The Emerald Storm (The Riyria Revelations #4)

Saldur nodded at her pleasantly. “Yes, true…true.” He appeared so grandfathrly, so kind and gentle. It would be so easy to trust him if she had not seen first-hand the volcano that lurked beneath that warm surface. He brought her back to reality when he asked, “What were you doing in the northeast tower last night, my dear?”


She bit her tongue just in time to stop herself from replying with total honesty. “I bumped into some guards delivering soup there in the middle of the night which I thought odd, because…”

“Because what?” Saldur pressed.

“Because there’s no one in the tower. Well, besides a seret who appears to be standing guard over nothing. Do you know what that’s all about?” she asked pleased with how she managed to reinforce her innocence by casually turning the tables on the old man. She even considered batting her eyes, but did not want to push it. Memories of Saldur ordering the guard to “take her out of my sight” still rang in her head. She did not know what that order really meant, but she remembered the regret in the guard’s eyes as he approached her.

“Of course I do. I am regent—I know everything that goes on.”

“The thing is…that was quite a lot of soup for one knight. And it vanished, pot and all in just a few minutes. But since you already know, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

Saldur studied her silently for a moment. His expression was no longer the familiar one of condescension. She detected a faint hint of respect forming beneath his wrinkled brows.

“I see,” he replied at length. He glanced over his shoulder at Nimbus, who was smiling back as innocent as a puppy, and Amilia noticed to her chagrin that he did bat his eyes. Saldur took no apparent notice of his antics then reminded her not to seat the Duke and Lady Rochelle next to the Prince of Alburn before withdrawing from her office.

“That was creepy,” Nimbus mentioned after Saldur left. “You poke your head in the tower and the next morning Saldur knows about it?”

Amilia paced the length of her office, which only allowed her a few steps each way before having to turn, but it was better than standing still. Nimbus was right. Something strange was going on with the tower, something that Saldur himself kept careful watch over. She struggled to think of alternatives, but her mind kept coming back to one name—Degan Gaunt.





Chapter 19

Galenti


The corridor outside the Great Hall in the Palace of the Four Winds was deathly silent as the small band remained huddled in the niche. Warriors took strategic positions, armed with imperial crafted crossbows, while the bulk of the Tenkin fighters moved back to allow them clear lines of sight. All of the Emerald Storm’s party now held swords salvaged from slain Tenkins, each one made from Avryn steel. Clustered in a tight group, Hadrian’s party made an easy target.

Erandabon stepped forward, but not so far as to block the path of the archers. “Erandabon did not recognize you, Galenti! Et ’as been many years, but you ’ave not lost your skill,” he said, looking down at the bodies of his fallen warriors. “Vie travel vis such creatures as deez, Galenti? Vie suffer dee ’umiliation? It voud be dee same for Erandabon to slizzer on dee forest floor with dee snakes, or vallow vis dee pigs. Vie do you do dis? Vie?”

“I came to see you, Gile,” Hadrian replied. Instantly there was a gasp in the hall.

“Ha-ha!” The warlord laughed. “You use my Calian name, a crime for vich dee punishment ez death, but I pardon you, Galenti! For you are not like deez.” He waved his hand gesturing vaguely. “You are in dee cosmos vis Erandabon. You are a star in dee heavens shining nearly as bright as Erandabon. You are a brother and I vill not kill you. You must come and feast vis me.”

“And my friends?”

Erandabon’s face soured. “Dey ’ave no place at dee table of Erandabon, dey are dogs.”

“I will not eat with you iws, w are ill-treated.”

Erandabon’s eyes moved about wildly in random circles, then stopped. “Erandabon vill ’ave dem locked up again—safely dis time—for deir own good. And you vill eat vis Erandabon?”

“I will.”

He clapped his hands and warriors tentatively moved forward.

Hadrian nodded and Royce and the others laid down their weapons.





***




The balcony looked out over the bay from a dizzying height. Moonlight revealed the vast fleet of Ghazel and Tenkin ships anchored in the harbor. Dotted with lights, the vessels bobbed on soft swells. Distant shouts rose with the cool breeze and arrived as faint whispers. Like the rest of the castle, the balcony was a relic of a forgotten time. While perhaps beautiful long ago, the stone railing had weathered over centuries to a dull, vague reminder of its previous glory. A lush covering of vines blanketed it with blooming white flowers the way a cloth might disguise a marred table. Beneath their feet, once-stunning mosaic tiles lay dirty, chipped, and broken. Several oil lanterns circled the balcony, but appeared to be more for decoration than illumination. On a stone table lay a massive feast of wild animals, fruits, and drink.

“Sit! Sit and eat!” Erandabon told Hadrian, as several Tenkin women and young boys hurried about, seeing to their every need. Aside from servants, the two were alone. Erandabon tore a leg from a large roasted bird and gestured with it toward the bay. “A beautiful sight eh, Galenti? Five ’undred ships, fifty ’zousand soldiers and all of dem under Erandabon’s command.”

“There are not fifty thousand Tenkin in all of Calis,” Hadrian replied. He looked at the food on the table dubiously, wondering if elf was somewhere on the menu, and selected a bit of sliced fruit.

“No,” the warlord said, regretfully. “Erandabon must make do vis dee Ghazel. Dey are like ants spilling out of deir island holes. Erandabon cannot trust dem any more dan Erandabon can trust a tiger, even if Erandabon raised it from a cub. Dey are vild beasts, but Erandabon needs dem to reach dee goal.”

“And what is that?”

“Drumindor,” he said simply, and followed the word with a swallow of wine, much of which spilled unnoticed down the front of his chin. “Erandabon needs a shelter from dee storm, Galenti, a strong place to veather it. For centuries, dee Ghazel dey ’ave known dat only Drumindor can stand against dee vinds about to blow. Dis ez vie dey ’ave struggled so ’ard to take et. Time ez running out, dee sand spills from dee glass and dey are desperate to flee dee islands. Erandabon could ’ave fifty ’zousand, perhaps ’undred ’zousand. Ants, Galenti, dey are everywhere in deez isles. Erandabon vill make do vis deez, too many ants spoil a picnic eh, Galenti?” he laughed.

A servant refilled the wine glass that Hadrian had barely touched.

“What do you know about Merrick Marius?” Hadrian asked.

Erandabon spat, “’E is dirt, or pig, or pig in dirt. ’E promise weapons…dere is none. ’E promise food for dee Many…and dere is none. ’E will make it ’ard for Erandabon to control dee ants. I vish ’e vas dead.”

“I might be able to help you with that, if you tell me where he is.”