could hardly believe that this was Mabden architecture. There were turrets and parapets of delicate workmanship, roof walks and balconies covered in ivy and flowers, all fashioned from a fine, white stone that shone in the sunshine.
The bat landed clumsily and the rider got off quickly, pulling Corum with him. Almost instantly, the bat was up again, wheeling in the sky and then diving toward a destination on the other side of the island.
"They sleep in caves," the rider exclaimed. "We use them as little as possible. They're hard things to control, as you saw."
Corum said nothing.
For all that the Mabden had saved his life and seemed both cheerful and courteous, Corum had learned, as an animal learns, that the Mabden were his enemies. He glowered at the Mabden.
"What have you saved me for, Mabden?"
The man looked surprised. He dusted down his tunic of scarlet velvet and adjusted his swordbelt on his hips. "You were drowning," he said. "Why did you run away from our men when they came to greet you?"
"How did you know I was coming?"
"We were told by our Margravine to expect you."
"And who told your Margravine?"
"I know not. You are somewhat ungracious, sir. I thought the Vadhagh a courteous folk."
"And I thought the Mabden vicious and mad," Corum replied. "But you . . ."
"Ah, you speak of the folk of the South and the East, eh? You have met them then?"
With his stump, Corum tapped his ruined eye. "They did this."
The young man nodded his head sympathetically. "I suppose I would have guessed. Mutilation is one of their favorite sports. I am surprised you escaped."
"I, too."
"Well, sir," said the youth, spreading his hand in an elaborate gesture toward a doorway in a tower, "would you go in?"
Corum hesitated.
"We are not your Mabden of the East, sir, I assure you."
"Possibly," Corum said harshly, "but Mabden you are. There are so many of you. And now, I find, there are even varieties. I suspect you share common traits, however . . ."
The young man showed signs of impatience. "As you like, Sir Vadhagh. I, for one, will go in. I trust you will follow me at your leisure."
Coruni watched him enter the doorway and disappear. He remained on the roof, watching the sea birds drift, dive, and climb. With his good hand, he stroked the stump of his left hand and shivered. A strong wind was beginning to blow and it was cold and he was naked. He glanced toward the doorway.
A woman stood there. She seemed quiet and self-contained and had a gentleness about her. Her long black hair was soft and fell below her shoulders. She was wearing a gown of embroidered samite containing a multitude of rich colors. She smiled at him.
"Greetings," she said. "I am Rhalina. Who are you, sir?"
"I am Corum Jhaelen Irsei," he replied. Her beauty was not that of a Vadhagh, but it affected him nonetheless. "The Prince in the—"
"—Scarlet Robe?" She was plainly amused. "I speak the old Vadhagh tongue as well as the common speech. You are misnamed, Prince Corum. I see no robe. In fact, I see no ..."
Corum turned away. "Do not mock me, Mabden. I am resolved to suffer no further at the hands of your kind."
She moved nearer. "Forgive me. Those who did this to you are not our kind, though they be of the same race. Have you never heard of Lywm-an-Esh?"
His brow furrowed. The name of the land was familiar, but meant nothing.
"Lywm-an-Esh," she continued, "is the name of the country whence my people come. That people is an ancient one and has lived in Lywm-an-Esh since well before the Great Battles of the Vadhagh and the Khadragh shook the Five Planes . . ."
"You know of the Five Planes?"
"We once had seers who could look into them. Though their skills never matched those of the Old Folk—your folk."
"How do you know so much of the Vadhagh?”
"Though the sense of curiosity atrophied in the Vadhagh many centuries ago, ours did not," she said. "From time to time Nhadragh ships were wrecked on our shores and, though the Nhadragh themselves
The bat landed clumsily and the rider got off quickly, pulling Corum with him. Almost instantly, the bat was up again, wheeling in the sky and then diving toward a destination on the other side of the island.
"They sleep in caves," the rider exclaimed. "We use them as little as possible. They're hard things to control, as you saw."
Corum said nothing.
For all that the Mabden had saved his life and seemed both cheerful and courteous, Corum had learned, as an animal learns, that the Mabden were his enemies. He glowered at the Mabden.
"What have you saved me for, Mabden?"
The man looked surprised. He dusted down his tunic of scarlet velvet and adjusted his swordbelt on his hips. "You were drowning," he said. "Why did you run away from our men when they came to greet you?"
"How did you know I was coming?"
"We were told by our Margravine to expect you."
"And who told your Margravine?"
"I know not. You are somewhat ungracious, sir. I thought the Vadhagh a courteous folk."
"And I thought the Mabden vicious and mad," Corum replied. "But you . . ."
"Ah, you speak of the folk of the South and the East, eh? You have met them then?"
With his stump, Corum tapped his ruined eye. "They did this."
The young man nodded his head sympathetically. "I suppose I would have guessed. Mutilation is one of their favorite sports. I am surprised you escaped."
"I, too."
"Well, sir," said the youth, spreading his hand in an elaborate gesture toward a doorway in a tower, "would you go in?"
Corum hesitated.
"We are not your Mabden of the East, sir, I assure you."
"Possibly," Corum said harshly, "but Mabden you are. There are so many of you. And now, I find, there are even varieties. I suspect you share common traits, however . . ."
The young man showed signs of impatience. "As you like, Sir Vadhagh. I, for one, will go in. I trust you will follow me at your leisure."
Coruni watched him enter the doorway and disappear. He remained on the roof, watching the sea birds drift, dive, and climb. With his good hand, he stroked the stump of his left hand and shivered. A strong wind was beginning to blow and it was cold and he was naked. He glanced toward the doorway.
A woman stood there. She seemed quiet and self-contained and had a gentleness about her. Her long black hair was soft and fell below her shoulders. She was wearing a gown of embroidered samite containing a multitude of rich colors. She smiled at him.
"Greetings," she said. "I am Rhalina. Who are you, sir?"
"I am Corum Jhaelen Irsei," he replied. Her beauty was not that of a Vadhagh, but it affected him nonetheless. "The Prince in the—"
"—Scarlet Robe?" She was plainly amused. "I speak the old Vadhagh tongue as well as the common speech. You are misnamed, Prince Corum. I see no robe. In fact, I see no ..."
Corum turned away. "Do not mock me, Mabden. I am resolved to suffer no further at the hands of your kind."
She moved nearer. "Forgive me. Those who did this to you are not our kind, though they be of the same race. Have you never heard of Lywm-an-Esh?"
His brow furrowed. The name of the land was familiar, but meant nothing.
"Lywm-an-Esh," she continued, "is the name of the country whence my people come. That people is an ancient one and has lived in Lywm-an-Esh since well before the Great Battles of the Vadhagh and the Khadragh shook the Five Planes . . ."
"You know of the Five Planes?"
"We once had seers who could look into them. Though their skills never matched those of the Old Folk—your folk."
"How do you know so much of the Vadhagh?”
"Though the sense of curiosity atrophied in the Vadhagh many centuries ago, ours did not," she said. "From time to time Nhadragh ships were wrecked on our shores and, though the Nhadragh themselves
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