‘Look, horses on the roofs,’ Kirran exclaimed de-lightedly, when the nature and function of the architecture became apparent. ‘These people are splendid.’ Then, gazing round: ‘It’s bigger than it seems from above, but these buildings still seem small. I wonder where they all live.’
‘Below ground,’ Sylvriss said, catching the remark. ‘Most of our buildings go at least twice as far below ground as they go above it.’
Kirran snapped his fingers. ‘I remember someone telling me about it,’ he said. ‘Fascinating. But what a strange way to live.’
The Queen smiled at this inadvertent discourtesy. ‘No,’ she said, laughing. ‘It’s very cosy. Personally I found it quite difficult to understand a people who chose to live high in the air on top of a hill, especially when their winters were so long and so cold.’
Kirran, realizing his mistake, began stammering an apology, but the Queen waved it aside, still laughing.
Then, accompanied by Girvan and one or two other riders, they were riding slowly into the city estate of Urthryn, the Ffyrst of Riddin and father to Sylvriss.
Despite the comparative warmth of the day, the Queen pulled her hood forward.
The extensive parklands of the estate were calm and peaceful after the bustle of the streets. Here and there, horses were grazing, and a few individuals were quietly tending the gardens. They paid little heed to the passing riders. The surrounding trees were rich with the yellows and golds of dying leaves and the whole was redolent with the soft scents of autumn.
The buildings at the heart of this quiet estate were taller than most of those the Fyordyn had seen in the city, but they had the same simple elegance although, conspicuously, their walls were undecorated. A small group of people stood at the foot of a broad flight of steps that led up to a wide patio which fronted the largest building.
As they drew nearer, Sylvriss urged her horse for-ward. Girvan signalled to the others to stop, and, as if at the same signal, the waiting group by the steps divided, leaving a solitary grey-haired figure watching the approach of his long-absent daughter.
Yengar and the others looked on in silence as Sylvriss dismounted and stood in front of her father. They stood for a little time looking at one another and, perhaps, talking, then without haste Urthryn opened his arms and the two embraced.
Girvan nodded his group forward, and the standing watchers too, converged on the couple.
Later, after they had eaten and been shown their quarters, the two Goraidin found themselves alone with Urthryn and Sylvriss and two of Urthryn’s closest advisers.
Yengar saw his Queen’s face in her father’s vividly as, smiling, he ushered them into a large, light room and waved them towards a circle of high, cushioned couches.
‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ he said, pausing in the doorway. ‘There’s another who should be joining us here, I believe. I won’t be a moment.’
When he returned, he was accompanied by a tall man with a high domed head and a long narrow face. He was wearing a long, plain robe secured by a rope about his waist.
‘May I introduce you to Oslang,’ Urthryn said. ‘He’s from the caves, up north.’ He cleared his throat. ‘To be honest, I was on the verge of politely throwing him out, but after listening to Girvan and my daughter, his story is just one among three wild tales now, so I thought we’d hear them all together.’
Oslang bowed slightly. ‘Thank you, Ffyrst,’ he said. ‘My brothers and I knew that it would be difficult to persuade you of our news, but you’ve been patience itself. I’m just glad that other signs have appeared without any real hurt having been done to your people.’
Urthryn grunted non-committally and eased himself stiffly onto a couch. He addressed the Goraidin. ‘We’ve heard Girvan’s tale about the Morlider,’ he said, indicating his advisers. ‘And confirmed the immediate action he’s taken about the coast watch. That’s only sensible.’ He leaned forward and waved a finger at the Goraidin. ‘But I must admit, I’m not keen on the idea of housing and feeding these beggars, to put it mildly. Sets a bad precedent.’
Before either could reply, he waved the topic aside. ‘However, we can talk about that later.’
