Oberon's Dreams - By Aaron Pogue Page 0,79

him how to load the barrels, how to prime the pan and set the safety cock. He showed him how the revolving mechanism worked as well, though Corin had received ample education watching Ephitel.

Still, out of courtesy he waited through the demonstration—grateful when the dwarf refrained from firing the last live shot—then he expressed his gratitude with more sincerity, said his good-bye, and slithered up the rabbit hole.

It was no easy task, but he emerged into a bright midmorning. The songs of sparrows seemed like strident screeches after the ancient silence underground. The gentle sunlight seemed a searing blaze. But worst of all, by contrast, was the rushing tide of time.

Midmorning already. Time had felt imaginary underground, but based on the sun’s position, Ephitel must have gained an advantageous lead.

Corin cursed and caught his bearing. The bridge stood south, along the nearby riverbank, not half a mile down. Corin frowned, calculating. He didn’t recognize the place, but this could not be far from the path Kellen had shown him. That meant Ephitel’s mansion would be near enough to see…

He turned that way, in time to see the windows on the first floor light up red and orange, exploding outward in a rain of glass. The walls followed a moment later, firing bricks across the lawn like cannon shot. The second floor went half a heartbeat behind the first, and then a plume of fire lifted the shingled ceiling up into the sky.

So, he thought, I guess they found the storerooms.

The thunder of it hit him then, and Corin turned his back before the debris could start to fall. He threw his cloak over his head and started south beside the riverbank, heading for a meeting with the king.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Corin’s knee still twinged. His head pounded, and everything ached, but he was strong enough to walk. He pushed through the underbrush along the riverbank, climbing higher, and soon he broke free onto a narrow walking path. As he went, he worried at the questions he’d encountered underground. What was this place? What was this city, with its twisted fate? He traced the strange path of his journey here, considered all the strange events, and the more he thought on them, the more certain he became that there was some guiding force behind it. Some manipulating hand.

That thought lit a fire in his gut and drove him forward. He followed the secret footpath back to the winemaker’s shop, and this time he spent no time on subterfuge. He strolled through the back door, waved a greeting to the startled owner, and then went out onto the plaza near the palace.

Everything had changed. The crowd was pressing hard against the north gates, rattling the iron bars and shouting cheers while they watched Ephitel’s mansion burn. Corin scanned the crowd for some sign of Maurelle or the druids, but he found none. He did find evidence of Ephitel’s handiwork. There were bruises everywhere, bleeding wounds and black eyes where Ephitel’s guards had responded to the mob. Corin saw the fist-sized stones littering the courtyard, and he marveled that the crowd hadn’t flung them back. The people of Gesoelig were too kind.

There was no sign of Ephitel or his guards now, only rioters flush with victory, marveling at the bonfire atop the hill. That was no sure victory, though. Not while the wretched prince was still alive. Corin left them cheering and headed for the bridge.

When he reached it, soldiers barred his way. They did not seem hostile—not Ephitel’s men, then—but they were stout and they watched the thick black smoke with nervous eyes. Corin approached them at a stroll, trying hard to look uninteresting despite his limp. Despite the bundle in his arms and his mud-slick hair and clothes. He must have looked a sickly pauper, and the guards responded automatically with raised eyebrows and lowered pikes.

“Halt!” cried their commander. “The bridge is closed. No one’s to pass until that mess is sorted out.”

Corin went straight to him, heedless of the iron spear points aimed his way. “I’m on a mission for the king. He bade me bring him this—” he raised the bundle “—with every haste.”

The commander shook his head. “Orders were clear. No one’s to cross the bridge.”

Corin ground his teeth. “Very well. Send a messenger for me.”

The commander shook his head. “Come back tomorrow.”

“If I wait till then, we’ll all be rotting corpses,” Corin growled. “I have the answers you are waiting for. I can explain what happened over there, and