Quentin stood at the high parapet overlooking the tranquil forest. His

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ONE

 
QUENTIN STOOD at the high parapet overlooking the tranquil forest. His
eyes scanned the gently lifting hills clothed in their greens of early
summer, all softened in the golden afternoon light by the gathering
mists of evening. At his hand upon the cool stone balustrade a thin
parchment roll fluttered in the easy breeze. At his feet lay a leather
case from which he had drawn the scroll to read only moments before.
The case bore the royal insignia he knew so well: the terrible,
twisting red dragon of the Dragon King.
 
The warmth of the later afternoon sun splashed full on his face, and
yet Quentin fell a chill creeping through him. He sighed a heavy sigh
and hung his head, shaking it slowly from side to side. Hearing a
rustle behind him and the brushing tread of a soft foot on the stone,
he turned to see Toll gliding up.
 
The tall young man settled, himself easily on the edge of the parapet
and crossed his arms over his chest. He regarded Quentin with a
quizzical brown eye and breathed the clean, fresh air deep into his
lungs. "Listen," he said, holding his head to one side. "It is the
sound of the earth at peace."
 
Quentin listened and heard the faraway chirp of birds as they flittered
among the whirtle berries, the breeze nudging the leaves, voices
murmuring in a courtyard somewhere below.
 
"They told me a rider from Askelon had arrived with a message for you.
I thought to come and see if my master required anything."
 
Quentin looked at his friend and smiled. "You mean curiosity moved you
from your beloved stables. Yes, a message from the King." He picked
up the parchment and handed it to Toll, who began to read.
 
Presently Toli's head came up, and his eyes found Quentin's studying
him. "This does not say what the trouble is."
 
"No, but it is not a request for a friendly visit. There is some need
behind it, and some urgency. If it were but a small thing Eskevar
would have waited. We're due to travel back to Askelon in a few weeks
anyway...."
 
"And this recommends that we leave right away. Yes, I see. But there
is something else?" Toll's sharp eyes appraised Quentin, who stiffened
and turned away from their piercing gaze.
 
"What makes you say that?"
 
Toll laughed softly. "Only that I know my Kenta very well. You would
not look so if you had not a suspicion of what lay behind this innocent
summons."
 
"Innocent?" He fingered the leather case that he had stooped to
retrieve. "But you're right, Toli. I am afraid a little. Something

came over me as I read that message a feeling of deep sadness, of

loss...."
 
Toli watched Quentin closely and waited for him to continue.
 
"I'm afraid that if we go to Askelon now, we will never come back to
Dekra again."
 
"You saw this?"
 
Quentin only shook his head.
 
"Well, then it may not be. Your feelings may only be a warning of what
may come if we do not go at once."
 
Quentin smiled again; this time a flicker of relief shone in his eyes.
"Yes, perhaps you are right. As usual the servant has rescued his
master from himself.
 
"We can leave tonight. It will be good to sleep on the trail again. We
have not done that in a long time, you and I."
 
"We shall, but not tonight. Have you forgotten that tonight we dine
with Yeseph? If I am not mistaken, we have only enough time to prepare
ourselves and go to his house. He will be waiting."
 
"We will leave at dawn instead," said Quentin.
 
"So be it," said Toli, inclining his head in a slight bow. "I will see
to our preparations when we have supped with Yeseph and the
 
Elders."
 
Quentin nodded and took the rolled parchment which Toli offered him,
then slid it back into its case as they turned and walked back into
Quentin's rooms.
 
The two dressed themselves in their finest woolen mantles and stuffed
their feet into fine leather boots and set off for Yeseph's humble
lodgings.
 
Yeseph lived in a quarter of the mined city near the library. As they
walked along together, Quentin looked upon the home he had come to
love. His eyes, long ago accustomed to the tumbled structures that
still met his gaze on every side, seemed not to notice the destruction,
but instead saw it all the way it had been in the time of the mighty
Ariga.
 
