Weis, Margaret - Star of the Guardians 01 - The Lost King by Weis Margaret

Author:Weis, Margaret [Weis, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Fiction, General, Fantastic Fiction
ISBN: 9780553286007
Publisher: Spectra
Published: 1990-07-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

La cadence est moins lente, et la chute plus sure.

Gabriele Faure, "Pavan"

Maigrey sat curled up in the only chair in her small quarters, her head leaning against the side, her scarred cheek resting on her hand. Melancholy music accompanied her thoughts—the sad, familiar melody causing her to remember a time when she had not paid much attention to the words because she had not understood them. She wished she had listened more closely, heard what the voices were telling her.

"The cadence is less slow, and the fall more certain."

The dance was nearing its end, the pace increasing, growing frantic. . . .

The door to her room slid open silently and Sagan entered, just as silently. The music swelled, the voices were sad, but the regret was mingled with a joy that there had been so much.

The door slid shut. Sagan stood near her, loomed above her. She did not move or look up at him, but only listened. What if youth had never been?

"I know I'm your prisoner, my lord, but you could at least have knocked."

"I heard the music. I didn't want to disturb you."

The Warlord walked over to the computer screen that printed out the title of the piece the person had selected from the ship's music library, but just as he bent down to look, the name flashed out. "What was it?"

"Faure's 'Pavan'—a 'grave and stately dance.'"

The Warlord moved to stand behind her and placed a hand upon her shoulder. She flinched at his touch, though it was gentle and matched his voice. "If so, my lady, then you must take your final turn upon the floor. For you, the dance is coming to an end."

Maigrey was not surprised, nor was she frightened. She was very tired and only wanted to rest. His hand was warm, a contrast to her chill skin.

"The boy is on his way," Sagan added.

"You've lost him, then, my lord."

Maigrey was surprised he wasn't angrier, but then he'd always been expert at controlling his emotions. She didn't bother to search his mind or she might have been prepared for his next statement.

"No, my lady, though you did your best to warn him. He's on his way to me."

Maigrey raised her head, stared at him. Her movement caused her pale hair to brush across the back of his fingers and he withdrew his hand away from the touch.

"I don't believe you."

"Yes, you do, my lady. We can keep our thoughts hidden from each other, but we can't lie. This shouldn't come as a shock, Maigrey." Sagan rubbed one hand over the other, as if the flesh had been burned. "You should have anticipated it. I did. He is, after all, of the Blood Royal."

Slowly, not taking her eyes from him, Maigrey rose out of her chair and stood, facing him. "A trap! It was all a trap."

"Traps are clumsy. I prefer to think of it as a finesse that, if it succeeds, gives me an extra trick."

"And if it had failed?"

"I still make my bid.

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