Dargonesti

Chapter 24

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 Silvanesti 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.

Gundabyr couldn’t believe his ears. “It’s time for me to go home,” he said morosely. “I’ve heard of some strange marriages in my time, but I never heard of a bride who gained her groom by besieging his city!”

Vixa agreed heartily. “I’ve no wish to remain and see Uriona achieve her dream. Maybe not queen of all the elves, but certainly queen of Silvanesti!”

They went to make their good-byes to the Speaker. He was downcast when he learned they intended to depart. “The wedding will be immense,” he promised. “Ten days of feasting! Actors, jugglers, and singers are being summoned. The clerics are building a chapel of glass under the river just for the ceremony! You should remain for that at least.”

Gundabyr was tempted. Ten days of food and drink was certainly something to consider. The presence of Uriona, however, was certain to turn the food to ashes and the nectar to vinegar. They both declined. The Speaker settled for showering his new friends with rich gifts of clothing and jewels, not forgetting the magnifying lens he had promised Gundabyr. He asked how they planned to get home.

“Walk?” said the dwarf.

“Ride,” said Vixa firmly. “If Your Majesty would loan us horses.”

“I shall do no such thing. You will have a griffon from the royal stable. You can fly home faster than the wind!”

He clasped hands with Gundabyr, and Vixa was surprised to find herself embraced. She returned the gesture warmly.

“May the gods favor you in all things, Cousin,” Elendar said sincerely. “Master Gundabyr, you and Lady Vixa are welcome in my realm at any time.”

They thanked him again and took their leave. Outside, the morning sun was promising a hot day. Vixa looked across the city to Tower Protector, a frown on her face.

“I have one more errand left,” she told Gundabyr. “I’ll meet you at the royal stable in an hour.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

Vixa walked to Tower Protector and entered without challenge. Though the nobles of Silvanost might disparage her for her heritage, the warriors respected her valor. She found Samcadaris and told him she desired a favor.

“Anything, lady,” he said simply.

“I want to talk to Coryphene.”

The marshal was surprised. “You’ll not harm him-he is in my charge.”

“I won’t touch him,” Vixa promised.

She climbed to the top floor of one of the smaller towers. There in the center of a round room a large glass box had been formed by magic, sealed tight but for some finger-sized holes along its top. The box was filled with water. It was Coryphene’s prison cell.

He stirred when she entered. He still wore his warrior’s clothing, though without armor. Vixa came close to the thin glass barrier.

“What do you want?” he asked, addressing her in Elvish. His voice was muffled by the water and the glass, but she could understand him.

“I’ve come to say good-bye. I’m going home.”

At her words his head came up, and he stared at her. “To Urione?”

“Qualinost,” she corrected. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“You are a sister of the sea now. The call will be irresistible.”

She laughed. “At Thonbec, when my freedom and credibility were at stake, it wasn’t so irresistible. I couldn’t even change into a dolphin.”

“Foolish drylander. Do dolphins live in rivers? Only seawater makes the change possible.”

“In any event, that’s not important. I came to pass along some news no one else may have bothered to share.”

“What news?”

“Uriona is marrying the Speaker of the Stars in one month’s time.”

If she had hit Coryphene with a club, she couldn’t have stunned him more. His arrested expression and sudden stillness were most gratifying.

“You lie,” he said at last. “You say so only to wound me. Uriona is mine.”

“In a month, you’ll be able to hear the marriage pipes from here,” Vixa said with a shrug. “Uriona never loved you. You were only a tool for her ambition. When greater power came her way, she grabbed it.” The Qualinesti princess stepped closer and raised one finger to tap the glass barrier that separated them. “Ponder that, Lord Protector. Think of Uriona in the palace with the Speaker of the Stars, as you live the rest of your days in this glass bowl.”

The angry flush had gone, leaving his face pallid and frozen. Vixa turned to leave, her mission accomplished. Nothing disturbed her enjoyment of the moment. She had only to remember Armantaro, Harmanutis, and Vanthanoris-none of them ever to return to Qualinesti soil-and all pangs of conscience vanished instantly. Let him sit alone in his crystal prison thinking of his love marrying another.

Vixa descended to say farewell to Samcadaris. Halfway down the long staircase, she heard a crash above, followed by the sound of rushing water. Rivulets flowed down the steps behind her. She stood immobile for an instant, then another sound filled the air. It was a scream, which stopped abruptly.

The Qualinesti princess’s face was blank. On the ground floor hall of the tower, she found the warriors rushing outside. She followed them. At the door stood Samcadaris.

“It’s Coryphene!” he exclaimed. “Somehow he erupted out of his cage and threw himself from the window!”

“Is he dead?” Samcadaris nodded, and she said flatly, “Good.”

He stared at her. “What did you say to him?” the marshal demanded.

“I only told him of the Speaker’s coming marriage.”

Samcadaris looked shocked. “You told him-”

“Coryphene chose his own path from Watermere to this tower,” she responded in a cold voice. “I will not grieve for him.”

The Marshal of Silvanost regarded her in silence for several seconds, then he did an odd thing. He saluted. Vixa returned the gesture. Her coldness melted, and she said warmly, “You are a fine elf, Samca. Thank you for believing in me back on that beach.”

They said their good-byes, and Vixa made her way to the royal stables. A fine, large griffon was saddled and ready. It had the magnificent head, neck, and wings of an eagle and the torso and hindquarters of a lion. A plumed lion’s tail fanned the air behind it. Panniers hung down on each flank, loaded with fine gifts and provisions. Gundabyr stood off to one side, regarding the beast dubiously.

“Are we supposed to ride this thing?” he asked. Since the high-backed saddle was even now being cinched on the griffon’s back, his question was obviously rhetorical.

Vixa smiled. “What’s the matter, afraid of flying?”

“So long as we stay dry, I can handle anything.” The dwarf climbed onto a tall mounting block and was assisted into the saddle. Vixa mounted in front of him. The great animal shifted under their weight, turning its fierce head to regard them silently. The handler gave Vixa the reins. There was no bit, of course. The reins were connected to a leather halter. The Qualinesti princess had never flown a griffon before, but she wasn’t about to let the Silvanesti know it. She took the reins confidently.

“What’s his name?” she asked the handler.

“Her name is Lionheart, lady,” was the smooth reply.

Vixa nodded as the handler stepped back. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Ready, Gundabyr?” He grunted an affirmative, and Vixa snapped the reins. “Away, Lionheart!” she cried.

The beast spread its great wings, took a few steps forward, and leapt into the air.