Read Daughter of Regals for Free Online Page A
Authors: Stephen R. Donaldson
to myself I
responded, The last Dragon! Oh, father of Regals! The last! How did you
bear it?
I paid
no heed to the banqueters who watched me in my weakness, and I heard nothing of
the songs sung by the remaining minstrels. I thought only of the fine Creatures
which had filled my dreams from my earliest girlhood—the fierce Wyvern and
wild Banshee, the terrible Gorgon and subtle Cockatrice, the mystic Phoenix —of my dream that one day I would
stand among them, a Creature myself. And of what the world had lost in the
slaying of the last Dragon.
If the
song were true.
At last
I recollected myself enough to be firm: if the song were true. Mage
Ryzel had told me all he knew of the history of Magic in the realm—and he had
not spoken of any bloodshed among Creatures. And who had sung the song, which
had struck so deeply into my lone heart? Who, indeed, but the minstrel of Queen
Damia?
Was
this song some ploy of hers?
If it
were, I could not fathom it. As in everything she did, her true intent lay
hidden beneath a surface of immaculate innocence. Perhaps she mocked me—or perhaps
warned. Whatever her purpose, I feared I had already fallen to the snare. But
now I no longer sought to avoid her gaze; when she looked toward me, I let her
see that there was a darkness in my eyes, which she would be wise to interpret
as cold rage.
Perhaps
I should have made shift to prolong the banquet. Each new phase of the evening
brought me closer to the time of my trial. But instead I wished for an escape
from the masque of confidence I was required to perform. My smile felt brittle
on my lips, and I had need for privacy in which to shore up my resolve. So when
the minstrels had done I rose to my feet and thanked them formally. At this
signal, the servants brought around brandies and richer wines to complete the
meal; and the guests also rose to stretch their legs and mingle and talk while
the ball itself was made ready.
But as
I turned to leave the banquet hall, a servant came to inform me quietly that
King Thone desired an audience with me alone before the bell.
I swore
to myself because beyond question I could not afford to shirk such a request.
Then I set aside my ache for respite and asked the servant to guide Canna’s
king to one of the private meeting-rooms near the banquet hail.
There
were several of these rooms in the manor— places where the Regals might hold
discreet conversation with kings and counsellors and messengers—and it was
surely known to half the ambitious connivers in the Three Kingdoms that these
chambers were not in truth private. A ruler who sought to hold sway without
bloodshed preserved his own secrets while at all times suggesting to his
opponents that their secrets were not safe. Therefore some of the meeting-rooms
were behung with tapestries behind which eavesdroppers might be concealed;
others had listening slits cunningly hidden in the walls; still others possessed
covert doors, which might give sudden entrance at need to the guards of the
manor.
For my
audience with King Thone, I selected a chamber, which displayed a brave
weaving of the Ascension of the Phoenix-Regal. But I set no one behind the
tapestry, neither Mage Ryzel nor any guard. Let King Thone believe himself
overheard or not, as he chose; I had a need to show myself capable of facing
him alone. And if Ryzel were indeed untrustworthy, I would do well to withhold
as many secrets from him as possible.
Entering
the room, I succumbed to my anxieties so far as to glance behind the tapestry
for my own reassurance. Then I seated myself in the ornately carved chair
reserved for the use of the Regals and awaited Thone’s coming.
He
arrived shortly, unaccompanied by any of his courtiers or dependents. Since I
did not invite him to sit, he remained standing. To make him wait and wonder, I
instructed the servant to bring a decanter of the Gorgon-Regal’s choice
brandy, and I did not speak to the monarch of Canna until after the brandy had
come and
responded, The last Dragon! Oh, father of Regals! The last! How did you
bear it?
I paid
no heed to the banqueters who watched me in my weakness, and I heard nothing of
the songs sung by the remaining minstrels. I thought only of the fine Creatures
which had filled my dreams from my earliest girlhood—the fierce Wyvern and
wild Banshee, the terrible Gorgon and subtle Cockatrice, the mystic Phoenix —of my dream that one day I would
stand among them, a Creature myself. And of what the world had lost in the
slaying of the last Dragon.
If the
song were true.
At last
I recollected myself enough to be firm: if the song were true. Mage
Ryzel had told me all he knew of the history of Magic in the realm—and he had
not spoken of any bloodshed among Creatures. And who had sung the song, which
had struck so deeply into my lone heart? Who, indeed, but the minstrel of Queen
Damia?
Was
this song some ploy of hers?
If it
were, I could not fathom it. As in everything she did, her true intent lay
hidden beneath a surface of immaculate innocence. Perhaps she mocked me—or perhaps
warned. Whatever her purpose, I feared I had already fallen to the snare. But
now I no longer sought to avoid her gaze; when she looked toward me, I let her
see that there was a darkness in my eyes, which she would be wise to interpret
as cold rage.
Perhaps
I should have made shift to prolong the banquet. Each new phase of the evening
brought me closer to the time of my trial. But instead I wished for an escape
from the masque of confidence I was required to perform. My smile felt brittle
on my lips, and I had need for privacy in which to shore up my resolve. So when
the minstrels had done I rose to my feet and thanked them formally. At this
signal, the servants brought around brandies and richer wines to complete the
meal; and the guests also rose to stretch their legs and mingle and talk while
the ball itself was made ready.
But as
I turned to leave the banquet hall, a servant came to inform me quietly that
King Thone desired an audience with me alone before the bell.
I swore
to myself because beyond question I could not afford to shirk such a request.
Then I set aside my ache for respite and asked the servant to guide Canna’s
king to one of the private meeting-rooms near the banquet hail.
There
were several of these rooms in the manor— places where the Regals might hold
discreet conversation with kings and counsellors and messengers—and it was
surely known to half the ambitious connivers in the Three Kingdoms that these
chambers were not in truth private. A ruler who sought to hold sway without
bloodshed preserved his own secrets while at all times suggesting to his
opponents that their secrets were not safe. Therefore some of the meeting-rooms
were behung with tapestries behind which eavesdroppers might be concealed;
others had listening slits cunningly hidden in the walls; still others possessed
covert doors, which might give sudden entrance at need to the guards of the
manor.
For my
audience with King Thone, I selected a chamber, which displayed a brave
weaving of the Ascension of the Phoenix-Regal. But I set no one behind the
tapestry, neither Mage Ryzel nor any guard. Let King Thone believe himself
overheard or not, as he chose; I had a need to show myself capable of facing
him alone. And if Ryzel were indeed untrustworthy, I would do well to withhold
as many secrets from him as possible.
Entering
the room, I succumbed to my anxieties so far as to glance behind the tapestry
for my own reassurance. Then I seated myself in the ornately carved chair
reserved for the use of the Regals and awaited Thone’s coming.
He
arrived shortly, unaccompanied by any of his courtiers or dependents. Since I
did not invite him to sit, he remained standing. To make him wait and wonder, I
instructed the servant to bring a decanter of the Gorgon-Regal’s choice
brandy, and I did not speak to the monarch of Canna until after the brandy had
come and