The Dark Glory War (17 page)

“While that would likely be more fun than this reception, that’s not possible.” Lord Norrington sighed. “Since we all have knowledge of what happened at Atval, Cooper and the others will be reporting to the barracks housing the queen’s honor guard. Heslin and his apprentice are meeting with the Masters of Magick in the city’s Arcanorium. Leigh and I will attend the feast, and you two will accompany us as our aides. Duke Larner said he couldn’t imagine a Norrington being present without a Hawkins at his side and decided that Leigh could also not be present without an aide. The duke had servants rifle other nobles’ baggage for suitable attire for us. Get dressed; they’re sending a coach for us inside the hour. We’ll go, you’ll speak only when it is demanded of you and, if you can, enjoy yourselves.”

To our surprise all of us managed to find clothing that fit pretty well. I ended up with a blue pair of trousers, a red silk shirt, and a black leather jerkin with blue trim. I got one of the innkeeper’s boys to apply lampblack and wax to my boots, which made them shiny, and I ended up looking quite sharp. Nay received red pants, a blue shirt, and a black jerkin, and Leigh managed to dress in red from knees to throat and wrists.

In the coach on the way to the feast, which was being held in the Grand Hall of Fortress Gryps, we got a quick lesson in protocol. As far as Nay and I were concerned, we were outranked by everyone who would be present save the serving staff—and both of us knew better than to want to anger them by being presumptuous. Leigh bristled a bit when informed he only outranked us. Still, being of noble blood, he would be announced and would be expected to offer his good wishes for the festival.

Leigh sat back to figure out what he was going to say, and I could see the gleam in his eyes. I had no doubt he was trying to dream up some sort of rhyme, and I hoped it would be a good one. Somehow I didn’t think he was getting the full import of where we were going or what we would be doing. I mean, I was just going to be standing around trying my best to be out of the way, and I was pretty sure that was well beyond my ability to handle.

We arrived rather quickly and were ushered into a side hall. Fortress Gryps, which was the nearest of the three to the docks, had a massive stone block construction that seemed to be scornful of anyone mounting an assault against it. Stout columns upheld vaulted ceilings which seemed to me to be the product of later renovations, since the stones used were different from those in the walls. Windows had been fitted with stained glass, which must have been magnificent in the daytime, but was hardly the sort of thing the original builders would have put into a fort. Fortress Gryps almost seemed to be an old warrior in the twilight of his life, now given to entertaining younger generations with stories of the past.

Slowly people started to file from the side hall on into the Grand Hall. As we got closer to the front, after nearly an hour of waiting, I could hear someone announcing each party. As we got to the point where we could see what was going on, it became apparent things happened exactly the way Lord Norrington said they would. He would be announced, I’d trail behind him, he’d drop to one knee before the queen, give her a greeting, and then move on.

Finally we reached the head of the line. The chamberlain, a maskless, skinny man with a few strands of black hair on his head and a handful more of teeth in his head, tapped a staff against the floor. “May I present Lord Kenwick Norrington of Valsina, from Oriosa.”

Though Lord Norrington wore borrowed clothes like the rest of us, he had brought with him—as was his right and duty—the formal mask he was privileged to wear. It marked him as a grand warrior and stalwart leader of men. Though many of the guests arrived in finery the like of which I’d never seen before and would likely never see again, none of them looked as impressive as Lord Norrington.

The mask covered him from the corners of his mouth, back up over his head and flowed down into a full cape. It had been created from the skin of a temeryx he’d slain. The white feathers reflected a rainbow of lights with the delicacy of an oil-film on still water, always shifting as he moved. Battle ribbons had been eschewed and instead certain of the feathers at the crown had been stained the appropriate colors. A white-gold clasp held it closed at his throat and the entire cloak closed down around him as he sank to one knee before the queen and lowered his head.

“Majesty, it is an honor to be in your presence, as it is to be in your service. It is my hope that your festival will prove profitable and auger a future free of fear and full of prosperity.”

Queen Lanivette, slender and elegant, regarded Lord Norrington with piercing blue eyes. Her white hair seemed a match for his cloak, and the smile slowly growing on her face a match for Lord Norrington’s grace. She leaned forward and stroked the feathers hiding his left cheek.

