Hirea said, 'Yes, but you can't be thinking-'

'Yes,' interrupted Nakor. 'I must.'

Further debate was interrupted by the arrival of a Deathpriest, escorted by two palace guards. He said, 'I recognize the badges of the Scourge and Sadharin.' He looked down at Bek and said, 'You wear no badge. Which society do you belong to?'

Before Bek could answer, Martuch said, 'He is my retainer, by name Bek.'

'Sadharin. Which house?'

Now they were rapidly getting into murky water, for it was never considered for a moment that any of the visiting humans would undergo this level of scrutiny. Martuch said, 'Langorin.'

The Deathpriest's eyebrows rose slightly. 'Your name?'

'Martuch,' he replied, inclining his head in a deferential gesture that was so slight it bordered on insolence.

'You are known, even here, Martuch of the Langorin. Is this your son?'

'No,' Martuch answered quickly. 'He is from a Lesser family'

Nakor wondered if this might be a ploy by Martuch to get Bek dismissed.

The Priest looked confused, both curious and dubious. 'How is this possible?'

Martuch looked at Bek in such a way he was clearly telling the young man to pay close attention to the story. Nakor knew that Bek at times seemed single-minded, even to the point of simplicity, but he was anything but stupid. He was murderous and bloodthirsty and he took pleasure in others' suffering, but he was no fool. A quick glance from Bek told the diminutive gambler that he would follow Martuch's lead. 'I found him during a hunt. He had been chased down by one of my youngest retainers, the son of one of my most trusted old companions, and Bek had pulled him from the saddle, taken away his sword and killed him.'

'Impressive,' said the Deathpriest, his expression changing.

'Not by half; by the time I reached the struggle, he had killed another Deathknight with his newly-acquired sword and had wounded another grievously. He stood defiant, not a hint of fear, daring me and others to come and die. I knew at that moment I needed to take him into my service, to train him for some special role. Now I understand why I was fated that day to take him in; the Dark One has marked him for a higher calling.'

'Apparently,' said the Deathpriest. He made an imperceptible motion with one hand and the guard closest to Bek moved. His hand shot down to the hilt of his sword and in a single motion he drew it, and with a looping arc, aimed it for Bek's neck. But before the blade had cleared the scabbard, Bek had moved just enough to his right to draw his own sword, reach back and drive it home. While the palace guard's blow cut through empty air, Bek drove his own blade through the man's stomach, punching through his armour and completely through his body, so that the point protruded from his back.

Martuch and Hirea stepped back to draw their own swords while Nakor moved away, ignored for the moment, but ready to defend himself and Bek with whatever 'tricks' might be needed.

But to everyone's surprise, the Deathpriest shouted, 'Hold!' The second palace guard stood ready to attack, but held his place.

Bek grinned at the Deathpriest. 'A test?'

'Impressive,' repeated the Deathpriest. He looked at Martuch. 'You would not be the first head of a family to embellish the accomplishments of a called warrior, to gain reflected glory for your house and society. I found it hardly credible, the story you told, but now...' He glanced to where Bek easily pulled his blade free of the man's corpse and added, 'I believe this young man, with a sword he had never wielded before that night, killed two-'

'Three,' interrupted Martuch. 'The wounded warrior died a short time after.'

'-three of your Deathknights.' He turned to Bek. 'Stand up.'

Bek did so and if he had been impressive sitting on the bench, he was now doubly so, for if anything his Dasati guise had made him even larger and more menacing than he was in human form. Martuch said, 'It was a more than fair bargain. He is the equal of a dozen men.'

'This one will rise quickly, I think,' said the Deathpriest. He glanced at Nakor. 'Is this Bek's Attender?'

'Yes,' said Martuch. 'I gave this thing to him some time ago.'

'Come with me,' said the Deathpriest to Bek, and Nakor followed the young man.

Silently, Nakor sent up a short prayer to whatever kind G.o.d might just happen to listen. He took one moment to give Martuch and Hirea a quick glance over his shoulder, then followed his strange young companion into the heart of evil.

Pug was nearly exhausted by the time they landed. One unantic.i.p.ated consequence of their chosen method of travel had been a particularly vicious flying predator that had a keener perception than most. An almost disastrous attack several hundred feet above the surface of another canton of the city had nearly caused him to lose control, which would have killed them all, less than an hour into their journey. He and Macros together destroyed the flock of winged killers, while Magnus kept them from falling to their death below.

Since that first encounter, Pug had had to fine-tune his spell of invisibility to cover a range of the spectrum beyond that which the Dasati eye could see, as well as somehow defeat those creatures that hunted by heat. He had used his prodigious ability to fashion such a mystical masking, literally on the fly, but the cost had been one of near-exhaustion by the time they reached their final destination.

