Dream Finder

atmosphere like an ice-chilled dagger.

Even Arwain winced. No small part of the Bethlarii's hatred for the Serens lay in the latter's scorn for what they considered to be the impoverishment of Bethlarii culture and with it the implications of stupidity, barbarism and general oafish inferiority. It was an attitude not without an element of truth in that many Bethlarii did despise such matters as reading and learning except in so far as they were associated with warfare. But it was also an attitude that the Duke disapproved of, and he would not let it go unrebuked if it was expressed in his presence. ‘The simplicity in some of their art has a profundity that you'll search long to find in many a piece of Serenstad ostentation. And though their philosophy isn't ours, it's valid and consistent and not without intellectual merit.'

Nonetheless, the attitude was widespread and indeed had grown over the recent years as Serenstad had continued to prosper while Bethlar had remained static and, by comparison, declined.

Maybe you came here prepared to die, warrior, or maybe you didn't, Arwain thought. But whatever you expected I doubt it was such a death by humiliation. He felt anger, pity and admiration for his father all at the same time, and knew again why he had little desire ever to be Duke in his stead.

The Duke's sudden thrust had destroyed the Bethlarii utterly. What answer could he give? No, and bring down the ultimate mockery on his head? Yes, as if he were some chastened schoolboy with an ill-prepared exercise? Both were unthinkable. Nor could he walk away with stony dignity for that would cause him to lose face in front of his own men and these gleeful enemies.

Would he perhaps strike down the offender? Would he indeed use this as an opportunity to sacrifice himself to ensure the destruction of the treaty?

No, Arwain concluded. Not unless his father had pushed him totally beyond reason. There were too many unidentified witnesses here for the truth to be hidden. The Bethlarii would know that at such a gathering there could well be visitors and dignitaries from the border communities present; people from Herion, Veldan, Nestar, any one of a score of towns and cities whose allegiance to either side was both uncertain and critical in the event of a war. No, his death would have to be away from such extremely public view if subsequent rumours were to be effective.

As these alternatives flitted instantly through Arwain's thoughts, Grygyr's eyes widened in a combination of fury and disbelief. Arwain watched him being swept away by the avalanche that his father had so successfully ridden.

His hand came out and pointed at the Duke and his mouth opened to speak, but for some time, though his lips quivered, no sound emerged. When it did it was raw with emotion and again Arwain found it difficult to maintain his expression of indifference.

'I read well enough, Ibris,’ he managed eventually. ‘I read the history of this land, our land, to the shores in the east, the west and the south and beyond the shores to the islands. I read enough to know of the treacheries through the ages that your forebears used to usurp our divine authority to rule here, and which you, apostate, continue.'

Released, Grygyr's rage did not spend itself, but rather seemed to gather momentum, growing upon itself, and sweeping its creator along with it.

His voice grew more powerful and a strident quality began to edge it. ‘Mark this well, Ibris, vassal regent for the moment of this, our city. The day of retribution is at hand. The Bethlarii are turning again to the true way, the old way, and soon you and your corruption will be swept away for ever. And so total will be your destruction that the very memory of you and all your kind will be gone utterly before the year is passed.'

There was a brief, stunned silence, then a single raucous cry of denunciation from someone released the crowd's fury and on the instant there was uproar. Immediately, two ranks of the guards that had escorted the Bethlarii through the city lowered their pikes to form a protective ring around their charge, while his three companions moved to protect the envoy himself. But they were forestalled by the other guards, who seized and disarmed them with an overwhelming suddenness that bore the hallmark of Ciarll Feranc's planning. The envoy too found himself politely but rapidly disarmed and surrounded by a double ring of guards, one facing inwards, the other outward and both with swords drawn.

The arc of guards at the rear of the Duke's entourage moved rapidly round in front of him and Arwain stepped forward, knife in hand, to be by his father's side.

Ibris watched these proceedings critically for a moment and then slowly stood up. He made no attempt, however, to shout above the din. Instead he gestured to a nearby guard, making a clapping motion with his hands. The guard nudged his fellow then the two of them swung up their shields and began beating them slowly and steadily with their swords like a great heartbeat.

Soon the persistent tattoo began to dominate the noise of the crowd, and the fury began to subside, first into a menacing rumble and finally into an awkward, expectant shuffling as all eyes turned back once again to the Duke.

Ibris nodded to the two guards and the hammering, now relentlessly loud in the silence, stopped.

He paused for a moment before speaking and when he did, his voice was calm and regretful. ‘The envoy, I fear, is fatigued from his arduous journey and has misjudged a perhaps ill-expressed remark on my part. Before he leaves we shall talk again in private and go into the details of his concerns about the Whendreachi, but…’ His voice became more commanding. ‘…you here are all witness to what has happened today. You are witness to the fact that despite many breaches of the treaty which we have with Bethlar for dealing with such matters, the envoy, Grygyr Ast-Darvad, was greeted peacefully and given due protection.’ He cast about through the crowd, catching an eye here and there. ‘Those of you, in particular, who are from our allied cities I ask especially to take note of this, so that truth may prevail over rumour. Further, I give you my word that he and his companions will continue to receive our protection and hospitality during their stay here, which shall be as long as they determine, and throughout their journey back to Bethlar.'

The consensus of the crowd was one of approval at this speech, though amid the applause were isolated cries to the effect that the Bethlarii should be ‘Strung up’ or ‘Chucked off the Aphron'.

With a wave of his hand, Ibris dismissed the crowd, then turned and left the room. The envoy and his companions were ushered after him.

Chapter 13

'I don't know whether this is becoming repetitive or alarming,’ Tarrian said as, head bent low, he loped steadily along beside Antyr and Menedrion's guards through the busy afternoon crowds that were thronging the wide streets of Serenstad's commercial district.

'Alarming,’ Antyr replied with conviction. ‘No. Terrifying. My stomach's churning. First the Duke, now Menedrion. They say he's a mad dog. Like the Duke but without his good qualities. What on earth can he want? I really don't think I want to think about any of this too closely … I think.'

'Perhaps word got round about last night. Perhaps we're becoming fashionable,’ Tarrian said optimistically. ‘You'll have to buy some court clothes. You'll be able to declare yourself Dream Finder by appointment to the Duke and his court and…'

'Stop it,’ Antyr snapped. ‘You're not helping. I told you, I'm scared.'

'You didn't have to come,’ Tarrian said off-handedly.

'Oh no. Of course not,’ Antyr replied acidly. ‘I told them we had to see someone urgently, you heard me. And you heard the guard. No threats, no arguments, just “Yes sir, of course. Would you like me to tell the Lord Menedrion to wait for you, sir?” What am I supposed to say to that?'

Tarrian offered no reply and they walked on in silence for some time, each occupied with his own thoughts.

The small outburst, however, seemed to have eased Antyr's tension. ‘Still, these two are pleasant enough, and at least we're not being marched along at dead of night like prisoners under escort this time,’ he said eventually. ‘And the Duke was a surprise. Much pleasanter than I'd imagined.'

He felt an ill-disguised wave of irritation rise up from Tarrian, but when the wolf spoke, his voice was conciliatory. ‘I'm sorry,’ he said. ‘I know this isn't much fun but all I can think about at the moment is my pads. They're sore as the devil with all the walking I've done today. And whoever thought these cobbles were a good idea