The Siege (8 page)

While there was a time when he could have stilled his thoughts by retreating into the Reverie, Galaeron had lost touch with that facet of elf nature when he allowed his shadow to invade. Instead of slipping into a semi lucid trance of memories and the shared emotions of other elves, he sank into the same insensible, nightmare-filled slumber as humans.

But this night even sleep would not come. He passed the black hours staring out into the darkness, listening to the city clatter past beneath his balcony, replaying the same thoughts and doubts over and over again until the gloom paled from night-ebony to dawn-gray and Aris came striding out of the murk carrying his statue of Escanor’s battle against the phaerimm.

Already completed, the piece was Aris’s finest yet, so flowing it seemed in danger of writhing from the giant’s hands. The prince’s figure was noble and majestic, one hand still stretched toward the phaerimm he had just killed as he twisted around to face his new attacker. The creature itself was connected to him by the tail piercing his abdomen, and also by two hands wrapped around his throat, an artistic license taken to impart the impression that the beast was hovering beside him unsupported.

“Aris, it’s magnificent!” Vala said, joining Galaeron on the balcony as the stone giant stepped into the courtyard. “You did that in one night?”

“I could not have finished without Malik,” Aris said. The statue was at balcony level, and the giant was speaking down from above. He half-turned toward the empty gate. “He did most of the polishing.”

“And what has this favor cost you?” demanded Ruha, stepping out of the colonnade to meet them. “An arm, or a soul?”

“That is no business of yours, shrew,” Malik said. “You cannot be expected to understand what one friend does for another, since you have none of your own.” He craned his neck up toward the balcony. “You would do well to make yourselves decent. The prince is on his way here.”

“The prince?” Galaeron asked. “Which one?”

“Escanor, of course,” Malik said. “If you are wise, you will benefit by my experience and do nothing to encourage him to return. There is no thief worse than a royal.”

Galaeron glanced at Vala, who merely shrugged and turned to don her armor—by Vaasan standards, a far superior mode of dress to any of the dusky gowns Hadrhune’s servants had delivered. Galaeron opted for his scout’s cloak, as even the coarsest Evereskan cloth was considered extravagant by non-elves.

By the time they had changed and joined the others in the courtyard, Escanor’s entourage was pouring through the gate. Tall even by Shadovar standards, the prince was visible in the middle of the group, his coppery eyes glaring out over the heads of his escorts. Galaeron and the others dropped to a knee and waited while the guards took their stations around the perimeter of the courtyard.

Escanor went directly to Aris’s statue and circled it slowly, running his fingers over its smooth stone. When

he came to where the tail barb punctured his stomach, he winced visibly and turned away, craning his neck to address the kneeling giant.

“Very lifelike,” he said. Though Escanor had spent three days in bed recovering from the removal of the phaerimm egg, he showed no sign of weakness. “I could swear it’s moving.”

“Thank you,” Aris said. “That means much, coming from you.”

“In truth, I am so fond of it I would like it for my villa,” Escanor said. He motioned an unarmored servant forward. “Mees will pay whatever you think fair.”

“Pay?” Aris seemed to puzzle over this for a moment, then said, “Unfortunately, I have already promised this piece to Hadrhune.”

A collective gasp went up from the entourage, then Escanor snapped, “To Hadrhune?”

“For the Most High, Esteemed Prince,” Malik said quickly. “Though I am sure Aris can make another in no time at all, especially considering that price is of little concern.”

“Another?” Aris echoed. “Why should there be two?”

“There are many good reasons,” Malik said, daring to rise and start toward Escanor’s entourage without permission. “I’ll tell them all to you later, but first let me speak with the prince’s steward.”

Escanor motioned his guards to stand down and glared at the little man as he crossed the courtyard. When Malik had nearly reached the steward, the prince said, “Malik, would you really want to affront the Most High by copying a palace treasure?”

Malik’s face went pale. He began to stammer an apology, but Escanor waved him silent and started across the courtyard, motioning for the others to rise.

“Seeing the statue was only one of the reasons I asked

to show you the way to the palace.” He stopped in front of Vala and took her hands in his own. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Rapha tells me you were really quite the trazt fiend.”

