They lost sight of Tzaryan Keep as they climbed. The last turn of the winding road, however, was guarded by a high wall pierced through with a simple archway-as soon as they stepped through the arch, the great keep rose up before them like a mountain that had been hidden behind a handkerchief. Even though she’d seen its daunting glory from across the valley, the sudden exposure forced Dandra to look at it again, craning her neck back in awe. It had seemed massive from a distance. Up close it was if an enormous stone block had been thrust up from the earth and a palace built on top. Dandra counted no fewer than four long and broad halls, two towers of medium height, and one exceptionally tall tower with a rounded dome on top, all joined and surrounded by a high wall. The tallest tower was the one where a dim light had burned earlier though it wasn’t visible now. The slightly angled base of the keep was dark gray stone; the upper levels were dark wood with tiled roofs.
The fires she had seen from across the valley did indeed burn on either side of a gate, but they burned in huge copper bowls. The gate was as massive as the rest of Tzaryan Keep, tall, broad, and set deep in the thick stone walls. Two ogre guards, polearms at the ready, stood before it and were utterly dwarfed. One of them called out in the heavy, deep language of ogres-some formal ritual of recognition-and Robrand responded, his human voice high and squeaking by comparison. The guards snapped to attention, stamping the butts of their weapons into the ground.
Robrand’s face, as he led them across the marshalling yard before the gate, resumed the neutral mask of the General. “Welcome to Tzaryan Keep, Master Timin.”
“Thank you, General,” Singe answered with the same cool detachment. “Your company has been most welcome during our journey.” He looked around and Dandra wondered if she was the only one who noticed the nervous twitching of his left hand. “Do we need to alert Tzaryan Rrac to our presence?”
“I’m certain he already knows.”
“The General is correct,” called a voice as deep as stones. “In fact, I have watched your approach for some time.” The voice came from somewhere above them, rolling and echoing down the walls of the keep. Dandra’s head jerked up again.
There was a large figure descending through the darkness overhead, dropping slowly with an ease that Dandra couldn’t have matched. Tzaryan Rrac stood upright, arms crossed, as if floating down through the air was second nature to him. The ogre mage stood no taller than his ogre troops-now filing up from the twisted road and falling into rank in the marshalling yard-but he seemed even more powerfully built, his shoulders and arms broad and thick with muscle. His skin shone a pale blue-green in the firelight, contrasting with the rich crimson robes that he wore. Dark hair was pulled back and tied in a knot, exposing short ivory horns that sprang from his forehead. His square teeth and the heavy nails on his hands were black. So were his eyes-not black in the manner of humans, but rather reversed, black where humans had white, with a pale pinprick at the iris. They were striking and eerie at the same time.
For a moment, his gaze met hers and Dandra felt almost as if Tzaryan’s weird eyes saw right through her. She clenched her jaw and sat up straight and bold, but his gaze had already moved on to sweep over the others.
Robrand dismounted calmly and bowed while Tzaryan was still in the air. “Lord Tzaryan,” he said. “All’s well in Vralkek. Your troops acted with excellent discipline.”
“Your troops, General. A fine commander makes fine soldiers.” Tzaryan’s voice was entirely free of the heavy accent and carefully practiced words that marked Chuut’s conversation. He spoken naturally, at ease with their language. His black eyes remained fixed on Dandra, Singe, and the others as his booted feet settled into the dust of the yard. “I would like to know more about those who have accompanied you. A rare occurrence, I think.”
Singe dropped out of his saddle with an unseemly haste compared to Robrand. As the others quickly followed his example, the wizard bent low in a grand, sweeping bow. “Lord Tzaryan, Timin Shay of Wynarn University at your service. My assistant, Kirvakri.” Dandra pressed her hands together and bent over them respectfully. Singe gestured to Geth, Ashi, Orshok, and Natrac. “Our guards. The General encountered us in Vralkek and, when he heard that it was my intention to seek out your keep, was kind enough to offer me an escort.”
Tzaryan’s gaze drifted briefly over the others before settling back on Singe and Dandra. “Master Timin,” he said, nodding his head. Reading his black eyes was difficult. Dandra thought she caught a gleam of interest, but she couldn’t be sure. “Wynarn, did you say?”
“Queen’s College,” Singe answered. “A lecturer in history and legend, a dabbler in other areas-enough to know that we must be interrupting your skywatching on such a fine night. My apologies.” He bowed again and this time Dandra was certain she saw curiosity burn in Tzaryan’s face.
“There are many nights,” said the ogre mage. “Think nothing of it. But tell me-what brings a scholar of Wynarn to the wilds of Droaam?”
Singe had him hooked like a fish. Dandra was amazed that the wizard managed to keep a straight face as he spun out their carefully rehearsed story of investigating the ruins of Taruuzh Kraat as a means of tracing the legends of Ashi’s clan. “Which is why we’ve come to you, Lord Tzaryan. I beg your permission to investigate the ruins in the name of scholarship. I pledge to take nothing away except knowledge.”
For a moment, it seemed that Singe’s hold on Tzaryan might slip. The ogre mage’s face hardened. The wizard’s eyebrows twitched.
“I expect that a major paper will come out of my research,” he said. “Perhaps even a book. One that could change the study of Droaam’s history significantly. Of course I would name you as my learned patron in any publication.”
When he had first tested the argument on her, Dandra had expressed doubt. Tzaryan was supposed to be intelligent. Why would someone that smart fall to such blatant flattery? Singe’s counter had been that even the most brilliant people had their weaknesses-the trick was just in figuring out what they wanted. They really weren’t asking for very much and in exchange for granting them access to the ruins, Tzaryan Rrac had the opportunity to see his name spread around one of the most prestigious centers of learning in the Five Nations. To someone who considered himself a scholar and cultivated the trappings of civilization, Singe argued, what greater incentive could they offer?
Dandra still held her breath as Tzaryan straightened slightly, his square teeth grinding in thought. After a moment, he said, “It wouldn’t be prudent for me to accept such a request without due consideration. I’ll think on it and give you an answer in the morning. Will that suit you?”
“It suits me very well, my lord,” said Singe graciously, but Dandra could hear relief in his voice.
A faint, smug smile crossed Tzaryan’s face as if he had recognized it as well. “In the meantime, I hope you’ll accept the hospitality of Tzaryan Keep for the night at least,” he said. “I’d be honored to have you as my guest.”
He spread his arms, the broad sleeves of his robes flashing. Behind him, the gates of the keep groaned and began to open, revealing a wide, dark staircase leading up into the keep’s interior. For an instant, Dandra wondered if the ogre mage commanded the magical equivalent of vayahatana-until she caught the muffled grinding of some heavy, hidden mechanism. The flash of his sleeves had been a signal. She held back a smile of her own at Tzaryan’s trickery and bowed along with Singe.