thinking, will the others. We'll be summoned into the Presence soon, and mustered to arms by royal order.'
'Hunting unbowed veldukes.'
'Indeed. Yet so much is obvious, Mountblade; what has you worrying?'
'When all who might defy His Majesty are swept from the realm, what then? Will we be turned on each other again? Or sent against Tauren?'
'King Devaer does seem stirred by battle,' Blackraven said carefully, 'and why not? He seems good at it, no?'
'Ah, here's the wine,' Mountblade said, by way of reply, seeing the returning servant slowly and carefully bearing a platter dominated by a gigantic decanter.
Blackraven turned to watch the approach of the firedance, and so missed seeing Mountblade collapse forward on his face onto the table between them, monocle clattering. Yet he would probably have failed to witness the fate of his fellow noble no matter which way he'd been facing, because he also slumped into slumber at the same moment, head lolling.
The astonished servant blinked and faltered in his measured stride, the platter swaying dangerously, until the steward stepped forward to deftly and firmly steady it and its oversized decanter.
'Wh-what has happened to them?' the astonished wine-bearer whispered.
'Worry not,' the steward replied a little sourly. 'I've seen this before. 'Tis magic. They'll wake in a moment, all afire with the same notion; whatever thinking a wizard's just thrust into their heads.'
'What wizard? Do wizards rule in Galath now?'
'Of course, lad, but it means your death to speak of it. So, mind: I did not say 'of course,' but rather, 'Of course not.' Got it?'
The wine-bearer opened his mouth to reply, but ended up leaving it agape without uttering a word.
The two marquels awakened as suddenly as they'd fallen asleep, straightening without seeming to notice they'd nodded off. They stared at each other with identical smiles, brought their fists down on the table in perfect unison, and declared as one, 'Galathgard it is, without delay!'
His monocle dangling, Mountblade looked at the steward and roared, 'Horses! Full guard, to ride with me!'
'Y-your wine, lord,' the wine-bearer offered.
'No time!' his master bellowed, springing up from his seat to stride for the nearest door into Mountgard, and thrusting the servant aside. 'We must ride! We are required, before the throne, without delay!'
The steward, still nodding acknowledgment of his master's command, caught the decanter out of midair, even as the wine-bearer, the platter, and the two ornate metal flagons crashed to the terrace.
Marquel Blackraven was already up and out of his chair; he snatched the decanter from the steward's hands as he hastened to follow his host. The steward ran with him as the noble drained the decanter in one long, loud quaff, and calmly accepted it when Blackraven wiped his elegantly trimmed mustache with the back of his hand, still running hard, and handed it back to the steward with a great satisfied sigh.
Reaching the doorway just behind the visiting marquel, the steward of Mountgard snapped a stream of orders to the door-servants, handed one of them the decanter, and strolled back to help the wine-bearer up.
The younger man was still on his knees, retrieving fallen flagons and wincing over his bruises. He looked up a little fearfully to find the steward smiling crookedly down at him.
'And
A few lorn were wheeling high overhead, like vaugren circling over something that had died in the open, but most of them had fled after Deldragon's fire burst. The knights had ridden hard and steadily since the attack, seeming to ignore streaming wounds, loose-flapping armor, and a handful of empty saddles, but a certain tension hung over the three riders at the heart of the long column of Deldragon knights.
Rod knew not what to say, and Taeauna had given Velduke Deldragon only tight smiles, and not a word of reply, since their words about other magic the velduke might be-no, almost certainly was-carrying.
This seemed to alarm Deldragon, who'd tried several times to begin pleasant converse, and was now stroking his flaxen mustache repeatedly.
'We're well onto my lands now, and very near to my home,' he announced, as they started around a high green hill crowned by a banner-fluttering watchpost; a horn rang out from it, and was answered by the war-horns of the knights at the head of the column. 'If I've offended you, I desire you to remember this: duty drives us all hard.'
'Certainly, Lord Deldragon,' Taeauna said warmly, rescuing Rod from silent helplessness.
Well, what does one say to such a large, handsome hero of a man? 'Hi, I created you, glad you've turned out the way you did?' 'You're certainly more impressive in person than how I just described you, in a few overblown sentences?'
'I am sorry if my reaction has discomfited you in any way,' the Aumrarr said smoothly to the velduke riding at her hip. 'Your dedication to duty is admirable; one of the rocks that folk must be able to stand upon and trust in, if there is to be any peace in Falconfar. You are quite correct in keeping your secrets and weapons ready but known only to you. I would do the same, were I riding in your saddle.'
Darendarr Deldragon peered closely at her face, those ice-blue eyes intent, seeking any hint of mockery, but Taeauna gave him a real smile and the words, 'Lord, I mean what I say. Truly. I am an Aumrarr, remember?'
'I believe you,' the velduke said, matching her smile, 'yet feel moved to comment that I have met sisters of yours before, and known both sarcasm and playful deceit to fall from their lips-very prettily, and not without cause, but with the shrewd power to wound nonetheless.'
'Ah. Yes. I can speak in that wise, too, when moved to. I meant rather that Aumrarr deeply understand duty and dedication to it, given how our own lives are spent.'
'Indeed,' Deldragon replied, inclining his head politely and leaving Rod settling deeper into safe silence than ever. Then, as they rounded the bend, the velduke swept out his arm grandly and said, 'Welcome to Bowrock!'
Rod Everlar had seen Bowrock before in his dreams-or had he created it, his dreams causing the castle to be? He was going to have to understand that part of things better, and soon-but that first sight of it, soaring white and splendid across a broad green valley, still took his breath away.
It was huge. A mottled stone city crowning a hill, girt about with tall white stone fortress walls that thrust out into two massive gate-towers to greet the road they were riding down; identical, side-by-side towers that soared straight and bright up into the sky like something out of a fairy-tale, only bigger. Much, much bigger.
'It doesn't look as if it could ever be taken,' Rod mumbled, and saw Taeauna hide a smile as, beyond her shoulder, Deldragon's brows rose.
'No, it doesn't!' the velduke agreed heartily. 'I sit taller in my saddle whenever I ride around this bend and gaze upon it. I was born and reared in Bowrock, and have always known it would be mine. Yet somehow, when looking upon something so grand, one is always aware of those who dwelt before you. In Bowrock, it seems to me that I walk cloaked in the ghosts of my ancestors. Not unfriendly haunts, nor anything I or you or anyone can see and hear; but I can feel them. Always.'
Taeauna nodded as if that was a familiar feeling to her. Rod nodded out of respect and because his mind was busily picturing Deldragon sweeping down staircases with a ghostly escort, streaming out pale and wraith-like behind him like an impossibly long bridal veil…
More horns sounded, from the tall towers of Bowrock this time, and were answered by the knights riding up ahead. The road went on past the gates, Rod could now see, forking to descend into the valley and to wind through hills and on south and west, to other velduchal lands in Galath.
The road also broadened, and acquired traffic. Carts were drawn up along its verge, selling everything from remounts and draft-oxen to trinkets, and a lot of heaped greens and root crops. Folk strode back and forth shopping, many of them towing rumbling-wheeled handcarts, but this sea of people parted miraculously to let the knights trot straight through without hindrance or a word spoken.
And many of the people, as Deldragon rode past, thrust their hands to their chests in some sort of salute, standing tall and gazing at him with respect. The handsome velduke nodded to as many of them as he saw, unsmiling, his head turning this way and that constantly so as to miss no one.
