7
Matriarch
Mother’s grace,
Father’s strength,
Clan’s destiny,
Child’s hope;
All virtues drawn
On daughter’s brow
Darann gave up resisting as soon as she figured out that the guards were taking her to the Royal Tower. Not that she could have escaped the strong hands grasping like clamps to each of her arms, but she found some little cause for optimism in the realization that her captors were marching her directly to the place that had been her original destination. She marched along in step with the royal guardsmen, having wrested her arms out of their grasp. As they neared the king’s hail she looked for her father, hoping to intercept him on his way to his audience.
That hope was dashed as they approached the lift station in the base of the tower and found a scene of chaos and destruction. Dwarves in guardsmen’s tunics were pulling desperately at the wreckage of steel bars that lay tangled at the base of the long chute. King Lightbringer himself had descended by a secondary lift to examine the scene, and he noticed Darann as soon as the guards brought her through the outer doors.
“A terrible accident!” he exclaimed, rushing forward with outstretched arms. In that instant Darann’s heart turned to stone and her knees gave out; she would have collapsed if not for the two guards quickly grasping her arms again.
The dwarfmaid drew a ragged breath, burying her face in the king’s embrace, vaguely aware of many others gathered around, silent and tentative. “He felt no pain, I can assure you,” the king was saying. “It was all over in an instant… The cable broke, and the lift came down. The brakes should have locked on, but they failed… My dear, it is so tragic. Axial has lost a man who will be missed, sorely missed…”
The words seemed vague and distant, as if they bore no relevancy to her life, to this strange situation. Through her shock she tried to make sense, and to make decisions. What should she do? The answer was beyond her right now… but there were things that she felt, that she understood on an instinctive level.
Slowly, determinedly, she broke from the monarch’s embrace and looked into his eyes, then past to the many guards and Lord Nayfal, who were all gathered in the cavernous anteroom at the base of the vast pillar.
Her eyes were dry, though as she drew a breath it took all of her willpower to keep the tears from exploding. But instead she studied the ruler of her people, saw his ashen complexion, the redness that smeared his own eyes with grief. King Lightbringer choked back a sob but freed the dwarfmaid from his embrace as she took a slow step backward. His grief, she concluded, was real.
Next she looked at Nayfal. His face was a mask, and when her gaze fell on him he turned away, barked a few unnecessary orders at the guards who were still trying to untangle the wreckage of the lift.
“A terrible, unhappy coincidence… nothing like this has happened here, not in all my reign,” the king was saying to nobody in particular. “To have the cable snapped-and the brakes fail at the same time! Why, it’s unthinkable, tragic!”
It was not an accident. Darann wanted to bark the statement loudly, to throw it in Nayfal’s face just to see his reaction. But a small voice, coming from a place below her grief and through her shock, counseled her that this would be madness. No, such an accusation-now, with no evidence, barely a moment after hearing the news-would only play into the lord’s hands and make her look like a vengeful and irrational child. There would come a time for accusations and for vengeance, Darann vowed, but she would act with great care. And she would choose her moment, take advantage of careful planning and preparation. Oddly enough, it was her crystallizing fury that seemed to give her a measure of self-control.
“W-when did it happen?” she asked, allowing a tremor to creep into her voice. Her mind was in a tangle, silently crying even as it groped for a truth and for proof that she wondered if she could ever find.
“Not more than half an hour ago, my lady,” volunteered one of the guards. “I was on duty at the outer doors there when it come down with a mighty screech-then a crash as loud as a pipe chorus!” He blanched as he absorbed the impact of his own words. “That is, er, beggin’ your ladyship’s pardon…”
She walked past him, up to the mangled steel, until another guard stepped in front of her. “Nothin’ that can help you to see here, my lady,” he said firmly. “We’ll have the, er, body out of there before long, but it’s too late to do anything to help.”
Too late-Hiyram had risked his life to warn her, but she was too late! Now Rufus Houseguard was dead, and she was alone… so utterly alone. Karkald was dead, her brothers gone to the far edge of the First Circle… There was no one, no dwarf she could turn to.
So she would have to act, very carefully, on her own. Coolly, she looked around the anteroom. The two guards who had brought her here from her own tower were sidling to the door. Obviously, they were in no great hurry to press charges against this dwarfmaid who had just been hugged by the king himself. That was fine with Darann. She turned her attention back to the monarch as the two dwarves made a hasty exit.
“I thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. The death of my father has stunned me, and my wits are slow to gather. Did you say he was on his way to meet with you?”
King Lightbringer blinked, as if he had to think about the answer to the question. “No, well yes. Actually, he saw me-my first audience of the day-and was on his way back down. Lord Nayfal escorted him to the lift.”
“How thoughtful,” she said dryly, not wasting a glance in the lord’s direction. “Sire, if you would direct your men to bring me his possessions, all that he carried with him when he came to see you, I should like to retire to the Houseguard manor. There will be matters requiring my attention, arrangements to make…”
“Indeed,” agreed the king, nodding almost eagerly. “You men, see that it is done, and quickly!”
Now she allowed herself a look at Nayfal, saw the lord watching through narrowed eyes as a burly guard captain unbuckled the belt from around the figure in the lift. He came forward with the object, and Darann recognized the golden buckle, in the shape of the square doorway, that was her family’s ancient symbol.
For some reason this brought the truth of her father’s fate into sharp focus, and she did sob softly as the man wiped off the blood Rufus had spilled and then gently handed the heavy belt to her. She was gratified by the weight, for it seemed that something of her father had been given to her, a solidity that she didn’t know she had lacked. Carefully she lifted the belt and let it hang over her shoulder.
Nayfal was watching her now, she noticed from the corner of her eye. It suited her to let him think she was ignoring him, so she turned back to the king. “I… I will send word, Your Majesty, when I have been able to make the necessary arrangements. Naturally, I will want to wait for my brothers’ return before we proceed.”
“Of course. And know this, my dear: Rufus Houseguard was a great man, and I intend to see that his legacy shall not be forgotten.”
“Thank you, sire,” she replied softly. To herself alone she added her own vow: and I intend to see that his death is avenged.
Politely declining the king’s offer of an escort to her father’s house, Darann, new matriarch of clan Houseguard, made her way out of the palace, through the streets of her city, toward the manor of her ancestral home.
Borand listened for sounds made by Konnor and Aurand. He wanted to shout, just for the reassurance of a reply, but he dared not make a sound. For the hundredth or maybe the thousandth time, he silently cursed the injuries that forced him to remain here, sitting at the base of the great-but apparently abandoned-cliff city, while his two companions boldly explored.
They had been here for two intervals now and had yet to see sign of a living Delver. Even so, they all acknowledged that it would be worse than foolish to announce their presence by unnecessary sounds. So the two younger dwarves skulked about, seeking and searching to gather as much information as they could before
