Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (52 page)

be a puppet king like my poor cousin Gilthas. However, the

Regent Glaucous gave me to understand that he will not be the

ruler. He will be the person to smooth the way so that my wishes

and commands are carried out."

Kiryn was silent, made no answer. He looked around the

room as if making up his mind to something. Drawing a step

nearer Silvan, he said, in a low voice, "May I suggest that Your

Majesty dismiss the servants?"

Silvan regarded Kiryn in troubled astonishment, suddenly

wary, suspicious. Glaucous had told him that Kiryn himself had

designs upon the throne. What if this were a ploy to catch him

alone and helpless. . . .

Silvan looked at Kiryn, who was slender and delicate of build,

with the soft, smooth hands of the scholar. Silvan compared his

cousin to himself, whose body was hardened, well-muscled.

Kiryn was unarmed. He could hardly represent a threat.

"Very well," Silvan said and sent away the servants, who had

been tidying the room and laying out the clothes he would wear

at the formal dance given in his honor this evening.

"There, Cousin. We are alone. What is it you have to say to

me?" Silvan's voice and manner were cool.

"Your Majesty, Cousin," Kiryn spoke earnestly, keeping his

voice low, despite the fact that the two of them were alone in the

large and echoing room, "I came here today with one fixed pur-

pose and that is to warn you against this Glaucous."

" Ah," said Silvan, with a knowing air. "I see."

"You don't seem surprised, Your Majesty."

"I am not, Cousin. Disappointed, I confess, but not surprised.

Glaucous himself warned me that you might be jealous of both

him and of me. He told me quite candidly that you seemed to dis-

like him. The feeling is not mutual. Glaucous speaks of you with

the highest regard and is deeply saddened that the two of you

cannot be friends."

"I am afraid I cannot return the compliment," Kiryn said.

"The man is not worthy to be regent, Your Majesty. He is not of

House Royal. He is . . . or was. . . a wizard who tended the Tower

of Shalost. I know that my Uncle Konnal suggested him, but. . ."

He stopped talking, as if he found it difficult to proceed. "I tell

you what I have never told anyone else, Your Majesty. I believe

that Glaucous has some sort of strange hold upon my uncle.

"My uncle is a good man, Your Majesty. He fought bravely

during the War of the Lance. He fought the dream alongside

Porthios, your father. What he saw during those awful times has

caused him to live in constant fear, unreasoning fear. He is terri-

fied of the evil days returning. He believes that this shield will

save the Silvanesti from the coming darkness. Glaucous controls

the magic of the shield and through threats of lowering it, he con-

trols my uncle. I would not want to see Glaucous control you in

the same way.

"Perhaps you think, Cousin, that I am already under his con-

trol. Perhaps you think that you would be a better Speaker of

Stars?" Silvan asked with mounting anger.

"I could have been Speaker, Cousin," Kiryn said with quiet

dignity. "Glaucous sought to make me Speaker. I refused. I knew

your mother and your father. I loved them both. The throne is

yours by right. I would not usurp it."

Silvan felt he deserved the rebuke. "Forgive me, Cousin. I

spoke before my brain had time to guide my tongue. But I believe

that you are mistaken about Glaucous. He has only the best in-

terests of the Silvanesti at heart. The fact that he has risen to his

high estate from a low one is to his credit and to the credit of your

uncle for seeing his true worth and not being blinded by class as

we elves have been in the past. My mother said often that we

have harmed ourselves by keeping people of talent from fulfilling

their true potential by judging a person only by birth and not by

ability. One of my mother's most trusted advisers was Samar,

who began life as a soldier in the ranks."

"If Glaucous had come to us with expertise in the governing

of our people, I would be the first to support him, no matter what

his background. But all he has done is to plant a magical tree,"

Kiryn said wryly, "and cause a shield to be raised over us."

"The shield is for our protection," Silvanoshei argued.

"Just as prisoners in their jail cells are protected," Kiryn

returned.

Silvan was thoughtful. He could not doubt his cousin's sin-

cerity and his earnestness. Silvan did not want to hear anything

against the regent. Quite honestly, Silvan was overwhelmed by

the new responsibilities that had been thrust so suddenly upon

him. He found it comforting to think that someone like Glaucous

was there to advise and counsel him. Someone as formal and

polite and charming as Glaucous.

"Let us not quarrel over this, Cousin," Silvan said. "1 will

consider your words, and I thank you for speaking from your

heart, for I know that this cannot have been an easy task for you."

He extended his hand.

Kiryn took his cousin's hand with true goodwill and pressed

it warmly. The two talked of other matters, of the ceremonies of

the forthcoming coronation, of the current fashions in elven danc-

ing. Kiryn then took his leave, promising to return to escort his

cousin to his crowning.

"I will be wearing the crown that last graced the head of my

grandfather," said Silvan.

"May it bring you better fortune than it brought him, Your

Majesty," said Kiryn. With a grave expression, he took his

departure.

Silvan was sorry to see his cousin leave, for he was very pleased

with Kiryn's warm friendliness and lively nature, even though he

felt rather resentful at Kiryn for spoiling the morning. On this day

of all days, a new king should experience nothing but joy.

"He is just envious," Silvan said to himself. "Perfectly natural.

I am sure I would feel the same."

"Your Majesty," said one of his servants, "I grieve to report

that it is starting to rain."

"Well, and what do you think of our new king?" General

Konnal asked his companion as they ascended the stairs of the

royal palace to pay homage to His Majesty on the morning of his

coronation. The rain was steady and heavy now, had drawn a

curtain of gray over the sun.

