8
ALFRIGG, CHANCELLOR TO THE imprisoned Twilight Lord, Kol, was troubled. Of late he had heard rumors that someone outside the Dark Lands sought for his master’s twin sons. But he could not determine for certain if the whispers on the wind were true. Or, if the rumors were truth, then who was it looking for Kolbein and Kolgrim? And why were they seeking them out? Alfrigg’s brown eyes were thoughtful. His gnarled fingers clasped and unclasped as he considered what to do.
Rising from the dais step where he had been seated, the old dwarf began to pace about the chamber with its silver-veined black marble walls. The tall silver censers that had once lined the room were dark but for one, which burned with a feeble flame. This was the throne room of his master, silent now but for the sound of his booted footsteps. Reaching the tarnished silver double doors, he turned, and began to pace back toward the gray and silver throne upon its matching dais. The purple-and-silver-striped silk canopy over the throne was faded, the deteriorating fabric hanging in shreds. Beyond the black marble colonnade to his left the darkened skies thundered with an impending storm.
How he wished his master were here. But no one knew what had happened to Kol, or where he was. Yet Alfrigg had pretended that he did, and had run his master’s kingdom ever since the Twilight Lord’s disappearance. No one had dared to question the dwarf, for their fear of Kol was greater than their curiosity. The twin princes had been sent away in their infancy to be fostered. Kolbein going to a family of Wolfyn and Kolgrim to a family of giants. Alfrigg was the only one who knew where they were. And now an unknown someone sought them.
Could it be the faerie woman who had given them life? He would not know unless he asked. Did he dare approach Lara? But why would she want to know the whereabouts of her sons unless it was to destroy them? Perhaps Kol was dead, and if she killed his heirs did she believe her victory over the Dark Lands would be complete?
There was another possibility he hated to even consider. Kol’s daughters. But why would they search out their half brothers? He had seen that three of the four of his master’s daughters who survived infancy and childhood were married off to those who could be of use to Kol one day. Only one, the Darkling Ciarda, remained unwed. He smiled a small smile. Ciarda was so much like her father. She had been born several years before Kol took the faerie woman for his mate. And her mother had been fortunate in not retaining Kol’s favor, for several of the women who did were killed when he had mated with Lara to produce a male heir. Alfrigg had to admit to himself that he had always had a grandfatherly weakness for Ciarda. He would speak with her before he made any decisions.
The chancellor sent for Kol’s daughter, and marveled at her beauty when she came to stand before him. She was as pale as moonlight with her father’s ebony hair, and silver-gray eyes that changed color with her moods. He tried to recall what her mother had been like, but he could not. Ciarda stood before his chair, which was set upon a lower step on the throne’s dais. She waited patiently for him to speak.
“There are rumors,” Alfrigg’s reedy voice began, “of someone seeking out your brothers, my lady Ciarda. Is it you? Or would you know who would look for the twins?”
“It is not I, my lord Alfrigg,” she answered him, eyes lowered properly as they should be. “Why, I wonder, would someone seek out my brothers?”
“Perhaps to destroy Kol’s male heirs,” the chancellor said, not really meaning to discuss serious matters with a mere female. Still, Ciarda was wiser than most women.
“Oooh! That is terrible, my lord! We must protect my brothers for my father’s sake,” Ciarda said to him. Then she blushed. “Forgive me, my lord Alfrigg. You will have already thought of that. I should not have been so bold. Punish me if you will.” She hung her dark head in shame.
Alfrigg immediately felt a burst of compassion. The girl had meant no harm. She merely wanted to help. “Nay, my child, you need no punishment. You are but anxious to be of assistance.” Reaching out, he took her hand, and patted it before dropping it again.
“Oh, thank you, my lord,” Ciarda gushed.
“Then if it is not you searching for the princes it has be someone from outside our lands. Certainly they mean Kol’s sons harm, else they would come to me,” he muttered as if speaking to himself. And then remembering the girl he said, “I thank you for coming, my lady Ciarda. I will give your father your loving regards. He had begun to consider a suitable husband for you, my dear.”
“I want no husband,” Ciarda said in a suddenly hard voice that caused Alfrigg to look at her more closely.
“Lady, you must have a man to guide you. You are female,” Alfrigg reminded her. He noted her eyes had engaged his briefly, and were dark with her displeasure. For a brief moment Alfrigg was reminded strongly of the Twilight Lord himself, and was rendered speechless. She was Kol in female form, he thought uncomfortably. But then before he might remonstrate with her Ciarda curtsied politely to him.
“I will go now, my lord Alfrigg,” she said and, turning, went through the tarnished silver doors of the throne room.
The dwarf hummed beneath his breath thoughtfully for a long moment. As fond as he was of Kol’s daughter he was no fool. He never had been, which was why he had managed to retain his position as the Twilight Lord’s chancellor. His keen instincts had been the key to his survival. He would set a watch upon Ciarda. He had seen a ruthlessness in her today that both surprised and worried him. He had known women in his day who were ambitious. He shuddered. They were unnatural creatures.
It was time, he realized, to decide which of Kol’s sons would have the kingdom of the Dark Lands. Wherever his master was, if he was even alive, it was obvious he was not returning to rule. Kol had offended those with far greater powers than his, and by failing to gain the faerie woman’s powers he had rendered himself virtually helpless. Kolbein and Kolgrim would be fifteen now. He would choose one of them, remain with him long enough to guide him properly, choose his successor and retire to his home atop a mountain peak far from this castle. But which boy? And how to choose? He knew the families in which they had been raised would champion their fosterlings. He must first learn all he could about those families.
Kolbein had been put with a Wolfyn lord and his mates. Kolgrim had gone to one of the few Forest Giants who had not defected from Kol’s allies before the battle of The City. He had placed them with these families, and never set eyes on either of them since. He had received no reports, made no visits to Kol’s twin sons. In this manner he had protected their whereabouts. Now, however, he would make a visit to each family to see how these two boys had grown up. Then he would make his decision.
Neither boy knew about the other. Neither knew of his heritage. Alfrigg had gained an oath from each of the foster families in this matter that they would not tell. It was important because the laws of the Dark Lands forbade the killing of a male from the ruling family. For centuries this had not proved a problem as only one male was born in each generation. But Kol’s chosen mate had birthed identical twin sons, and only one could rule. Alfrigg would choose between them, and the other would never know he might have been a great ruler.
Alfrigg departed the deserted throne room and found his way to his own small chamber. There upon a little table was his supper of oat porridge, black bread and a wedge of hard cheese. There was a goblet of bloodred wine. He ate the food and drank the wine. Then locking his chamber door and, setting a heavy iron bar across it, he climbed into bed to fall instantly asleep as was his custom.
When he was deep in slumber, his snores rattling the small window, in the wall a wraithlike Munin appeared. He stared long and hard at the Twilight Lord’s chancellor. Then with slender gray fingers the Munin reached into Alfrigg’s head to draw out a gnarled gold thread. He studied the thread thoughtfully, unraveling it, reading it carefully. Then, replacing the thread, the Munin disappeared into the shadows of the chamber to reappear in Prince Kaliq’s palace of Shunnar. The Munin shivered. The Prince’s desert kingdom was too warm for him. The Munin far preferred a more temperate climate. He would deliver his information, and depart as quickly as he could. Making his way to the prince’s privy chamber he entered.
“Were you able to obtain what I seek?” Kaliq of the Shadows asked the Munin.
“He had obviously been thinking of them, for the memory was on top, not buried deep in his subconscious,” the
