Lochivan scratched his throat with his free hand. The young Zeree saw that the rash had spread; the Tezerenee’s skin was red and dry, almost scaly. She almost felt a compulsion to touch her own throat, but she knew that it was not a rash that afflicted her. Only a collar.
“Matters came up.” The warrior would not elaborate on the subject, but continued, “Tonight is intended to make up for that. You will see Darkhorse at the audience.”
“Will I be able to talk to him?”
“That I cannot say.” Replacing his helm, Lochivan reached for her arm. She gave it to him with great reluctance and only because she now desired the audience. He smiled through his helm, but Sharissa turned away, choosing instead to look forward. Her companion grunted and began to escort her to the Lord Tezerenee’s court.
The two of them had barely started when another warrior came down the hall. Lochivan stiffened, and Sharissa instinctively clutched his arm tighter. The Tezerenee coming toward them weaved about as if either drunk or wounded. No blood decorated his breastplate or his dragon-scale armor, but neither did he appear to be inebriated.
Lochivan was furious. He released Sharissa and stopped before the newcomer. “What is the matter with you?”
“Painnnn…” the Tezerenee rasped. He refused to look up. One arm wrapped across his torso, while the other helped him guide himself along the corridor. Sharissa’s fear turned to sympathy. Now that he was closer, she could see that he was wracked by pain. Tezerenee or not, he needed help. The concerned sorceress reached for him, but Lochivan barred her with one arm.
“Leave him be.” To the bent-over figure he commanded, “Stand up! Remember that you are Tezerenee! Pain is not a consideration!”
Sharissa glanced at her companion, who had, while he talked, almost become his father.
“Yesss… yes, my lord!” The warrior straightened, but his body quivered. He did not look at the two, however, and Lochivan did not seem inclined to press the suffering warrior for any more.
“That is better! Have someone look at you! You may go!” Lochivan turned away with an imperious air about him, as if the warrior no longer existed in his eyes.
“By your leave,” the trembling figure managed to get out. He marched away, stumbling now and then.
Sharissa watched him vanish down another hall. She whirled on Lochivan.
“That man was practically dying! He could have found someone to look at him by now if you had not insisted on appearances!”
“I held him for only a short time. He is a Tezerenee; he is trained to live with pain.” He took her arm. “Now, come! The Lord Barakas Tezerenee awaits you!”
She allowed him to take her arm, but made it clear with her tentative touch that she loathed his very existence. Since his treachery, the sorceress had seen Lochivan in a new light. Many of his mannerisms now appeared forced, as if the true Lochivan was some creature hidden within the body that walked beside her, a creature that only played at humanity. He might as well have been a drake instead of a man.
They had walked little farther when they arrived at their destination. Two iron doors, again flaunting the dragon or drake that was the symbol of the Tezerenee, stood before them. Even as they neared the doors, guards reached out and opened the way for them. Within the chamber, someone who evidently had remained alert announced their coming.
“Lady Sharissa Zeree! Lord Lochivan!”
Sharissa was just wondering whether all the Tezerenee went by “Lord” or “Lady”-all of the patriarch’s children did-when the sheer immensity of the grand court finally struck her.
The chamber almost seemed designed to hold the entire clan, plus every outsider loyal to the patriarch. The ceiling floated so high above her head that, had it been colored the same as the sky, she would have been willing to believe that they were outside. Banners hung everywhere, almost as many as there were Tezerenee. Fully armed guards lined the walls from the entrance to the marble dais on the far end. Wary handlers kept leashed young drakes under control. On the shoulders of several of the assembled figures, both armored and not, were perched hunting wyverns.
“Come along,” Lochivan whispered. She had been so over awed by the assembled throng and the massive dimensions of the chamber that she had paused.
Ahead of them, seated on tall thrones that were, in turn, located on the uppermost level of the dais, were the lord and lady of the Tezerenee. Lady Alcia sat in regal splendor, calmly observing the two newcomers. Lord Barakas, on the other hand, leaned on an elbow and brooded over some thought. From his expression, it was clear he barely noticed Sharissa or his son.
Between and a step behind the thrones stood Reegan. His hands were behind his back, and he stood as if inspecting his legions… which, in a sense, he was doing. For the first time, she saw him as the power he would become should Barakas die. He only needed more tempering, something the patriarch wanted her to take a part in.
I might as well marry a drake!
Lochivan continued to walk her down the long, carpeted path that led to the clan master and his bride. When they were nearly halfway there, Barakas finally looked up. By the time they had reached the end of their journey, an open area just before and below the dais, his eyes had become fixed on her.
“Lady Sharissa,” Lochivan announced, at the same time falling to one knee in deference to his parents. Sharissa made no move to follow his example; she was no Tezerenee, and kneeling would be seen only as a weakening of her will. Instead, the captive sorceress nodded to her hosts, beginning with Lady Alcia.
Barakas gave her a patient smile. “My Lady Sharissa Zeree. Welcome.”
She said nothing. Beside her, Lochivan rose.
“Your reluctance to be here is understandable, and your will is admirable. You have been very patient-”
“I’ve had no choice!” the sorceress snapped.
“-and I hope that soon you will be able to dispense with that uncomfortable collar.” The patriarch went on without pause. He straightened, and turned to the rest of those assembled. “Loyalty is utmost. Obedience is rewarded and defiance is punished.”
On an unspoken signal, a Tezerenee brought forth a large box. It was elaborate in design and, although Sharissa’s senses were dulled, very likely magical in some respect. The warrior knelt before Barakas and presented it to him. Nodding, the patriarch took the object and dismissed the newcomer. Barakas turned back to Sharissa and her unwanted companion.
“Please be so kind as to step back.”
Lochivan took her arm and pulled her gently but firmly to the front row of the assembled followers. As he did, he whispered, “Say nothing! Watch first!”
Sharissa, who had been on the verge of speaking, clamped her mouth shut. She had wanted to ask again where Darkhorse was and when she would be able to see him. She had even planned on mentioning how the patriarch had promised her and then apparently broken his promise. Despite the absolute power he wielded among his clan, Barakas was a slave to his pride.
“We have come into our own once again!” the Lord Tezerenee uttered. His hand ran along the side of the box, as if he were caressing it. The young Zeree realized he was performing some sort of spell as he spoke. “Our powers are still far from their glory, but they have increased, almost as if we are linked to Nimth once more!”
The last statement made Sharissa frown. There was something in it she felt she should know about, but what that was she could not say. What concerned her more at the moment was the box and its purpose in all of this.
“I now demonstrate for our guest some of the extent of our might!”
He opened the box.
“Freeeee! By the Void! Freeee!” The near-mad voice bellowed in relief. Sharissa felt the floor vibrate as the prisoner of the box burst forth, still screaming its happiness at being released.
A thick black substance poured from the box to the floor below the dais. As it flowed, it took on shape, becoming more and more one distinct form. Sharissa needed no one to tell her who it was; his voice alone had sufficed.
“The emptiness! All alone! Curse you, Barakas Tezerenee! Only you could make a place more horrifying than
