Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,20

for Morland forever. I suspect he plans to buy his way into nobility and rule.”

Amric returned to contemplating the darkness outside the carriage. He had spent most of his life beneath the open sky, or in forests or on battlefields; Sil’ath tribes built modest structures, and tended toward nomadic behavior. He had spent time in human cities, certainly, to learn of his own kind and to supplement his education in ways the Sil’ath could not. He had thought himself prepared for a city larger than he had yet seen, but the immensity of Keldrin’s Landing had been bewildering. To discover there were still larger cities dwarfing Keldrin’s Landing was sobering indeed.

“Ah,” said Bellimar, interrupting his reverie. “We approach the manor at last.”

Amric craned his neck forward and beheld a veritable fortress looming ahead. Tiny flames bobbed along the high battlements and peeked through the crenellations atop the towers, marking the patrols. Torches set in sconces at ground level cast a lurid amber glow and sent long black shadows crawling up the walls, giving the appearance of a great bonfire of stone set stark against the night.

The carriage and its escort clattered across a bridge and under the raised portcullis, into a well-lit courtyard. They drew to a halt, and the carriage door was opened. Amric stepped out, followed by his companions. The carriage trundled away, and the ten soldiers formed around them and ushered them into the manor proper. They passed through stout outer doors and into a large marble antechamber where the elaborate engravings almost fully concealed the archer slits in the walls, and on again into a more opulent grand entry. Broad marble stairways and ornate balustrades curved up and away on either hand, but they were marched straight through to another set of brass-bound double doors.

The guard in the lead signaled for a halt and gave a respectful rap to the door with one studded fist. A moment’s pause, and then the doors were opened from within to reveal a new set of guards in finer garb than their current escort. Crisp and professional, the interior guards motioned them inward and shut the doors, leaving their erstwhile attendants outside the room.

They were at one end of a majestic hall with furnishings as lavish as the other rooms they had passed through. As with the preceding rooms, Amric paid little attention to the décor, though his roving gaze lingered on the towering tapestries that brushed the floor, and he speculated at what they might conceal. An enormous table of dark wood stretched into the room; Amric did not bother to count the high-backed chairs, but he estimated that a full company of soldiers could eat at the table without fear of bumping elbows. A lone figure was seated at the far end of the table, an ornate goblet in one hand as he studied an array of papers spread before him. The guards, ten strong as the last group had been, encircled them.

“Weapons,” said one, in a tone that retained a measure of courtesy without offering the illusion of choice.

Amric glanced back at his companions, and found them watching him intently. The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a smile. He unbuckled the baldric that held the two swords across his back and placed it on the end of the table. He drew the knife from behind his belt and laid it beside the swords. After a moment’s hesitation, Halthak stepped forward and relinquished his gnarled staff as well. The guards eyed Bellimar, who spread empty palms and smiled, the peculiar intensity of his stare seeming to invite a challenge. The lead guard met that stare for a long moment, perhaps searching for deception, and then he suddenly leaned away from Bellimar and fell back half a step. Shaken, he cast about to his men as if to gauge their reactions, or to reassure himself of their presence. Then he recovered and made a curt gesture. The guards formed around them, and they moved as a group in formation through the room.

As they approached, Morland pushed the papers from him and raised the goblet to his lips, studying them with dark, dispassionate eyes over its jeweled rim. Amric was seated in the chair nearest Morland but still well out of arm’s reach, Halthak to his immediate left, and Bellimar next. The guards took stolid stances behind their chairs, hands resting on the pommels of their swords.

Amric took a moment to study the merchant. He was a tall