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the urge to turn on her viciously, to say how he hated her, how she d put him
in the gravest danger, how he wished he d never known her. He felt like
shattering the encasement and stabbing her through the heart. Even then, he
decided contemptuously, she would probably think him a hero for releasing her
from this misery.
Somehow, he restrained his wild urges and even forced him-self to meet her
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gaze. Pheresa, he said unsteadily, and stopped. He could think of nothing to
say.
Don t blame yourself, she whispered. Her brown eyes gazed up at him with
tenderness. You tried your very best. I love you for that. My last prayers
will be for you.
As her voice drifted off, her eyes fell closed. Choking, Gavril retreated from
her while Megala hurried forward to tend her mistress.
Is she ... dead? he asked hoarsely, gripping his sword hilt while Tanengard
chanted
Death, death, death, death in his mind. Nay, your highness, Megala replied.
The sweet lady sleeps again. But her fever burns strong today. The physicians
have not come to her recently. Where are they? Can nothing be done to ease her
suffering?
Gavril envisioned endless months imprisoned here, trapped by the guards,
trapped by the terrible cold and snow outside, trapped by this maiden who
would not die. His brain felt as though ants were crawling inside it. He
wanted to scream, and then to laugh. Above all, he wanted to draw Tanengard
and behead each of the remaining guardians. Then Pheresa would die. And then
... he would still be a prisoner. Your highness?
Gavril shot Megala a wild look, then whirled around and fled the room. He
collared the first servant he encountered. Your master. I want him at once!
The servant looked bewildered. Count wants you, he replied in his thick
Netheran accent. I come to bring you.
A little surprised, for he hadn t spoken to the count in days, Gavril followed
the servant to the sumptuous chamber where he d first met Mradvior. It seemed
to be the count s favorite room. When
Gavril arrived, the count was sitting near the warm tiled stove, sipping
spiced wine from a jewel-encrusted cup and munching on toasted nuts.
He grinned at Gavril and raised his cup in greeting. Your highness! he said
merrily. I have a surprise for you. Tonight begins the festival of lights. It
is a great favorite here in Grov. I shall take you in a sleigh down to the
river if you give your word not to
I want to see the king, Gavril said angrily.
Yes, yes, it takes time. But the festival is really
A plague on your festival! I want to see the king! I
demand to see him.
Tossing more nuts in his mouth, Mradvior shrugged. Why? Your royal father
will pay your ransom.
Be patient, and enjoy yourself. Enjoy Netheran hospitality.
No, thank you, Gavril snapped. I have asked repeatedly for audience with
King Muncel. What is necessary to achieve it? Bribes? Promises of
No, no, no. Mradvior grew serious. You are fine prince, fine young man. I
like you. And so I will give you advice. Is good the king has not sent for
you. He pointed at Gavril. You do not ever tell him I
say this to you, eh?
Gavril shrugged. I want to see him.
Now, with no more delay.
Why?
Gavril s anger swelled inside him. That is no concern of yours.
If you have question, or request, ask me. I will find out answer.
No, Gavril said through his teeth. I want to speak to the king myself.
Is not good for you to do this, Mradvior insisted.
Morde a day! Gavril screamed, losing his temper completely. He drew
Tanengard and used it to smash a small table to pieces.
Mradvior jumped to his feet, dropping his fancy cup and scattering the toasted
nuts over the floor. His protector came running, but Gavril turned aside from
the count and started pacing back and forth. I
want to see the king! he shouted, still brandishing his sword. Make it so,
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Lord Mradvior, and do it nowl
As you command, Mradvior said warily. So will I inquire.
Insist, damn you! Don t inquire!
Bowing repeatedly, Mradvior backed away from him and beckoned to two of his
guards. Watch his highness, he said in a low voice. Do not let him destroy
more furniture.
Overhearing, Gavril snorted to himself with bleak amuse-ment and kept pacing
back and forth. It pleased him to hold Tanengard in his hands, pleased him to
swing it about and attack imaginary foes.
After a long while, one of Mradvior s minions came for him, followed by a
servant carrying Gavril s cloak and gloves. Smiling, Gavril put them on and
followed the man outside.
Snow was falling, and the air felt damp and bitterly cold. Shivering beneath
his heavy cloak, Gavril climbed into the horse-drawn sleigh next to Mradvior
and allowed servants to spread a heavy robe of beyar fur across his lap.
Mounted guards, snow collecting in the folds of their fur hats, surrounded the
sleigh.
An order was given, and the sleigh went racing toward the tall gates, which
swung open at their approach. The gliding smoothness of the sleigh amazed
Gavril. It was far more comfortable than a wagon.
The mounted guards stayed close, pressing on all sides, so that it was
impossible to see anything of the streets or the city.
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