other prisoners.
The battle was over. No living chilkit remained in the area. The three started back to the cave, but armed Dargonesti stopped them, sending them back toward the wall. It seemed they were to join in repairing the breach.
Though they were bursting with questions for each other, and anxious over their princess’s fate, the Qualinesti had to content themselves with working in silence. The airshells in their mouths, and the vigilance of their guards, made any type of conversation impossible.
Armantaro joined the gang that was busy fitting a heavy net around a dislodged stone block. Bladders inflated with air were used to lift the massive block to the parapet of the wall. As the colonel watched, Dargonesti in civilian dress filled the bladders from airshells heaped in a litter borne by other sea elves and closely guarded by soldiers. He counted four large bladders filled from one whelk shell.
The problem, he mused to himself, is to get several of those shells secretly. Perhaps with enough air, the Qualinesti could walk to land.
The colonel paused in his work and stared with a worried frown toward the city, where his princess had been taken. Of course, even if they had airshells, they still faced the dangers of ocean predators and the Dargonesti themselves, not to mention …
Which way was land?
Chapter 7
Coryphene conferred with his lieutenants in their odd, clicking language. In a studied display of nonchalance, Vixa waited, leaning against an ornate pillar by the road. The battle had frightened off all the sea life around the city, except the sharks. Packs of wary dolphins cruised above, chasing predators away from the wounded and the dying.
Coryphene rapped on the road with the butt of his spear. Vixa came out of her reverie and saw him motion for her to follow him back to the city. Bone-weary, she obliged.
Large crowds greeted the victorious warriors on their return. The quays were jammed with Dargonesti of every rank, cheering the repulse of the chilkit. When Vixa and Coryphene emerged from the water, a roar went up. The Protector of Urione removed his helmet but did not acknowledge the acclaim.
Over the enthusiastic cheering, Vixa said, “Your people appear to love you.”
He pointedly took the airshell from her hands. “I am one of them,” he said simply. “And they will love me only so long as I win battles.”
He climbed the ramp. Soldiers with mismatched iron swords appeared, parting the crowd. Coryphene’s personal guard drew up for review as their commander passed by. One soldier, his armor dented from the fierce fighting, barred Vixa’s path for a moment-just long enough to put some distance between her and Coryphene. It would not do for an outsider to intrude upon the Protector’s moment of triumph. The Qualinesti princess, her borrowed cloak lost, stood shivering and dripping, while all around her the sea elves went wild.
An elderly sea elf, clad in a simple silver robe, stood at the end of the guard ranks, his bearing proud. Coryphene halted a few paces from this elderly fellow and raised one hand. Loudly, he intoned, “Greetings, Voice of Her Divine Majesty!”
The elf bowed his head slightly. Vixa was astonished at how quickly the cheering and screeching died down. One minute there were thunderous cries, the next, virtual silence.
The elderly sea elf replied in Old Elvish: “Greetings to thee, great Coryphene, terror of the enemies of Urione. Her Divine Grace desires thou to attend upon her instantly.”
“I would like to make myself more presentable, noble Kytheron.”
“As thou wishes, great Protector. Her Divine Grace desires thee to bring the maiden from the landed race as well.”
Vixa was startled, but Coryphene merely nodded.
The Protector strode away, and Vixa was forced to jog after him.
“My uncle is leader of our party,” she said. “You should send for him. I’m sure the queen would rather meet Armantaro than me.”
Coryphene looked down at her disdainfully. “All must obey Her Divine Majesty. Refusal brings death. Remember that.”
Vixa was shown to a room where the only furniture was a table upon which was a pitcher of fresh water, a fishbone comb, and a small pile of clothing. The Qualinesti princess washed her hands and face, relieved to remove at least a few layers of the grime and accumulated salt. Her hair-kept short because of her warrior status-she rinsed as best she could, then combed back from her face.
A pile of clean garments awaited her. There were several articles that were obviously undergarments and a flowing, ankle-length robe. Everything was made of a strange fabric. It didn’t feel like cloth at all-more like tissue- thin leather, if there could be such a thing. Quickly, she peeled off her salt-stiffened smallclothes, doused herself with the remaining water, and donned the clean clothing. The robe was white and had a wide red stripe winding from hem to neck. It was astonishingly comfortable. Material such as this, soft as silk yet tough as leather, would fetch a handsome price in any market on Krynn. Around her waist she fastened an elaborate girdle of tiny white coral beads. She had to wrap its free ends twice about her, otherwise they would have dragged on the floor.
Coryphene entered unexpectedly. Vixa whirled, her hands still occupied with tying the belt. “Don’t you believe in knocking?” she snapped.
“Her Majesty awaits. Come,” was all he said.
He was resplendent in a long purple cape and jeweled torque. On his head was an elaborate headdress of shells and gemstones. Coral beads hung down in long streams across his bare chest. His fresh kilt was held up by a heavy, braided gold sash. Wide ankle bracelets completed his outfit.
They walked out of the barracks and down the narrow street to the ramp. An honor guard of twelve Dargonesti in silver robes met them. On the way, Coryphene advised Vixa on protocol.
“Do not speak unless you are spoken to,” he told her. “Answer fully all questions put to you. Her Divinity has the gift of sight, and can see far more than ordinary mortals. Lastly, do not look Her Divinity in the face.”
Vixa couldn’t resist. “Why not?”
“To do so means death.”
They ascended the spiral ramp and passed through the magical portal. After the flash of light and heat, Vixa was once more standing in the palace plaza. The honor guard had drawn off a short distance and donned silver hoods. Coryphene straightened his shoulders and walked firmly ahead.
He led Vixa to a pair of enormous doors, set just under the colonnade on the far side of the plaza. The doors were made of quartz crystals the size of logs, bolted together with rods of the same material. The shadows of servants could be seen on the other side, hauling the doors open. Once inside, Coryphene paused to remove his headdress. He tucked it under his arm before continuing.
The corridor was illuminated by greenish light from the domed ceiling. The odd color of the light came from the filtering effect of many fathoms of seawater. The sun’s rays barely penetrated to this depth. Incense, its sweet-sour smell like that in the temple complex, filled the long passage. Vixa spied censers located between the pearl-inlaid columns lining the hall. Dargonesti women in scarlet robes tended these braziers, feeding them small pellets of some waxy substance.
The passage wound around the curve of the upper level of the city and ended at an antechamber. Tall, gaunt sea elves in priestly garb stood to each side of the chamber, conversing quietly among themselves. They fell silent when Coryphene entered, and bowed to him.
“I come in answer to Her Divinity’s summons,” the Protector announced.
