Shadow of a Dark Queen (20 page)

Ellia looked pointedly at his face, studying his eyes. As if reading her thoughts, he pushed back his long hair to show her the upswept, lobeless ears that marked elvenkind. She sighed in relief. “Safe . . .” she repeated. Her tone showed she scarcely believed.

Miranda said, “You will learn that you are as safe here as anyplace on this world.”

Ellia nodded, hugging her knees to her chin as she closed her eyes. After a moment, a tear appeared upon her cheek and she sighed.

Galain left her to her memories, and spoke to Miranda. “You make an impressive entrance.”

Spitting the word, Miranda said, “Snakes.”

Galain's eyes narrowed. “The serpent men?”

Miranda nodded.

Galain said, “We will leave as soon as the boys awake and eat. Sleep now if you can.”

Miranda didn't need convincing. She lay upon the damp ground where she sat, and within moments was fast asleep.

The boys rode upon the shoulders of Galain and Althal, while Ellia and Miranda hurried along. Miranda knew they were not moving as quickly as
they would have been able to unburdened, but she had to struggle to keep pace. Only Ellia's awkwardness gave her some small comfort, for it was a lifetime living in the woodlands that gave these elves their surefooted passage in the undergrowth, not their race.

The boys had awakened and eaten, and without discussion the party had left the campsite near the river. They had moved for the better part of the day, and had paused only long enough to eat some dried meat and fruit at midday. Then they had moved steadily through the trees until an hour before dusk.

Galain had gone hunting while Althal made a fire. Within the hour, Galain had returned with a brace of rabbits. While not sumptuous fare for four adults and two children, there was enough so that no one slept with hunger pangs.

Morning came too quickly for exhausted children and two tired women, but they were again on the trail as the sun rose in the east. By noon they encountered a patrol of hunters who quickly exchanged information with Galain and Althal. The conversation was lost upon Ellia, who was ignorant of the subtleties of elven communications, and Miranda missed a great deal.

Near midafternoon, they came to an enormous clearing. Ellia stumbled, her mouth opening in awe, and even Miranda was impressed.

Across the clearing rose a mighty city of trees. Boles to dwarf the mightiest oak rose high above them, blotting out the sky. A canopy of leaves formed a massive roof above the trunks that stretched away beyond sight. Dark green, the awning of treetops was punctuated by an occasional tree of a different color, some golden, others white, a few sparkling with
emerald or azure lights. A soft glow seemed to tease the limits of vision, as if a magic haze enveloped the entire area.

Galain said, “Elvandar.”

They crossed the clearing, and as they approached the nearest trees, Miranda could see figures moving. Workmen labored, curing hides, fashioning weapons in forges, and carving wooden implements. Others fletched arrows, worked stones, or prepared food. But the common nature of these tasks took nothing from the impact of the city itself; Elvandar was perhaps the most magical place upon the world. Soothing sounds, rather than the loud noise of workers, filled the air, and voices were musical rather than harsh.

Reaching a giant tree, Miranda saw stairs had been cut from the living wood of the huge trunk.

“If you have a fear of heights, say now, Miranda.”

Miranda came out of her revery and saw Galain studying her and Ellia. She said nothing, shaking her head, and Galain led them upward.

As they climbed, Miranda saw that some of the larger branches were flat on top, forming narrow roadways upon which elves walked, moving from tree to tree. Many of the trees were hollow, and what seemed to be small dwellings were fashioned inside.

The elves who passed smiled in greeting, and several were openly delighted upon seeing the twin boys. Most wore leather, brown or green in color, but others wore soft robes, decorated with gems or beads. All were uniformly tall; some were fair, but others were as dark of hair as was Miranda.

A few wore furs and carried weapons, with metal-studded armbands and necklaces of gold set with
precious stones. These looked openly at the women in curiosity, and their expressions were less friendly when turned upon Galain.

As they passed, Althal spoke. “The glamredhel are still not completely at ease here. But then they've been with us but a short time.”

“How long?” asked Miranda.

“Those two who passed, not yet thirty years.”