In his mind he saw stones lifted back into place one upon another;
arches reconstructed with their colorful tiles, and beautifully carved
doors thrown wide in welcome; courtyards once again abloom with
flowering plants; streets echoing with laughter and song. He saw it
all as he imagined it had been. Quentin always experienced the same
magical sensation when he moved about the city. In the ten years he
had lived in Dekra, he never lost the rapture it held for him, or the
feeling that he belonged there, that Dekra was his home as was none
other he would ever find.
 
"It will be once again," said Toli as they moved along the quiet
streets, over stones worn smooth with time.
 
"What will be?" asked Quentin absently.
 
"This city. It will be again what it once was: the way you see it in
your head."
 
"Do you think so?"
 
"Don't you?"
 
"I believe that it will. I want to believe it. Though it seems
sometimes that the work goes so slowly. There is so much to be done.
We could use more hands."
 
"But look how much has been accomplished since we came here. And every
year our numbers grow. Whist Orren blesses our efforts with his
own."
 
It was true. The work of restoring the ancient city and populating it
with people who shared the dream of rebuilding it to its former glory,
of studying the ways of the Ariga and their god that was going on at a
fine pace. Much had been done in ten years' time.
 
The work of a lifetime, however, still remained. And that was what
pricked Quentin's impatience.
 
They met Quentin's stooped old teacher where he stood waiting for them
at the gate of his courtyard. His face beamed when be saw the two
young men striding up. "Hello!  Hello, my friends!" cried Yeseph,
running out to meet them. "I have been wailing for you, You are the
first to arrive. I was hoping that would be the case. I wanted to
talk to you both."
 
He drew them into the shady courtyard and led them to stone benches
under a spreading tree. The yard was spotless and furnished as nicely
as any garden could be whose owner loved plants and flowering things.
 
"Sit down, please. Sit. Omani!" Yeseph clapped his hands when his
guests had seated themselves beneath the tree. A slim young girl
appeared with a tray of wooden goblets and a stone carafe. She floated
forward with an easy grace and laid the tray at Yeseph's elbow where he
sat. "You may pour, bright one," he said gently.
 
The girl poured and served the beverages around. She turned to leave
and Yeseph called after her, "See that the meal is prepared when the
others arrive, it will not be long now, I think." She bowed and
retreated into the house, smiling all the while.
 
The Curatak did not have servants. But often young girls or boys would
attach themselves to the households of older Curatak leaders or
craftsmen to serve and learn at their hand, until they decided what
they wished to do with their lives. In that way those who needed the
assistance of a servant did not lack, and young people found useful
occupation until they could enter the adult world.
 
Yeseph watched the girl disappear into his darkened doorway a little
wistfully. Quentin noticed his look and commented, "She's a very able
helper, Yeseph. You are blessed."
 
"Yes, and I am sorry to lose her."
 
"Why would you lose her?"
 
"Why not? She is nearly eighteen. She wishes to be married soon. Next
summer perhaps. She and Rulan, a former pupil of mine. He is a good
young man, very intelligent. It will be a good
 
/ 359 f match. But I will lose a wonderful cook and companion. I feel
she is my own daughter."
 
"Why don't you get married again?" asked Toli. Yeseph suddenly looked
flustered. "Who has been talking to you?"
 
"No one. I merely wondered."
 
"Well, it is true nonetheless. That is what I wanted to tell you. I
am to be married. I am announcing the banns tonight."
 
"Congratulations!" shouted Quentin, Jumping to his feet. He crossed
the distance between himself and his former teacher in one bound and
embraced him, kissing both cheeks.
 
"Who is the lucky bride?"
 
"It is Karyll, the cloth-maker."
 
"The widow of Lendoe, who was killed in the accident at the forge some
years ago."
 
"Yes, the same. A fine woman. She has been lonely for so long...."
 
Quentin laughed. "You need not explain to us; you have our permission
already. I am sure you will both be very happy together."
 
