• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 745 0

of the stone council hall, which sported a colonnade and a flight of shallow steps, stretched a plaza, paved with bricks. Off to one side, the militia was heaping up wood for a bonfire to light the proceedings. Jahdo and Niffa scrambled to the top of the thick wall on the uphill side and watched the murmuring crowd grow larger and larger. Every now and then Jahdo would turn round and look back at the lake. Already in the cooler evening mists were rising over deep water. Since it was fed by hot springs, the lake ran warm. Just as the night grew thick, and the flames began to leap high from the fire, casting enormous shadows across the arches and pillars of the hall, the council barge tied up down at the jetty. From his perch Jahdo could see the torches bobbing along the twisted streets of Citadel and pick out the council members, too, as the procession panted its way up the steep hillside. Striding among them was the Gel da’ Thae bard.

“I be scared,” Niffa said abruptly. “I don’t know why. I just feel so cold and strange, like.”

“Oh, he’s not so bad, really. The bard, I mean. And this won’t have anything to do with us.”

“Don’t go being so sure, little brother. I never feel like this for no reason at all.” Her voice stuck in her throat, and she paused, gulping for air. “Let’s get off this wall. Let’s go find Mam and Da.”

“I don’t want to. I can’t see anything down in the crowd.”

“Jahdo, come on! You can’t stay here.”

He hesitated, considering, but taking orders from his sister rankled.

“Won’t. You go down if you want to.”

“You dolt! Come with me!”

He shook his head in a stubborn no and refused to say a thing more. After a moment she slid down and plunged into the crowd like a swimmer into waves. He could just make her out, heading from clot to murmuring clot of townsfolk, until at last she fetched up next to Demet, standing guard near the fire itself. So that’s it! Jahdo thought. She just wanted to find him, not Mam and Da at all.

Brass horns blared at the gates to the plaza. The crowd shrank back into itself, opening a narrow passage through for the councilmen, with Verrarc in the lead and Admi, the chief speaker, bringing up the rear. In the middle strode the Gel da’Thae, surrounded by councilmen, all murmuring to him at once, whether or not he could hear over the crowd and the horns. As they reached the steps, a squad of militiamen escorted them to the big stone rostrum near the fire. After some confused milling round, the clot opened again to let Admi climb the rostrum. A tall man with narrow shoulders but a big belly, he was going bald rather badly, so that he seemed made from perched spheres. In the firelight his head gleamed with sweat, and his tiny eyes peered out at the crowd through slits in heavy flesh. Yet when he spoke, his dark voice rang like gold.

“Fellow citizens! We do have among us a guest, the honored bard Meer of the Gel da’ Thae.”

Dutifully everyone clapped their hands, a patter of sound, dying fast.

“He does come on grave purpose and with serious intent. Trouble brews in the far west. The wild tribes of the northern Horsekin are on the move.”

It seemed that everyone in the plaza caught their breath hard. Even over the crackle of the bonfire their dismay hammered on the surrounding walls — Admi wiped his forehead with both hands, unconsciously pushing back hair he no longer had.

“May the gods allow that this trouble stay among them!” Admi went on. “Yet who knows what the gods intend? The western Horsekin, our allies for all these long years, are fortifying their cities. From what Meer does tell me, it behooves us to look to our own. We go on full guard and military alert.”

Murmurs, nods—the crowd moved within itself, then fell silent. Jahdo inched closer along the wall. He could just see Meer, turning his head slowly back and forth, as if listening to the temper of the gathering.

“Since Meer did travel long and hard to reach us, he will claim a reward,” Admi continued. “He would journey farther on, where none of our merchants do go, and he does need a servant and guide. Sightless as he