Guardians of the Keep: Book Two of the Bridge of D'Arnath (37 page)

and ugly plains. Then he grinned a very wide grin. “Now teach this insolent servant a lesson, and then we

will go have something to drink and a talk.”

I looked carefully at Darzid, but for once he wasn’t smirking or pretending. Calador was still kneeling

with his forehead on the dirt. My blood boiled over like soup bubbling out of a pot. With the hilt of my

sword I whacked Calador across the back of his head as hard as I could. He toppled over onto the

ground.

Captain Darzid laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Well done. He’ll think twice before

touching you again.”

It felt very good to teach Calador a lesson. I hated him.

We went up to my rooms, and while two slaves washed the blood and dirt off me and dressed me in

clean clothes, Captain Darzid ordered Sefaro to bring food and wine. When I sat down at the table with

him, he poured wine for both of us. “I’ve been waiting for you to demonstrate your power, Gerick. You

control yourself very well.”

“They don’t burn sorcerers here?” I didn’t want to, but I had to ask it.

Darzid laughed and gulped down a great gobletful of wine. “Not as a rule—unless they’re our

enemies—and in that case, any mode of death is fair. No, in Zhev’Na you are free to do as you please

with your talents. In fact, there are those here who can teach you to use them to your advantage, just like

your sword and your knife and your fists.”

I thought about that while I ate. Darzid waited for me to speak, drinking another cup of wine.

“Captain, are the Lords of Zhev’Na at war with Prince D’Natheil?”

“You have assuredly inherited your mother’s renowned intelligence, young sir. Indeed, one could say

that the war between the Lords of Zhev’Na and D’Natheil is a conflict beside which King Evard’s

adventures are no more than a chess match. This is a war for the control of two worlds. And it has been

going on for a thousand years.”

“When do I get to meet the Lords?”

“Quite soon, now you’ve shown your power and learned you are accepted here. They wanted to

make sure you trusted them before revealing themselves to you. They wish to welcome you as a valuable

ally.”

Now he was making fun of me. I wasn’t stupid. “But I’m not a valuable ally. Someday I might be so,

but for now I can only do silly things, baby things. You saw my sword fighting. And I’m not eleven for

weeks yet.”

“The Lords are aware of all this, but, as you will discover, they deem your loyalty valuable beyond

your imagining. There is power to be gained that neither Tomas nor Evard could dream of. There are

battles to be fought that only you can win, and the first engagement is fast approaching. All your courage

will be required, and all your intelligence and determination. I can tell you this, young Gerick. Your life

will be very different from what you might have expected, but if you keep to your purposes, anything you

desire—anything at all—will be yours.” He tugged at my hair a little. “For now, I would advise you to

continue your training. Grow strong and hard like your new home.” He left without eating any supper.

No one cared if I was evil. I didn’t have to be scared any more. I felt like a slave must feel if his collar

is taken away. I couldn’t change things and make myself good. I was what I was, no matter how much I

might hate it, but there was really nobody left to care. Papa and Lucy were dead. Mama would close up

Comigor, move back to Montevial, and be very happy. And I would stay in Ce Uroth, the place that

looked like it was made for people like me, where no one would burn me for making the soldiers march

or making a flower for Lucy. . . .

I sent Sefaro away after he put out the lamps, and then I took off my clothes and climbed into bed. I

was very relieved, so it didn’t make any sense at all that I would pick that night to cry.

CHAPTER 21

One morning after I’d been in Zhev’Na for many weeks, Calador received a message in the middle of

my lesson. I was sparring with a slave who was considered one of the best fighters of my age. The

swordmaster immediately stuck a pole between us to halt the match and kicked my opponent out of my

way. I was furious. Though I had cut the boy several times, he hadn’t yet touched me with his weapon. I

was sure to defeat him at any moment. “I don’t want to stop,” I yelled.

