“You mean the members of my house?” Admon Faye asked.
Flayh chuckled a malicious laugh coming from low in his throat. “Yes.
I mean your family. Are those your chosen colors?” He nodded toward the sweaty garments Admon Faye wore. The slaver’s tunic was a dull gray. His leggings were an equally drab green.
“I thought them appropriate.” Admon Faye grinned,
“Brutally ugly,” said Flayh, meeting the slaver’s eyes.
Admon Faye smiled no longer. “As I said. Appropriate. Also practical. These are the colors of the Great South Fir. A hundred times I’ve watched your riders move through my forest, completely oblivious to my presence. But of course, they looked so noble, so prosperous in their blue and lime tunics. Very favorable targets, to be sure.”
“What you wear is of no concern to me. What you do is Flayh raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Yes, my band is in place.”
“Fine. And the girl?”
Tm working with her.”
“Don’t rush her. I learned that with Ligne. I paved her a path to the throne room of Chaomonous because she seemed empty-headed and pliable enough to be controllable later.”
“Oh?” Admon Faye smiled. “Ligne believes she came to : her exalted position entirely on her own.”
**I realize she does. And the mudgecurdle Jagd has encouraged her to think so, milking her at will. That’s why I Want him dead as soon as possible, and her, too.” Flayh sighed. “I never guessed things would turn out as they did. That’s why this time, I want to be certain the girl knows }’,” ijcbo her masters are before we give her the crown!”
i|>: “She’s learning.” Admon Faye snickered. life’ “Be certain, before you move. Speed is important, yes, not as important as success!”
“You’re talking to me, Flayh, not Pezi,” Admon Faye responded, annoyance showing in his voice.
“Forgive me,” Flayh said, shaking his head. “I’ve been surrounded by my dense relations so long, I’ve had to make a habit of double-checking their every move. When the girl is ready and I leave that decision to you notify me by flyer. Of course, once you’ve disposed of Jagd, we’ll have a more direct link of communication.”
“You mean the other pyramid.”
“I do. Pezi will retain his. He’s an oaf, of course, but an occasional burst of savage cunning has convinced me to keep him around.
Besides, he’s in the family, and thoroughly tame, and he shuts up when I tell him to. I didn’t enjoy the period of Tohn’s possession of the object. My dead cousin had an inflated moral sense something I trust you’ve never been plagued with?” The slaver guffawed at that, and Flayh nodded. “Nor have I. Three nights after you toss the bird to say you’re ready, Pezi and I will be watching our pyramids. That should give you time to capture the castle and seize Jagd’s crystal… ?”
Flayh left the question dangling, his eyes asking for yet another assurance that this plot would succeed.
“I’ll be there. And our little Lady Bronwynn will be on her throne.”
“I do hope so.” Flayh nodded “I’ve been surrounded lately by people who have disappointed me. I have confidence you’re made of sterner stuff. You’re leaving for the pass in the morning?”
“That’s the plan.”
Flayh looked at the skies. “Maybe the weather will clear up. If I don’t see you before then, I wish you well in your journey. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some urgent business in my library.”
Admon Faye watched the wrinkled merchant scurry away, and scramble eagerly down from the battlements. Flayh puzzled him. He wondered if he should be worried, then dismissed the thought. “He’s a power shaper the slaver said to himself, “and all power shapers are a bit strange.”
He made his own way down the slick steps, and back into the practice hall. He found Bronwynn still lying on the floor. He decided to try the soft approach. He walked over and knelt beside her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “I don’t suppose you’ve cried yourself to sleep, have you?”
“No.”
You’ve been thinking about what I said.”
“Yes,” she said after a moment.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, too. And I think I can understand. Of course you don’t feel like recapturing a crown when you’ve lost your lover. But tell me this. After what we all heard Jagd say the other day, if you could have your Rosha here right now, what would you do?”
Bronwynn sniffed, and growled, “I’d kick him in the teeth!”
Admon Faye chuckled. The low, soothing tone of his voice contrasted sharply with his words, as he said, “Oh, but I’m going to teach you how to get much better vengeance than that Here…” He handed her the wooden practice sword again. His calm manner planted the seed deeply in Bronwynn’s mind. Like the grass outside responding to the warmth of spring, the notion of vengeance took root and grew.
The next morning the sun came out. The rain was gone, blown eastward in the night to Ngandib. Strong, cool winds continued to rip the plain this morning. Bronwynn had been bundled aboard her horse by Flayh’s servants, and now she and Admon Faye rode from Castle Tohn against a heavy gale that seemed resolved to blow them back inside. She squinted against the whistling gusts, looking up at the crags of Dragonsgate, outlined sharply against the cloudless sky. Snow still topped those peaks, but the hills below bore the unmistakable signs of early spring.
There was green everywhere across this Westmouth Plain as far as she could see; up in the high valley that formed the heart of the pass itself; and tufting every patch of ground that clung tenuously to the faces of the cliffs. The wind made her eyes blur and, in the same breath, stirred every branch and blade. For a moment it seemed that all the world was astir With the writhing and twisting of living green beings. Amid the emerald shimmer of life, the mountains stood cold and A firm. But the shrubs and the grasses bore brilliant witness immutable truth proven anew with each cycle of the -that life will not be denied. Less than a year before, Vicia-Heinox had burned every green thing from this, his ancient home.
Only a few short days ago, the pass had been clogged with snow. But the snow had melted the dragon was dead and the grass lived on and grew.
Freed of the castle’s stifling closeness, Bronwynn inhaled a deep draught of the heady new possibilities before her. She was alive, she was young, and after months of hopeless captivity she at last had a chance to claim her rightful inheritance. For the few moments of their windswept ride she forgot Admon Faye completely and dreamed again the dreams of her girlhood, dreams that had been born long ago in the warm security of her father’s court. But her exhilaration was fleeting.
Thoughts of her father’s house led inevitably to thoughts of Rosha, and the fresh, clean air of freedom turned stale and lifeless in the wake of those memories.
Her tears of the day before had been an exception. Bronwynn had never been much of a crier. She didn’t weep now, though the hard lump in her throat might have been eased by the cleansing of tears. Instead she set her jaw and scorned the sen she’d been when she’d loved the stuttering warrior. “He’ll pay,” she muttered between clenched teeth.
Then she lashed her horse needlessly and leaned low over its neck.
Admon Faye glanced over at her in time to see her lips move. His grim smile went unseen, and he turned his attention back to the oncoming pass. Already a knot of gray-clad riders formed a line abreast the narrowest stretch of Dragonsgate’s Westmouth. They knew him and the girl. They were only following his explicit orders not to let anyone approach the pass without stopping them with a show of force. As his sharp eyes searched the line, he saw a struggle evolving among a group of unmounted warriors to his right. He turned his reins in that direction and spurred his horse toward the disturbance.