Valko had endured the journey with a stoicism that would have shamed a Tsurani, Pug thought. If a young Dasati warrior could be termed 'likable', then Valko was such. He only mentioned his almost uncontrollable desire to murder them twice, but the context was how difficult he judged his personal struggle with new concepts and leaving old values behind, which was as close as any Dasati came to being personally revealing, Pug decided. In a very alien way, it was admirable.

They reached a mountain stronghold that was invisible to all but the most powerful scrying magic, but Pug had no difficulty sensing it as they approached. Perhaps it was a result of the manipulation he had been controlling for almost a full day as they jumped halfway around the world. Macros let out an audible sigh of relief when they touched the ground, and said, 'I had none of your burdens, Pug, but I fear my const.i.tution is far less robust than what it once was.'

'Is there any danger in approaching this enclave?' asked Magnus, who seemed relatively fresh despite his efforts over the last day and more. Pug was impressed by his son's endurance.

'Most certainly,' said Macros. 'We would do well just to stand here and let them come to us.'

For nearly an hour they waited, then a last a ripple in the air around the invisible enclosure announced the arrival of a quartet of young women. Pug suspected they were either among the most puissant of the Bloodwitches, or those they could most afford to lose if Pug's group proved hostile.

'You are unbidden here,' said the leader, a striking young Dasati woman who was tall by her race's standards. She had a bearing that set her apart from the others, so Pug a.s.sumed she must be the leader here.

Valko spoke before anyone else. 'I am Valko, Lord of the Camareen, son of Narueen.'

That name provoked a response, but before the women could respond, Macros said, 'And I am the Gardener. We have much to discuss.'

The leader nodded. 'Indeed. You must all come with us.' She stared hard for a moment at Valko, then turned and walked away. The other three stepped to either side, clearly indicating that Pug and his companions were to follow the tall young Bloodwitch.

As they reached the edge of an apparently empty clearing, Pug felt the energy pulse of magic and suddenly a walled fortification appeared. He realized that they had stepped past the boundary of a ma.s.sive illusion, one designed to fool any onlooker until they actually made contact with the boundary. He also suspected that there were nasty surprises for anyone who did if they were not expected by those inside.

The enclave was ancient, Pug instantly knew. It had that look of stones which had been set in place for hundreds, even thousands, of years, worn smooth and seamless by the ceaseless caress of the wind and rain. Corners once sharp were now rounded, and a rut in the stone showed where countless feet had trodden from the gate to the entrance of the main building.

This was the first Dasati construction Pug had seen that was not part of some ma.s.sive urban centre. It was simply a keep. It looked similar in many respects to one that he might find in the mountains of the Kingdom of the Isles, a square stone building with a circular tower rising in the middle, commanding a view of the mountain pa.s.ses below that would warn any lookout of an enemy approach hours in advance.

Inside Pug could feel the vibrancy, which suggested for more than just the bustle of women busily taking care of the day's needs, and in the distance he could hear the unmistakable sound of children. And they were laughing! The tall woman turned and said, 'You must wait here for a moment.' To Valko she said, 'And you must remove your sword and give it to her.' She pointed to another young Bloodwitch.

'Why?' asked the young Deathknight defiantly. His sword was hard won and represented much of who he was and what he had endured.

'Because there are those here who wish you to be unarmed,' answered Macros. 'Please.'

'Please,' was a word rarely used in Dasati culture, and one that usually meant a pleading for life. In this context, it was a simple request, yet a powerful one. Valko removed his belt and scabbard and handed them to the young woman.

The leader of the four Dasati women departed, leaving them alone with the three remaining escorts. The hall in which they found themselves was just what Pug would expect from a simple keep: it was a short hallway, intersecting another with two doors, one at either end, presenting a blank wall to the main entrance. In ancient days, should the main entrance be forced, invaders would have had a short route to awaiting death. Glancing upwards, Pug saw the murder gallery above, down from which would rain arrows, bolts, rocks, and boiling pitch or oil. At either end of the hallway, ma.s.sive doors waited, no doubt equipped with huge bars and reinforced to withstand all but the st.u.r.diest rams. Pug could only speculate, but he imagined this fortification had never been taken.

Unlike the other Dasati buildings in which he had been, this one had decorations hanging on the walls. Ancient banners from the look of them; possibility insignia from antiquity, emblems of houses or societies long vanished. Pug could not tell. One of them, however, looked vaguely familiar, and his eyes kept returning to it. It was simple, a red field with a white glyph in the middle. The shape of it was almost recognizable, a single vertical line, bending to the right at the top and looping down to almost close against the vertical. Below that point, a short single line crossed and below that, another, longer one. Why did he think he recognized it?

