Christie Golden - Final Dance 01 by On Fire's Wings

Author:On Fire's Wings [Wings, On Fire's]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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PART II

In the Shadow of Mount Bari

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Chapter 16

The advisor hastened along the stone corridors. He was late, and his lord would not like that. But he hoped that the news he bore, extracted from the latest prisoner by various means of persuasion, would placate the Emperor.

Though it was daylight, the castle was dark, as it ever was. A thunderstorm outside rendered the skies a dull pewter shade. Portraits glowered from the stone walls. Torches burned a dull orange red in sconces, illuminating little. The cold from the stone floor seemed to seep through the advisor’s thick boots and into his feet.

The corridor wound deeper into the bowels of the castle. Windows disappeared; even the cheerless light of the stormy sky was now gone. The advisor quickened his pace, almost running.

At the end of the corridor stood two huge wooden doors. They were mammoth things, carved with a variety of designs and inlaid with precious stones. They seemed as though they would be impossible to move. Such was their craftsmanship, however, that a single finger’s pressure would open them. But the advisor was not fool enough to apply that pressure uninvited.

“Your Excellency,” he called in a voice that quavered slightly. “I have come as you asked.”

“Enter.” He could read nothing in the voice; it was cold, flat. Dead. Settling himself and putting a pleasing expression on his face, the advisor did as he was bid.

In this room, the Emperor’s private refuge, the only light came from a crackling fire whose friendly glow was disconcertingly cheery in the dark place. The Emperor sat in shadow, in a wine-colored, overstuffed chair. Statuary crowded the room, images from mythology and history, and the paintings that adorned the walls were barely visible in the dim light.

The fire cast shadows which danced grotesquely, like capering demons, against the walls. But there was enough light to see the Emperor’s creature that cowered against his legs.

The advisor eyed it briefly. The beast was ancient, and powerful enough to destroy anyone in a heartbeat. Yet it was timid and often frightened. A thin golden chain wrapped around its slender, graceful neck. The end of that chain disappeared into shadow. The advisor knew it was clutched in the Emperor’s left hand, as always. He never inquired as to why the Emperor felt such a shy creature must be constantly chained. One didn’t ask the Emperor such questions.

The beast, about the size and shape of a small deer, looked up at the advisor with limpid brown eyes. Its single horn and the scales on back and face caught the glow of the firelight, and its brown coat looked chestnut. It lowered its head, the golden chain jingling with the movement, and closed its eyes.

The advisor was relieved. Despite—or perhaps because of—its docility, the creature always unnerved him.

“I hope,” said the Emperor in his flat voice, “that you bring good news this time.”

“News, Your Excellency, but whether it is good or bad remains to be seen.”

The Emperor waved a slender, beringed hand.

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