"Yes, we shall- I am very happy now sharing this news with my friends.
You know I have come to regard you both as my own
 
SODS."
 
"Certainly, you have been both teacher and father to us more times than
we can remember."
 
"So it is fitting that you are the first to know." "Will the honored
woman be here tonight? I would wish to congratulate her as well."
 
"She will be here if that is not her voice I hear even now."
 
The sound of light voices lifted in laughter came to the courtyard from
the street beyond. Yeseph dashed to the gate once more and welcomed
his bride and her two companions. Blushing and smiling, be led her
toward Quentin and Toli, who stood grinning.
 
"My friends, this is my betrothed, Karyll."
 
The short, round-faced woman smiled warmly back at them. Her hair was
bound demurely at her neck in an ornamented netting, and among the
brown Quentin could see streaks of silver. She was dressed in a plain
white, loose-fitting gown with a bright blue shawl over her shoulders.
She was a handsome woman.
 
As Yeseph drew her close to him with his arm, be gave his future wife a
look of such endearment that Quentin felt a pang of longing for his own
beloved.
 
"Hello, Karyll, and congratulations. Yesepb has been telling us that
you two arc to be married. I am very pleased."
 
"Thank you, Quentin. We are very happy." She turned and gazed into
Yeseph's eyes and added, "Yeseph is full of your praises. It pleases
me that be has chosen you to hear of our plans first'
 
"When will the wedding take place?" asked Toli.
 
"Yeseph and I thought that a midsummer wedding would be nice."
 
"Yes," agreed the groom. "There is really nothing to prevent us being
married At once. We are both of age." He laughed and Karyll laughed
with him. But the laughter faded when Yeseph saw that neither Quentin
nor Toli shared their mirth. Both had become strangely silent; the
light of happiness was extinguished in their eyes.
 
"What is the matter? Does our plan not meet with your approval?"
 
"Yes, and more than you know. But I fear that we will not be among the
happy wedding guests."
 
"Why not, may I ask?"
 
"We were going to tell you this evening. We have received a summons
from the King, and we must leave for Askclon."
 
"Yes, I know ... in a few weeks, but..."
 
"No at once. A rider came today. We must leave at once."
 
"Then we will wait until you return," offered Yeseph. Karyll nodded
her agreement.
 
Quentin smiled sadly. "No, I could not ask that. I do not know when
we may return. Please, do not wait on our account."
 
Toli attempted to set the mood in a lighter tone. "Kenta means mat if
he were in your place, Yeseph, he would not let so lovely a creature
escape into the arms of another. You must marry as you have planned.
We will return to greet the happy couple before they have been wed a
fortnight."
 
I 361 I
 
Yeseph sought Quentin's eyes. He, as usual, could read more there than
his friend intended. "Is it trouble, then?"
 
"I fear that it is," Quentin sighed. "The message did not say it
directly, and the courier did not say more. But he left immediately
without awaiting an answer."
 
Yeseph regarded Quentin as he stood before him. From an awkward,
impetuous youth had grown a square-shouldered, sensitive man tall, lean
in the way young men are, yet without the careless air they often have.
Quentin had a regal bearing, and yet utterly lacked any
self-consciousness of it, or the arrogance that often accompanied such
a noble spirit.
 
A pang of longing ached in the old man's heart when he saw his young
pupil and protege wavering, as if on the brink of a great abyss. He
wanted to reach out and pull him back, but he knew he could not.
Quentin belonged to Dekra, yes. But he also belonged to Askelon, and
neither loyalty could he deny.
 
"You must go, of course." Yeseph offered a strained smile. "When will
you leave?"
 
"Tomorrow at dawn. I think it best...."
 
"Of course. Of course. Do not delay. Besides, the sooner you are
off, the sooner you may return, and perhaps you will bring Btia with
you this time."
 
At the mention of the name, Quentin started. He smiled warmly again.