Three women returned in the wake of the young woman who had greeted Pug and his companions. The three younger women who had waited with Pug's group departed.

Pug studied the three newly arrived Bloodwitches. They were all older and gave off a strong sense of power. The eldest of them said, 'Who is the Gardener?'

Macros stepped forward. 'I am.'

The older Bloodwitch looked at him for a moment, then said, 'No, you are not. But I know who you are.'

Macros said, 'Then, who am I?'

'You are something very different, and it may take a while to explain, but you have been expected.' She glanced at his three companions. 'We did not expect them, however.' She pointed to Valko. 'Especially not him.'

Pug said, 'Lady, we have come a very long way.'

She was peering intently at him, and Pug knew that he was being regarded by more than simple eyesight, even the more powerful Dasati vision. There was magic at play. He watched her eyes widen. 'Ah, yes. Now I see. Come, we will offer you comfort and refreshment, and we shall speak of many things.'

She led Macros through the large doors on the left and Pug and Magnus followed. Magnus said, 'Father, there's something different here. Something different about these women.'

Pug nodded. 'I sense it too. They are not mad.'

The young woman who had greeted them outside moved to Valko's side and said, 'You are to come with me.'

'Where are you taking me?' he asked with a mix of suspicion and defiance.

'No harm will come to you,' she said. 'Those ahead of us must speak of many things, some of which will concern you and about which you will be told when you need to know. I will talk to you of things about which they have no need to know. It is necessary.' Besides, I would like to know you better.'

'Why?' he asked, his suspicion rising.

She smiled, and it was a very different smile from those seductive and manipulative expressions he expected from young women speaking with the powerful young lord of an important family. 'Because I have heard of you since you were born, Valko. I am your sister, Luryn. Narueen is my mother, as well as yours.'

Valko was speechless as his sister led him into the heart of the Bloodwitch Sisterhood's fortress.

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Accord.

JIM CAME TO A HALT.

It was mid-day and he was close to exhaustion when at last he reached Elvandar. His elf companion said, 'You know the way, I trust.'

'Thank you, Trelan. I can find the way.'

Jim was doubly thankful that he could slow to a reasonable walk. Trelan's idea of a slow pace through the woods was punishing to any but the most extraordinary human hunter or tracker, and Jim was neither a hunter nor tracker, let alone extraordinary. A few elves were crossing the great clearing from the edge of the Elven Forest to the heart of Elvandar. A few gave him a pa.s.sing glance, but none spoke to him. They were an extremely polite people, by Jim's measure, and would speak to him only if he spoke first. And they knew any human this close to Elvandar was welcome.

Jim caught his breath as he approached the first of the giant trees that served as home for the elves of the Queen's Court. He was as amazed now as he had been the first time he visited, several years before. His sense of wonder was hardly diminished by the fact it was now daylight and the sight was even more breathtaking at night. Still, he could make out the faint glow around the trees, a light which was dramatic after sundown. And even in the light of day, the variety of colours was still stunning. Amidst the deep green foliage were trees which only grew in this forest. Most were concentrated in this grove, and they presented a feast for the eye, as leaves of crimson, gold, even white, complemented the deep emerald of the rest. One had blue leaves, and he headed for it, knowing that the ramp up the right side would take him to the Queen's Court.

He nodded a few times to elves going about their day's work cleaning a deer skin, or fletching arrows, cooking over an open fire, or simply sitting in a circle meditating on some elvish matter or another. The elven children, while not great in number were just as boisterous and combative as human young. A pair of boys almost ran him down as they fled from an equally loud group who gave chase. Still, it was a happy noise, that laughter, a sound that barely bruised the tranquillity of the place.

Elven girls played at the feet of their mothers, and for a brief instant Jim felt a rush of envy. If there was a place more peaceful than Elvandar in this world, he could not conceive of it. As fatigued as he was, he could imagine settling down here for a long time.

He climbed the long ramp up the first tree, then transited half a dozen broad paths cut across the tops of huge branches. Some boles had been hollowed out and apartments had been created within them, complete with doors and windows. Some ancient trunks had pathways cut into their sides, winding upwards, apparently without any ill effects to the trees, which seemed to thrive under the elves' magical husbandry.

As he trudged along one of the pathways Jim glanced down and was grateful that he had no fear of heights. Scampering across slippery rooftops inured you to the fear of falling. If you were afraid, you shouldn't climb up where you can fall off, was his thinking.

