The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,70

figure, giving him a strikingly different aura; she stared at him—but then the boyish shyness returned.

Rodario smiled and pressed her hand. “I’m glad, too.” He let go as they approached the passage and came in view of the servants. Coïra wondered what it was that had just happened.

They walked to the west wing together; this was the queen’s residence, even if it was in reality her prison and had been so for some time.

The servant opened the door to the high tower and they stepped into the room with its big round many-paned window of leaded glass. Behind the window what was left of the lake’s beauty spread out to the horizon. There were clouds over the glistening surface of the lake and individual islands stood high, like plates on pillars. Others had the form of spheres.

Wey the Eleventh, deposed queen of Weyurn, rested on a cushioned seat by the window. Round her sat, or stood, four heavily armed and armored Lohasbranders. Wey was wearing a silken wine-red dress and a cap of black lace.

What did not remotely go with her attire was the iron ring around her neck. Four chains were attached to it, each one leading to a guard. Rodario noticed a device on the ring that would cause it to close up tight if the chains were pulled. Death by suffocation. If all four men pulled at the same time, he imagined it would decapitate her.

Rodario admired Wey, who pretended to ignore the humiliating chains. He had heard that the guards never left her side, in order to prevent her having access to the magic source. The ruler was the most powerful maga in Girdlegard, people said, more powerful even than Lot-Ionan. Nobody knew how old she was.

The Dragon, Rodario remembered, had somehow managed to defeat her and had promised to spare her daughter, and her land, if she agreed to submit to this imprisonment. The Scaly One must have had only the narrowest of victories. Rodario wondered why nobody had killed the four Lohasbranders. Concern for the population?

Wey nodded to them and the chains clinked slightly. Coïra and the actor bowed and took their seats on chairs the serva nts brought.

A fifth Lohasbrander came out from behind a set of bookshelves with a heavy volume in his hands. Rodario thought he might be about fifty; he had short brown hair and a burn scar under his left eye. He was flanked by two orcs: Both of them tall, armed to the teeth and quite horrible. He noted the new arrivals, studied them in turn and sat down at the desk that really belonged to the queen.

“Wrong seat,” Coïra said rudely to the man. “Unless you are in reality a woman under your armor and entitled to the crown of Weyurn.”

The man laughed out loud. “The wildness of youth,” he chuckled, opening the book to browse through its pages. “You are always so direct in your words. Considering what you have been up to your conduct might be described as audacious and unwise in the extreme.”

Rodario viewed the scale of horn that the envoy wore on a chain round his neck. It was engraved with a design that showed the man to be one of the Dragon’s privy councilors, meaning that his words would be command and law, as if he were speaking for the Scaly One himself. Rodario thought it was not a promising sign, and so he got up from his seat. “I admit everything; the guilt was mine alone.”

“Guilt?” The man looked bewildered. “By Tion! Now I see: It’s yet another of the would-be Rodarios.” He groaned. “They should all be done away with. I can’t stand that face.” He leaned forward. “Let me see: Yours is too fat, the beard is ridiculous, you don’t speak your lines properly; it’s as if you had stuffed cotton wool in your cheeks. Quite the opposite of the one we executed in Mifurdania. I’m sure he would have won the contest.”

Rodario and Coïra stiffened.

The man grinned at them. “Yes, and now you’re not quite so full of yourselves, are you?” He pointed to the scale he wore. “Let’s get back to the real reason for my visit. I am Präses Girín and I have been sent by Lohasbrand to investigate incidents that have occurred in Mifurdania. It is said,” and he turned his attention to Coïra, “you were involved. Things happened which only a maga could have arranged.” His left hand gestured toward Wey. “If your mother