02 Fortress Of Frost And Fire by Lackey Mercedes

Author:Lackey, Mercedes [Mercedes, Lackey,]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T19:10:36.472000+00:00

Chapter XIX Naitachal came slowly awake from dreams that left him with a strange, mixed sensation: pleasure and impending doom, in equal parts. For several moments, he lay as he found himself, eyes closed. There was a mattress under him instead of tree roots and stones, soft warm blankets over him instead of those inadequate things he and Gawaine had bought in Portsmith, and his own inadequate cloak. Gawaine. He sat bolt upright, blinking furiously as a brilliant light like winter sun on snow hit him from all sides. The room slowly came into view: ice-blue walls, pale velvet drapes, ice-blue carpets scattered about a highly polished wooden floor of intricate parquet-workwhat he could see of it from this bed, he thought gloomily. Probably the rest of it was inlaid with semi-precious stones, or he would look down to see the lost Golden Calendar Medallion of the Horoniqas under his feet when he put them over the side. In such a place as this, nothing seemed too fantastic. Gawaine. "Ah, poor lad, I forgot all about him and slept like a lamb while he probably lies frozen out theresomewhere." "You had better worry about yourself just now, Bard." Raven came quickly into the room. "This Voy-vodan has sent servants with food and clothing for all of usand a politely disguised order to eat quickly so he can speak with us." "Ah. Yes." Naitachal was almost disappointed to find the floor where slippers had been placed for him was a plain length of carpet. He stretched, got to his feet and followed the Druid into the main room, where Wulfgar or someone had already built up the fires. He would have to put Gawaine from his mind for now, the Bard decided; Raven was right. Get all of them somehow out of this predicament and then he could devote his energy to finding his lost bardling. It was always possible Gawaine had won free of the maze anyway, gotten to the horses and escaped. The thought cheered him most of the way through an excellent breakfast. Somewhat to his surprise, the usually deferential Wulfgar was not waiting upon Tem-Telek, and with the lizardman's cloak tossed over the chair back, Naitachal could plainly see the noble had removed what gems he could, and both his red leather straps. He remembered then: Wulfgar was to be the Master here, the lizardman his apprentice. To his amusement, Wulfgar appeared to be enjoying himself, and he put on a rather bossy voice whenever the servants came within hearing. "Now, just you don't embarrass me," he said gruffly. "I know how you are, and it can't be helped, more's the pity, but just the same, you don't talk around this big feller unless I say. Or he does, a'course." Tem-Telek bowed his head deferentially, but the Bard saw a wicked gleam in his eye, as though he, too, was getting a certain amount of fun out of the deception. If they can pull it off, that is.

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