"B"ronth of Utalia!" Prokliam the seneschal proclaimed. Volna the Beautiful nodded. The doddering old seneschal had already told her about the Utalian. She was prepared to receive him now. If he knew what he claimed to know, if he knew the true details of the death of Prince Jlomec, then he must be silenced. Naturally, he wanted gold.
They always wanted gold. But gold was not the way to silence them.
Gold never worked. It only made them greedy for more.
With Volna were, instead of her usual ladies in waiting, two discreet palace guards. Grinning, she looked at their whip-swords. That was the way to silence one such as B"ronth the Utalian.
"He may enter," Volna told the seneschal. Prokliam bowed out, saying:
"And Princess, you will not forget--"
"No, Prokliam, I won"t forget. You hardly knew the Prince Jlomec at all, did you? You certainly couldn"t have been his favorite."
"Princess," breathed the seneschal tremulously as he withdrew.
A moment later, B"ronth the Utalian entered the royal chamber. He wore a snow-cloak. He was all but invisible except for the snow-cloak. He was, eerily, a disembodied cloak floating through air. Although, noticed Volna, if you looked closely you could see the faintest suggestion of a man"s head above the cloak, as if you saw the rich wall tapestries of the room through a transparent, head-shaped gla.s.s.
Likewise, the suggestion of arms and legs....
"You are B"ronth?" An unnecessary question, but Volna had not yet made up her mind what must be done.
"Yes, majesty," the cloak said in a different but somehow unctuous voice.
"You are alone?"
"No, majesty," said the cloak.
"Then--?"
"A girl. A wayfarer of the Plains of Ofrid. I accompany her."
"And the story you have to tell?"
"I realize, majesty, how the royal Princess must grieve at the loss of her royal brother, the Prince. I realize...."
"To the point, man. Get to the point. Are you trying to say you know how Prince Jlomec was slain? You know who killed him?"
"Yes," said the cloak boldly, eagerly.
Princess Volna smiled. Perhaps something in that smile warned B"ronth the Utalian. But of course, the warning came too late. In a quick jerky motion, the cloak retreated toward the doorway. "Princess...."
B"ronth said.
Princess Volna told her guards: "Kill him."
B"ronth the Utalian had time for one brief scream which, if a sound could, seemed to embody all his frustrated dreams of wealth. Then one of the guards moved swiftly, his arm streaking out. The whip-sword in his hand lashed, blurring, toward the cloak. Bright red blood welled, jetted.
B"ronth the Utalian"s head, no longer invisible, rolled on the floor at Volna"s lovely feet. "Clean that up," she told one of the guards.
To the other she said: "Now fetch the girl."
"Mind, lord, I don"t question you," Hultax the Abarian said. "But it"s just--"
"Did you send the message?" Retoc cut him off.
"As you ordered, sire. Yes."
"Good."
"Sire, I hate inactivity. I loathe it. I am a soldier."
"As I am," said Retoc slowly, his hard cruel eyes staring at something Hultax could not--and would never be able to--see.
"So we just sit here in this rented house in Nadia City, cooling our heels. It doesn"t make sense, sire."
"Sense?" mused Retoc. "What is sense? Is it victory and power for the strongest? Well, is it?"
"Yes, lord," Hultax responded. "But--"
"And you sent the message? Our legions will come?"
"Yes, lord. Two days hence they"ll be encamped on the ice fields three jeks march from the city gates. But I don"t see--"
"You obey, Hultax. I see. I do the seeing."
"But I thought you ... the Princess Volna ... together...."
"The Princess can serve me, now. If she can deliver Nadia without a fight, then Tarth is mine, Hultax, don"t you see? In two days all the royal blood of all the royal families of Tarth will be a.s.sembled here in Nadia for the funeral games. If Bontarc"s army doesn"t interfere, then I will be master of Tarth."
"But if Bontarc finds out--"
"That, Hultax," said Retoc with a smile, "is why you sent the message."
"My sire," said the proud soldier Hultax humbly.
Soon, thought Retoc, all Tarth would call him that. _My sire...._
Ahead of Bram Forest loomed the ramparts of the palace. He must hurry.
He knew he had to hurry. He pushed impatiently through the crowd.
Several times men looked up angrily, and would have said something.
But when they saw his face, they turned away.
What they saw in Bram Forest"s face made them afraid.
"Majesty?" Prokliam the seneschal said.
"Well?" Volna demanded. "Didn"t the guards send you for the girl?"
"Majesty, I was thinking...."