A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [37]
The courtier stared at him in disbelief. The bent old man in armor ran an unsteady, callused hand through his few remaining strands of white hair, and said grimly, "There's no way I can hold this island against any attack, with twelve old men in arms, three dozen fat, lazy, and utterly untrained courtiers, twenty chambermaids, and as many cooks. Even if we're attacked at only one spot, and we all happen by the great blessing of the Three to be standing right there, ready to fight-instead of having to run across the Isle from somewhere ere-we're doomed. A few moments of sport for a handful of good armsmen, and we'll be feeding the flies forever."
"What?" Saraedrin cried again, getting good volume this time, so that his voice echoed across the throne chamber and made other courtiers look up and start to drift over from the various pillars they'd been leaning against. "Then-then-why do we stay here?"
"I and the guardsmen under my command stay here because we were ordered to," Garzhar said slowly and coldly, "and that's what loyalty and a Crown Oath mean" He turned away. "As for you pretty-boy dandies who don't understand the oaths you swear or intend to keep them, I've never understood why you stay here, loudly lamenting your boredom. The free food, I suppose."
"I resent that," another courtier said in his customary grand, deep voice. "Why, in all the years I-"
"Sword Garzhar!" the guard from the doors shouted. "Melted! Scores of them! They came over the wall by Northlook Tower, and are at the Garden Gate already! Daeruth's calling for aid!"
"My thanks, Ilibar! You guard the throne!" Ranking Sword Garzhar was already limping across the polished marble, drawing his sword as he went. "Tarth!"
"Here, Lord!" The young page was already at Garzhar's side. He put the old man's helm into his hands-then handed him a flask of wine.
The old man's eyes widened, and he clapped the boy on the arm, and said, "My thanks for this. Get the cooks and maids away, now" He strode on.
"What?" the deep-voiced courtier snapped. "You still have boats? I thought the regent took them all! Where are they?"
"Get to your post, Nilvarr!" Garzhar roared in disgust, not slowing in his march to the far doors.
The courtier ignored him. "Boy- boy! I demand that you-"
"Tarth!" The ranking sword called back. "Follow the order I gave you last night!"
"With pleasure, Lord!" the page cried, darting for another door. _ Saraedrin and Nilvarr raced after him, shouting at him to stop.
Saraedrin was swifter, but Nilvarr was much closer. His heavy hand fell upon the page's shoulder when they were a little more than halfway across the nigh-deserted throne chamber. "Stop, you disobedient little dog! Nilvarr snarled, spinning Tarth around. "I'm a lord of the court, and I gave you a direct order! You're in a lot of trouble, and you'll be in a lot more if-"
"-I do this! Tarth shouted suddenly, clawing aside Nilvarr's ornamental silver filigree codpiece with one swipe of his hand-and lifting his leg in a full-strength kick that met Nilvarr's best hose at precisely the spot where the courtier's legs joined his torso.
The tall, florid Nilvarr made a high-pitched, birdlike chirping sound as he rose a few inches into the air, attempted some futile clutching, clawing motions-and fell on his face, senseless, right at Saraedrin's rushing feet.
Helplessly, Thelmert Saraedrin tripped and went sprawling-and by the time he'd scrambled to his feet again and joined a few other courtiers at that door, the guard, Ilibar Quelver, was standing in their path with his back to the door Tarth had vanished through, his sword in his hand, and a cold grin on his face.
"I will have no choice," he said in a voice soft with eager promise, "but to regard any man who tries to get past me as a traitor to the Crown and an agent of the would-be usurper Bloodblade-and be warned: I'll treat such a man fittingly." The tip of his sword lifted a little, meaningfully.
The courtiers hesitated, not wanting to turn away or to look at