Dawn's Edge I: The Queen's Seeker

SAERA - MOIETY

The guests arrived in droves of gold and crimson and shining steel. The buzz of chatter and whipping of charges emblazoned with a crowned chimera sung in the cold northern winds of the Frostfells.

Her shieldsworn had told her all the faces of the Rassai'i. Here came Andres Dunhelm with his turtle shell shield at his back, and there Didwin Tallmaul with his warhammer that was as big as a horse. The small girl that had pale hair with crimson streaks had to be the king's daughter Adaena Valarys, and that wizened crone was surely the High Vestra, Myana Woodford.

Maelin seemed to grow nervous by the sight of all those swords and noble knights. Being a woman, she could not take the King's Knight Oath, but to Saera that did not make Maelin's loyalty any less valiant. Eight years past, the huge woman had found Saera singing in the Grey Grass Sea. The Maiden of Nyrn had been long of hair, clear of eyes, and had high cheekbones that were any knight's fantasy. Seven and a half feet tall, she soared over the men of the Iron Watch, and when she was clad in her crimson and sapphire chest plate, with the great bull's helmet of House Stormhorn strapped to her head, she became a true reckoning. She had a giant's strength too, Maelin once wrestled three brigands off of Saera when they attacked her in the fields beneath Irondorne. That day had been the last time Saera was allowed to play beneath the Frostfells.

The men of the Iron Watch sniggered and pointed at Maelin, comparing her to the gallant Rassai'i knights and whispering 'Maelin the Monstrous'. 'Stop your childish sniggers,' the giant had snapped with a whip of her crimson locks. 'Or I'll pull out your tongue and string it through a golden chain and wear it at my neck for all to see.' This had only made the smaller guards howl with even more laughter.

'Perhaps if you spoke more softly to them, they would come to respect you.' Saera said, pulling on Maelin's shirt.

The shieldsworn huffed, 'I am past yearning for the acceptance of dogs, my lady. Men have been laughing at me far longer than they have been laughing at you.' It hurt Saera to have her kindness replied with mocking japes. Maelin saw this in her Sworn's eyes, 'Apologies, my lady. I should not have spoken in so crude a manner.'

Saera smiled and giggled, 'See, I knew it was in your heart to be kind.'

Maelin Stormhorn blushed and returned her attention to the gigantic golden carriage that now rolled into the yard.

*

The silver stone walls of the Lord's Hall were lined with swathes of banners. White, purple, gold: the cave bear of Greyscar, the revolting chimera of the joint House Valarys, the Castell's golden pegasus on a white field. The Lord's Hall sat over two hundred bannermen and nobles comfortably, and all of them were laughing and drinking merrily with each other. In the days when House Greyscar had ruled the northern kingdoms of Ardna as the Irondorne Kings, this had been their throne room. Now the hall was stripped of its throne in favour of a large and exquisite dining table, the wrecked remnants of the onyx chair in a pile of rubble behind where her father sat. Saera was deafened by the song of large bearded men laughing and cheering and drinking.

And oh, how they drank.

Before the feast, Maelin had told her that a Rassai'i is said to be able to drink twice his own body weight in a single evening. At first she had not believed it. It was only now, when the fat, red faced barbarians were howling and cursing with merriment, that she finally believed her shieldsworn. The Lord's Hall of Irondorne was dim with wreathes of smoke and heavy with the smell of wine and ale. The clamour of plates and glasses drowned out the minstrel at the doors of the Hall, his recital of 'The Broken Prince and the Thousand Thieves' was silent against drunken conversations and wenches cackling. The joy and happiness of the Lord's Hall seemed thousands of miles away at the end of the room where she was seated, where all was grey and gloomy. The air of uneasiness emanated from the pale, tall, slender, broad-shouldered man in his fifties. He had wisps of curly silver-grey hair and a pointed beard that was beginning to grey at his chin. A gilded crown sat on his head, a gleaming purple gemstone marbled with the sigil of his house in shining gold. His eyes were a pale purple colour, like dwindling violet stars.