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As Elodssa walked along he looked around. Unlike the lower galleries, there were plenty of sights worth looking at here. The handiwork of the gnomes and dwarves could only be rivaled by the works of the elves and the orcs in Hrad Spein. Although, in the Palaces of Bone Elodssa did not feel like a rat buried alive deep below the ground. But still, he had to give the underground builders their due—everything, absolutely everything, from the finest details to the octagonal columns soaring up toward the ceiling, was beautiful.
When he entered the amazingly large hall with the emerald stalactites, he froze in admiration. From a small window somewhere up in the ceiling a ray of sunlight that had somehow made its way down to this depth sliced through the deliberately created twilight to fall on the green stalactites. Its gentle caress set the green stones glittering as if they were sprinkled with fine diamond dust. And in the center of this display there was an image of a dwarf and a gnome.
“They are the great Grahel and Chigzan—the first dwarf and the first gnome. Brothers,” said a voice behind Elodssa’s back.
The elf looked round and saw the elfess who had spoken to him standing beside one of the green columns.
“They say that the gnomes were the first to discover this image, when someone decided to provide light for the stalactites. So you can tell your people that you have seen one of the great relics of the underground kingdom.”
“Midla,” said Elodssa, bowing ceremonially and trying to conceal his amazement.
“Tresh Elodssa,” she said, bowing no less ceremonially, holding the bow without moving for several seconds, as etiquette required when an elf met a member of the royal family of a house.
“I am most surprised to see you here,” said Elodssa.
“Pleasantly so, I trust?” the elfess asked with a smile.
Her hair was not cut in the ma
“That depends on what you are doing here,” Elodssa replied as distantly as possible.
“What could a scout from the House of the Black Flame possibly be doing here but protecting the crown prince?” she asked with a crooked smile. The crown prince. Those cursed words had come between them two years earlier, shattering their happiness forever. “The head of the house has ordered me to be your shadow.”
“That ca
“Have I ever lied to you? Unlike you, I have no right to do so.” She, too, could not forget what had happened.
“I did not deceive you,” Elodssa blurted out. “What happened between us was not a lie!”
“Of course not.” Another bitter smile. “It was all the fault of your father and stupid prejudice.”
“I ca
“Carry on, Elodssa,” she said in a gentle voice when the prince broke off. “To whom? To one who brandishes swords? To one who wanders round Zagraba in search of units of orcs who have invaded the territory of our house? To one who teaches young elves to hold the s’kash or fire a bow? Or simply to one who has no noble blood flowing in her veins?”
“This conversation will come to nothing, like all those that have preceded it.”
“You are right,” Midla agreed sadly.
“You may go back to my father and tell him that all is well with me.”
“Do I look like a messenger?” There was a glint of poorly concealed fury in the yellow, almond-shaped eyes.
He knew that expression well. When they were still seeing each other, he had seen similar rage in her eyes a few times. But now, for the first time, it was directed at him.
“I have enough guards,” Elodssa snapped.
“Your guards are up there,” said Midla, jabbing one finger toward the ceiling. “A league above us. Long before they could get down here, the heir of the House of the Black Flame would be lying dead and still.”
“Who is going to attack me here? The dwarves and the gnomes?”
“I am carrying out the orders of the head of the house,” she said with an indifferent shrug.
“And I order you to go back to Zagraba!” Elodssa declared furiously.
“You do not yet have your father’s authority,” she said with a triumphant smile.
The elf gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, then turned and walked away, cursing Midla’s obstinacy.
The young elfess watched Elodssa go, trying to hold back her tears. Her eyes were clouded with pain.
That week dragged on forever.
Elodssa changed his mind about going higher up. Midla would only follow him, and the elf did not want anyone talking about him behind his back. Everyone still remembered how close they had been and how Elodssa’s father had forbidden the marriage. And so the heir of the House of the Black Flame spent most of the time sitting in the accommodation allocated to him by the dwarves, only occasionally strolling through the nearby halls, admiring the beauty and magnificence of these subterranean places. At such moments he was accompanied by the silent Midla. Somehow or other she always knew that he had left his room, and immediately appeared beside him.
They both behaved with emphatically cool politeness. And they both felt awkward. Every stroll concluded with Elodssa losing his temper, mostly with himself, and returning to his quarters alone. And so the elf was relieved when the deadline he had set for the dwarf craftsman finally arrived.
This time he was lucky and managed to get away without disturbing Midla, although her room was opposite his own. But that was most probably because the elf had deliberately not warned his dwarf guide that he was pla
He found his way to the lift with no difficulty, and there he came across several gnomes in armor, holding battle-mattocks. The bearded little folk were arguing heatedly about something.