“Kenwick, you are always one of my favorites. Seeing you is a pleasure, doubled when it is unexpected.” Her words came low in tone and barely above a whisper, but somehow it seemed as if everyone knew she was pleased with him. “We will find time to speak more, later.”

Lord Norrington stood, then moved to the right, and I followed in his shadow. I turned back to watch Leigh be announced and wondered at the poem he’d offer, but all I could see was some commotion. A tall figure eclipsed Leigh and stalked forward. He wore buckskins the color of mustard for boots, trousers, and a sleeveless jerkin that had only loosely been laced up the front. The tattoos on his arms and his shock of white hair confirmed that he was Resolute, and I wondered why I’d not identified him immediately.

A second’s thought told me the answer because Resolute stalked forward in a patchwork furred cloak with no lining. It flapped back on itself, then snapped forward against his legs. It had been sewn together with rawhide strips, and as he drew close I realized the mottled fur came from the scalps he’d harvested from gibberers.

Resolute stopped on the spot where Lord Norrington had stopped, but did not lower himself to a knee. He pressed his right hand to his breastbone and looked about, taking in not only Queen Lanivette, her son, Scrainwood, and daughter, Ryhope, but all of the various royals and nobles who had been announced before us. He nodded once, slowly, then spoke.

“I am Resolute. I am Vorquelf. I have no rank or standing, yet I am here.” He lowered his hand and allowed the gibberer cloak to close over him. “I am come to tell you all that Aurolani forces have ranged even into Oriosa, as far south as Atval, and I demand to know what you will do to end this scourge once and for all time.”

A ueen Lanivette rose from her chair, restraining her son by I I pressing her right hand to his shoulder. A sapphire ring on Y one finger matched the huge sapphire hanging about her neck, and both complimented the blue satin gown that swished as she stood. She lifted her chin and smiled, though her eyes tightened beneath her mask.

She kept her voice even, but enough fire came through it to make me wince for Resolute’s sake. “I am not unaware of what you allege. It is my intention to speak with my fellow rulers on this matter.”

“Talk is all you have done, for three of your generations.” Resolute thrust a finger toward Lord Norrington and me. “Ask them what good talk is against gibberers and vylaens and temeryces. A century ago I was unhomed, and in that century I have heard an eternity of words. I have never seen action.”

Before the queen could respond, another elf slipped between courtiers and spoke rapidly to Resolute in a tongue that, while lyrical, had been sharpened with edges that were meant to cut. The male elf stood not quite as tall as Resolute, and likely weighed a third less than the well-muscled elf. The willowy slenderness of his form was repeated in the fineness of the long black hair that flowed over his shoulders and down the breasts of his dark blue satin coat. His clothes had been styled similarly to those Leigh had worn to the gala, though the lace shirt and the stockings were red, covering the elf in colors that honored the Oriosan royal house.

Most remarkable about him was that his eyes appeared to be very human. They had a pupil and the majority of the color had been locked into a tight band around it. While his eyes never approached true white because of the hint of gold still there, the vibrancy of the gold in his iris gave his stare a metallic intensity as harsh as a summer sun at noon. It sharpened his fair features and even seemed to make him taller.

Resolute barely turned his head toward him, almost like a dog casting a baleful glance at a cruel master. “In the common tongue, so they can understand.”

The other elf pressed his left hand over his heart and bowed his head to the queen. “You will please forgive this Vorquelf. He has not learned restraint or proper conduct.”

“I know exactly what proper conduct is—”

“Be silent,nephew.”

Resolute turned toward the other elf. “How dare you command me,grandfather? You are as guilty in this as they are.”

The dark-haired elf again spoke to Resolute in what I took to be Elvish. Resolute replied in kind and a series of quick, sharp exchanges ensued. Resolute clearly intended his words to hurt, but the other elf remained unaffected by them. His replies, little by slowly, took temper out of Resolute’s anger. The Vorquelf pointed a finger at his opponent, said something, then spun on his heel and stalked back out.

The remaining elf immediately dropped to a knee and bowed his head. “I beg your understanding, Queen Lanivette, and your forgiveness. There is no excuse for this, save that the Vorquelves lack maturity. They fail to see reason or to understand things.”

