It's from
Merithynos," he said, surprised.
"Good news, sire?"
"I'm not sure." Frowning, Kith-Kanan read the brief letter, then handed the vellum to
his castellan. Tamanier read Merith's account of Ulvian's near death, his salvation at the
hands of the sorcerer Drulethen, and the friendship that Merith had observed growing
between the prince and Dru.
"Drulethen isn't he the monster who ruled the high pass to Thorbardin during the
Kinslayer War?" asked Tamanier.
"Your memory is still sharp. I'd forgotten the sorcerer was at Pax Tharkas. He
shouldn't be allowed to cultivate my son's friendship; he's far too dangerous." The
memory of another voice suddenly flashed into Kith-Kanan's mind. What was it the god
Hiddukel had said when he'd manifested himself in the Tower of the Sun? You may call
me Dru. It couldn't be coincidence that the god had chosen the name of the evil sorcerer.
Where the gods were concerned, little was left to chance.
Tamanier continued to stand holding the dispatch box. After a long moment of
silence, Kith-Kanan's eyes focused once more on the old castellan. "Return to the house,
Tam," he said briskly. "Prepare for a trip. Small entourage, with a light, mounted escort. I
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want to move quickly."
The castellan's brows lifted. "Where are you going, Great Speaker?"
"To Pax Tharkas, my friend. I'll leave as soon as Lord Anakardain can get back to
Qualinost. I want him to keep order here while I'm gone."
Tamanier bowed and withdrew, head buzzing with the speed of events. Kith-Kanan
remained in the Hall of the Sky a while longer. Standing at the edge of the artificial
plateau, he looked out over his city. One by one, lamps were being lit in towers and on
street comers, until it seemed the star-salted sky was mirrored on the ground. As the
Speaker watched, lights illuminated the sweeping arch of the northern bridge directly
ahead of him, behind the Tower of the Sun. Kith-Kanan turned slowly to each point of
the compass to see the other three bridges similarly lighted. They surrounded Qualinost in
a sparkling embrace.
Despite this glorious vista, something gnawed at Kith-Kanan. The great forces he'd
sensed behind the marvels of the past days now seemed overshadowed by evil. He'd
believed the wonders to be portents of some great event; perhaps they were indeed
portents, but of a darker nature.
* * * * *
The bells clanged, signaling the end of another day of toil at Pax Tharkas. Ropes
were tied off or dropped, tools piled on carts to be taken back to storage sheds, and cook
fires blazed in the twilight. From the parapet of the west tower, Feldrin Feldspar surveyed
the site as Merith stood close by.
"It will stand ten times a thousand years," declared the dwarf, clasping his stout arms
behind his back. "An eternal bridge between Thorbardin and Qualinesti."
In the ruby glow of sunset, the stones of the citadel shone a soft pink. It was a
magnificent yet lonely sight, the great gateway wedged between the slopes of the wide
pass. Merith, who didn't care for heights, kept back from the unwalled edge of the tower
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top. Feldrin stood with his toes hanging over the edge, completely unconcerned about the
long drop before him.
"How long until it's finished?" asked Merith.
"Barring strange quirks of weather and landslides, the east tower can be completed in
six months. The fortress will be habitable then, though the inside details may take another
year to dress out." Feldrin sighed, and it was like the grunt of an old bear.
He raised a hand to shade his eyes from the sun, setting behind the mountains to their
left. Below, the pass was a narrow valley stretching away to the north. A small stream
wended its way through the pass, shadowed now that the sun was nearly down. Staring
up into the dark hollows of the high pass, the dwarf said, "Dust. Hmm . . . could be riders
coming."
Merith moved as close as he dared to the edge of the parapet and looked up the
valley. "From the north?" he queried. That meant Qualinost.
"Probably some dandified courtier or senator from the city who expects a guided tour
of the fortress," growled Feldrin. "I guess this means I have to wash my hands and beard
and put on a clean vest." He sniffed.
"It could be a courier from the Speaker," Merith suggested, "in which case you'll
only have to wash your hands."
Feldrin caught the small smile on the fair-haired warrior's lips. "Very well! A
compromise, lieutenant. I'll wash my hands and beard, but I won't change my vest!"
Chuckling, the two entered the stairwell sunk into the roof of the tower and
descended the long set of steps. By the time they reached ground level and made their
way outside, the rising plume of dust in the pass had been dispersed by the ever-present
wind. There was no further sign of riders.
"Maybe they changed their minds and went home," joked Feldrin. He shrugged and
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added, "The dust must have come from a rockslide. All the better. Let's see what rubbish
the cook has inflicted on us tonight."
In fact, Feldrin's cook was excellent. He did amazing things with the simple fare
provided for the master builder's table. Dwarven food was usually too heavy for elves,
but Feldrin's cook managed to prepare lighter dishes that Merith found quite delicious.
The lieutenant trailed after the fast-moving dwarf. Once more he looked up into the
pass, where they had spotted the dust cloud.
"I wonder," he said softly. "Were they riders, or " [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]