Страница 11 из 83
Quentin, remembering enough of his court etiquette, bowed low and replied none too certainly, “Your gracious servant will attend, m’lady.” He’d mixed the reply, but the spirit was right. The Queen’s companion laughed again. Her voice was the joyous bubbling of a happy heart.
“I am certain you will bring your finest furs,” she said. Quentin bowed again and the driver, looking neither right nor left, took the bridle strap and led the carriage away.
Quentin stared at the summons in his hand, wondering at his remarkable fortune. The god Ariel, a deity among whose many attributes was serendipity, had fortuitously arranged for Quentin to have his audience with the Queen after all. Quentin considered the serving maid’s mistake a miracle of the highest order, and stuck the letter into his tunic next to his skin. He moved off quickly, with purpose renewed, forgetting altogether Theido’s command to seek help of the holy hermit Durwin.
With several hours to employ until he should have his audience, Quentin decided to make his way to the gates of the castle, there to be ready for the appointed hour. He pla
Quentin forgot his fear of the armed men and the skirmish in the stable yard at the i
Had Quentin noticed the mirth that accompanied his sally to the gates of the castle he would have slunk away embarrassed. But he did not, so occupied with high deeds and fair fortune had he become.
His attitude changed abruptly, however, upon reaching the gates of fortress Askelon. They were mammoth iron-and-timber constructions wide enough for a whole company of knights to ride through a dozen abreast. They stood as a challenge to anyone who would make war upon King Eskevar to do his worst; the gates had defied fire, axe, and battering ram in siege after siege. From the foot of the long incline of the ramp leading up to the gates Quentin stood with mouth agape in wonder at the magnificent sight. The castle rose in sweeping lines to tower high into the bright blue winter sky. Red and gold pe
Of the five ancient wonders only Askelon remained. The others-the Fire Fountains of Pelagia, the Ice Temples of Sanarrath, the Cave Tombs of the Braldurean Kings, the Singing Stones of Syphria-all had crumbled away, lost in dim ages past. But Askelon, mighty City of Kings, with its dragon curled and sleeping under the hill, stood and would endure forever.
Askelon’s foundations were carved out of the living stone of the hill upon which it rested, itself a mountain of strength and grace. The massive stone curtains had been raised by the brute effort of two thousand quarrymen and laborers under the direction of two hundred masons. That work progressed for one hundred years uninterrupted. Once the outer curtain was raised, the towers were completed and construction on the gatehouse begun. The gatehouse, the most vulnerable point of the fortress, was itself a singular engineering feat, established and refined over the next fifty years. The work started on the i
The i
After a time he stepped onto the ramp and began the long, sloping climb to the gates themselves. On his upward journey he was passed by several ox carts and wagons bearing supplies to the castle. He noticed them not at all; his eyes were on the looming battlements and soaring towers of the fortress which surpassed all his most daring imaginings, and, in Quentin’s mind, rivaled the exaggerations men told about it. The walk took much longer than it might have.
When at last he attained the end of the ramp, right up to the end of the drawbridge-that retractable platform spa
People passed hurrying to and fro on business of their own, but Quentin attended to nothing but the task before him. He tried to imagine what the Queen would be like. He’d heard stories of the lovely Alinea, but, with his extremely limited experience of women, he had trouble thinking of anyone who would be more beautiful than the maid he’d met just that morning. Queen Alinea was said to have long auburn hair that shimmered red in the sun, and deep green eyes the color of forest shade on a summer afternoon. Her voice was held an instrument of enchantment; when speaking, or singing, for which she had earned wide renown, it fell like laughing water to the ear. These and other details he’d learned around the priests’ table or from the talk of pilgrims he chanced to overhear when they camped on a summer evening outside the temple awaiting their oracle.
Queen Alinea, it was said, formed the perfect complement in grace and beauty to King Eskevar’s strength and restless vitality.
When Quentin adjudged midday had passed he stirred himself, glad to be moving again, for he had grown cold in waiting, and marched resolutely toward the gates. Although the main gates were closed, smaller gates-still wide enough to permit two wagons to pass one another-were open and attended by firm-jawed guards. Quentin did not know the proper protocol for presenting himself to the Queen, but he supposed he’d tell the first person he met what he intended and let the natural course carry him along.
The first person, of course, was a guard whom Quentin dutifully approached. But when Quentin opened his mouth to speak, the man waved him on with his lance. He immediately found himself in a low, dark tu
Quentin had expected, due to his lack of military knowledge, that upon passing through the gates he’d be inside the castle as one would be upon entering the temple. He found the gatehouse road to be disagreeably frightening; the dark and ominous feel was due to the massive portcullis with its sharpened teeth of iron under which he had to pass, albeit quickly.