The experience of looking into another world in this way was going to take some getting used to. But no matter how disorienting the effect might be, Kluge’s eyes remained glued to the wall. He was privy to a preview of his upcoming battleground, a secret look at his soon-to-be enemies. The experience was invaluable. The knuckles of his left hand were white with anticipation as he gripped the hilt of his dreggan. The people moving about the room were fascinating. Dozens of women seemed to be decorating the great hall as if in preparation for some upcoming event. There were flowers, tapestries, potpourri, and garlands. Kitchen staff of every conceivable duty were milling about a great, long dining table, so long in fact that he could not see the end of it, with too many chairs to count. They were fussing over the crystal, china, centerpieces, and seating arrangements. Occasionally they would dart in and out of the hall through large double doors in a nearby wall, presumably leading to the kitchens. A great banquet must be in preparation, he thought. The image was so clear and close he could almost smell the food. In addition, crowds of well-dressed citizens and noblemen with their ladies had begun to pour into the room. The entire scene was happy, festive, and anticipatory. But in anticipation of what? his restless mind wondered.
As the viewer turned to pan the scene for them, Kluge began to pick out entertainers of every description practicing their particular disciplines in small, scattered clusters around the room. Harlequins pranced, jumped, and told what appeared to be jokes and riddles. Jugglers were tossing all manner of objects between themselves. Magicians were randomly making things appear and disappear, and acrobats bounded across the floor. He noticed with particular interest a troop of scantily clad female dancers practicing for each other, exuding stark sexuality at every turn. His eyes narrowed. It had long been forbidden for the Minions to take a woman without wings: It was considered a waste of their valuable seed when they could be producing more male infants for the Minions. The prospect of a woman without dark, leathery wings excited him, as he knew it would also excite his troops. He silently hoped that when the battle was over, the Coven would allow the Minions to indulge in a different kind of conquest.
But it was the soldiers who interested him the most. There were at least one hundred of them in the hall, and from their bearing and uniforms he assumed them to be some contingent of the royal bodyguard, assuming that there was one, and therefore the best the realm had to offer. They milled about the great room with controlled detachment, their eyes missing nothing. He looked them over when he had the chance and decided that these were men who would be chivalrous in battle. Good, he thought. That means more of them will die.
He saw black-pleated capes and silver breastplates with designs upon them. Each of their highly decorated baldrics held scabbards, each of the scabbards holding gleaming sword hilts, most of the swords accompanied by silver battle axes and daggers hanging from the waist. Each man looked fit and ready. Very pretty, Kluge thought to himself. He smiled, feeling ready for battle, anxious to give his dreggan another taste of blood. Eutracian blood. He wondered idly when the last time was that a Eutracian soldier had seen battle. And with so many of the Guard in the room, where, then, was their commander?
The sounds coming from the hall were becoming increasingly distracting. As if she had read his mind, Failee pushed her right palm toward the image; the sound stopped, while the scene continued.
“It is almost time for our friends to enter,” she said carefully. A strange smile began to twist along the length of her mouth in anticipation. “I have made it quiet so as to inform you of your battle orders, Commander. Listen well.” As if addressing no one in particular, she added, “Time to move toward the door.”
The viewer in the hall began to move toward a grand entranceway just to the right of the dais. Within moments, two liveried attendants, one on each side of the large doors, simultaneously began mouthing announcements, striking golden pikes against the floor to command the attention of the crowd. Momentarily, the double doors opened and the crowd hushed.
“Pay close attention, Commander,” Failee whispered. It was the most quiet yet at the same time the most commanding order she had ever given him. “All of the people you are about to see, save one, are to die by your hand personally.”
A group of about ten men and women entered the room, causing the liveried servants to bow and the crowd in the great hall to draw forward. At first the view was partially obscured by the throng, but as they parted to allow the small company access to the hall he could begin to take his time examining each of them, as an attacking animal might take stock of its prey. He could quickly see that they were an interesting group.
A man and woman, each of about sixty years, walked by the viewer and down the length of the velvet runner. The man turned and lowered his head in acknowledgment of the viewer, smiling in recognition. His bearing was unmistakably regal, and Kluge could tell that this man was used to being in command. Iron-gray hair and eyes complemented a beard of the same color, helping to make up an intelligent face. His rather heavyset body was clothed in robes and trimmed with the beautiful fur of an animal with which Kluge was not familiar.
But of greater interest to the commander was the jewel the man wore around his neck on a gold chain, hanging down to his breastbone. It was unlike any other stone that Kluge had ever seen. He was familiar with prisms and enjoyed their power of refracting sunlight, but this one was different. The square-cut gemstone not only refracted the light but actually shredded it into a kaleidoscope of color, ever shimmering. It was about the size of a robin’s egg, and moved back and forth with the motion of the heavyset man’s body. The effect was mesmerizing.
The woman next to him, despite her advancing age, was very beautiful. She was dressed in a full-length gown of deep blue; her pearl necklace and earrings perfectly matched the off-white lace at the cuffs and bodice of her gown. Blond hair with hints of gray curled down to frame each side of the compassionate, attractive face. She had come so close to the viewer that Kluge had been easily able to pick out the gentle crow’s feet at the outer corners of her expressive blue eyes. She carried her rather full but still attractive figure gracefully, balancing her extended fingertips upon the back of the fur-robed man’s outstretched hand as they moved through the crowd. They turned a corner into a forest of people and were gone.
Failee finally broke the silence. “Those two pretenders who just went by are Nicholas the First, king of Eutracia, and Morganna, his queen, both of the House of Galland. They are to die.” Her voice had lowered as the words seemed to drip like acid from her tongue. She looked into Kluge’s eyes and added, “Kill them any way you desire. They are yours to do with as you please.” Kluge lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment.
Looking back at the Eutracian scene, Kluge noticed some pushing and shoving among the persons in the rows nearest the edges of the pathway. For some distance down its length, young women of every description, most of them holding fans, were trying to get as close as possible to the entourage. In some cases they were unsuccessful, but in most instances were allowed by the Guard to come to the front of the crowd as though it was the usual custom. As he turned his attention to the next person to walk down the runner, he understood why.