Mercedes Lackey & Andre Norton Elvenblood

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.* * *The next few hours were a blur, lost in a haze of shock.She kept thinking that this was just another nightmare, that in a moment she would awaken in her own bed.This wasn't what was supposed to happen! It was like some horrible twist on a romantic tale, wherein the High Lord falls in love with the daughter of one of his underlings and petitions to wed her.Why, oh why had Lord Gildor chosen her train to tread on? Why couldn't he have blundered into someone else's unwanted daughter?She must have given her slaves orders, and they must have been sensible, for the next thing she knew, she was gowned, coiffed, and bejeweled, and standing next to her escort in front of the Portal.Someone must have seen to it that she had the most flattering of her formal gowns brought out—perhaps one of the slaves had taken pity on her.This time there were no cosmetics, her hair had been done in simple braids twined with strands of pearls and fastened at her neck in a complicated knot, and her dress was of heavy pink silk, with a high neck and long sleeves that swept the floor.A belt of pearls held it close in at her waist, and more pearls circled her throat.She faded into the walls of her chamber, but at least she didn't look like a clown.She thought she recalled Myre issuing orders and being obeyed, while she stood, sat, and turned in a state of mental blankness; she simply could not remember exiting her chamber, and now she stood on the threshold of the Portal.There was a sealed scroll-tube in her hand, an elaborately decorated, ivory-inlaid, gold scroll-tube.She didn't remember picking it up; someone must have put it in her hand without her being aware of it.And as she raised her hand to touch her temple, dazedly, there was a new ring on her finger; this one of white gold, set with a beryl engraved with a winged stag.Lord Lyon's seal—?It must be.How else would she be able to use the Portals to cross from here to Lord Lyon's estate? It must have arrived with Lord Lyon's messenger.She had no time, to muster any other thoughts; her escort moved, carrying her with them, and she was through the Portal—There was no intermediate pause in the Council Chamber this time; perhaps that was the reason for the signet ring, to enable her to go directly to her destination.She emerged into a reception room—It was like no other room she had ever seen, though it was not one that had been altered by magic.This was a chamber with leather furnishings and hunting trophies everywhere.The blank-eyed heads of dead animals stared down at her from walls paneled in dark woods; whole dead animals and petrified birds had been made into lamp holders, table supports, or grisly display pieces.Hides with the heads intact carpeted the floor, and the whole of one wall was taken up with a mounted pair of stud alicorns locked in combat—one with a coat the black of ebony, and one white as a cloud.Both had mad, orange eyes that glittered with malice, and there was blood—or something made to resemble blood—on their twisting, spiraling single horns.Page 61She shuddered, and looked away.Anything that could possibly be hunted was here in some form and had been made into a trophy of some kind.Alicorn horns made a rack holding boar-spears, ivory and horn inlay covered every inch of the furniture that was not already upholstered with hides, some finished as smooth leather, and some with the hair or fur left on.Teeth snarled at her from all corners.Stuffed snakes twined around the bases of quivers mounted beside their bows.Racks for knives and swords had been fashioned of antlers.Everywhere, glassy eyes stared at her, and she fancied that their stares held anger, bewilderment, or accusation.The place felt haunted by silent rage.A silent human servant appeared, bowed deeply, and gestured for her to follow.She did so, glad only to be free of that room of accusing eyes.Was this Lord Lyon's way of impressing his visitors? Or did he truly take pleasure in having victims of his hunting expeditions displayed in a place where he could view them frequently?Was she to become just another such trophy?The servant led the way down a corridor paneled in more of the dark wood, lit by globes of mage-light caught in sconces made of yet more antlers, and carpeted with bloodred plush.She gave up trying to reckon how many deer and elk the sconces represented; Lord Lyon was one of the older High Lords, and he had many long years of hunting behind him.He might even be displaying only a fraction of his trophies here, given how long he had been alive.What a horrid thought!What was he trying to say, with this room of death? It was the first thing any visitor arriving by Portal would see, after all.Was he showing them, wordlessly, just how ruthless a foe he was? Did he mean for them to be impressed with his physical skill, or with the mental ability it took to stalk and kill so many creatures?The corridor seemed to go on forever; the lights brightened as she reached them and dimmed behind her, so that she could not tell where the real end of it was.It said something for the dazed state of her mind that somewhere along it she lost her escort of guards, and she did not even notice that they were gone until the human servant stopped at a doorway and waited for her to join him.This was no ordinary door, of course; as soon as she stepped in front of it, she saw that it was an inlaid geometric mosaic of thousands of tiny bones, all of them vertebrae, fitted together with exacting skill to cover the entire face of the door with bone ivory.The design was probably supposed to signify something, but what that was, she had no notion.The servant opened the door smoothly and bowed for her to enter.She stepped hesitantly through, into the half-dark beyond.Once again, she found herself at the edge of a sylvan glade beneath a full moon.There were no tame animals here, though, and the moon and stars overhead were all too clearly magelights.Most of this was illusion, and it was not as per feet an illusion as the fete had boasted.In fact, given Lord Lyon's power and prestige, it was probably not as perfect an illusion as he could create, if he cared to.An unseen musician played quietly on a dulcimer, and the branches of the trees moved to a breeze that did not stir even a hair of Rena's coiffure.Page 62The door closed behind her.In the center of the glade was a table, set for three.Mage-light caught in a candelabra of antlers centered on the table, though it did not appear that the occupants had been served yet.There were two people there already; the dim light made it impossible for her to identify either of them, but she assumed they were Gildor and his father.She stepped forward a few paces and the light at the table brightened.The two occupants of the table turned toward her—and she saw that one of them was really a female.A human female.Sharing the board at what was supposed to be her intimate betrothal dinner with her Lord-to-be [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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