Vala actually blushed, and Galaeron instantly resented the way her green eyes held the prince’s gaze.

“It was nothing,” she said, leaving her hands in Escanor’s. “Your attacker was distracted.”

Galaeron edged closer to Vala. “You turned away at the wrong time, Prince, or you could have killed it yourself while it was teleport-dazed.”

“Yes, a pity I could not read your mind,” Escanor said, fixing his coppery gaze on Galaeron and releasing Vala’s hands. “You were right to hold the phaerimm in the cavern. It would have been dangerous to let them escape with the secret of the Splicing.”

Leaving Galaeron to fume, Escanor turned to face Ruha. “You are the Harper pursuing Malik?”

“I am.”

Escanor regarded the little man as though he found this difficult to believe. “Is he really such a terrible criminal?”

“It would not do to underestimate him, Prince,” Ruha said. “Those who do often pay for the mistake with their lives.”

This drew a fang-filled smirk from Escanor. “Then I am glad you are here to watch him, Harper, but mark well Hadrhune’s warning—Malik has committed no crime in this city, and if he does, it will be our justice that settles the matter.”

Ruha inclined her head. “My only desire is to see that he does no more harm than he already has.”

“Good.” Escanor turned to Vala and gestured toward the gate. “If you and your friends care to accompany Galaeron, it would please the Most High for you to see the palace this morning.”

Vala nodded and started forward. Galaeron stepped to her side, making sure to place himself between her and Escanor as the others closed around them. Whether the prince noticed the maneuver was impossible to say, but Vala’s frown was unmistakable.

As the entourage left the gate, she leaned in close and whispered, “Your shadow is showing, Galaeron. What do you think is going to happen?”

“Nothing I can help.”

A twinkle came to Vala’s green eyes, and she surprised him by smiling. “So you are jealous.”

“Elves don’t feel jealousy—and even if we did, there’s nothing to be jealous about,” he said. Though the feelings they shared for each other had grown too strong to hide over the last few months, Galaeron remained reluctant to act on them. Not only was Vala a human who would grow old before his eyes, she had promised to stay with him only until his shadow crisis ended—or she was forced to end it for him. After that, she would be returning to her son in Vaasa, and Galaeron did not think a few months of love worth the heartbreak of watching her leave—that was going to be hard enough already. “I don’t want you to forget your promise.”

“Why would I?” Vala asked.

Galaeron shrugged. “Because the prince is powerful and wealthy, and you humans have such a weakness for fleeting pleasures.”

“Galaeron,” she said, shaking her head wearily, “fleeting pleasures are not weaknesses! They’re the stuff of life.”

Vala looked away, and the entourage continued up the street. Paved in a duller version of the same black stone that lay in Villa Dusari’s courtyard, the avenue was narrow and winding, meandering through a canyon-like labyrinth of dusky buildings so tall that even Aris had to crane his neck to look up at many of the residents who

called greetings and fond wishes to Escanor as the procession passed. There were not many side streets, and those that they did intersect always ran uphill to the left and downhill to the right. It slowly grew apparent to Galaeron that they were spiraling up a gentle mound, though one so encrusted in looming structures that its terrain was all but impossible to discern. As they ascended, the villas grew ever larger and more magnificent, eventually becoming so enormous that it required the entourage close to a minute to pass by.

As they passed one of the largest, a many-spired mansion with flying buttresses and a line of long barrel vaults leading into the shadowed interior, Prince Escanor stopped long enough to wave in its direction.

“My abode,” he said. “I hope you will attend me here soon, when we are not quite so occupied with our war duties.”

Though Escanor took pains to address himself to all his guests, Galaeron—or his shadow—knew that the invitation was meant primarily for Vala. Biting back the urge to suggest that the invitation would come the first time only Vala was free to answer, he merely looked up the street and inquired how much farther it was to the Palace of the Most High.

Escanor waved him on. “Not far.”

