“Of… course,” he heard her say, her voice strained, stalling in her throat.
They all waited, staring into the black room, listening carefully. Hadrian peered into the dark, trying to guess where it was, where either of them was.
“Hadrian, I—” Arista began in a whisper and he felt a light hand on the small of his back.
“Over here, monster!” Royce shouted, his voice booming across the great darkened expanse, echoing off the distant walls. “Come get me before I find the sword with your name on it and drive it through your foul excuse for a heart!”
Royce watched as Arista’s robe lit up, throwing white light in the room, at the sound of his voice. It was not nearly as bright as before, but enough to reveal the far wall, the open door, and the great beast in the middle of the room.
The Gilarabrywn was looking right at him. Royce braced himself, trying to decide whether it would strike with its mouth or a taloned foot.
How fast is it? How quickly can it cover the distance between us? Royce was far enough away that even as big as it was, the beast would have to take at least ten steps to reach him. He wondered if it would lumber due to its size. He reminded himself it was not a real creature; it was magic and perhaps the same rules might not apply. It was possible that it could sprint like a tiny lizard or lash out like a snake. He stayed on the balls of his feet, shifting his weight back and forth, waiting for the lunge.
“Come on,” he shouted. “I’m in your lousy room. You know you want me.”
The beast took a slow step toward him, then another.
“Go!” Royce shouted.
Hadrian ran out the door. He had cleared only five strides when the monster whirled on him. Hadrian dug in his heels and slid to the ground as the giant head snapped around with amazing speed.
“Get back!” Arista screamed.
Royce ran forward. “Over here! You stupid thing,” he shouted, waving his hands over his head.
The Gilarabrywn ignored Royce and charged Hadrian, who scrambled back toward the light of Arista’s robe, which once more brightened.
“Gilarabrywn!” Royce called. The beast stopped its pursuit. “Over here, you stupid thing! What? Don’t you like me? Am I too thin?” The beast looked toward Royce but did not move away from the door.
“By Mar!” Royce exclaimed in frustration.
“Minith Dar,” the Gilarabrywn said, and its voice rumbled the chamber like thunder.
“It spoke,” Royce said, stunned.
“That’s right. They talk in Old Speech.” He heard Arista.
“What did it say?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know the language well. I think he said, ‘Comprehension is missing,’ but I don’t know,” she shouted.
“I do.” It was Myron’s voice coming into the darkness. “It said, ‘I don’t understand.’ ”
“It doesn’t understand what?”
“Royce can’t hear a shrug, Myron,” Hadrian said.
“I don’t know,” the monk replied.
“Ask it,” Arista suggested.
There was a pause; then Myron spoke again. “Binith mon erie, minith dar?”
The creature ignored Myron and continued to stare at Royce.
“Maybe he didn’t hear you.”
Myron shouted louder. Still the beast ignored him, his eyes fixed on Royce.
“By Mar,” Royce said again.
“Minith Dar,” the Gilarabrywn replied.
“That’s it!” Myron shouted. “Bimar! Bimar means hungry in Old Speech.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Arista confirmed. “But it only seems to hear Royce.”
“He’s elvish,” Hadrian said. “Maybe—”
“Of course!” the princess shouted. “It’s just like Avempartha! Say something to it in Old Speech, ask it a question. Say, ‘Ere en kir abeniteeh?’ ”
“Ere en kir abeniteeh?” Royce repeated.
“Mon bir istanirth por bon de havin er main,” the Gilarabrywn replied.
“What’d I say—and what did it say?”
“You asked its name, and it said…” Arista hesitated.
“It said,” Myron started, taking over, “ ‘My name is written upon the sword of my making.’ ”
“You can talk to it, Royce!” Arista told him.
“Wonderful, but why isn’t it eating me?”
“Good question,” the princess replied. “But let’s not ask that. No sense giving it any ideas.”
Royce stepped forward. The Gilarabrywn did not move. He took another step, then another, staying on the balls of his feet. He knew the beast was clever and this was just the sort of ploy it might use to get him off his guard. Another step and then another. He was within striking distance; still the Gilarabrywn did not move.
“Careful, Royce,” Hadrian told him.
Another step, then another and the Gilarabrywn’s tail was just inches away.
“I wonder how it feels about having its tail pulled.” Royce reached out and touched it. Still the Gilarabrywn did not move. “What’s wrong with it? Myron, how do you say move away?”
“Vanith donel.”
Royce stood before the giant creature and in a strong voice ordered, “Vanith donel!”
The Gilarabrywn backed up.
“Interesting,” Royce said. He closed the distance between them. “Vanith donel!”
Again the Gilarabrywn retreated.
“Try coming out,” Royce said.
The moment Hadrian set foot outside the door, the Gilarabrywn advanced once again. Hadrian retreated into the room.
“How do you say stop?”
“Ibith!”
Royce ordered it to halt and it froze.
“Myron, how do you say do not harm anyone?”
Myron told him and Royce repeated the phrase.
“And how do you say allow their passage through this room?”
“Melentanaria, en venau brenith dar vensinti.”
“Really?” Royce said, surprised.
“Yes, why?”
“I know that one.” Esrahaddon had taught him Melentanaria, en venau in Avempartha. Once more Royce repeated Myron’s words, and for a third time Hadrian stepped out of the room into the Vault of Days. This time, the Gilarabrywn did not move.
“Vanith donel!” Royce shouted, and the Gilarabrywn stepped back, granting them passage.
“This is amazing,” Arista said, entering the room with Hadrian. “It’s obeying you.”
“I wish I had known I could do this back in Avempartha,” Royce said. “It would have been real handy.”
Royce herded the Gilarabrywn back against the far wall, the great beast stepping backward before the tiny figure of the thief, its head glaring down at him, but showing no signs of violence.
“Alminule means stay,” Myron said.
“Alminule,” Royce said, and backed up. The Gilarabrywn remained where it was. “Everybody cross. Just stay spread out a bit—just in case.”
One by one, they ran the expanse. Arista waited in the open beside Royce to provide light until Gaunt—the last to leave—made the crossing.
CHAPTER 22
NOVRON THE GREAT