The Chalice by Deborah Chester

Author:Deborah Chester [Chester, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Epic, Princes, Fantasy, Fantasy fiction, Quests (Expeditions), General, Science Fiction, Fantasy fiction; American, Fiction
ISBN: 9780441007967
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 2001-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Watch his highness,” he said in a low voice. “Do not let him destroy more furniture.”

Overhearing, Gavril snorted to himself with bleak amuse-ment and kept pacing back and forth.

It pleased him to hold Tanengard in his hands, pleased him to swing it about and attack imaginary foes.

After a long while, one of Mradvior’s minions came for him, followed by a servant carrying Gavril’s cloak and gloves. Smiling, Gavril put them on and followed the man outside.

Snow was falling, and the air felt damp and bitterly cold. Shivering beneath his heavy cloak, Gavril climbed into the horse-drawn sleigh next to Mradvior and allowed servants to spread a heavy robe of beyar fur across his lap. Mounted guards, snow collecting in the folds of their fur hats, surrounded the sleigh.

An order was given, and the sleigh went racing toward the tall gates, which swung open at their approach. The gliding smoothness of the sleigh amazed Gavril. It was far more comfortable than a wagon.

The mounted guards stayed close, pressing on all sides, so that it was impossible to see anything of the streets or the city.

Mradvior’s dark mustache turned white with snow. He sat tensely, looking neither right nor left.

A

large basin of salt was balanced on his lap, and in his hand he clutched a long dagger. He seemed unwilling to talk to Gavril.

The prince wondered what Mradvior was afraid of, yet the count seemed unwilling to talk. At last they passed through a set of tall gates and wound through a wood up a short hill to a castle fortress. An entire army seemed to be camped on the grounds. Gantese marched by, and in the distance Gavril heard an animal bugle loudly.

He jumped, his heart thudding in his chest. “A shapeshifter?” he gasped out.

“Darsteed,” Mradvior told him without expression. “Foul creatures.”

In its scabbard, Tanengard glowed white. Gripping the hilt for courage, Gavril saw a black, scaly monster that looked like a dog—but that was much larger, and horrible—go padding around the corner of a tent. His mouth went dry, and his grip tightened.

“That—that beast,” he said breathlessly.

“Hmm? I didn’t see it.”

“ ‘Twas vile,” Gavril said. “Like a—” He stopped, unable to go on.

Mradvior stared at him. “Haven’t you seen Nonkind before?”

“Of course I have! I—” Gavril thought of the shapeshifter, a horrifying, shrieking, winged creature that had clawed him with its talons. He still bore deep scars on his legs, still remembered his terror, still recalled how his gold Circle had not deflected the monster’s attack.

Suddenly the bowl of salt that Mradvior held made perfect sense. Staring at it, Gavril swallowed hard.

“Have you any salt in your pockets?” Mradvior asked him, proffering the bowl. ‘Take some.“

Gavril frowned, affronted as always by the man’s familiarity, and turned his head away. “No, thank you.”

‘Take some. Is best to be prepared.“

“Nothing would dare attack me,” Gavril said, and heard the hollow bravado in his voice.

“Certainly not in the presence of your king.”

“If you want to think so. But is never good, to be in presence of king.

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