Samcadaris exited with a low bow. The Qualinesti princess and the dwarf likewise bowed to the ruler of Silvanost and followed on the marshal’s heels.
Chapter 21
Queen Uriona impatiently drummed her long blue fingers on the arm of her throne. The seaweed canopy that shielded her during the day had just been removed. The sun was sinking beneath the western horizon. Despite the attentiveness of her loyal servants, Uriona was angry.
“Where is Lord Protector Coryphene?” she demanded for the fifth time in thirty minutes. “Why hasn’t he been summoned?”
“He has, Divine Majesty,” said one of the servants, patiently. He kept his eyes downcast.
More time dragged by. At last, a swirl of mud and sand in the water presaged the arrival of newcomers from the river. Coryphene swept into his queen’s presence. He bowed deeply.
“My eternal regret for keeping Your Divinity waiting,” he said.
“I summoned you hours ago.”
“Apologies, Majesty. The river is murky and strange to us. It is difficult to move quickly through it.”
The strain of the invasion showed on Coryphene’s face and in his posture. He’d fought all the night before in the dry forest south of the city, fought and slain a dozen foes single-handed. He had intended to launch another strike on the city this night. The peremptory summons from the queen had delayed the attack.
“When do you expect the city to fall?” Uriona asked.
“Soon, Beloved Goddess. Thousands of drylanders were lost in the forest and at the city gate last night. There cannot be many left to defend the walls. We were to attack again this evening, but-” He paused. “Our people need time to recover. Tomorrow, at dusk, we will resume the assault, this time most heavily from the west. The drylanders will expect us to charge their gatehouses again, but we will not. With the timbers we took from Brackenost, we have made scaling ladders. We shall storm the wall between their towers. There will not be enough defenders to meet us, and the city will be ours.”
“Be sure of it, Lord Protector! The tide of affairs is turning-I feel it. My fellow gods bestir themselves for our enemies’ sake. My destiny is to be crowned in the Tower of the Stars. I will achieve my destiny! Do you hear?”
“Perfectly, Divine Queen. May I return to the army?”
Uriona tapped her fingers on her throne. “Yes, very well, go.”
Before he turned away, he saw an expression of worry pass over her face. She raised one hand to her head.
“Are you well, Uriona?” he inquired.
His use of her name brought anger to her face. “Yes! Why do you tarry? Go back to your warriors, Lord Protector!”
He didn’t move, but continued to regard her with genuine concern. “Do you tire of this shelter in the shallow water? Why not come back with me in the river?”
“You said it wasn’t safe for me to enter the river!” she snapped.
“The enemy is less formidable than I supposed. They cannot reach us underwater and cannot defeat us when we fight on land.” He held out a hand to her. “Come, Divine Majesty. Come let me show you your future capital.”
Slowly, the anger faded from her face. Her expression took on a quality of yearning. “My capital,” she repeated softly. “My city.”
She took his hand and rose from her throne. Swimming together, they left the sea behind and entered the fresh water of the Thon-Thalas.
The night passed without incident in Silvanost. Vixa was surprised that the Dargonesti did not attack, but the time was not wasted. Fortifications were strengthened, weapons repaired, and myriad other tasks attended to.
The Speaker of the Stars had dined once more with his foreign guests. After the midday meal was finished, they strolled the halls of the Quinari Palace, ending up in one of the high western towers. From there, they could see nearly the whole of Fallan Island. The Speaker leaned on the alabaster windowsill and nodded at the sublime vista. “What do you see?” he asked them.
Gundabyr winced as he hoisted his bandaged arm up. “The city, the city wall, and the river.”
“What do you deduce from the river?”
Baffled, the Qualinesti princess stared hard. The Thon-Thalas seemed just the same as when she had arrived the day before yesterday. There were still no fishing craft on the water. The barges that had been deployed to impede enemy ships were gone as well. Vixa’s information had shown the Speaker that such a tactic was unnecessary. All the river craft were tied up on the north end of the island, tied to docks that stood long-legged out of the water, like so many herons. The fishing dories closer to shore had their prows buried in the mud. Vixa stiffened. Buried in the mud?
“The water level has receded!” Vixa exclaimed, seeing it at last.
“By Reorx! A good four feet, at least!” added Gundabyr.
“Closer to five,” corrected the Speaker. “It will go lower still.”
“But how? Why?”
Elendar’s voice took on a note of pride. “The clerics of Silvanost are second to none in the esteem of the gods. I commanded them to work a mighty conjuration-all of them. The entire college of priests and priestesses are at their altars, minds linked into one magnificent whole, performing a fantastic evocation.”
Vixa was stunned. “To lower the river?”
He nodded with satisfaction. “In two more days the Thon-Thalas will be half its normal depth. In six, it will be a muddy gutter. If the Dargonesti remain, they will dry in the sun like so many beached fish.”
Vixa felt light-headed. That such power was available to the Speaker of the Stars … she could only shake her head in wonder. It was incredible. That she was here to witness it was a blessing. The Qualinesti princess bowed her head. “Great Speaker, forgive me for doubting you,” she murmured.
He grinned at her. “Nonsense, Cousin. Would not the Speaker of the Sun do as much for Qualinost? Master Gundabyr, to what end would your High King go to deliver Thorbardin from danger?”
“Fight to the last axe and shed his very last drop of blood,” the dwarf said solemnly. He brightened. “But don’t I feel like a dolt! Here the princess and me were breaking our, uh, backs to come to your aid, and you have ol’ Coryphene in the palm of your hand!”
“Things are not quite that certain, my friend. This Coryphene is resourceful, and his army can still do great harm.”
Vixa knew the truth of that. She thought of how remorselessly Coryphene had pursued the chilkit, obsessed with exterminating them root and branch.
“When he realizes the river is falling, he will rethink his strategy,” she said. “I fear the worst may still be ahead of us.”
The Speaker rubbed his smooth cheek. “Do you think so? I would have thought that when things looked hopeless, he would retreat to save his own skin.”
“Any ordinary general would, but Coryphene has a heavy burden that prevents him from running away-that prevents rational thought,” she finished. The other two quizzed her with wordless looks.
“Uriona,” she said. “He is bound up in her visions, bound up in his love for her. He will never give up.”
The night watch roamed the quiet streets of Silvanost, as they had for more than a thousand years. This night, they were reinforced by bands of royal guards. Marshal Samcadaris knew he didn’t have enough warriors to guard the entire perimeter of the great city. Until the levies arrived, he was forced to rely on two methods of defense: all the towers and gatehouses were strongly fortified and garrisoned with archers, and the remaining foot soldiers and dismounted cavalry were formed into flying corps, which would rush to the scene of any attack. In the Speaker’s words, they would “plug holes in the Ship of State from the inside.”