Inside, the room was still more ornate. In what Pausert was now beginning to realize was typical Sprite taste, there was a great deal of translucent and different colored glass. There was a table made of a thin section cut through an enormous amethyst crystal. It had been delicately fractured and the myriad cracks infiltrated with gold.
And, by the frantic wrinkling of Pul's nose, the place was rotten with the stench of Nanite.
"Whose chambers are these?" growled the grik-dog at the wizened little Sprite-servant.
The servitor looked puzzled. The grik-dog spoke again, but remembered this time to do so in the Sprite tongue.
The wizened little man drew himself up proudly, and answered.
"He says Lord Nalin, the advisor of young Lord Arvin. And he says we must go quickly. The hoist is through there. His master says we should head for Delaron."
Hantis, however, had stopped dead in her tracks. "You smell Nanites here, my Pul?"
The grik-dog pawed its snout. "The place reeks!"
Hantis turned to the others. "You should all flee. But my duty is clear. I must remain. I think," she said grimly, "I have made a great and grave mistake. History is not always as accurate as we would like it to be. I began to get that feeling when I saw just what the Leewit had destroyed in the hall of the crystals." She looked at the Leewit. "You will be glad to know that you never got the blame for that."
"Oh. You mean . . ."
Hantis nodded. "History was wrong about that. This period was a violent and much disrupted one. Records are poor. But there is no record that Nanites made it to the surface of my world. They certainly never survived through the troubles. So: I am going to the great council chamber of Aloorn—the Hall of Stars, it is called—to try to take steps to eliminate this plague." She smiled impishly. "I am less afraid of Arvin than I was. He was always described as a giant among my kind, instead of a vain little shrimp."
In the distance, the captain could rell vatch. Still far off, but closer and more intense than before. This, he suddenly realized, was why they'd been brought here. This was the vatch's game. "I think we should all stay. I think the Nanite smell in here was why things smelled wrong when the wrinkled retainer offered to let us out—but I don't think it was just the smell of Nanites."
The little man jabbered something in Sprite, again, and pointed frantically.
Captain Pausert shook his head. "I don't think so, old fellow. I think what you're saying is hurry and go. I also suspect you'd get killed, pretty soon after our escape, to hide your boss' Nanite tracks. Come on, Hantis. Let's all go to your great council chamber."
Hantis nodded. "I don't think we need a guide for that, either. I can find our way."
It was just as well. The terrified servitor had obviously worked out that they weren't going, and had bolted.
CHAPTER 29
As she led them towards the Great Council Chamber, Hantis found herself trying again to deal with the conflicting emotions that had overwhelmed her since she'd found herself back on the motherworld. She'd traveled far and dealt extensively with humans. She and the witches of Karres had found much common ground. But . . . this was Nartheby, Aloorn. The place in her heart of hearts. And Castle Aloorn, to see it like this, lit with faerie-lights, gleaming and glorious—that was a treasure beyond her wildest dreams.
She understood now that she might have come to destroy it. Or, at least, to lead to its destruction.
The council chamber, the Hall of Stars, was the highest and largest room in Castle Aloorn. They came in through an upper door—the door of the accused, which, as she had been sure it would be, was open and led to an empty gallery. Looking out, she could see that the many tiers of the chamber were full, fuller than she had ever seen it.
On her chair, the judgment seat of Aloorn, sat Arvin Warmaker. His head was bandaged, and he did not look particularly warlike. Actually, now that she was able to look at him slightly more dispassionately, he looked both sore and a little afraid.
They had arrived at an interesting moment. A gold-clad Sprite was just giving Arvin the news that the prisoners had escaped from the Imnbriahn-des-sahrissa.
"The destruction, my lord, is terrible! More than half of the precious crystals are shattered into dust."
"My lord," said a Sprite standing at the side of the judgment seat. "Have patrols sent out! Release the gnyarl! We must capture these miscreants before they get back to Delaron."
Arvin waved a hand in irritation. "Enough, Lord Nalin. I can deal with some things myself. Angbar. See to it."
The gold-clad Sprite bowed and scurried out. Nalin spoke again. "Do you see how right I was now, my lord, to have them sent to the Imnbriahn-des-sahrissa? Delaron will stop at nothing to see our precious Aloorn destroyed."
"Nonetheless, Nalin, it is customary for the accused to come before the seat of judgment before they are executed." Looking at him now, her fury gone, Hantis could see that Arvin was a very young Sprite. Young and probably unsure of himself.
There was nothing unsure about Nalin. "My lord, it was necessary to take swift and decisive action against these criminals. You were incapacitated and their guilt was established beyond all doubt. They were spies from Delaron. Murderers and assassins."
An elderly Sprite from one of the front galleries stood up. "My Lord Arvin. What rubbish is this? Assassins come in darkness, in secret and with stealth. They do not arrive at midmorning with a group of aliens and give the greeting words of the Clan Aloorn."
"Treachery in our very midst!" proclaimed Nalin, pointing at the Sprite. "Now, my Lord Arvin, we know who betrayed the pass-phrase of the great Clan Aloorn! Look no further than Lord Laar, of sept-clan Aloorn-Taro."
Lord Laar looked as if he might just leap over the edge of the gallery and seize the Lord Nalin by the throat. But young Arvin raised his hand. "Enough! There will be time enough for accusations and counteraccusation, when the prisoners are recaptured."
Hantis decided this was as good a chance as she was going to get. "We are here, Lord Arvin! In the gallery of the accused, where we should have been brought to begin with. We await our hearing."
Pandemonium was the right word for what followed.
* * *
Captain Pausert wished he could understand what was being said. The huge hall that Hantis had led them to was an amazing place. It was several hundred feet from the floor to the ceiling, for a start. The ceiling itself was a semitransparent dome-roof. Pausert could now understand why the council chamber was called "the Hall of Stars." Around each star in the night-sky the ceiling glowed, as if magnifying their light. Although he could see no other form of lighting, the chamber was nonetheless quite bright. Perhaps the light came from hidden globes in the hanging translucent galleries that studded the walls like so many bracket-funguses. All of the galleries, but for the one they stood in, were jam-packed with Sprites.
Until Hantis spoke, that is—when, like great flocks of angry birds, they all headed for the hanging balcony.
"Don't do anything. Don't fight!" said Hantis, urgently, as the Sprites levitated towards them. With the numbers of Sprites coming up, Pausert realized a fight would have been futile, anyway.
So, for the second time that day, but this time with his cooperation, the captain allowed himself to be bound. He consoled himself with the thought that, after all, he could always get loose again. Vezzarn still had his vibro-razor and Goth could still teleport objects.