The queen smiled indulgently at the elf. “It is of no consequence, good Jentellin. I, too, deal with those who know the impulsiveness of youth.” She smiled at her son and daughter.

I was feeling very confused and turned to Lord Norrington. “I don’t understand. The one elf called Resolute his nephew, but Resolute called him grandfather. And they’re talking about Resolute like he’s some child at least a handful of years from getting his moonmask.”

“It’s complicated, Hawkins, and I’m not certain of all of it myself.” He smiled down at me. “Forgive me, Tarrant, for addressing you as I would your father.”

I shrugged and smiled. “I don’t mind. I hope I can serve you as well as he does.”

“I’m sure you will. You’ll serve me and serve Leigh as your father served my father before he served me. With a Hawkins to support him, a Norrington will not fail.” Lord Norrington gave me a nod, then turned to address the elf approaching us. He placed his right hand over his heart as he greeted the elf. “My lord Jentellin, it is a pleasure.”

Jentellin crossed his hands over his heart. “A pleasure as well, Lord Norrington. And this, your aide, would be a Hawkins?”

“Tarrant, yes. You met his father, I believe, twenty years ago or so?”

“When the festival was held in Jerana; yes, I remember. Please convey my greetings to your father when you see him next.”

“I will, sir. I mean, my lord.” I belatedly brought my hands over my heart, still surprised to know my father had met an elf. Granted, it was before I was born, but I would have thought he would mention it.

Jentellin smiled at me, then looked at Lord Norrington. “The Vorquelf indicated you had seen what he saw. Shall I take the temeryx feather on young Hawkins’ moonmask to be proof of this?”

“Just proof of the beginning, but not of what we saw or did in Atval. I understand your anger with Resolute, but if not for him, we would likely have died at Atval.”

“Yes, Resolute saved me, and if not for Leigh and his sword …” I stopped in midsentence as Lord Norrington touched a finger to his closed left eye.

The elf drew back and clasped his hands behind his back. “A sword, found in Atval? I would know more.”

“And you shall, I imagine, sooner rather than later. A question for a question? My aide asked about your treatment of Resolute.“

The elf arched an eyebrow at me. “What do you wish to know?”

“You treated him as if he was a child.”

“That’s because heis a child.”

I frowned. “But he’s over a century old.”

Lord Norrington laughed. “Age has nothing to do with maturity, Hawkins. Look around you and you’ll see greyhairs aplenty acting as if they are boys and girls once again.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.”

The elf chuckled quietly. “Resolute, being a Vorquelf who was not bound to his homeland, is very much a child according to our laws and traditions. Our binding to the land of our birth is much akin to your Moon Month. It is a time in which we realize and accept our responsibility. It grounds us, gives us a foundation, and Resolute has been robbed of that foundation. He is very much a child, impulsive and reckless.

“His eyes, you noticed them. They are a child’s eyes. They would have changed to be like mine with his binding to Vorquellyn. Because he does not see through adult eyes, he sees things very simply.” The elf smiled politely. “I am grateful he saved you at Atval, and I can easily comprehend your positive feelings for him.”

Jentellin glanced at Lord Norrington. “This sword you found …”

“My son, Bosleigh, found it.”

“Yes, your son. I take it the blade was remarkable?”

Lord Norrington slowly nodded. “The blade is possessed of serious magick. I’ve watched my son train with a sword and always dreamt he would master techniques, but I learned long ago that he would only ever be a fair swordsman. With this blade he becomes a master—every technique he knows he performed with a precision I’ve not seen in anyone before.”

“Does the blade have a name?”

“Resolute said it was called Temmer.”

The elf grew silent for a moment. “And your son blooded it?”

“Yes.”

Jentellin’s eyes closed and he mumbled something in Elvish. He reopened his eyes and gave Lord Norrington a slender smile. “I am certain Resolute told you horrible things about the blade. It is a rather fell thing. It has been lost for seven centuries, but when last I saw it being employed, it had the effect on the wielder you describe.”

I did some quick mathematics in my head. “Then you are over … but you don’t look … no grey … um, I mean, well, yes, Resolute would be a child to you.”