The mystic looked at her, surprised.
“No to both questions, but we don’t know exactly what happened.” Persephone slipped on a loose stone two feet from the bottom, stumbled, but landed safely on the hardscrabble plain. She touched down within the gathering of the chieftains’ Shields. They had all remained there after Raithe explained there wasn’t room for everyone at the top. “Tekchin and Grygor are on their way back, I hope with good news.”
“Tekchin?”
“Yes, Moya.” Persephone rolled her eyes. “Your boyfriend is fine.”
“Just asking, Madam Keenig,” she said crisply.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Everyone else does.”
“No, they don’t.”
Persephone pushed past Oz and Edger, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and trotted down the slope to the road. From there, she saw the two Galantians striding toward her. The gathered clansmen, a mixture of Rhen, Tirre, and Warric men, flowed in behind, all curious for news.
“Madam Keenig,” Tekchin greeted her with a modest bow.
Persephone scowled. “What happened?”
“We’re in.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Tekchin made a lavish wave of his arm in the direction of Alon Rhist. “Welcome to your new fortress. I think you’ll find it more suitable than East Puddle.”
“My fortress?”
Tekchin laughed. “Madam Keenig, weren’t you watching? You just conquered Alon Rhist.”
CHAPTER THREE
The Rhist
We traded dirt and rough-hewn logs for marble and glass.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
The other times Persephone had been to Alon Rhist she’d stuck close to Reglan, and neither was prone to wander. No one wandered inside Fhrey territory, much less in the heart of their principal stronghold, whose largest tower had come to symbolize a monolithic sentinel. During those early visits, the procession of chieftains marched across the Grandford gorge under guard. When the men were led to a meeting hall, the women—those allowed to come—waited in nearby rooms. Persephone had marveled at the lamps, windows, curtains, and furniture. She didn’t dare set foot out of the little apartment; none of the women did. They weren’t offered a midday meal, and all the Rhunes ate the evening meal together.
On her second visit, Persephone and Gela—who she’d assumed was Lipit’s wife only to later discover that she was his mistress—dared to climb the stairs to the window level where they peered out at an unprecedented view of the great dome, the beautiful city below, and the massive tower that rose higher than she thought possible.
No one had stopped them, no one so much as looked their way, but she’d been scared to death. They only had the courage to approach the one window, but that view had stayed with her. She’d had dreams where she walked the city’s paved streets, visiting the pillared shops. She was never frightened in her dreams. No one could see her, and somehow she knew this. Persephone had never once believed those dreams would come true in waking life.
The day Nyphron became lord of Alon Rhist, he spent the afternoon providing Persephone with a personal tour of the fortress that would be her new home. The outpost wasn’t as large as she had thought. The majestic fortification crowned the pinnacle of the crag, appearing as the inevitable conclusion to the natural rock. The city, formed of lighter stone and some wood, spilled out below. These smaller buildings trickled down the hillside in tiers, curling around the base of the butte like the tail of a dragon around a hoard of gold.
“And that is Mirtrelyn.” Nyphron pointed to a nondescript open door in a cluster of three-story buildings.
“Land of Mirth?”
Nyphron smiled in surprise. “Your Fhrey is very good.” He nodded. “Mirtrelyn is…” He stopped walking and stood in the middle of the street, thinking. “I don’t know if you have such things in Rhulyn. It’s a place where people go to drink, sing songs, and tell tales.”
“We do that in our lodges.”
“This is less formal, a place common people can come and relax. Most enjoyable. The Galantians and I spent many a long night in there.”
“Seems small. Why come down here when you have that grand dome that I imagine could accommodate the whole town?”
“The Verenthenon is our tribal chamber, our general assembly hall—a smaller version of the Airenthenon—where the leading officers of the various Spears discuss issues and advise the Rhist Commander.”
Persephone smiled politely. “I see.”
“You don’t have a clue what I just said, do you?”
“You said that dome building is your lodge, only you don’t drink there.”
Nyphron laughed. “Okay, yes. I suppose that’s about right.”