the ghetto. Anyway, he’s on his way up, and the king is waiting for him.”
“Can you please be a dear and let us in the side door?” Greta asked, giving the warrior’s arm a squeeze.
“Why, I surely can,” he replied, blushing. “But you’ll have to promise to be quiet-mouse quiet! When he’s in a mood like this, it won’t do to be disturbing him.”
“Oh, you know how quiet I can be,” Greta said with a wink. “And Dari can do the same, right?”
“Mouse quiet,” Darann assured him.
“All right-come this way, then.”
The friendly guard turned around led them through the door he had just exited, taking Greta’s hand as they started up a stairway. Darann’s heart was pounding, and her stomach churned nervously as they climbed several flights and at last came to a door guarded by two Royal Guards.
“A little late work,” Larson said, nudging one of the guards, who grinned in return. Darann was certain the thumping in her chest was loud enough to raise an alarm, but somehow she managed to smile charmingly. The guard smiled back, then opened the door to allow them to pass through.
“Thanks-you’re a sweetheart,” Greta said, giving Larson a quick kiss on the cheek. He quickly pulled her close and gave her a more intimate embrace, smacking her on the buttocks as she finally broke free.
“You know where to find me,” he said, looking at her seriously. “And I meant it, Gret-I really miss you!”
“I’ll find you soon!” she promised, then pulled away. “This way,” she said to Darann and Konnor.
“Thanks, friend,” Konnor said to the guard as the trio started down another hall.
This one opened into a wide chamber, lit by numerous coolfyre chandeliers, and Darann felt her nervousness rise again. This was the throne room! Greta led them forward, and they saw that they were on a side platform that was itself the size of a large banquet hall, raised twenty or thirty feet above the truly expansive hall of the Seer dwarf king.
They moved past a pile of folded linens, then around a compartment where mops and buckets were stacked. Clearly this was some kind of housekeeping area, Darann deduced. Because it was raised so far above the main floor, they were able to advance almost to the edge without exposing themselves to view from the floor below.
There was a stone wall, about waist height, at the edge of the servants’ balcony, and when they made their way to this, they were concealed by shadows and that wall but able to see some of what was happening in the great room below.
The first thing Darann thought was that this chamber was the last place her father had been before he died. So much history had been made here… and, lately, so much corruption had been worked, to steer that history. Would that ever change? She resolved that she would do everything in her power to see that it did.
She looked around. The arched ceiling was at least a hundred feet overhead. Stone columns stood out from the walls, twelve of them rising all the way to the top, merging into the arches that all melded together in the center of the high vault. At four places around the room, including where they stood right now, there were raised platforms, allowing for a good view of the wide hall. These upper alcoves were all cloaked in shadow, though the main floor of the chamber was bathed in cool, white light.
And it was that floor that drew their attention.
Darann could see King Lightbringer, seated upon his high throne. A half dozen royal guardsmen, dressed in the ceremonial golden helms denoting palace duty, were arrayed around his seat. Aside from a few servants standing close to the walls, there was no one else visible in the great room. Darann quickly noticed that the guards and the king seemed to be directing their attention to the main doors. As she looked that way herself, those lofty portals were opened, and a servant in red livery stepped forward to announce.
“Lord Nayfal comes from the battle-and he brings two prisoners!”
Darann stiffened as the hated nobleman strode arrogantly forth. It was all she could do to restrain a cry of shock when she saw the prisoners, as her brothers were prodded forward by four armored Seers. From their mud- caked uniforms, she guessed that all of this group had come here directly from the ghetto.
Konnor gasped beside her, and when his hand went to his sword, she laid restraining fingers gently upon his arm.
“Your brothers!” he whispered urgently. “They’re captive!”
“I know,” she replied. “And we’ll get them free-but we need to wait until the time is right!”
Greta looked at them in alarm, raising her finger to her lips in a gesture for silence. Darann nodded and crouched down so that she could listen and see right over the rim of the wall.
“Your Majesty!” proclaimed Nayfal, sweeping into the room with a flourish. “I am grateful that you consented to see me at this late hour. I bring word from the ghetto-important word!”
“Very well, good lord,” said the king with a sigh. “Tell me why you summon me here thus.”
“I have here, sire, nothing less that a proof of the most base treachery-treachery lurking in an esteemed family, plainly writ for all of Axial to see.”
Aurand started to say something and was silenced by a brutal cuff from one of the guards, a blow from the hilt of his sword to the young dwarf’s skull that staggered him. With a groan, Aurand slumped to his knees, but not before Darann could see that his face was bloody, with one eye swollen shut.
“Who are these dwarves?” demanded the king, this time speaking with a little determination in his voice.
“Brothers, sire… the two sons of Rufus Houseguard. They were captured in the midst of a mob of goblins, having taken up arms against your own Royal Guard. As I said, clear proof of treachery.”
“Borand Houseguard, I know you-I thought-as a loyal soldier, one of my ferr’ell masters. Is this true?” asked King Lightbringer, fixing the elder brother with a stern glare. “Explain yourself.”
“Sire, I am innocent of treason,” Borand declared. “My brother and I were working to prevent treachery, to uncover truths that we might bring to your attention.”
“Cease your impudence!” Nayfal snapped, taking a step toward the prisoner.
“Lord Nayfal!” the king barked. “Let him speak.”
“Of course, sire,” replied the nobleman with a deep bow. “But beware of his sweet words. All these men, here, will testify that he was taken in league with the goblins. There is blood on his blade-the blood of your own guardsmen!”
“What is the treachery of which you speak?” Lightbringer said, addressing Borand.
“There is a plot at work, sire… a plot to convince you that the goblins are our enemies. It began forty years ago, with the attempt on your life… the scheme that claimed the life of Cubic Mandrill. And it continues to this day, with the murder of the dwarfmaid beyond the ghetto wall. That was not the act of goblins, Your Majesty.”
“I have heard these allegations before,” said the king impatiently. “But no one has brought proof.”
Darann stood and found herself speaking loudly, her words carrying through the great hall. “I have proof, Your Majesty!”
The king looked up, shocked, while guards shouted in alarm and started running toward the balcony.
“Guards, to the stairs!” cried Nayfal, blanching. “Sieze her! Beware another attempt on the king’s life!”
“Stay!” roared King Lightbringer, and the lord, the guards, the prisoners, Darann, and her companions all froze at the force of that one word. The monarch squinted up at the balcony as Darann stepped to the top of the stairway leading down to the floor. “I know you, too,” Lightbringer said. “You are Darann of clan Houseguard, wife of the hero Karkald,” he said. Then he frowned. “These would be your brothers.”
His scowl deepened. “Your brothers are prisoners, and your family is accused of treachery. Strong proof is required against these charges.”
“I bring proof and a witness, sire,” she replied, as Greta and Konnor came up to stand beside her. As the king waved them forward, they descended toward the floor, and an escort of guards flanked them as they approached the throne.
“And who are these?” asked the king.
“Konnor is another of your loyal soldiers, sire, one of your Rockriders. He has seen to my safety, when there have been those who would have killed to prevent me coming here.”
“I see. And the maid?”
“This is the daughter of Cubic Mandrill, Your Majesty. She knows the true story of how he died.”
Darann addressed the king, but her eyes were on Nayfal as she spoke. The lord’s face twisted in fury at her words, and he looked about frantically, no doubt seeking some escape from the net closing about him.
