Her voice hardened. “But you will never again have me. I know my destiny, and it is not to be merely a woman of the city. My fate is tied into the fate of the nation, and yours is to forge this nation, and the others of Solamnia, into an empire. I accept that destiny and will do what I can to help you hold this empire together.
“But I will not live in your house… or share your bed.”
He nodded slowly, hiding his emotions well-except for a slight narrowing of his eyes. But he made no argument. For a few moments, he stood still then slowly turned toward the door.
“Good-bye,” he said quietly. “May all the gods watch over you.”
“And good luck to you,” she answered. “I know you will have Coryn’s help, and Dram’s, and of course all your armies. But be careful.”
“I will.” Still he hesitated.
“I think she loves you. Did you know that?” Selinda almost whispered the words.
He looked at her, puzzled, not knowing how to respond.
“Coryn. I think she’s been in love with you for years. Just… watch over her, too, will you?”
He nodded, finally opening the door. “I will do that,” he said and slowly walked away.
The High Lookout on the High Clerist’s Tower was host to a meeting of a number of eminent figures, a weighty enough gathering to justify the name of the platform not just in altitude, but in soaring rank. Ankhar the Truth was there, as was the Thorn Knight Hoarst. The former lord regent of Palanthas, Bakkard du Chagne, and the black-masked Nightmaster of Hiddukel, who had brought du Chagne there from the city, were also present.
The ogress Pond-Lily was also up on the parapet-she never strayed far from Ankhar, fearing she would get lost in the labyrinthine corridors of the great fortress-but she hung back near the door to the tower and looked fearfully at the four stern males, who paced and cursed as they argued among themselves.
The lookout was a ring-shaped space. Rising from the center of the platform was the narrow spire that supported the highest perch, called the Nest of the Kingfisher. There was one door leading from the lookout to the interior of the tower, which was merely a landing for the narrow flight of stairs spiraling up to the Kingfisher’s platform, and a much wider set of steps curling downward to the many rooms, apartments, and other rooms of the interior.
The fortress sprawling hundreds of feet below the lookout was well-patrolled. Dark Knights were visible from above, posted on the parapets of the curtain wall and the gatehouses. Ogres lolled in the courtyards. To the northeast, on the tenuous road that Blackgaard’s men had carved, a procession of soldiers bore heavy packs laden with grain and fruit from the farms in the secret valley.
“Why we hide here?” demanded Ankhar, his ham-sized hands on his hips as he glared accusingly at the others. “Inside walls? This is not how ogres fight! This is not how I fight.”
“These walls are all that is going to keep you alive,” Hoarst replied pointedly. “And the spell that brought you here saved your life, you might recall. The town of dwarves didn’t give you any walls, and your ogres were dying by the score!”
“Bah!” The half-giant didn’t want to hear it. But neither could he come up with a witty riposte, probably because the wizard spoke the truth. The defeat at New Compound still confounded, dismayed, and enraged the half-giant. How could it have gone so wrong when everything had started out so right? His brilliant battle plan-wasted! He growled deep in his chest, smashing his fist down onto the rampart, which knocked a piece of stone loose and bruised his flesh. He watched sullenly as the chip of stone tumbled down for a long time, finally shattering in the courtyard next to a very startled ogre.
“Look,” the Thorn Knight said, striving for a reasonable tone. “We have a very strong position here. A thousand Dark Knights and a thousand ogres can hold this place for a very long time-perhaps forever. Nothing can move across the pass, and so we have cut Solamnia in two. Here, too, we control access to the secret valley to the north; the farms and herds there will give us all the food we need to stay holed up here for years if need be.”
“For years! But what will happen when the emperor brings his army up from the plains!” du Chagne declared harshly.
“I am not afraid of the emperor!” Ankhar roared, the force of his voice sending du Chagne retreating behind the Nightmaster.
“We are not here because we fear the emperor,” the priest stated coldly, “but because we can give him a battle to our advantage here. I myself will take command of the south gatehouse-that’s the most likely place for him to come against us.”
“I will see to the Knights’ Spur,” Hoarst said. “It’s a good position for guarding the approach on the road up from the plains.”
“And I will stay here, on the High Lookout,” Ankhar declared haughtily, “where I can keep an eye on everything.”
“What makes you think that will be enough?” demanded du Chagne, his voice quavering. “We all know he has one of his cannons left. He can set that up on the Wings of Habbakuk and blow this tower to pieces-even if it takes him all winter.”
“True, that bombard is a threat,” Hoarst allowed.
“Then why are you so sanguine about our chances here?” demanded the former lord regent.
“Because I intend to see that his vaunted bombard never reaches the pass,” the gray wizard replied confidently.
Coryn and Jaymes teleported from Palanthas to the far side of the great pass. There they would wait for the Crown Army, the Palanthian Legion, and the dwarves of New Compound, all of whom were marching as fast as they could across the plains. Even so, they knew it would be several days before the troops arrived.
“We should find a place we can use for shelter and to keep an eye on the road,” the emperor suggested. Coryn agreed and they started to ascend the wide roadway, remaining out of sight of the tower.
Nearby they found a small herdsman’s cottage adjacent to the road, about a mile below the pass. The shepherd and his flock were apparently spending the summer in the high pastures, so the place was abandoned, and they decided it would be a cozy place to wait.
Jaymes took a walk up the road, going about a half mile before he reached the last bend below the fortress. He went far enough to look at the tower rising so high about the surrounding walls, gatehouses, and fortifications. He thought ruefully of General Markus, always the boldest of his commanders. He knew that Markus and his Rose Knights would have given a good account of themselves. He was sorry the old veteran was dead.
“We will avenge you, good knight,” he said softly before turning and making his way down the road and back to the cottage.
When he got there, he found Coryn had made herself right at home. The white wizard had produced a wide array of objects from within her bags of holding, setting up a crystal ball on the little kitchen table, taking over a pantry to store her potions and little boxes of components. Her spell books went on a shelf beside the door.
As Jaymes entered, she was seated at the table, using the scrying ball to see what she could learn about their enemies.
“They’re all in the tower,” Coryn confirmed after quick scrutiny. “The Thorn Knight and the Nightmaster have both placed many spells of detection around the place, so I couldn’t probe too deeply. But the ogres that fled New Compound are manning the walls, and Ankhar himself seems to be the one in command.”
Jaymes gazed at her. Her black hair spilled across the back of her robe, lustrous and long, a sharp contrast to the whiteness of her garb. Those traces of silvery gray-premature in a sense, for she was still a young woman-only added allure to her appearance. Lost in concentration, she held her slender fingers to her chin, absently chewing on a nail as she studied the murky globe. Abruptly she looked up, surprising him as he stared at her.