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creature, that I may destroy him once and for all.
 Your highness.
The voice of Lord Barthomew intruded on Gavril s thoughts. Seeing the church
knight commander blocking the road, Gavril reined up with a scowl. Around him,
his squires and Lord Kress drew rein as well.
 Yes? Gavril snapped.
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 The Netherans, your highness. They ve passed along a message that we approach
Grov.
Gavril s ill temper fell away, and excitement made him straighten in his
saddle.  Where?
Lord Barthomew pointed, and Gavril saw Commander Ognyoska of their Netheran
escort a short distance ahead, beckoning to him. Since they d crossed the
border, this large, armed force of Netheran soldiers had traveled with them,
claiming to be escorts. Ognyoska said that he and his men rode along for
Gavril s protection, but Gavril considered their presence an insult, most
especially since there were exactly the same number of Netheran knights to
match his church soldiers.
But right now, Gavril forgot his resentment and felt overwhelming relief at
having finally reached their destination. Spurring his horse forward, he
joined Ognyoska.
A burly, taciturn man with a thick mustache and a tall hat of black beyar
hide, Ognyoska wore a cloak of shaggy fur. His chain mail was rusted in
places, his horse was a spindly, rough-coated nag, and his marriage ring was
tarnished. When he grinned at Gavril, he showed a mouthful of rotten teeth.
Pointing ahead into the swirling snow, the commander spoke with more animation
than he d showed in days. His translator, a scrawny man going bald and
suffering from a perpetual head cold, sniffed and said,  Compliments to your
royal highness. The city lies ahead. Permit Commander Ognyoska to show you the
vista.
Glancing at Lord Kress and Lord Barthomew to make sure they stayed close by,
Gavril spurred his black stallion ahead of the pennon-bearers to follow
Ognyoska to the top of a small rise.
As Gavril drew rein there, the wind died down for a moment and the snow
stopped swirling in his face.
Ognyoska gestured proudly.  Grov! he stated.
A valley bathed in misty white lay before them. Bordered on one side by the
half-frozen Velga River, the city sprawled across the valley floor with
clusters of wooden houses painted in garish colors, gilded church spires, and
defense towers of stone. Although it was barely mid-afternoon, dusk was
drawing
near and many windows already shone with light. The falling snow blurred the
scene, softening the outlines of the buildings. Plenty of people could be seen
thronging the streets of frozen mud, and barges bobbed on the river amidst
small ice floes. Across the city, rising high atop a bluff that overlooked the
river, stood the palace of Nether s kings, a fortress of massive stone walls
and tall towers wreathed in mist and snow flurries.
Gavril had not expected the city to be this big. It fully rivaled
Savroix-en-Charva in size. But large or not, it was no doubt populated with
barbarians, if the Netherans he d met thus far were anything to judge by.
Still, his relief grew as he stared at the city. Suddenly the hard journey and
its difficulties seemed worthwhile, and his spirits lifted.
But a new problem loomed before him. Part of the cost of Pheresa s cure was to
deliver Dain alive into the hands of Cardinal Pernal. How, Gavril wondered
bleakly, was he to explain to the Netheran cardinal that he would not be
delivering Dain as promised? He d received no communications from
Pernal in days, and he had not wanted to send news to the Netheran that Dain
had escaped through the incompetency of his men.
Well, he couldn t repine over it now. There must be something else the
Netherans would accept in
Dain s place, he told himself. Perhaps the wagons of costly gifts would be
enough.
Swinging his gaze away from the city, Gavril looked at Ognyoska.  Where are we
to go? To the palace?
The translator chattered between them.  No, no, he said earnestly.  Not
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enough space for all in King
Muncel s court. Your highness will lodge in fine house. All has been made
ready for comfort.
 House? Gavril stiffened in affront.  Whose house? How dare you suggest that
I take up residence in some ordinary dwelling? I 
Ognyoska spoke again in Netheran, his words coming rapid-fire. The translator
blew his red nose and sniffed miserably.
 Your highness mistakes my words, he said with a mendicant smile and a little
bow from atop his donkey.  This is house of very fine personage. Very fine.
Will be satisfactory much. It belongs to family of Count Mradvior and is grand
indeed. You will see.
Scowling, Gavril did not see why he should not stay in the palace or even
reside with King Muncel in his stronghold at Belrad. However, when Ognyoska
shouted orders they moved forward, following the road down into the city as
twilight closed about them.
With wolves howling in the woods and nightfall making the cold bite even
deeper, all Gavril could think about was getting indoors and finding fire and
food.
Grov itself was an ominous place, however. As he drew near, Gavril felt the
strangeness of the city reach out to him. Unease prickled along his spine and
he rode with one hand clutching the hilt of his sword. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]