Indeed it was not. Just past the prince’s home, the street opened into a broad hilltop piazza surrounded by similar mansions, all with their grandest entrances facing center. In a ring around the plaza stood a forest of gloom sculptures, all rooted in urns of polished obsidian with a single ribbon of shadow rising in the ever-shifting figure of a Shadovar warrior or wizard. Not far from Escanor’s mansion stood the only likeness Galaeron recognized, that of the Shadovar who had helped cause the release of the phaerimm, Melegaunt Tanthul.

“The Ring of Heroes,” Escanor said, waving his hand at the wall of figures. “Everyone represented here died accomplishing some great service to Shade Enclave.”

“There must thousands!” Vala gasped.

“Tens of thousands,” Escanor said. “Shade Enclave is an ancient city with ancient enemies, and much of our time in the shadow plane was spent defending ourselves from the assaults of the malaugrym.”

“The malaugrym!” Ruha gasped. “Then the phaerimm must seem weak enemies to you, indeed.”

“Different, but not weak. The first rule in the shadow plane is never to underestimate an enemy,” Escanor said. He turned to Aris. “If you wish, I will have someone teach you to read the stories of the gloom sculptures in their changing shapes.”

This drew a rare smile from the giant. “No gift would please me more.”

The prince had only to glance in his steward’s direction, and Mees said, “It shall be done this day.”

Escanor nodded and turned to Galaeron. “You are wondering what Melegaunt’s story says about you?”

Galaeron shook his head. “Only if it’ll say he’s honored for drawing Evereska and Waterdeep into the war against the phaerimm.”

Vala started to hiss a reproach, but Escanor stopped her with a raised hand. “We must expect him to be suspicious.” Despite the prince’s patient words, the color of his eyes had deepened to angry red. “I think we should hurry to the Most High. Galaeron’s shadow is making him foolish as well as distrustful, and that is a bad sign.”

Escanor led them through a hundred paces of gloom sculptures and emerged on the far side of the Ring of Heroes. Directly ahead stood the dusky grandeur of the Palace Most High, its seamless walls fashioned of polished obsidian and its shadowed spires vanishing into

the umbral haze above. like so much in Shade Enclave, it seemed all sinuous curves and exaggerated proportions, with a shape that could not be named, nor even held in mind for more than a passing impression. Paying no noticeable attention as a company of Shadovar spell-guards snapped to attention, Escanor steered his entourage into a keel-arched portal so high that Aris barely had to duck his head.

After passing through a short vaultway, the entryway opened into a vast hall of glassy curves and dusky translucence where every buttress soared into darkness and each corridor vanished into shadow. A hundred or more high-born Shadovar drifted in and out of the doorways, or stood rasping in tight knots of conversation, or sat patiently on the benches along the walls, their gem-colored eyes glowing bright against the murk at their backs. Ignoring the bustle of murmured greetings and inquisitive stares shot the entourage’s way as it passed, Escanor marched his group down the center of the floor to a crowded seating area outside an enormous pair of guarded doors.

The detachment commander kneeled and informed Escanor that he had already sent word of the prince’s arrival. A few moments later, one the doors opened and Hadrhune slipped out to inform them that the Most High was engaged and would see them as soon as he was able.

Escanor’s eyes looked as though they might burn holes through the chamberlain. “You informed him that I am here with the elf?”

Hadrhune met the prince’s angry gaze without flinching. “He is with—”

“Did I ask who he was with?” Escanor growled, stepping toward the door.

Hadrhune turned to cut him off. “I’ll announce you now.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Escanor said, catching the door as the chamberlain tried to close it. “The elf should begin his studies at once.”

“Of course.”

Hadrhune waved Galaeron and his companions through, but Mees, Rapha, and the rest of the prince’s entourage remained behind. They found themselves in a room even murkier than the great reception hall, where the gloom fell on their skin like ash and wisps of shadowstuff floated past in long smoky ribbons. As Hadrhune and Escanor marched the group forward, the voices of unseen whisperers rose and fell in the surrounding darkness, and cold chilblains rose to prickle Galaeron’s skin.

Finally, they approached a set of whispers that did not fade and, as they continued walking, eventually hardened into the fuller tones of normal speech. Galaeron recognized one speaker as a female and the other as the voice that had addressed him in the Wing Court. Before they drew near enough to understand what was being said, Hadrhune had them kneel and press their brows to the floor.