The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [127]
Hawkril frowned. "Where?"
"Well, there're always the ruins of Indraevyn," Craer said wryly. "Or a certain Silent House."
King Castlecloaks hauled hard on a cord that rang a servants' bell, but the advancing guards only sneered.
"You really think some bearer of wine trays can smite us down?" one asked mockingly. "Before your bodies lie butchered here? 'Tis time to die, Your Majesty!"
Raulin and Flaeros had already drawn their belt-daggers and retreated, Greatsarn taking a stand before them with his sword drawn. As all three backed into the farthest corner of the chamber, the bard caught up the manyshields board and swung it like a man about to send a shield spinning edgewise across the room. The spired playing pieces bounced and rolled under the boots of the guards, but caused no slips, stumbles, or falls-only wider sneers.
"Fools," one guard said scornfully.
"Corpses," another corrected, gliding forward with his steel raised to strike.
Suldun Greatsarn swallowed and hefted his sword, knowing he must slay without being slain, at least until all but two of the traitors were down… and not knowing how by all graces of the Three he was going to manage that, against warriors so skilled, fresh, and careful. They advanced in a slowly tightening web, not allowing any gap a swift swordsman could use to strike, nor making any mistake that might leave a royal path to the door-even if the guards outside that door could be trusted. The boy king was going to die here this day, plunging all Aglirta back into bloodshed or the softly gloating tyranny of the Serpent…
And then a section of solid stone wall hard by Flaeros Delcamper swung open, striking the bard's shoulder a numbing blow. An unfamiliar man bustled out of it, calmly turning aside a startled Delcamper dagger-thrust with a hand somehow hard enough to parry steel, and murmured, "Flee!" to the three startled men backed into the corner.
Even as the king, his loyal warrior, and the bard gaped at the newcomer and the rectangle of dank, waiting darkness behind him, the guards charged forward with a roar-but the newly arrived man seemed to flow past Greatsarn, growing taller, and barred their way with hands that became hissing serpent-heads.
As the traitors hesitated, those heads melted back into human hands again, but the face above them had changed, becoming dark-eyed and scaled. A forked tongue undulated in its fanged mouth as it hissed, "Ssssso! Disssobeying ordersss again?"
The guards halted, lowering blades in bewilderment, as Greatsarn almost hurled the two younger men into the passage and then followed them. Barely had he ducked out of the room than its door swung open, revealing a page and a courtier-who promptly screamed at the sight of the drawn swords, and fled.
"Wh-who are you?" a guard snarled.
"The Sssupreme Ssserpent," the towering figure told them coldly. The warriors traded looks, growing pale, and then let their swords menace the floor as they backed away.
Without taking his eyes from them, the Supreme Serpent reached out an arm and swung the door of the secret passage closed. Putting his back to it, he leaned on it, folded his arms, and said, "Now, sssupposse you tell me jussst how many of you are here on FLowfoam, who givesss orders to who, and sssuchlike."
The guards exchanged doubtful looks.
"I'm waiting," the Serpent-priest added softiy, and all of the warriors hastily began to speak at once.
17
An Array of Grim Faces
Darkness shimmered, gave birth to swirling glows, and then silently replaced them with a dark-eyed young lass in armor. Maelra Bowdragon looked around herself in wary awe, smelling cold, dank stone, old dust, and something more-a reek of death, or perhaps recent fear. This part of the cellars of Flowfoam Castle looked shattered: a webwork of cracks, not all of them small, wandered across the walls, floor, and ceiling. Yet silence reigned, the air was stale, and dust lay thick and undisturbed.
I'm