ZIHAEN, The Shadow of the Revenaunt, Book 2

CHAPTER 11 - THE ROSE OF OPIT

The Exhumyst stood at the open garden doors, his hands on his back, and stared in the night.

A few steps behind him, the boy waited, motionless in his long robe, and wary. The smell of fresh earth and rain penetrated the room, a combination his master usually liked. Outside an army of gardeners was digging a new border.

The Exhumyst grunted something he could not hear. 'Sire?' There was no response.

The boy suppressed his own impatience and stood there until his master saw fit to notice him. His thoughts wandered to the beautifully engraved paper in his hand, the invitation to the Coronation of His Royal Highness Ghyllander III Halban, of the House of Hardingraud. This was a bitter moment. Despite all their efforts, their opponent had reached his goal. The boy cursed silently. The crown of Rhidauna had seemed almost in their grasp.

'So it has come,' the Exhumyst said suddenly. Behind his bird mask, his voice was harsh as the biting wind over the polar tundra of Graun.

'We're going?' the boy asked softly.

'Of course, you idiot,' the Exhumyst said. 'What do you think will happen if I don't? Everybody will wonder why I am absent. I cannot afford to look disloyal, a subject of gossip and curious eyes. No, I must take that oath, though the Anti knows its words are written in poison.'

The boy nodded. He is right. It is bitter to bow to yet another usurper, but there is no way out. We need to think of our position and thus we go. Our revenge will yet come! His ice-blue eyes stared over the heads of the manipuuls towards the horizon, where three hundred miles away the object of his hatred lived. Then you will bow before us, Hardingraud; you will kneel, before we cut off your head.

It was only two days until the big day, and the first guests were trickling in. For many county nobles the coronation of Ghyll's father, over twenty years ago, had been the last time they had visited the capital, and it was in a state of excitement and awe that they entered the throne room to pay their respects to the new ruler. Ghyll saw their surprise that the new king received them on a chair before the throne instead of on the high seat of Halfraud IV and Ghyllander Man-of-Steel. Truth was that Ghyll hesitated to use the throne before he was crowned. Olle had shaken his head at such diffidence, but without a word he had taken position a few steps away from the royal seat. Ghyll almost felt the glowering look with which Olle examined every visitor. His foster brother was on the alert for the slightest threat or impertinence.

Family after noble family approached the royal presence, most of them accompanied not only by their sons, but by hordes of young daughters, nieces and wards. Ghyll smiled grimly. They were all in for a disappointment. Only this morning Kyssander had shown him the papers; the marriage contract, to be signed by him and his yet unseen bride, Kerianna of Opit. His stomach turned at the thought. Married! What if she... No speculating! he thought firmly. They'll be here any minute; then you'll see for yourself.

Just then a single girl came forward, a slim figure in a dark dress and with a lute on her back, passing through the waiting supplicants to approach the throne. Even if he hadn't recognized her, his brother's sharp intake of breath behind him would have told him it was Kaati. The young grandmaster-bard they had met at the Climbing Clawerd inn, at the very beginning of the quest. For a while Ghyll had thought she and Olle had something going, but after their ways parted, his foster brother never mentioned her again. Now she was here and apparently Olle hadn't forgotten her.

Oho, brother, Ghyll thought, as he stretched his hands out to the grandmaster-bard. 'Welcome, Kaati anMarevale!'

Kaati took his hands and sank gracefully into a curtsey. 'Congratulations, Ghyll,' she said softly. 'I'm so happy for you!'