“Barakas?”
The patriarch started, knowing that he had drifted off again. In any other person, it would have meant nothing; most people were prone to daydreaming. Not so Barakas. There had never been time for daydreaming. The formation and then growth of the clan had always demanded his total attention. “I’m fine,” he finally muttered under his breath so that only she could hear him. “Only thinking.”
She smiled, something that tended to eliminate the severe cast of her otherwise aristocratic features. The Lady Alcia was always most beautiful at these times.
Barakas straightened in his throne, gazing out at his people. “All may rise!” The crowd stood as if his words had caused someone to pull up the strings of several hundred marionettes. Even most of the outsiders, who had not been raised from birth in the martial traditions the dragonlord had created and, therefore, could not have reacted to his command with the same precision, moved in fair form to their feet. They were learning. Soon, everyone would learn.
Reegan, standing by the right of his mother, stepped forward. “Is there anyone with a boon to ask of the lord of the clan?”
Two outsiders, already rehearsed by others for this moment, stepped forward into the empty area between the dais upon which the thrones stood and the main part of the great hall where the crowds waited. One was a man who had been stout at one time but had lost much weight now that he was forced to do physical work to survive. The other was a woman of rather plain face and form who wore a gown that had seen better days. She had tried her best to recapture the beauty that had once, no doubt, been hers in Nimth, but makeup could not perform sufficient magic for her sake. Both supplicants were nervous and wary.
“Your names,” the heir asked without emotion.
The man started to open his mouth, but a form in the back of the chamber caught the patriarch’s attention and he signaled for silence. Esad, another of his sons-by his bride, that is-indicated that there was a matter needing the patriarch’s personal attention. Esad, like most of the Tezerenee, knew better than to interrupt court with anything trivial. The dragonlord’s interest was piqued. He turned to his lady.
“Would you hold court for me, Alcia?”
“As you wish, husband.” She was not surprised by his request. Over the centuries, the Lady Alcia had performed this function time and again. Her decisions were as final as his own. A supplicant who failed to gain her support would lose more if he tried to convince the patriarch to alter the decision. That supplicant might also lose his head.
“Kneel as the Lord Tezerenee departs the court!” Reegan cried out in the same emotionless voice.
The throngs obeyed without hesitation, though a few newcomers were openly curious at this sudden breach of form. Barakas ignored them; his eyes were still on Esad. Now he saw that Lochivan was with him. So much the better. Lochivan would not be back so soon unless he had something terribly important to report.
The two younger Tezerenee stepped back out of the main hall as their father met them. Both went down on one knee, as did several guards on duty in the corridor.
“Stand up, all of you! Lochivan. Is he your reason for summoning me, Esad, or do you have another matter?”
“None, father,” the helmed figure replied, a bit of a quiver in his response. He had never been quite the same since the clan’s crossover and the near-destruction of the Tezerenee by the Seekers had only added to the damage within his mind. Something inside had been broken. Esad had become a disappointment to the patriarch.
“You are dismissed, then.”
Esad bowed and walked away in silence. Barakas put an arm around Lochivan’s shoulders and led him down the corridor in the opposite direction. “What matter brings you back so soon? Something concerning the younger Zeree?”
“In a sense. Father, what mention has Dru Zeree made of a huge pitch-black stallion called Darkhorse?”
“Not a horse at all, but a creature from beyond… One of our demons of legend, perhaps. Master Zeree is tight-lipped when it comes to his first journey here before we crossed.” The patriarch paused in midstep, then backed up to look into his son’s eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
Lochivan looked as if he was not certain his father would believe what he was about to say. “It… he’s here. Today, mere minutes after we separated, he materialized in the city… in the square. Surely you felt his power!”
“I felt something as I dismounted. Your brothers Logan and Dagos have been ordered to discover what it was.”
“They are on a wasted mission, then. I have seen all that anyone could see of this… this leviathan. He crossed all of our barriers and entered the city untouched, materializing, in all audacity, in our very midst.”
“Seeking, no doubt, the rift to Zeree’s private world, Sirvak Dragoth, as he calls it.” The Lord Tezerenee’s tone spoke volumes concerning his envy. To have a kingdom all your own… and to waste it on only two or three Vraad and a hundred or so cursed not-people. It had been a point of contention among the triumvirate. Dru Zeree passed on only whatever secrets he felt obliged to pass on. The rest remained to him and his family alone.
“Sharissa spoke to him-”
“He listened to her?”
“As if she were his tried-and-true friend! She is the daughter of his companion… his teacher, too, I suspect. For all his bluster…” Here Lochivan shifted a bit, uneasy about voicing his opinion on so unpredictable a subject. “For all his bluster and power, this Darkhorse sounds more like a child than an ageless demon.”
Barakas considered that for a moment. “What finally happened?”
“She led him through the rift and into her father’s domain.”
“He was not barred from entering it?” More than once, Tezerenee, at their lord’s command, had covertly tested the doorway to Zeree’s pocket universe. In most cases, they had not even been able to locate it, much less try to enter. Those that had managed to discover the tear in reality walked through it as if the rift were only air and not a gate at all.
“He walked through with ease.”
“Interesting.” Barakas stalked down the hall, each element of information being turned over and over in his mind. Lochivan scurried along, knowing he had not been dismissed yet. As he had expected, his father’s interest was piqued.
Sentries in the corridor snapped to attention as their lord walked past, unmindful of their presence. Lochivan, trailing, nodded to each and scanned them for any slack behavior. That many were related to him did not matter; if he failed to report or reprimand someone who was not performing their duties to their best, it would be he who suffered, son or not. After all, Barakas had offspring to spare; one son more or less would not touch the patriarch’s heart.
“He will have to depart Zeree’s bottled world at some point,” Barakas announced.
“Yes, my lord.”
“He is a creature of vast power. Not as vast as the Dragon of the Depths, of course, but still a creature to be wary of, I suppose.”
“It would seem that way.” Lochivan’s visage, what could be seen of it behind the helm, had grown perturbed.
“And we have some little power to work with, especially if we work in concert.” To a point! Barakas added to himself. It was becoming more and more difficult to do even that much, almost as if the land was seeking to wipe all vestiges of Vraad sorcery, which demanded and took rather than worked with the world, from existence.