“When you are summoned to wait upon the Lords of Zhev’Na, you do not delay,” said Calador. He

commanded my two slave shadows to bathe me and dress me to be presented to the Lords. A

messenger would be sent when it was time.

The hot water felt good. I liked a bath really hot, and, even though I was excited to meet the Lords, I

had the slaves fill the pool three times. After so many weeks, I was at last getting accustomed to being

undressed around the slaves and having them wash me. I was definitely growing taller, and I wasn’t so

scrawny as I had been. I even had a few scars. And these slaves weren’t like the servants at Comigor

who talked to you, or played games if you wanted, or were interested in you as ordinary people might

be. I didn’t even know their names except for Sefaro. I thought perhaps they didn’t have any.

I wanted to stay in the hot water for a fourth refill, but Sefaro hurried me out of the bathing pool and

dressed me in a new outfit of black and silver. He strapped my weapons on and hung several silver

chains about my neck. Mama would have liked to see me like that. She had always been more interested

in what I was wearing than in anything I did or said. I thought it odd that Darzid had talked about her

“renowned intelligence.” Mama was pretty, but everyone knew she was not at all clever.

Though I was ready by midday, nothing happened for hours. I was so anxious and excited, I felt like

to explode. My summons finally came at sunset, brought by someone in a long gray robe with a drooping

hood that hid his face. Sefaro fastened a black cloak around my shoulders with a silver clasp in the shape

of a wolf. The wolf’s eye was a ruby.

Sefaro touched the back of his hand to his mouth, which was a slave’s way of asking to speak. “You

look quite fine, my young Lord,” he said, when I nodded my permission.

I thanked him, and he bowed. Then the messenger led me away. I wanted to ask what the Lords of

Zhev’Na were like. No one had told me anything about them. But it wasn’t something I could ask a

slave, and the messenger didn’t speak as we crossed the wide courtyards that separated my house from

the keep. The air was cold, something that had surprised me about night in the desert. As soon as the sun

set, the wind picked up, and the heat disappeared like snow on a south slope. I was cold a lot in

Zhev’Na, almost all the time except when I was out riding or running or fighting in the sun.

The keep of Zhev’Na was far larger than Comigor’s, and very different. Where Comigor had thick

walls and broad towers, everything at Zhev’Na seemed thin and lightweight. I wondered how the towers

could stand up so tall or hold out against the wind, much less against an assault. On either side of the

outer gates to the keep were the most amazing carvings of beasts and slaves and soldiers, all taller than

life. I hadn’t ever had a chance to look at them so close, but the messenger beckoned me to hurry, and

truly, the carvings were nothing to what waited inside.

The messenger led me into a chamber that was round and huge, with great tall columns around the

outside. You could have laid the tallest tower of Comigor across the floor and it wouldn’t have reached

the other side. The walls and columns were black. The floor was black, too, and shiny as if it were made

of black glass. At first it made me feel dizzy to look in it, as if I might fall through it. And the ceiling . . .

Well, I wasn’t sure the room even
had
a ceiling, for above me was a moonless sky filled with stars. But I

couldn’t see the Great Arch or the Wolf or the Warrior or any other familiar pattern in the stars, and the

air around me felt like inside, rather than outside. So I couldn’t say whether there was a roof or not, even

though I was sure I had seen one from outside.

Even more amazing than the room itself was what occupied it. Mostly nothing at all for a place so big.

But straight across the room from the doors stood three giant statues, two of men and one of a woman,

all carved of dull black stone. I thought they must be images of kings or gods, for they were seated on

thrones with their hands in their laps. The smallest finger on any one of them was far bigger than me. Even

seated, each was as tall as the walls of Comigor. They were the most fearful things I had ever seen.

The woman’s face was old and stern, and her carved hair was drawn up in a knot on top of her head.

The only color on the statue was her eyes, which were dark green like emeralds, though I had never

heard that emeralds could be so large. The middle statue was of a man with a long arched nose, a wide

mouth, and a forehead so broad that the rest of his face seemed small. His hair hung down to his

shoulders, and his eyes were deep purple, like amethyst. The third statue was even more fearsome than

the others, for it had no face at all, only blood-red rubies for eyes.

