The Blood Knight - J. Gregory Keyes [107]
It was difficult to argue without words, but Henne pointed to the river and then held his hands about a handspan apart. Then he pointed in the direction they had come and stetched his hand as far apart as he could. After a bit more pantomime, Stephen gathered that the gist of Henne’s sentiment was that whatever might be lurking in the waters around Whitraff, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as the woorm, and their best chance of outrunning the woorm was on the river. So despite Stephen’s warning, a few moments later they were back on the water.
They passed the ruins of Whitraff without incident, however.
Stephen wondered once again where Aspar and Winna were. Had they come looking for him? Winna would want to. Aspar might, although if he was beginning to sense Stephen’s feelings for Winna, he might not. In any event, both were bound to do whatever Anne Dare commanded, and she needed every knife, sword, and bow she could get if she meant to retake her throne.
Maybe Winna had come after him alone. After all, she had set out alone to find Aspar. But then again, she loved Aspar, or thought she did.
To Stephen it seemed a bit ridiculous. Aspar was two decades Winna’s senior. She would spend her middle years wiping the drool from his face. Would he give her children? Stephen couldn’t imagine that, either. The holter was admirable in most ways, but not in the ways that make for a good husband.
Then again, Stephen wasn’t really any better, was he? If he really loved Winna, he would be searching for her right now, eager to be at her side. And he wanted to be, he really did. But he wanted this more: to unravel the mysteries of language and time.
That was why he was doing this; not because the fratrex had asked him to, not because he feared the woorm, not even because he believed he could prevent whatever new horror was to be released upon the world, but because he had to know.
They never saw the nicwer. Perhaps it had died of its wounds; perhaps it simply had become wary of men. Maybe it could sense that its prey couldn’t hear its deadly song.
But the next day, when fish began floating to the surface of the river, Stephen reckoned that maybe the nicwer knew when to make way for its better.
ANNE HAD SEEN the great hall of Glenchest many times. Sometimes it had been empty when she and her sisters had sneaked into it to enjoy the echos that boomed in the dark and the cavernous reaches of its high-arched roof. On other occasions she had witnessed it full of light, glittering with decorations, packed with lords in elegant suits and ladies in dazzling gowns.
She had never seen it full of warriors before.
Elyoner had ordered a huge, long table brought in, and a large armchair placed at the head of it.
That was where Anne sat now, feeling uncomfortable, staring around at the faces, trying to fit names even to the familiar ones. She wished she had paid more attention at her father’s court, but there was nothing to do about it now.
The men—and they were all men, all thirty-two of them—looked back at her, some staring frankly, others averting their gaze when they thought she was looking. But she knew that all of them were studying her, probing her, trying to figure her out.
She was wondering what to say when Artwair stood up and bowed.
“May I, Your Majesty?” he asked, gesturing at the assembly.
“Please,” she said.
He nodded, then raised his voice.
“Welcome, all of you,” he said, and the murmur of voices receded. “You all know me. I’m a plain man, not given to long speeches, especially at times like this. This is a time for spears, not words, but I reckon a few words have to be spoken to gather the spears together.
“Here’s what it comes down to, as I see it. Not a year ago, our liege, king, and emperor was murdered, and so were two of his daughters. Now, whether that was Black Robert’s work I don’t know, but I do know that Crotheny had a king,