Gathis held out the two volumes, old and well read. Kulgan looked surprised, while Gathis said, “I thought you might reach such an understanding and removed them from the shelves while you discussed the matter.”
Kulgan walked toward the door, shaking his head slowly as he regarded the two books he held. The others followed, and Gathis closed the door behind them. The goblinlike creature guided them to the courtyard and bid them a safe journey at the door of the keep.
When the large doors had closed behind them, Meecham said, “This fellow Macros seems to have raised five questions for each he answered.”
Kulgan said, “You have that right, old friend. Perhaps we will gain additional knowledge from his notes, and other works. Perhaps not, and maybe that’s the right of it.”
THIRTY-FOUR - Renaissance
Rillanon was in a festive mood.
Everywhere banners rippled in the breeze, and garlands of summer flowers replaced the black bunting that had marked the period of mourning for the late King and his cousin Borric. Now they would be crowning a new king, and the people rejoiced. The people of Rillanon knew little of Lyam, but he was fair to view, and generous with his smile in public. To the populace it was as if the sun had come out from behind the dark clouds that had been Rodric’s reign.
Few among the people were aware of the many royal guards who circulated throughout the city, always alert for signs of Guy du Bas-Tyra’s agents and possible assassins. And fewer still noticed the plainly dressed men who were always near when groups gathered to speak of the new King, listening to what was said.
Arutha cantered his horse toward the palace, leaving Pug, Meecham, and Kulgan behind. He cursed the fate that had delayed them nearly a week, becalmed less than three days from Krondor, then the slowness of their journey to Salador. It was midmorning, and already the Priests of Ishap were bearing the King’s new crown through the city. In less than three hours they would appear before the throne and Lyam would take the crown.
Arutha reached the palace, and shouts from the guards echoed across the vast courtyard, “Prince Arutha arrives!”
Arutha gave his mount to a page and hurried up the steps to the palace. As he reached the entranceway, Anita came running in his direction, a radiant smile on her face. “Oh,” she cried, “it is so good to see you!”
He smiled back at her and said, “It is good to see you, also. I must get ready for the ceremony. Where is Lyam?”
“He has secreted himself in the Royal Tomb. He left word you were to come straight away to him there.” Her voice was troubled. “There is something strange taking place here, but no one seems to know what it is. Only Martin Longbow has seen Lyam since supper last night, and when I saw Martin, he had the strangest look upon his face.”
Arutha laughed. “Martin is always full of strange looks. Come, let us go to Lyam.”
She refused to let him ignore the warning. “No, you go alone, that is what Lyam ordered. Besides, I must dress for the ceremony. But, Arutha, there is something very queer in the wind.”
Arutha’s manner turned more reflective. Anita was a good judge of such things. “Very well. I’ll have to wait for my things to be brought from the ship, anyway I will see Lyam, then when this mystery is cleared up, join you at the ceremony.”
“Good.”
“Where is Carline?”
“Fussing over this and that. I’ll tell her you’ve arrived.”
She kissed his cheek and hurried off. Arutha hadn’t been to the vault of his ancestors since he was a boy, the first time he had come to Rillanon, for Rodric’s coronation. He asked a page to lead him there, and the boy guided him through a maze of corridors.
The palace had been through many transformations over the ages, new wings being added on, new constructions over those destroyed by fire, earthquake, or war, but in the center of the vast edifice the ancient first keep remained. The only clue they were entering the ancient halls was the sudden appearance of dark stone walls, worn smooth by time. Two guards stood watch by a door over which was carved a bas-relief crest of the conDoin kings, a crowned lion holding a sword in its claws. The page said, “Prince Arutha,” and the guards opened the door. Arutha stepped through into a small anteroom, with a long flight of stairs leading down.