Miranda had to suppress a laugh. “Barely a long visit.”

Galain turned and smiled, showing he understood her humor. She wasn't sure if Althal shared his understanding.

To the back of a large branch a platform was anchored, and from it rose a stairway of wood and rope. Mounting it, the two elves escorted Miranda and Ellia to another, larger platform, and along a broad thoroughfare. This led to a maze of platforms, small markets, and meeting areas, and at last they reached a gigantic platform, dominating the very heart of Elvandar.

Entering, Galain led them to the center, where he faced two figures sitting upon a dais. He and Althal gently put the boys down and bowed. “My Queen,” Galain said, “and Tomas.”

The woman was impressive, a regal-looking elf with golden-red hair and eyes the color of ice-blue glaciers. Hundreds of years old, she looked much as a human would in the prime of youth, her face unlined and her body still straight and limber. Her features were chiseled and delicate, but there was strength in her bearing.

The man at her side was even more striking, for he was not quite human or elven in appearance. Six
inches over six feet in height, he was broad of shoulder and deep in the chest without looking bulky. His eyes were an even paler blue than his companion's, and his hair was sun-streaked yellow. His features were human: even brow with straight nose, full but not soft mouth. Yet somehow an agency had molded those features, casting an alien image over them. He was too regal to be handsome, yet when he smiled, a boy's charm appeared.

The woman rose and Miranda bowed, and Ellia looked confused. At last she curtsied clumsily, while the boys clung to her.

Ignoring formalities, the Elf Queen came up to Ellia and gently took her in her arms and embraced her. Then she knelt before the boys and touched each upon the cheek. She said something softly, and Ellia said, “I don't understand.”

Galain said, “Our Queen speaks to your companion.”

In the Keshian dialect most like Ellia's, Aglaranna said, “I said, ‘You bring us treasure.' Your sons are beautiful. We are so much the richer for their joining us.”

Ellia's eyes welled with tears as she said, “They look like their father.”

Tomas rose, and as he crossed to stand before Ellia, he said, “It is not the way of my wife's people to speak the name of those who have traveled to the Blessed Isles. In his sons he lives on. You are more than welcome here.” To Althal he said, “Take these newly come to us and find them a home. See to their needs.” Then he addressed Ellia. “You are safe here, and under my protection. No harm will come to you or your sons in Elvandar. At first our ways will seem strange to you,
but you will come to know that they are your ways, truly, and that your fathers' fathers had been apart from us too long. Welcome to your true home.”

Weak with relief, Ellia allowed herself to be led away, one child holding fast to each of her hands. When they had left, Tomas said, “And who are you?”

“A friend of your son's,” answered Miranda.

Galain leaned upon his bow and said, “I thought your name familiar.”

Tomas's expression remained neutral. He motioned for Miranda to come away from the dais and led her over to a table, where several elves had placed refreshments. Motioning for a few members of the Queen's court to attend, he said, “How is Calis?”

“Disturbed,” answered Miranda. “Has he told you his mad plan?”

By the fearful expression on Aglaranna's face, she could see he had. Tomas nodded.

“Well, for better or worse, I'm helping him.” Then she shook her head. “Though how much good I'm doing is . . .” She picked up a pear and bit into it, chewed, and swallowed. “Now, the snakes know someone with some talent was snooping around their army.” She explained what had happened: her scouting the advancing army across the sea, the encounter with Ellia and the boys, her escape, and the final attack at the bank of the river.

After she was finished, Aglaranna said, “It was unlikely they'd think their mad campaign would escape the notice of those with power for long. It may be they think you one of any number of magicians or priests.”

Miranda nodded. “And they have no way of knowing where I am. The one who found me is in no condition
to tell them. The others might suspect I'm here, but they won't attempt to breech your defenses . . . yet.”

Tomas said, “We can speak more of these matters in the morning. You should rest. Night is almost upon us and you look fatigued.”

