Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,402

the citadel, I doubt it. All I remember with any confidence is the interior; you wouldn’t let me journey outside the walls very much, if you recall.”

“Something I think I am about to regret, yes?”

“I’m sorry.” The sorceress was. It seemed there was never anything she could do, but, in this case, it was the patriarch’s fault. “And if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to materialize inside… just in case.”

“I understand. I was attempting to appear outside the gates myself.” Barakas tugged at his graying beard. “And sorcery might not be safe yet. When I tried just before the day’s ride, I sensed something—immense, is the only way I can describe it—spreading throughout the region of the citadel.”

She thought of the land awakening and the outcast laughing, all still fresh in her mind from the dreams. “Do you think that—”

“I do not know what to think.” He dismissed the subject. “You had a request you wished to make of me.”

“It concerns Darkhorse.”

“Does it now?” In the deepening dark, she could not see his eyes now, but she knew they were narrowed, suspicious. “And how does it concern him?”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve given you my word that I will help you, and you’ve given your word that you will release all of us. Until the latter happens, however, I was hoping that you would let Darkhorse out—”

“He is my assurance that you will abide by your side, Lady Sharissa.”

The young Zeree nodded. “I understand how you feel after the attack, but he will listen to me. If I ask him to abide by my decision, he will do so, I’m certain. If not…” She hesitated, wondering what the eternal would think of this offer. “If not, you can trap him inside once more and I won’t make a protest.”

There was silence for a time, then; “I will consider it over my meal.”

“You’ve bound him to the box again. He can’t do you any harm now!”

“Never underestimate an opponent, especially a wounded one. They are often the deadliest.” The patriarch nodded to her. “You will hear from me. I promise.”

He walked off without another word. Sharissa frowned and looked for Lochivan again, but the patriarch’s son had vanished.

She wondered why the lord of the Tezerenee had left his other children behind. Even Lochivan would have remained at the caverns had he not defied his father. Was it that Barakas worried about what they might face? Was Lochivan only here because he had confronted his father with the Tezerenee need for honor and redemption? Gerrod did not count; he was almost an outsider as far as his sire was concerned.

“My lady,” her shadow suddenly said, jarring her back to the here and now.

“You should get food and rest. My Lord Barakas will be demanding us to be ready when he is.”

“Very well.” She wondered when she would receive her answer. Tonight? Tomorrow?

Whenever he chooses to give it, Sharissa finally decided with a frown. She turned and wandered back to where Faunon would already be waiting with food for the two of them.

“WHENEVER” ACTUALLY PROVED to be just before she lay down to sleep. Most of the others were already resting, but she had located a stream and, despite the protest of the bodyguard, washed her clothing and cleaned herself. The warrior, to her surprise, respected her privacy and kept his eyes as much as possible on the nearby foliage. As tired as she was, Sharissa would have hardly cared if he had looked. She was only happy to be clean. Amongst the items packed for her were traveling gowns much like the one she wore. Where they had come from she could only guess, but they fit her perfectly and prevented her from having to put on the wet outfit once she was finished. They accented her form quite well, and she wondered if perhaps they had been brought along on the journey from the citadel, where Lady Alcia might have had them made for her.

Heavy footfalls warned her of the approach of a Tezerenee unconcerned with silence. Faunon and Gerrod, both sleeping within a few yards of her, either did not hear the newcomer or thought best not to interfere in what they knew nothing about.

“Lady Sharissa.”

As was the way of the Tezerenee, only the patriarch had a tent. The sorceress and her companions slept in travel blankets provided by the clan, their heads resting on small mats provided with the blankets. To Sharissa,