Markus Heitz - The Fate of the Dwarves

Rodario touched his cheek. “It’s nothing. The iron wall gave me a kiss.”

“I don’t understand how you managed to fall over the parapet. And to reach the shore. Didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim?”

“Carelessness and a puddle on the slippery walkway. I think Samusin saved my life,” he lied. He had decided not to say anything about Loytan’s attack on him. He would settle the matter with the count man to man. And he’d make sure he never turned his back on him again. “It all makes sense. My clumsiness got me to the shore at just the right moment. You on your own facing those alfar-it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Coira laughed at how serious the actor sounded. As if he really believed that she would have been in difficulty without him. “Yes, you saved me, Rodario the Seventh,” she said in friendly tones, taking his hand. “Who would have suspected this fighting spirit in you? Forgive my honesty but, personally, I would never have thought it of you. Not after your night-time adventure in Mifurdania.”

“How should I take that?”

“The little yelp when I stood in front of you-it was quite sweet. Like a little girl.”

“Bah!” he said, overacting again.

She had to laugh. “I’m glad your true nature has come to the fore.” The maga looked into his brown eyes to add a teasing remark-but stopped, in confusion. The hesitant expression on Rodario’s face had disappeared and given way momentarily to something decidedly masculine, an air of a victor.

The impression spread briefly to his whole figure, giving him a strikingly different aura; she stared at him-but then the boyish shyness returned.

Rodario smiled and pressed her hand. “I’m glad, too.” He let go as they approached the passage and came in view of the servants. Coira wondered what it was that had just happened.

They walked to the west wing together; this was the queen’s residence, even if it was in reality her prison and had been so for some time.

The servant opened the door to the high tower and they stepped into the room with its big round many-paned window of leaded glass. Behind the window what was left of the lake’s beauty spread out to the horizon. There were clouds over the glistening surface of the lake and individual islands stood high, like plates on pillars. Others had the form of spheres.

Wey the Eleventh, deposed queen of Weyurn, rested on a cushioned seat by the window. Round her sat, or stood, four heavily armed and armored Lohasbranders. Wey was wearing a silken wine-red dress and a cap of black lace.

What did not remotely go with her attire was the iron ring around her neck. Four chains were attached to it, each one leading to a guard. Rodario noticed a device on the ring that would cause it to close up tight if the chains were pulled. Death by suffocation. If all four men pulled at the same time, he imagined it would decapitate her.

Rodario admired Wey, who pretended to ignore the humiliating chains. He had heard that the guards never left her side, in order to prevent her having access to the magic source. The ruler was the most powerful maga in Girdlegard, people said, more powerful even than Lot-Ionan. Nobody knew how old she was.

The Dragon, Rodario remembered, had somehow managed to defeat her and had promised to spare her daughter, and her land, if she agreed to submit to this imprisonment. The Scaly One must have had only the narrowest of victories. Rodario wondered why nobody had killed the four Lohasbranders. Concern for the population?

Wey nodded to them and the chains clinked slightly. Coira and the actor bowed and took their seats on chairs the serva nts brought.

A fifth Lohasbrander came out from behind a set of bookshelves with a heavy volume in his hands. Rodario thought he might be about fifty; he had short brown hair and a burn scar under his left eye. He was flanked by two orcs: Both of them tall, armed to the teeth and quite horrible. He noted the new arrivals, studied them in turn and sat down at the desk that really belonged to the queen.

“Wrong seat,” Coira said rudely to the man. “Unless you are in reality a woman under your armor and entitled to the crown of Weyurn.”

The man laughed out loud. “The wildness of youth,” he chuckled, opening the book to browse through its pages. “You are always so direct in your words. Considering what you have been up to your conduct might be described as audacious and unwise in the extreme.”

Rodario viewed the scale of horn that the envoy wore on a chain round his neck. It was engraved with a design that showed the man to be one of the Dragon’s privy councilors, meaning that his words would be command and law, as if he were speaking for the Scaly One himself. Rodario thought it was not a promising sign, and so he got up from his seat. “I admit everything; the guilt was mine alone.”

“Guilt?” The man looked bewildered. “By Tion! Now I see: It’s yet another of the would-be Rodarios.” He groaned. “They should all be done away with. I can’t stand that face.” He leaned forward. “Let me see: Yours is too fat, the beard is ridiculous, you don’t speak your lines properly; it’s as if you had stuffed cotton wool in your cheeks. Quite the opposite of the one we executed in Mifurdania. I’m sure he would have won the contest.”

Rodario and Coira stiffened.

The man grinned at them. “Yes, and now you’re not quite so full of yourselves, are you?” He pointed to the scale he wore. “Let’s get back to the real reason for my visit. I am Prases Girin and I have been sent by Lohasbrand to investigate incidents that have occurred in Mifurdania. It is said,” and he turned his attention to Coira, “you were involved. Things happened which only a maga could have arranged.” His left hand gestured toward Wey. “If your mother has not left the island, as the guards assure me, there remains only you. That is an infringement of the agreement!”

Rodario had not sat down again. “Prases, who did you execute?” he stammered.

Girin rolled his eyes. “There are so many of you. How should I know who everybody is? I think it was The Incomparable Rodario.” He smirked. “The sword did for him in the end. He wasn’t as elusive as he thought. So the rebellion has lost its head, in all senses of the word. All that nonsense about liberty and resistance has gone with the wind.”

Coira held her hand to her mouth. Rodario swayed on his feet. “Stand tall,” he murmured, pulling himself together.

Girin looked at Coira. “Let’s get back to you…”

“You are accusing the wrong person,” the actor interrupted, pulling himself to his full height. Stand tall! “It was me!”

“You?” Prases burst out laughing. “What’s your game? You want me to die laughing?”

“As actors we have a few ways to trick our audiences. We can produce illusions with a little powder, we can turn out the lamps and we can call up demons, given a little time to prepare and the wherewithal,” he explained. “You will be acquainted with the old stories of the wonderful magister technicus Furgas? I had time enough at my disposal to arrange the escape. A friend of mine disguised himself and the two of us stormed the tower to free The Incomparable One. The orcs were stupid enough to fall for it.”

Girin stood up, then raised his left arm and beckoned. “Come here, actor.”

Wey and Coira exchanged horrified glances.

The princess found it touching how Rodario was trying to help her but was in a quandary. If the Lohasbrander came to the conclusion that she had overstepped the terms of the agreement, her mother’s life would be in danger; but at the same time she did not want the actor to make this sacrifice. She was amazed at the bravery he was exhibiting. There was more man in Rodario than she had assumed on first meeting him.