The cold shadow which had fallen upon the happy group moved away, and

in the glimmering of a softly falling twilight they began to talk
excitedly once more of all they would do when next they met.
 
Despite their desire for an early start the next morning, Quentin and
Toli were the last to leave Yeseph*s house. There had been much
singing and eating and talking. The Elders had blessed the young men's
journey, and all had listened to stories and songs of the lost Ariga
sung by one of the young Curatak musicians. Then all had made their
good-byes, but none more ardently than did Quentin.
 
"Look, Kenta," said Toli as they found their way along the dark and
empty streets. The moon shone full upon the city, pouring out a liquid
silver light upon all it touched.
 
Quentin followed Toll's gaze upward toward the sky. What do you
see?"
 
"Oh, it is gone now. A star fell, that is all." "Hmmm." Quentin
retreated again into his reverie. He listened to their footsteps echo
along the streets and feh Dekra's quiet peacefulness enfold him. Then,
unaccountably, he shivered, as if they had just walked through a
hanging pool of cooler air. Toli noticed the quiver of Quemin's
shoulders and looked at his friend. "Did you feel it too
 
Quentin ignored the question, and they continued on a few more paces.
"Do you think we will ever return to this place?" he asked finally.
 
"The night is not a time to dwell on such things." The two walked
silently back to the governor's palace and made their way to their
rooms. "It will be good to see Askelon again," said Quentin as they
parted. "And all our friends. Good night." "Good night. I will wake
you in the morning." For a long time Quentin lay on his bed and did
not close his eyes. He heard Toli quietly packing their things in the
next room, and the Jher's soft footfall as he left to see to the horses
before he, too, slept. At last he rolled over on his side and fell at
once to sleep as the moon shone brightly through his balcony doors,
peering in like a kindly face.
 
TWO
 
QUENTIN MET Toli in the stables the grouping of low stone structures
Toli had turned to the purpose of breeding horses. In his time at
Dekra the Jher had become an excellent trainer and breeder of fine
horses. In fact, with the help ofEskevar's stable
 
/ 363 I
 
master, he was developing a remarkable strain of animals which were a
cross between the heavier warhorses, such as Balder, and lighter, more
fleet racing stock which were the pride of Pelagia. The resulting
breed would possess strength and stamina enough for battle, but would
also have the ability to run fast and far without tiring.
 
Quentin passed under the wide stone arch and came to stand before
Balder's stall. The old warhorse whinnied softly when he saw his
master approaching. Quentin held out his hand and patted the horse's
soft muzzle and stroked the bulging Jaw.
 
"You may stay here this time, old boy. Take care of him, Wilton," he
called over his shoulder to the youngster who helped Toli. "Give him
an extra carrot now and then." Then patting the horse's white-starred
forehead he said, "We will go for a long ride when I come back."
 
The stables smelled of sweet fennel and straw and the warm bodies of
the horses. The smell reminded Quentin of traveling, and he reflected
that he was indeed anxious to be off. He crossed to where Toli stood
checking their mounts' tack and gear.
 
"Good morning, Kenta. I was just about to come and wake you."
 
"As you see I am ready to go; I did not sleep much of the night. Is
all prepared?" He turned to slap a milk-white stallion on the
shoulder. "Ho, there. Blazer! Are you anxious to stretch those long
legs of yours?" The horse tossed its flowing mane and rolled a
blueblack eye at Quentin as if to say, "Away! Let us be gone!"
 
"I have only to charge Wilton with some final instructions," remarked
Toli, "then we shall go."
 
It amused Quentin that Toll, who considered himself Quentin's serv
am-for-life, was also an object of devotion among the Curatak. The
gentle Jher enjoyed the services of several helpers, whom he treated as
well as any master treated a devoted servant. The simple fact was that
Toli was regarded as much a prince as was Quentin;
 
and in the city where all men were servants of one another, this was
the highest honor.
 
