Mystic Warrior by Tracy Hickman & Laura Hickman

Author:Tracy Hickman & Laura Hickman [HICKMAN, TRACY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC009020
ISBN: 9780759510562
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2004-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

27

A Private Walk

Dwynwyn fluttered hurriedly through the archway, quickly pulling her white hair back and binding it tightly. There had not been time for any more formal styling and it was still damp from the quick rinse she had given it to get out the sea salt. Dwynwyn knew she was barely presentable at court as she was: her robe was shabby, and she had forgotten her slippers entirely in her haste. It would have to do.

The Sanctuary was in more turmoil than Dwynwyn had ever seen it. Faeries, pixies, nymphs, and dryads dashed purposefully between the great trees and congregated around one or more of the central courtiers near the throne, to whom they would speak in earnest, hushed tones. There was so much activity in the enormous hall that Dwynwyn felt the air currents whip into a frenzied breeze swirling its way between the trunks of the trees.

Tatyana sat attentively at the center of this storm, leaning forward with interest, her right hand absently stroking her smooth chin. The queen’s large amber eyes were bright and alert, yet the Seeker could see weariness in the lines of her face.

Dwynwyn drifted to a halt just beyond the circle of the courtiers. She floated slightly to her right, drifting intentionally into the line of the queen’s sight. Their eyes met in recognition for a moment. It was just enough. Tatyana nodded slightly in the Seeker’s direction. It was their understood signal between them that the Seeker had need to counsel with the queen as soon as possible.

Tatyana the Glorious raised her hand slightly. Voice Newlis, who had been speaking to her in earnest, did not see her signal, however, and continued to speak hurriedly.

“Enough!”

Tatyana rarely raised her voice. When the occasion required it, however, she could give it a timbre that carried to the farthest corners of the Sanctuary. The very sound could make even the highest courtier submit. Some of the servitor class believed that if the queen was in any real distress, her voice would be heard from the highest of the royal apartments to the farthest foundations of Qestardis itself.

That same voice echoed through the coves of the Sanctuary even as she stood imperiously before her throne. Everything in the world within the view of Tatyana had frozen in its place.

“Who dares bring disorder into my Sanctuary?” Tatyana thundered. “The anarchy is what we fight; I will not submit to it in my own house. Here I will have order!”

Only the Voice of Warriors, frustrated and desperate, dared answer her. “But, Your Majesty—”

“This is still my Sanctuary, Nevis! Mine! I will have order, is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

She gazed imperiously over the assemblage, a slight disdain edging her voice as she spoke. “I will take counsel with my Seeker for a time. It is my command that the Sanctuary be cleared of all else until I command otherwise. Nevis?”

“By your will, Your Majesty!”

“Admit no one without my permission—no one!”

Tatyana glared about her. The entire court held still in uncertainty.

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