Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (68 page)

a powerful magical artifact, perhaps the most powerful yet dis-

covered in this world."

"Perhaps." Medan was noncommittal. He had a very low

opinion of mages and magic. "Where is this powerful artifact

now?"

"I do not know for certain," said the elf. "His letter to my

mistress said that the kender had run off with the artifact. Majere

believes the kender has gone to the Citadel of Light. He travels

there to attempt to recover it."

" At least he did not come back here," Medan said, breathing

a sigh of relief. "Good riddance to him and the blasted artifact."

"This information is worth a great deal," the elf said.

"You will be paid. But in the morning," Medan said. "Now be

gone before your mistress misses you."

"She will not." The elf sounded smug. "She sleeps soundly.

Very soundly. I laced her evening tea with poppy juice."

"I told you to leave," Medan said coldly. "I will deduct a steel

piece for every second you remain in my presence. You have lost

one already."

He heard a scrabbling sound in the bushes. The marshal

waited a moment longer, to be certain the elf was gone. The moon

disappeared behind a cloud. The garden was submerged in dark-

ness. The pale glowing orchid vanished from his sight.

It seemed a sign. A portent.

"Only a matter of time," he said to himself. "Days, maybe.

Not longer. This night I have made my decision. I have chosen my

course. I can do nothing now but wait."

His pleasure in the night destroyed, the marshal returned to

his house, forced to fumble his way through the darkness for he

could no longer see the path.

CHAPTER TWENTYSIX

PAWN TO KINGS KNIGHT FOUR

This day, Gerard would meet with Marshal Medan and be

coerced into serving the commander of the Knights of

Neraka. This day, Laurana would discover that she har-

bored a spy, perhaps in her own home. This day, Tasslehoff would

discover that it is difficult to live up to what people say about you

after you are dead. This day, Mina's army would march deeper

into Silvanesti. This day, Silvanoshei was playing a game with his

cousin.

Silvanoshei was king of the Silvanesti. He was king of his

people, just like the bejeweled and ornately carved bit of alabaster

who was king of the xadrez board. A silly, ineffectual king, who

could only move a single square at a time. A king who had to be

protected by his knights and his ministers. Even his pawns had

more important work to do than the king.

"My queen takes your rook," said Kiryn, sliding an ornate

game piece across the green-and-white marble board. "Your king

is doomed. This gives me the game, I think."

"Blast! So it does!" Silvan gave the board an irritated shove,

scattering the pieces. "I used to be quite good at xadrez. My

mother taught me to play. I could even beat Samar on occasion.

You are a far worse player than he was. No offense, Cousin."

"None taken," said Kiryn, crawling on the floor to retrieve a

foot soldier who had fled the field and taken refuge underneath

the bed. "You are preoccupied, that is all. You're not giving the

game your complete concentration."

"Here, let me do that," Silvan offered, remorseful. "I was the

one who spilled them."

'I can manage-" Kiryn began.

"No, let me do something constructive, at least!" Silvan dived

under the table to come up with a knight, a wizard and, after

some searching, his beleaguered king, who had sought to escape

defeat by hiding behind a curtain.

Silvan retrieved all the pieces, set the board up again.

"Do you want to play another?"

"No, I am sick to death of this game!" Silvan said irritably.

Leaving the gaming table, he walked to the window, stared

out it for a few moments, then, restless, he turned away again.

"You say I am preoccupied, Cousin. I don't know by what. I don't

do anything."

He wandered over to a side table on which stood bowls of

chilled fruit, nuts, cheese, and a decanter of wine. Cracking nuts,

as if he had some grudge against them, he sorted through the

shells to find the meats. "Want some?"

Kiryn shook his head. Silvan tossed the shells onto the table,

wiped them from his hand.

"I hate nuts!" he said and walked back across the room to the

window. "How long have I been king?" he asked.

"Some weeks, Cousin-"

"And during that time, what have I accomplished?"

"It is early days, yet, Cousin-"

"Nothing," Silvan said emphatically. "Not a damn thing. I am

not allowed out of the palace for fear I will catch this wasting dis-

ease. I am not permitted to speak to my people for fear of assassins.

I sign my name to orders and edicts, but I'm never permitted to

read them for fear it will fatigue me. Your uncle does all the work."

"He will continue to do it so long as you let him," Kiryn said

pointedly. "He and Glaucous."

"Glaucous!" Silvan repeated. Turning, he eyed his friend sus-

piciously. "You are always on me about Glaucous. I'll have you

know that if it were not for Glaucous, I would not know the little

I do know about what is happening in my very own kingdom.

Look! Look there: now!" Silvan pointed out the window. "Here is

an example of what I mean. Something is happening. Something

is going on, and will I hear what it is? I will"-Silvan was bit-

ter-"but only if I ask my servants!"

A man dressed in the garb of one of the kirath could be seen

running pell-mell across the broad courtyard with its walkways

and gardens that surrounded the palace. Once the elaborate gar-

dens had been a favorite place for the citizens of Silvanost to

walk, to meet, to have luncheons on the broad green swards be-

neath the willow trees. Lovers took boats fashioned in the shape

of swans out upon the sparkling streams that ran through the

garden. Students came with their masters to sit upon the grass

and indulge in the philosophical discussions so dear to elves.

That was before the wasting sickness had come to Silvanost.

Now many people were afraid to leave their homes, afraid to

meet in groups, lest they catch the sickness. The gardens were

almost empty, except for a few members of the military, who had

just come off-duty and were returning to their barracks. The sol-

diers looked in astonishment at the racing kirath, stood aside to

let him pass. He paid no heed to them but hurried onward. He

ran up the broad marble stairs that led to the palace and vanished

from sight.

