The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,69

a title!” He rubbed his chin. “But tell me, what was the reason for the slaughter? To stamp out rebellion once and for all? Or is there more to it?”

Mallenia was surprised. “What do you mean, more?”

“How should I know? You’re from Idoslane and you know the old myths and sagas. Is there a prophecy, maybe, connecting the descendants of Mallen with the overthrow of a mighty enemy?”

Mallenia was suddenly touched with doubt. “That had never occurred to me,” she confessed.

“The älfar are well known for mysticism. So people say,” Rodario added. “It might be like them to hunt down yourself and the others to stop a prophecy coming true.” He seemed no less excited by the idea than she was. “It sounds like a story that ought to be put on the stage, don’t you think?”

“Your enthusiasm is all well and good, but which stage would you perform it on?” objected Coïra. She was afraid the injured girl would be upset by the man’s wild speculations and not be able to get the rest she so sorely needed. “In Weyurn you have no spectators and in Idoslane you wouldn’t manage more than two sentences if the älfar in the story don’t come out the winners.”

Rodario stroked his meager beard again, as if he were trying to encourage it to grow. “That’s true,” he said pensively. “I’ll have to enquire.” He looked at Mallenia. “We’ll need to find out whether there’s more than bloodthirstiness behind the killings that the black-eyes are carrying out.”

She was about to answer, but there was a knock and a servant stuck his head round the door. “Princess, your mother wants you. A messenger has arrived. One of the Lohasbranders.” She raised her hand in acknowledgment and the servant withdrew.

“Rest, now, Mallenia. We’ll look in on you later,” said Coïra as she left, motioning to Rodario to follow her. “The more sleep you can get, the quicker you’ll recover.”

The two left the room and walked side by side through the palace, which was built at the top of the island.

Rodario could not contain himself. “What do you think the Dragon wants?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing ever since I heard there was a message,” said Coïra, deeply preoccupied. She reproached herself for having acted unwisely in Mifurdania in letting her identity be known. She had brought danger on herself and on her beloved mother. The Dragon did not forgive. Certainly he would not forgive the death of an ally or support given to a criminal.

“I could volunteer as a hostage if Lohasbrand demands one,” he began, but she waved this suggestion aside.

“Nobody is volunteering. I thought we could try to divert the Dragon’s attention to the two älfar, without letting on why they were here. The dead night-mare would be proof. Then maybe the little episode in Mifurdania would lose its significance,” she said firmly, but she was not convinced by her own words. “Are you all right? Your face?”

Rodario touched his cheek. “It’s nothing. The iron wall gave me a kiss.”

“I don’t understand how you managed to fall over the parapet. And to reach the shore. Didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim?”

“Carelessness and a puddle on the slippery walkway. I think Samusin saved my life,” he lied. He had decided not to say anything about Loytan’s attack on him. He would settle the matter with the count man to man. And he’d make sure he never turned his back on him again. “It all makes sense. My clumsiness got me to the shore at just the right moment. You on your own facing those älfar—it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Coïra laughed at how serious the actor sounded. As if he really believed that she would have been in difficulty without him. “Yes, you saved me, Rodario the Seventh,” she said in friendly tones, taking his hand. “Who would have suspected this fighting spirit in you? Forgive my honesty but, personally, I would never have thought it of you. Not after your night-time adventure in Mifurdania.”

“How should I take that?”

“The little yelp when I stood in front of you—it was quite sweet. Like a little girl.”

“Bah!” he said, overacting again.

She had to laugh. “I’m glad your true nature has come to the fore.” The maga looked into his brown eyes to add a teasing remark—but stopped, in confusion. The hesitant expression on Rodario’s face had disappeared and given way momentarily to something decidedly masculine, an air of a victor.

The impression spread briefly to his whole