- all except Daken, who appeared to be basking happily in their unhappy attention. Now she knew his name, Ardela recognised him; his reputation wasn’t one to necessarily be proud of - he was known as Daken the Mad Axe, not so much a delightful nickname as an accurate one, if even half the stories were to be believed.
As the three reached Coran he reached out to take Legana’s arm, but she kept back and raised the slate. Reading whatever she’d written on it brought the colour darkening in Coran’s cheeks. Ardela saw his fist tighten, but the man had a good enough hold on his temper to turn away and lead them up the stair without a word.
Ardela coughed to smother her laugh as she caught sight of what Legana had written - Touch me and you’ll be missing a ball too. The white-eye’s reputation was not a pleasant one, especially where women were concerned.
Legana followed Coran unaided up the single flight of stairs, running her fingers along the bare wall to help her balance. Ardela and Shanas kept close behind and they found themselves entering a cold, almost-bare study. A dozen unopened wooden crates stood on the floor. The only furniture was a dusty desk and a tall shelved cabinet, which occupied much of one wall. King Emin perched on one corner of the desk and inclined his head courteously as each woman entered.
‘Normally I wouldn’t believe your presence here could be merely fortuitous, but after Doranei’s reports I have to accept the possibility, ’ he said to Legana.
Legana hesitated for a moment, and just when Ardela was expecting to be told to relay her words to the king, Legana erased the message on her slate and scribbled quickly.
Interesting, Ardela thought as she watched Legana hold up the slate. She doesn’t want him to know about that yet.
‘“Chance, nothing more,”’ King Emin read aloud. He shrugged. ‘Certainly it was not fate, and for that you have my condolences. Doranei has told me something of your situation. I can surmise a little more, and I believe my help might prove valuable. As it happens I have a task that your sisterhood would be most suitable for.’
Legana gave him her most radiant smile. Faced with that, Emin’s own faltered a fraction.
‘Damn,’ he said. ‘This looks like it’s going to cost me.’
CHAPTER 7
Grey ghosts of mist hung over the valley floor, sheltered from the listless breeze by the cliffs of Blackfang. Nothing moved inside the valley; no creature or spirit heard the silence shrouding the Library of Seasons broken by a small sound coming from the northern cliff. Set into the rock was a solid doorway, securely barred on the outside. The sound came again, tiny, even amidst the fearful hush: the muffled click of a leather-wrapped hook catching a bolt, the slow scrape of the bolt being dragged open. It was followed by a long, patient pause of several minutes - long enough, perhaps, to ensure anything hearing the rasp of metal would have investigated by then.
The valley floor was gradually being brought into life by the faint brightness spreading across the sky and by the time one of the doors eased open and Captain Hain of the Cheme Third Legion peered out, the murk of dawn was starting to dissipate. Directly in front of him Hain could see a small stretch of grass that extended for twenty yards, dropped away gently on the left, and ending more abruptly on the right at the white stone walls of the animal pens.
Debris was scattered all around the sloped roofs, and a single furrow, a large one, had been carved into the turf. Beyond the pens was the shell of a large, low building; the roof that had once covered one end had been ripped off and through a hole in the outer wall Hain could see the interior was equally wrecked.
To the left, around the base of Blackfang’s peak jutting out into the bowl of the valley, he could make out half of the Fearen House, the largest building in the valley. The great dome looked intact, but one wing had been ripped clean away. Lord Styrax’s beastmasters thought the dragon would most likely have chosen the Fearen House to sleep because of the amount of power in the place - most of the books were preserved by magic. No magic had worked in the valley itself until the spell had been broken; the attendants had ensured any ageing works were