I wished that my boots didn’t echo so loudly on the dark floor. This didn’t look like a place where

one ought to make noise. The messenger glided across the floor without making a sound.

From deep in the black floor at the very center of the room came a faint blue glow. The messenger

motioned to me to stand over it. When I did so, a low hum came right through my boots and into my very

bones. I didn’t like it, but I stayed put. The Lords of Zhev’Na were sure to be watching me, and I didn’t

want them to think me a coward.

When I turned to the messenger to find out what to do next, he had gone. I waited for a while.

Nothing else happened. I decided that if the statues were the gods of the Lords, or their ancestors or

heroes, then the thing to do would be to show respect, so I gave a very formal bow, like I would to the

king of Leire. When I straightened up again, I almost yelled, for I could have sworn that the middle statue

had moved.

The floor was still thrumming through my boots, and the pools of darkness and strange blue light kept

tricking my eyes. I tried to watch without blinking, to see if the statue moved again, but I couldn’t hold

my eyes open long enough. When I finally had to blink, the three statues had vanished. Or, well . . .

actually they were there ... the three . . . but they were normal size, not giant. They were three people

dressed in black and sitting on black stone thrones of more ordinary size.

The woman sat on the left. She looked almost exactly the same as the statue, only the knot of hair on

her head was gray, and her hands and face were very pale. Over her eyes she wore a gold mask that

covered half her face, each eyehole filled with an emerald.

Like his image, the man in the center had long hair, a big arched nose, and the broad forehead that

made the rest of his face look small. His hair was brown, and he, too, wore a gold mask; his had

amethyst eyes.

I almost didn’t look at the third person, because I was afraid he would have no face, like the statue.

But I swallowed and turned to the third throne. Again, I almost cried out, I was so surprised. He wore

black robes like the others, and as I watched, his face shifted in the strange light. He wore a gold mask,

too, with rubies where the eyes should be. Even though the mask covered the middle of his face, from his

eyebrows halfway down his cheeks, I recognized him. It was Darzid.

“Welcome, Gerick. Welcome to Zhev’Na on behalf of the three of us.” He smiled in his private,

sneaking way. His voice sounded different—larger than a normal voice, as if he were speaking into a

deep well.

“He gapes like a fish,” said the woman. “Perhaps you should have warned him.”

“He is only a child,” said the man with the amethyst eyes. “Yet he does not flee from us in terror. I

read curiosity in him more than anything. And amazement. A good start, I think.”

“He is exceptional, as I’ve told you,” said Darzid. “Blood will tell.”

I didn’t like them talking about me while I stood in front of them. Mama always did that.

“Gerick, Duke of Comigor, come to wait upon the Lords of Zhev’Na,” I said, remembering how

important visitors would greet Papa. “Is it the Lords of Zhev’Na that I address?”

The man with the amethyst eyes raised his eyebrows above his mask. “Why, yes. You must forgive us

our rudeness, my lord. We are old and forget our manners. I am Parven the Warmaster. To my right sits

Notole the Loremaster, and to my left ... I believe you are acquainted with Ziddari the Exile, who has so

recently returned to us after an immensely long time . . . abroad.”

I bowed at each introduction, though it felt awkward to bow to Darzid who had been my father’s

hired lieutenant. “I wish to thank you all, my lords, for the hospitality you’ve shown me. I owe you a debt

of honor, for I’m certain you’ve saved me from brutal murder. I hope to redeem my debt as soon as I’m

able.”

“Prettily spoken, my lord duke,” said Parven. “It is our pleasure to grant you sanctuary. Consider

Zhev’Na your home, and Ce Uroth as your own country. We think it is very likely that you will be able

...”

“. . . to redeem your debt of honor quite easily.” Now it was Notole speaking. “We are old and