"There! What did I tell you, Kiryn? Something important has

happened," said Silvan, gnawing his lower lip. "And will the

messenger come to me? No, he will go straight to your uncle. I am

king, not General Konnal!"

Silvan turned from the window, his expression dark and grim.

"I am becoming what I most detest. I am becoming my cousin

Gilthas. A puppet dancing on another's strings!"

"If you are a puppet, Silvan, then that is because you want to

be a puppet," Kiryn said boldly. "The fault is yours, not my

uncle's! You have shown no interest in the day-to-day business of

the kingdom. You could have read those edicts, but you were too

busy learning the newest dance steps."

Silvan looked at him, anger flaring. "How dare you speak to

me like that. I am your-" He check~d himself. He had been

about to say, "your king!" but realized that in view of the conver-

sation, that would sound ridiculous.

Besides, he admitted, Kiryn had spoken nothing more than

the truth. Silvan had enjoyed playing at being king. He wore the

crown upon his head, but he would not take up the mantle of re-

sponsibility and drape it around his shoulders. He drew in a deep

breath, let it out. He had behaved like a child, and so he had been

treated like a child. But no more.

"You are right, Cousin," Silvan said, his tone calm and even.

"If your uncle has no respect for me, why should he? What have

I done since I came here but skulk about in my room playing

games and eating sweets. Respect must be earned. It cannot be

dictated. I have done nothing to earn his regard. I have done

nothing to prove to him and to my people that I am king. That

ends. Today."

Silvan threw open the huge double doors that led to his cham-

bers, threw them open with such force that they banged back against

the walls. The sound startled the guards, who had been dozing on

their feet in the quiet, drowsy afternoon. They clattered to attention

as Silvan strode out the door and walked right past them.

"Your Majesty!" cried one. "Where are you goin~? Your

Majesty, you should not be leaving your room. General- Konnal

has ordered. . . Your Majesty!" The guard found he was speaking

to the king's back.

Silvan descended the long, broad marble staircase, walking

rapidly, with Kiryn at his heels and the guards hastening along

behind.

"Silvan!" Kiryn remonstrated, catching up, "I didn't intend

that you should take charge this very moment. You have much to

learn about Silvanesti and its people. You've never lived among

us. You are very young."

Silvan had understood his cousin's intentions quite well: He

paid him no heed, but kept walking.

"What I meant," Kiryn continued, dogging Silvan's footsteps,

"was that you should take more interest in the daily business of

the kingdom, ask questions. Visit the people in their homes. See

how we live. There are many of the wise among our people who

would be glad to help you learn. Rolan of the kirath is one. Why

not seek his advice and counsel? You would find him far wiser

than Glaucous, if less pleasing."

Silvan's lips tightened. He walked on. "I know what I am

doing," he said.

"Yes, and so did your Grandfather Lorac. Listen to me,

Silvan," Kiryn said earnestly. "Don't make the same mistake.

Your grandfather's downfall was not the dragon Cyan Blood-

bane. Pride and fear were Lorac's downfall. The dragon was the

embodiment of his pride and his fear. Pride whispered to Lorac

that he was wiser than the wise. Pride whispered that he could

flout rules and laws. Fear urged him to act alone, to refuse help,

to turn a deaf ear to advice and counsel."

Silvanoshei halted. "All my life, Cousin, I've heard that side

of the story, and I have accepted it. I have been taught to be

ashamed of my grandfather. But in recent days I've heard another

side, a side no one mentions because they find it easy to blame

my grandfather for their troubles. The Silvanesti people survived

the War of the Lance. They are alive today because of my grandfa-

ther. If he had not sacrificed himself as he did, you and I would

not be standing here discussing the matter. The welfare of the

people was Lorac's responsibility. He accepted that responsibility.

He saved them, and now instead of being blessed by them he is

denigrated!"

"Who told you this, Cousin?" Kiryn asked.

Silvan saw no reason to answer this, and so he turned on his

heel and continued walking. Glaucous had known his grandfa-

ther. He had been very close to Lorac. Who would know better

the truth of the matter?

Kiryn guessed the name Silvan did not speak. He walked a

few paces behind his king, said no more.

Silvan and his oddly assorted escort, consisting of his cousin

and the clamoring guards, strode rapidly through the corridors of

the palace. Silvan passed by magnificent paintings and wondrous

tapestries without a glance. His boots rang loudly on the floor, ex-

pressive of his haste and his determination. Accustomed only to

silence in this part of the palace, the servants came running to see

what was amiss.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty," they murmured, bowing in

fluttered confusion and looking at each other askance when he

had gone by, as much as to say, "The bird has flown the cage. The

rabbit has escaped the warren. Well, well. Not surprising, consid-

ering that he is a Caladon."

The king left the royal quarters of the palace, entered the

public areas, which were crowded with people: messengers

coming and going, lords and ladies of House Royal standing in

clusters talking among themselves, people bustling about with

ledgers under their arms or scrolls in their hands. Here was the

true heart of the kingdom. Here the business of the kingdom was

accomplished. Here-on the side of the palace opposite the royal

quarters where Silvan resided.

The courtiers heard the commotion, paused and turned to see

what was going on, and when they saw it was their king, they

were astonished. So astonished that some lords forgot to bow, re-

membered only belatedly and then because scandalized wives

poked them in the ribs.

Silvan noted the differ~ce between the two sides of the

palace immediately. His lips tightened. He ignored the courtiers

and brushed aside those who tried to speak. Rounding a comer,

he approached another set of double doors. Guards stood here,