He turned to Sylvriss and extended his hand to en-compass Oslang and his two advisers. ‘You remember Agreth and Hiron don’t you?’ Sylvriss nodded and smiled at the two men. ‘I’m afraid they’ve weathered about as badly as I have, but we’re still all here.’ He tapped his head. ‘I don’t think you ever met Oslang,’ he went on. ‘Funny sticks, the cave people. Have to be, to live up there; but harmless enough, and fine healers, without doubt. And they’re not usually given to excessive foolishness. At least, in the past they weren’t,’ he added significantly. ‘So tell me your tale again, girl. And you, Fyordyn. And you, Oslang. And let’s see if between us we can’t find out what’s going on.’
His heartiness, however, was forced, and an anx-iousness came through in his voice which even the mellowing qualities of his sing-song Riddin accent could not disguise.
It took some considerable time for the whole tale to be told, not least, Yengar thought, because of the disordered way in which the Riddinvolk proceeded, with frequent interruptions and questions, and seemingly endless repetitions. However, even he had to concede that amazement could understandably override ordered procedure when Oslang referred to Hawklan’s part in his own telling.
When eventually all had been said, Urthryn looked repeatedly from his daughter to the two Goraidin and then to Oslang. Finally he looked in some despair at his advisers.
‘I’ll be honest, lads,’ he said after a long silence. ‘If I didn’t know the people who were telling me all this, I wouldn’t have given it two minutes’ stable room.’
The two men nodded.
‘It takes a lot of believing,’ Agreth said, rather help-lessly.
‘A lot?’ Urthryn exclaimed, standing up. ‘You always did have a gift for understatement, Agreth.’ He walked to the door and spoke to someone waiting outside.
Returning, he sat down again and scratched his head. ‘I’ve always thought having kings and lords and suchlike was no way to run a country. But you seemed to manage well enough, and we’ve all got out own ways… ’ He shrugged off the digression and looked at his daughter again.
‘Rgoric poisoned and murdered.’ He shook his head and grimaced bitterly. ‘I can hardly believe it yet. I must admit, I never liked that long brown streak, Dan-Tor, but I’d never have thought… ’ He shook his head again. ‘And as for all this business about Sumeral being born again, and Dan-Tor being one of the Uhriel amp;mdashOklar amp;mdashsmashing a city with a gesture of his hand? It’s chil-dren’s tales we’re talking,’ he concluded without conviction.
Sylvriss spoke, very quietly. ‘It’s war we’re talking, father. Civil war in Fyorlund… ’
‘And who can tell what kind of a war against Narsindal?’ Oslang finished Sylvriss’s comment.
Urthryn looked up and stared at him, businesslike now.
‘I’ll need to know more of your part in this, cave dweller,’ he said bluntly. ‘We’ve always taken you for a bunch of harmless eccentrics, living in your caves up there, by Elewart; studying your lore and doing your healing. We’re a tolerant people, and we’ve always left you alone. You did no harm, and we’ve had some fine teachers and healers from you in the past. But now, you’re up to your necks in this nonsense in some way.’
Oslang sat motionless.
Urthryn continued. ‘If I’m to believe that this an-cient… demon, or whatever, has suddenly reappeared, and is already wreaking havoc in Fyorlund’ amp;mdashhe looked at Sylvriss amp;mdash‘and, seemingly, I must for now, then I want to know what amp;mdashor who amp;mdashbrought it back.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Was it some shenanigans by your people, Oslang? Meddling with things they ought to have left alone?’
Oslang met his gaze squarely. ‘No, Ffyrst, it wasn’t,’ he said simply. ‘I’ll tell you about our Order with pleasure when the need arises, but it hasn’t yet, and when I tell you it’ll be for you and your closest, most trusted aides only. The longer it is before Sumeral knows of our existence, the better.’ He looked signifi-cantly at the others in the room. ‘Suffice it to say for the moment that we are students of lore,’ he went on, ‘and teachers, and healers. But we’re more as well. And, like all of you here, we too have failed in our ancient duty.’