"I find him to be intelligent, modest, unaffected," Glaucous

replied, smiling. "1 am extremely pleased with him. You?" ,

"He is an adolescent puppy," said Konnal, shrugging. "He will

give us no trouble." His tone softened. "Your advice was right, my

friend. We did well to place him on the throne. The people adore

him. I have not seen them so happy in a long time. The entire city

has turned out to celebrate. The streets are decked with flowers,

everyone is dressed in his or her finest clothes. There will be par-

ties that last for days. They are calling his coming a miracle. It is

being said that those afflicted with the wasting sickness feel life re-

stored to their limbs. There will be no more talk of lifting the

shield. No reason to do so now."

"Yes, we have uprooted the weed of rebellion the kirath were

attempting to plant in our lovely garden," Glaucous replied. "The

kirath imagine they have defeated you by placing Lorac's grand-

son on the throne. Do nothing to disillusion them. Let them cele-

brate. They have their king. They will trouble us no more."

"And if by some unfortunate chance the shield should fail

us," Konnal stated with a meaningful look at the wizard, "we

have settled his mother, as well. She will rush in with her troops,

armed to the teeth, to save her country and find it in the hands of

her very own son. It would almost be worth it just to see the ex-

pression on her face."

"Yes, well, perhaps." Glaucous did not seem to find this idea

all that amusing. "1, for one, can do very well without ever seeing

the witch's face again. I do not believe for a moment that she

would let her son remain on the throne. She wants that prize for

herself. Fortunately," he said smiling, his good humor restored,

"she is unlikely to ever find her way inside. The shield will keep

her out."

"Yet the shield admitted her son," said Konnal.

"Because I wanted it to do so," Glaucous reminded the

general.

"So you say."

"Do you doubt me, my friend?" ,

Glaucous halted, turned to face the general. The wizard's

white robes rippled around him.

"Yes," Konnal replied evenly. "Because I sense that you doubt

yourself."

Glaucous started to reply, closed his mouth on his words.

Clasping his hands behind him, he walked on.

"I am sorry," Konnal began.

"No, my friend." Glaucous halted, turned. "I am not angry. I

am hurt, that is all. Saddened."

"It's just that-"

"I will explain myself. Perhaps then you will believe me."

Konnal sighed. "You purposefully misunderstand me. But,

very well, I will hear your explanation."

"I will tell you how it came about. But not here. Too many

people." Glaucous indicated a servant carrying a large wreath

of laurel leaves. "Come into the library where we may talk

privately."

A large room lined with shelves of dark, polished wood filled

with books and scrolls, the library was quiet, the books seeming

to absorb the sounds of anyone who spoke, as if noting them

down for future reference.

"When I said that the shield acted according to my wishes,"

Glaucous explained, "I did not mean that I gave the shield a spe-

cific command to admit this young man. The magic of the shield

emanates from the tree in the Garden of Astarin. Acting on my di-

rection, the Woodshapers planted and nurtured the Shield Tree. I

instructed them in the magic that caused the tree to grow. The

magic is very much a part of me. I devote an immense amount of

my strength and energy to maintaining the magic and keeping

the shield in place. I feel sometimes," Glaucous added softly,"as

if I am the shield. The shield that keeps our people safe."

Konnal said nothing, waited to hear more.

"I have suspected before now that the shield has been react-

ing to my unspoken wishes," Glaucous continued, "wishes I did

not even know I was making. I have long wanted a king to sit

upon the throne. The shield knew that unconscious desire of

mine. Thus when Silvanoshei happened to be near it, the shield

embraced him."

The general wanted to believe this, but his doubts lingered.

Why has Glaucous said nothing of this before? Konnal wondered.

Why do his eyes avoid mine when he speaks of it? He knows

something. He is keeping something from me.

Konnal turned to Glaucous. "Can you assure me that no one

else will enter the shield?"

"I can assure you of that my dear General," Glaucous an-

swered. "I stake my life upon it."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE BLIND BEGGAR

Mina's troops left Sanction in good spirits, roaring out songs

to keep the cadence of the march and speaking of the bold

deeds they would do in Silvanesti in the name of their

idolized commander. Whenever Mina came in sight, riding her

blood-red horse, the soldiers cheered wildly, often breaking ranks

(braving the ire of their commanding officers) to cluster round

her and touch her for luck.

Galdar was gone. He had left several days earlier for Khur,

bearing Mina' s orders to General Dogah. Captain Samuval was in

command in the minotaur's absence. His command was easy at

this point. The sun shone. The summer days were warm. The

marching at this stage was safe and easy, for the Knights were

only a few days out of Sanction and still in friendly territory. Soon

they would enter the land of the ogres-once allies and now

bitter enemies. The thought of fighting even those savage mon-

sters could not cloud their spirits. Mina lit their shadows like a

cold, pale sun.

A veteran campaigner, Samuval knew that when the

weather broke and the rain set in, when the road narrowed,

the wind howled and the enemy nipped at their heels, the sol-

diers would begin to have second thoughts about this ven-

ture. They would start to grouse and grumble, and a few

might take it into their heads to start trouble. But, for now, his

duties were light. He marched at Mina's side-the envy of all

in the column. He stood next to her as she sat on her horse re-

viewing the troops as they passed by. He was in her tent every

night, studying the map and marking out the next day's route.

He slept near her tent, wrapped in his cloak, his hand on his

sword hilt, ready to rush to her defense should she have need

of him.

He did not fear any of the men would try to harm her. Lying

on his cloak one night, he stared into the stars in the clear sky and

wondered about that. She was a young woman-a very attractive

young woman. He was a man who loved women, all kinds of

women. He could not begin to count the number he had bedded.