“Oh, that's what I am,” agreed Miranda, “but by morning I plan on being a great distance from here. There is much to be done and little time in which to do it. I must seek out your son and confer with him, and next convince some otherwise reasonable men to agree to a most foolish and dangerous undertaking. Then I can be about other business. I hadn't planned on coming here straight away, but now that I'm here, can you tell me something?”

“What?”

“Where I can find Pug?”

Tomas glanced at his wife and said, “We've not seen him for years. The last message I had from him was seven years ago. He said he was concerned over the reports my son brought back from his last voyage to Novindus. He had consulted with the Oracle of Aal, and . . .”

“And what?” prodded Miranda.

Tomas's blue eyes regarded Miranda for a moment, as if measuring her. He said at last, “He said he feared that his own powers would be lacking in the coming battle and he needed to seek allies.”

Miranda smiled and there was nothing of humor in that smile. “His powers were lacking.” She shook her head. “Who else on this world matches him in power, save you?”

“Even my powers pale compared to what Pug can do if need be,” answered Tomas. “My arts are set by my heritage, and are as, they were at the end of the Riftwar,
fifty years ago. But Pug, he studies and learns and masters new things yearly, and it may be no one since Macros the Black can approach his might.”

At the mention of Macros, Miranda made a sour expression. “Much of what is alleged about his prowess was based upon his listeners being gullible, by all reports.”

Tomas shook his head. “I have been places you could only imagine, woman. And I stood at Macros's side in the Garden of the City Forever, and I saw the creation of this universe. He may have been a man given to overboasting at times, but not by any great margin, I will avow. His powers approached the gods', and his skills would be welcome in the coming fray.”

Miranda said, “Still, by all reports the Black Sorcerer is fifty years vanished from his realm. So then, whom could Pug be seeking?”

Aglaranna said, “Find the where, and that may tell you who.”

Tomas said, “If he is not upon this world, then I suspect you must go to other worlds. Have you the arts?”

Miranda said, “If I don't, I can find those to help me who do. But where to begin the search?” She looked at Tomas. “Reputedly, you and Pug were as brothers. You would know where to begin the search.”

Tomas said, “I can think of only one place, but it is much as if I said search the sea for a particular fish. For the place to begin searching is as vast as any place in all the myriad possible universes.”

Miranda nodded, saying, “The Hall of Worlds.”

Tomas nodded, too. “The Hall of Worlds.”

R
oo stirred
.

He felt a hand on his leg, and in his sleepy state he brushed at it weakly. He felt it clamp down and suddenly he was wide awake.

An ugly face loomed over his, leering and grinning. “You're an ugly sod, boy but you're young.” It was the nervous man with affected speech of the day before who was now fondling Roo's leg.

“Ah!” shouted Roo. “Keep away from me!”

The man laughed. “Just having a joke, me lad.” He shivered. “Damn cell will give a man his death. Now shut up and go back to sleep, and we can both get warm.” The man turned over, back to back with Roo, and closed his eyes.

The brute called Biggo, who had regained consciousness an hour after being tossed into the cell, said, “Don't terrorize the lad, Slippery Tom. This is the death room. He's too much on his mind to be thinkin' of romance.” His speech had the lilt of Kornachmen of Deep Taunton, rarely heard in the west.

Slippery Tom, ignoring the jape and the accompanying laughter, said, “It's a cold morning, Biggo.”

Seeing Erik now awake, Biggo said, “He's not a bad sort for a liar and murderer, is Slippery Tom; he's just scared.”

Roo's eyes widened. “Who isn't?” he said with a frantic note in his voice. He closed his eyes tight, as if to shut out everything by force of will.

Erik sat back against the unyielding stone wall. He knew Roo had spent a fitful night, awakening several times shouting in his sleep as he wrestled with personal demons. Erik glanced around the cell. Other men slept or sat quietly in their place as the night wore on. Erik knew that the bravado Roo had exhibited since awakening in the cell the day before had been some sort of madness: he couldn't accept the inevitability of his own death.

Biggo said, “Spanking young bottoms is common enough in the prison gangs, but Slippery is just looking for someone warm to cozy up to, lad.”

Roo opened his eyes. “Well, he smells like something died in his shirt last week.”