Shadow War - Deborah Chester [94]
The murmurs began again. No one could recall any occasion, no matter how magnificent, when Hovet had worn new armor. The lords stared at him in astonishment, making Hovet red-faced and more short-tempered than usual.
Snapping at the Master of the Bedchamber, he gestured impatiently and disappeared again.
The Master of the Bedchamber clapped his hands for attention. “My lords, please take your places for the robing of his Majesty.”
The courtiers shuffled about. Some could never remember their places and had to be assisted by patient servants. When the line had been correctly reformed, the footmen opened the tall double doors, and the guards on duty saluted and stepped aside.
One by one, the lords in waiting filed into the imperial bedchamber.
In the chambers of state belonging to the empress, the level of anticipation was even higher. Wearing their finest gowns, the ladies in waiting inspected each other’s hair and adjusted lace and necklines, smoothed out wrinkles in the folds of their skirts, complained of how much their new shoes pinched, and laid wagers on how well the coronation robes would look on the empress.
Inside the bedchamber, inside the closed velvet hangings of the bed, Elandra lay curled up beneath the heavy duvet and tried to find her courage. Her dreams still haunted her, vivid and real in her mind. Horrible dreams that she would never forget. They had been forced on her by the Penestricans, and she did not think she would ever forgive them. She did not believe purification involved meeting Beloth, the shadow god of all destruction. She did not believe she was supposed to be hunted down like bait by things so dreadful her mind could not recall them without shuddering.
While she had been still locked inside her vision, the Magria had walked into her dreams and confronted her.
“Take my hand, Elandra,” she had said, fiercely insistent.
Instead Elandra fled to a dark place, full of gloom and mystery and silence. She crawled into a small crevice hewn from the stone walls. Pressing her back to it, she crouched there, holding her breath to make no sound. The dark god must not find her. She knew he was still hunting, sending his dire creatures questing for her trail. Now and then, although they were far away, she could hear the wailing howl of his hounds. Fear shivered through her, and she curled her knees tight against her chest, pressing her face against them.
But the Magria came after her and bent down. “Take my hand, Elandra,” she said. “Take it!”
Elandra shivered. “No,” she whispered.
“Take it, girl! I have come to help you.”
Elandra did not believe her. The Penestricans gave no one help in their tests. They did not interfere. They only stood aside and judged. Angrily she shook her head.
“Elandra, trust me. I offer you help. I know the way out.”
“Go away,” Elandra said.
“I will help you.”
Again the Magria extended her hand, old and knotted with mutilation scars.
Elandra struck it away. “You will lead him to me. Go away! I am safe here.”
“You cannot stay,” the Magria said. “Those who search can find you here. Come with me, to true safety.”
“No.”
“Elandra, I know the only way out.”
“No, I must find it myself.”
The Magria sighed, and her eyes were sad. “Sometimes, child, you must accept the help of others whether you want it or not. It will be easier if you come with me of your own accord.”
Defiance flared in Elandra, fueled by her fear. “Easier?” she said sharply. “Then it cannot be right. You have taught me that yourself.”
“This is a time of exception to what I have taught you.”
“No!”
“Then I have no choice.”
The Magria lifted her hands to the gloom overhead in silence. When she lowered them a moment later, two more Penestrican dream walkers stood on either side of her.
They closed in on Elandra,