Paul Thompson - Dargonesti

Gundabyr couldn’t believe his ears. “It’s time for me to go home,” he said morosely. “I’ve heard of some strange marriages in my time, but I never heard of a bride who gained her groom by besieging his city!”

Vixa agreed heartily. “I’ve no wish to remain and see Uriona achieve her dream. Maybe not queen of all the elves, but certainly queen of Silvanesti!”

They went to make their good-byes to the Speaker. He was downcast when he learned they intended to depart. “The wedding will be immense,” he promised. “Ten days of feasting! Actors, jugglers, and singers are being summoned. The clerics are building a chapel of glass under the river just for the ceremony! You should remain for that at least.”

Gundabyr was tempted. Ten days of food and drink was certainly something to consider. The presence of Uriona, however, was certain to turn the food to ashes and the nectar to vinegar. They both declined. The Speaker settled for showering his new friends with rich gifts of clothing and jewels, not forgetting the magnifying lens he had promised Gundabyr. He asked how they planned to get home.

“Walk?” said the dwarf.

“Ride,” said Vixa firmly. “If Your Majesty would loan us horses.”

“I shall do no such thing. You will have a griffon from the royal stable. You can fly home faster than the wind!”

He clasped hands with Gundabyr, and Vixa was surprised to find herself embraced. She returned the gesture warmly.

“May the gods favor you in all things, Cousin,” Elendar said sincerely. “Master Gundabyr, you and Lady Vixa are welcome in my realm at any time.”

They thanked him again and took their leave. Outside, the morning sun was promising a hot day. Vixa looked across the city to Tower Protector, a frown on her face.

“I have one more errand left,” she told Gundabyr. “I’ll meet you at the royal stable in an hour.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

Vixa walked to Tower Protector and entered without challenge. Though the nobles of Silvanost might disparage her for her heritage, the warriors respected her valor. She found Samcadaris and told him she desired a favor.

“Anything, lady,” he said simply.

“I want to talk to Coryphene.”

The marshal was surprised. “You’ll not harm him-he is in my charge.”

“I won’t touch him,” Vixa promised.

She climbed to the top floor of one of the smaller towers. There in the center of a round room a large glass box had been formed by magic, sealed tight but for some finger-sized holes along its top. The box was filled with water. It was Coryphene’s prison cell.

He stirred when she entered. He still wore his warrior’s clothing, though without armor. Vixa came close to the thin glass barrier.

“What do you want?” he asked, addressing her in Elvish. His voice was muffled by the water and the glass, but she could understand him.

“I’ve come to say good-bye. I’m going home.”

At her words his head came up, and he stared at her. “To Urione?”

“Qualinost,” she corrected. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“You are a sister of the sea now. The call will be irresistible.”

She laughed. “At Thonbec, when my freedom and credibility were at stake, it wasn’t so irresistible. I couldn’t even change into a dolphin.”

“Foolish drylander. Do dolphins live in rivers? Only seawater makes the change possible.”

“In any event, that’s not important. I came to pass along some news no one else may have bothered to share.”

“What news?”

“Uriona is marrying the Speaker of the Stars in one month’s time.”

If she had hit Coryphene with a club, she couldn’t have stunned him more. His arrested expression and sudden stillness were most gratifying.

“You lie,” he said at last. “You say so only to wound me. Uriona is mine.”

“In a month, you’ll be able to hear the marriage pipes from here,” Vixa said with a shrug. “Uriona never loved you. You were only a tool for her ambition. When greater power came her way, she grabbed it.” The Qualinesti princess stepped closer and raised one finger to tap the glass barrier that separated them. “Ponder that, Lord Protector. Think of Uriona in the palace with the Speaker of the Stars, as you live the rest of your days in this glass bowl.”

The angry flush had gone, leaving his face pallid and frozen. Vixa turned to leave, her mission accomplished. Nothing disturbed her enjoyment of the moment. She had only to remember Armantaro, Harmanutis, and Vanthanoris-none of them ever to return to Qualinesti soil-and all pangs of conscience vanished instantly. Let him sit alone in his crystal prison thinking of his love marrying another.

Vixa descended to say farewell to Samcadaris. Halfway down the long staircase, she heard a crash above, followed by the sound of rushing water. Rivulets flowed down the steps behind her. She stood immobile for an instant, then another sound filled the air. It was a scream, which stopped abruptly.

The Qualinesti princess’s face was blank. On the ground floor hall of the tower, she found the warriors rushing outside. She followed them. At the door stood Samcadaris.

“It’s Coryphene!” he exclaimed. “Somehow he erupted out of his cage and threw himself from the window!”

“Is he dead?” Samcadaris nodded, and she said flatly, “Good.”

He stared at her. “What did you say to him?” the marshal demanded.

“I only told him of the Speaker’s coming marriage.”

Samcadaris looked shocked. “You told him-”

“Coryphene chose his own path from Watermere to this tower,” she responded in a cold voice. “I will not grieve for him.”

The Marshal of Silvanost regarded her in silence for several seconds, then he did an odd thing. He saluted. Vixa returned the gesture. Her coldness melted, and she said warmly, “You are a fine elf, Samca. Thank you for believing in me back on that beach.”

They said their good-byes, and Vixa made her way to the royal stables. A fine, large griffon was saddled and ready. It had the magnificent head, neck, and wings of an eagle and the torso and hindquarters of a lion. A plumed lion’s tail fanned the air behind it. Panniers hung down on each flank, loaded with fine gifts and provisions. Gundabyr stood off to one side, regarding the beast dubiously.

“Are we supposed to ride this thing?” he asked. Since the high-backed saddle was even now being cinched on the griffon’s back, his question was obviously rhetorical.

Vixa smiled. “What’s the matter, afraid of flying?”

“So long as we stay dry, I can handle anything.” The dwarf climbed onto a tall mounting block and was assisted into the saddle. Vixa mounted in front of him. The great animal shifted under their weight, turning its fierce head to regard them silently. The handler gave Vixa the reins. There was no bit, of course. The reins were connected to a leather halter. The Qualinesti princess had never flown a griffon before, but she wasn’t about to let the Silvanesti know it. She took the reins confidently.

“What’s his name?” she asked the handler.

“ Her name is Lionheart, lady,” was the smooth reply.

Vixa nodded as the handler stepped back. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Ready, Gundabyr?” He grunted an affirmative, and Vixa snapped the reins. “Away, Lionheart!” she cried.

The beast spread its great wings, took a few steps forward, and leapt into the air.

Vixa and Gundabyr flew straight to Thorbardin, where Lionheart landed at Northgate. Vixa tied the beast’s reins to a handy outcropping of rock, and she and Gundabyr descended into the underground city. At Gundabyr’s clan home in Daewar City, all of his family-and there were a lot of them-turned out to welcome him back and meet the Qualinesti princess. There was sadness, however, when Gundabyr relayed the news of his twin’s death.