Still, it was a sobering sight looking down and seeing nothing to break your fall, save some unwelcoming branches and the hard forest floor below. He took a deep breath, more from fatigue than any discomfort at being so high up and continued.

By the time he reached the entrance to the Queen's Court, word of his arrival had already reached Her Majesty. Queen Aglaranna sat on her throne, her husband, Warleader Tomas, seated at her side. She was the most regal being Jim had ever encountered, and he had met his share of human ruler. Not only was she beautiful in a slightly strange and alien way, but she held herself in the easy manner of one used to being obeyed, yet without a hint of arrogance. In fact, if anything, the inherent warmth and kindness she projected added to her aura of n.o.bility. Her reddish-blonde hair was untouched by grey, though Jim knew she was centuries old, and her face was unlined, making her resemble a human woman of no more than thirty years or so, and her deep blue eyes were clear and direct. Her smile was heartbreaking.

The man at her side was perhaps the most daunting figure Jim had ever seen, though he had never shown anything but the utmost courtesy and friendliness when Jim had previously visited the court. Tomas was a strange being by anyone's measure, and while Jim had heard all the stories, he wasn't sure where fact ended and fancy began. The story was that Tomas had been born a human lad, in the keep at Crydee Castle, down the Far Coast. Some ancient magic had transformed him during the Riftwar into a being of astonishing power, half-human, half-... Jim wasn't entirely sure what. He had a somewhat elvish look to him, with pointed ears and an elf's long locks, yet his features also looked... different. The story went that he was the inheritor of an ancient magic, belonging to a legendary race known only as the Dragon Lords. As he had the last time he had visited, Jim was determined to find out more about these legendary beings, if only he didn't become too busy with other matters, as he had the last time he returned to Krondor.

At their side stood two elves, who looked young, though that concept had no meaning here. One was Prince Calin, the Queen's son by her first husband, the long-dead Elf King. The other was Prince Calis, her son by Tomas, and while there was a strong resemblance to their mother in both of them, Calis had inherited a robust look of strength and power from his father that his half-brother lacked. All of them smiled at Jim Dasher as he entered the court and bowed.

'Welcome, Jim Dasher,' said the Queen. 'It is good to see you again. What brings the agent of the Prince of Krondor unannounced to our court, welcome though he may be?'

'I bear grave news, and have need of your counsel, Your Majesty,' he replied.

'You look exhausted,' observed the Queen. 'Perhaps you should rest and revive yourself before we speak.'

'I welcome such an offer, but before I do, allow me to tell you the cause for my arriving unannounced.'

'Please,' said the Queen, her brow furrowed with concern.

'Agents of our enemies, an unnamed band of marauders landed...' Jim paused. He had lost track of time since he had been captured. Had it only been three days? 'They landed three days ago on the sh.o.r.es of the Peaks of the Quor.'

At mention of the location, the Queen and all her advisors stiffened, as if they sensed something dire before he spoke of it.

'With them was a magician of some power, who conjured a being the like of which I've never encountered, and it was only through the intervention of others that we were not destroyed Utterly by this creature.'

'What others?' asked the Queen quietly.

Jim realized she already knew the answer. 'Elves, My Lady. Elves unlike any I've seen or heard of, from a refuge they called Baranor.'

Tomas nodded. 'The anoredhel. They endure.'

The Queen asked, 'How fare your companions?'

'They are taken captive. After rescuing us from the brigands, the elves took us prisoner and marched us to their stronghold.'

'How were you treated?' asked Lord Tomas.

'Well, enough, I suppose, though there was this one fellow who looked ready to cut our throats no questions asked, my lord. But these are desperate people, from the look of them, and I fear they may decide that Kaspar and my companions are more trouble to keep alive than to kill out of hand.' Jim looked around at the faces regarding him. There was something at play here, some elvish business that he was not privy to.

The Queen was silent for a long while, then said, 'Go now and rest, Jim Dasher. Eat and sleep and we shall hold council on what you have said. When you awake tomorrow, we will talk again.'

Jim had no doubt he would sleep through the evening meal once he had laid his head down, so he was not going to argue. Still, his curiosity was now fully engaged and he wanted to know what was going on. Moreover, he worried about Kaspar and the others. They might be cut-throats and brigands but these men were all loyal servants of the Crown and the Conclave, and despite their rough exteriors, all stalwart lads to their core. If he could save them, he would.

At the Queen's behest, a servant conducted him to an apartment within a bole where he found a platter of fruit and nuts and a pitcher of cool water waiting for him. With sudden pangs of hunger, he set to while the young elf who had guided him said, 'I will return with more substantial fare in a few minutes, Jim Dasher.'