Toli returned and took the reins of both horses and led them out into
the quiet streets. Quentin followed at Toll's right hand and listened
to the clop of the horses' hooves upon the cobbled stones of the
ancient streets. In the east the sky shone with a violet haze which
lightened into a golden-red hue as the sun rose higher.
 
Toli sniffed the air and announced, "The wind is from the west over the
sea. We will have good weather for our journey."
 
"Good. I am hoping to be in Askelon before the new moon. We should be
able to manage that, aye?"
 
"It is possible. With good horses and the King's road restored through
Pelgrin ..."
 
"We have horses with wings, my friend. And Eskevar's road is now
complete as far as the Arvin. We shall fly indeed."
 
They reached the gates of the city and let themselves out. The gates
were seldom tended, since Dekra had no fear of intrusion and no real
need of defense.
 
At the small door which opened within the larger, Quentin paused and
took a long last look upon the city he loved. The red stone glowed
with the rosy hue of the rising sun. Towers and spires swept
majestically into the clear, cool morning air, gleaming and glittering
like radiant crystal.
 
The ordinary sounds of the city waking to life echoed out into the
empty streets: a dog barked, a door opened and closed. Behind him
Blazer and Riv, Toll's sleek black mount, shook their bridles,
impatient to be moving along. Quentin raised an arm in farewell to
Dekra and then turned to his horse.
 
"It is time for speed," he called as he swung himself up into the
saddle. "On, Blazer!" The horse lifted his forelegs off the ground,
gave a little kick and leapt ahead to the trail.
 
Quentin pushed an eager course through the low hills and into the
wretched marshlands. They planned to hold north as far as Malmarby,
thus skirting the boggy wasteland as much as possible. At Malmarby
they would hire a boat to cross the inlet and swing along the shore
west past Celbercor's Wall. Then the trail would become easier. They
would make for the Arvin River where it came spilling clear and cold
out of the Fiskills and ride through the wild foothills above Narramoor
along the King's new road, and speed along through Pelgrin to
Askeloo.
 
The days on the trail were uneventful." Game was plentiful and,
 
/ 365 f thanks to TolTs skill as a hunter, they never lacked for
anything the hills could provide.
 
They arrived at Malmarby village one bright morning, picking the wider
path toward the town out of the maze of bogs and wetlands which
surrounded it.
 
As they approached the village, Toli stiffened in the saddle and reined
his horse to a halt. Quentin mirrored his actions, wondering what had
alarmed his friend.
 
"What is it? What do you see
 
"Something is amiss in the village yonder. I fed it."
 
"It looks peaceful enough. But let us go with caution
 
They paced the horses slowly ahead, and both watched the thickets and
dense shrubbery which lined the path for any signal that might confirm
TolFs apprehension.
 
They saw no one and heard nothing, until just before reaching the
village itself. Quentin slopped his horse and stood in the saddle,
looking around. The muddy track which served as Malmarby's main street
was vacant. No living thing stirred among the rough wooden houses; the
town lay silent as a tomb.
 
"There does not appear to be anyone around. I wonder where .. ."
 
He had not finished speaking when four men sprang out of the nearest
thicket and grabbed the horses' bridles. Two of the men were armed
with spears and the others with short swords. All appeared very
frightened, their faces grim with worry and pale from fear.
 
It was the look upon these sorry faces which made Quentin hold his
hand. "Stay, Toli! We need not fear these men, I think." Quentin
spoke loudly and calmly so that their would-be attackers would know
that they intended no harm.
 
There was a rustle in the thicket and another man stepped out, or
rather fell, into the road. Quentin recognized the thin, careworn face
of the village counselor.
 
"Good morning. Counselor. Is this the way you treat strangers
nowadays? Or perhaps you wished to invite us to breakfast."
 
The thin, bald man blinked and rushed forward, squinting at the
travelers with his one good eye.
 
"Quentin? Step back, men, it is the Prince! Let them go!" Quentin
smiled at the appellation. He was not the Prince, but his legend had
so grown among the simple people ofMensandor that he held that lofty