Freda Warrington - Jewelfire 02 by The Sapphire Throne

Author:The Sapphire Throne
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

It was close to Hollynight when they came to Tasqabad Hall.

Winter was setting in, mild and damp rather than bitter-cold. They didn’t get the harsh winters of the north, Branq’elin said, but normally it was colder than this. She seemed disturbed by it. There had been more of the strange green storms, not as severe as the first, but eerie enough. Rufryd thought of Tanthe and wondered where she was. In Eisilion, in Torith Mir … in Verdanholm? Did they have winter in the realm of the Aelyr?

Since the night in Fveybad, Branq’elin had been civil but ice-cool to Rufryd. She never gave him a second chance, but even if she had, it would have had the same outcome. He felt vaguely saddened by this, but there was nothing he could do, or even wanted to do. In another life they might have been happy together, but he had no love to give her. He was heading towards Vexor as if hoping to be swallowed up by death.

The scale of the landscape became grander, with wide valleys pushing between sheer hills as if gigantic rivers had once flowed along them; dark volcanic mountains in the far distance; an endless sweep of great hills filled with forests and rivers. They rounded a bend in the road and there stood a beautiful town with cobbled streets, houses painted white and yellow and blue that stood five storeys high with windows peeping from between brightly-painted shutters. Wet snow was pattering in the streets, but the sun glowed luminous through bars of black cloud, splashing light on the cobbles, drenching the houses.

‘This is Tasqabad,’ said Branq’elin. ‘In a few moments we shall see my parents’ hall… There!’

The seat of the Dukes of Thanmandrathor was a magnificent hall of stone and timber set on a wooded hill, with the town falling away around its flanks. It looked rough-hewn and cold, compared to the buildings of Parione, yet it had a raw majesty that appealed to Rufryd. Sunlight spilled over its shining slate roof and gilded its timber pillars. Orchards and meadows lay around it, blending raggedly into the town itself.

‘It’s splendid,’ said Dawn.

Branq’elin smiled proudly. ‘I wish Mawrdreth were with me, but alas … I shall have to go and tell my parents what befell him, and everything else that has happened.’

She led them to the flanks of the hall and into a huge courtyard. Grooms came to take their horses, but Rufryd insisted on stabling Halcyon himself. He was tired; he needed some time alone before he must steel himself to meet yet more nobles. Once the stallion was settled, with his nose thrust happily into a bucket of grain, Rufryd wandered outside and found two lads hovering, one with a pitcher of beer and the other offering bread and apples. They approached him nervously, smiling.

‘Sir, our lord and lady asked us to offer you refreshment,’ said one. He was a tall thin youth of sixteen at most, with brown-black hair in a plait, very white teeth and bright green eyes.

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