hard as you could; you tried every trick you could think of to get round the spell. I remember thinking you’d gone quite mad, the way you kept coming up to me and asking odd questions. Of course, once I knew what had happened to you, they all made sense.’
‘But it’s hopeless.’ Benfro wailed the words in his head. He could see the stone wall with its collection of alcoves all too close now as he walked with stiff legs towards it. ‘I couldn’t break her spell. It took months for any of you to see what was wrong. And by then it was too late.’
‘Benfro, it was too late before you were hatched, long before Frecknock even came to our village. Don’t be so quick to condemn her. Us old dragons had chosen to live together; she was forced. Some day you’ll understand what that means. But that’s not the point. The point is, you had a problem you couldn’t solve on your own, so you brought it to us. You brought it to your friends.’
Benfro was at the wall now, leaning towards the nearest empty alcove. Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached out with his cupped hands to drop the jewels in.
‘I’m sorry, Sir Frynwy. I don’t want to do this, but I can’t stop.’
‘I
know you can’t, Benfro. Not on your own. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine in here on my own for a while, and I know you’ll win. You’ll defeat Magog and come back here to free us all again. But remember what I said. You don’t have to fight him alone. You have friends out there who can help you. If you’ll just ask.’
‘What friends? Who are you talking about?’ Benfro screamed out the questions in his head, but the last jewel had tumbled from his hands into the alcove, and the voice of Sir Frynwy fell silent.
The Neuadd was considerably less than half full. Admittedly it was almost impossible to fill it entirely, so vast was the area it covered, but nevertheless Beulah felt it would have lent more gravitas to the occasion had her people shown a bit more enthusiasm. Perhaps she should have insisted that the city merchants pay their respects in person.
Representatives of all the noble houses were there, of course. The court hangers-on were jockeying for position, still playing the game as if her father were alive. She watched them from her vantage point on the Obsidian Throne, trying to work out who was sleeping with whom, trying to remember some of their names.
Seneschal Padraig sat on a simple wooden chair to one side of the throne, Archimandrite Cassters alongside him. Beulah wished that Melyn was here too. Not that she needed his support or even his approval, but he was her power base. Without him she felt the responsibility of state rested on her shoulders alone. She had tried to contact him, but the one thing Cassters’ potions had not been
able to cure was her frustrating inability to achieve the trance state necessary to reach the aethereal. And she had no idea where the inquisitor might be right now.
A few latecomers darted through the doors at the far end of the hall, no doubt hoping their tardiness went unnoticed. Beulah knew that Padraig had scribes posted throughout the citadel; she would be presented with a list of all those who had attended and all those who had not, along with their excuses or lack thereof some time in the next week. With the raising of an army throughout the Twin Kingdoms, plenty of the heads of the noble houses had a reasonable excuse for their absence – at least this time. Still disappointed at the attendance, she decided it was time and nodded at the seneschal to get the proceedings under way.
Padraig shuffled to his feet, a sheaf of papers in his hand as if he needed reminding of what he was going to say.
‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen. You have been called here for an important royal proclamation.’ He tried to project his voice across the hall, Beulah noticed, but he didn’t have the skill, nor the power of the Obsidian Throne behind him. It was likely that most of the
‘But it’s hopeless.’ Benfro wailed the words in his head. He could see the stone wall with its collection of alcoves all too close now as he walked with stiff legs towards it. ‘I couldn’t break her spell. It took months for any of you to see what was wrong. And by then it was too late.’
‘Benfro, it was too late before you were hatched, long before Frecknock even came to our village. Don’t be so quick to condemn her. Us old dragons had chosen to live together; she was forced. Some day you’ll understand what that means. But that’s not the point. The point is, you had a problem you couldn’t solve on your own, so you brought it to us. You brought it to your friends.’
Benfro was at the wall now, leaning towards the nearest empty alcove. Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached out with his cupped hands to drop the jewels in.
‘I’m sorry, Sir Frynwy. I don’t want to do this, but I can’t stop.’
‘I
know you can’t, Benfro. Not on your own. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine in here on my own for a while, and I know you’ll win. You’ll defeat Magog and come back here to free us all again. But remember what I said. You don’t have to fight him alone. You have friends out there who can help you. If you’ll just ask.’
‘What friends? Who are you talking about?’ Benfro screamed out the questions in his head, but the last jewel had tumbled from his hands into the alcove, and the voice of Sir Frynwy fell silent.
The Neuadd was considerably less than half full. Admittedly it was almost impossible to fill it entirely, so vast was the area it covered, but nevertheless Beulah felt it would have lent more gravitas to the occasion had her people shown a bit more enthusiasm. Perhaps she should have insisted that the city merchants pay their respects in person.
Representatives of all the noble houses were there, of course. The court hangers-on were jockeying for position, still playing the game as if her father were alive. She watched them from her vantage point on the Obsidian Throne, trying to work out who was sleeping with whom, trying to remember some of their names.
Seneschal Padraig sat on a simple wooden chair to one side of the throne, Archimandrite Cassters alongside him. Beulah wished that Melyn was here too. Not that she needed his support or even his approval, but he was her power base. Without him she felt the responsibility of state rested on her shoulders alone. She had tried to contact him, but the one thing Cassters’ potions had not been
able to cure was her frustrating inability to achieve the trance state necessary to reach the aethereal. And she had no idea where the inquisitor might be right now.
A few latecomers darted through the doors at the far end of the hall, no doubt hoping their tardiness went unnoticed. Beulah knew that Padraig had scribes posted throughout the citadel; she would be presented with a list of all those who had attended and all those who had not, along with their excuses or lack thereof some time in the next week. With the raising of an army throughout the Twin Kingdoms, plenty of the heads of the noble houses had a reasonable excuse for their absence – at least this time. Still disappointed at the attendance, she decided it was time and nodded at the seneschal to get the proceedings under way.
Padraig shuffled to his feet, a sheaf of papers in his hand as if he needed reminding of what he was going to say.
‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen. You have been called here for an important royal proclamation.’ He tried to project his voice across the hall, Beulah noticed, but he didn’t have the skill, nor the power of the Obsidian Throne behind him. It was likely that most of the
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