Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,240

it might be time for him, too, to be on his way.

CHAPTER 28

THE WORD

LUTHIEN AND KATERIN sat astride their mounts on a hill overlooking the shining white-and-pink marble of Princetown. The sun was low in the eastern sky, beaming past them, igniting the reflected fires along the polished walls of the marvelous city. In the famed Princetown zoo, the exotic animals were awakening to the new day, issuing their roars and growls, heralding the sunrise.

Other than those bellowing sounds, the city was quiet and calm, and the panic that had begun after the news that Duke Paragor was slain and the garrison slaughtered had settled.

“Brind’Amour told the Princetowners that neither the Eriadoran nor the dwarfish army would enter the city,” Luthien remarked. “They trust in the old mage.”

“They have no choice but to trust in him,” Katerin answered. “We could march into the city and kill them all in a single day.”

“But they know we will not,” Luthien said firmly. “They know why we have come.”

“They are not allies,” Katerin reminded him. “And if they had the strength to chase us away, they would do so, do not doubt.”

Luthien had no reply; he knew that she was right. Even though he knew of Brind’Amour’s intention of retreating back to Eriador, Luthien had hoped that, after the massacre in Glen Durritch and if the folk of Princetown embraced the Eriadoran cause, they might continue this war, indeed might take it all the way to Carlisle. It had been as Oliver had predicted on that day of planning the attack. The Princetowners were calm now, trusting, praying that the threat to their personal safety was ended, but they made no pledges of allegiance to the Eriadoran flag.

“And know, too,” Katerin said grimly, pounding home her point, “that our army will indeed enter the city and lay waste to any who oppose us if we find another of Greensparrow’s armies marching north to do battle.”

Luthien hardly heard the words, because he had not wanted to hear them, and also because he noticed Oliver upon Threadbare, riding up the hill to join them. Also, to the left, the south, and still very far away, Luthien noticed the expected entourage approaching the captured city. Several coaches moved in a line, all streaming pennants, fronted and flanked by cyclopians upon ponypigs, the one-eyes smartly dressed in the finest regalia of the Praetorian Guard. Luthien did not recognize all of the pennants, but he picked out the banner of Avon and figured that the rest were the crests of the southern kingdom’s most important families, and probably the banners of the six major cities, as well. Most prominent among the line, along with the banner of Avon, was a blue pennant showing huge hands reaching out to each other across a gulf of water.

“Mannington, I think,” Katerin remarked, watching the same show and picking out the same, prominent banner.

“Another duke?” Luthien asked. “Come to parley or work foul magic?”

“Duchess,” came a correction from below as Oliver hustled his pony toward the pair. “Duchess Wellworth of Mannington. She will speak for Greensparrow, who is still in Gascony.”

“Where have you been?” Luthien and Katerin asked together, for neither had seen the halfling in the five days since Duke Paragor was dispatched.

Oliver chuckled quietly, wondering if they would even believe him. He had used Brind’Amour’s magical tunnel to cross a thousand miles, and then a thousand miles back again. He had met with dignitaries, some of the most important men in Gascony, and had even, on the occasion of passing the man in the hall, tipped his great hat to King Greensparrow himself! “It was time for me to go home!” the foppish halfling roared cryptically, and he would say no more, and Luthien and Katerin, too involved in speculating about the meeting that would soon take place, did not press the point.

Luthien had wanted to attend that parley, but Brind’Amour had frowned upon the notion, reminding the young Bedwyr that the coming negotiator was probably a wizard and would be able to recognize the young man, perhaps, or at least to relay information about Luthien to the king in the south. As far as Greensparrow and his cronies were concerned, Brind’Amour realized that Eriador would be better served if the Crimson Shadow remained a figure of mystery and intrigue.

So Luthien had agreed to stay out of the city and out of the meeting. But now, watching the line of coaches disappearing behind the gray granite wall, the young Bedwyr