knife, and the figure at her feet was as still as Jedda las Theomain had been. And Jedda was another thing Medair needed to consider, when circumstances gave her time to focus her thoughts. She should not forget that she was not necessarily safe among Ibisians.
A glance down the corridor showed an open area, a station for the guards who watched over the interrogation rooms. One booted foot was all that was visible to suggest another crumpled figure. The work of a Velvet Sword.
Kel ar Haedrin was already working on the bar of the door. In a matter of moments they had it open. The room beyond was small, and lushly overwhelmed by a cushioned bed, rugs, a soft chair. It was a prison with all the accoutrements of the bedchamber of a noblewoman, including the noblewoman.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The woman was perhaps forty. She stood very upright in the centre of the room, arms folded. The room was obviously a cell, despite its luxuries, but the woman's stance was as imperious as an Empress in her throne room.
After a pause, Cor-Ibis said: "Princess Sendel?"
"As you see, Keridahl," the woman replied, coldly. She surveyed their small band, eyes disdainful in a thoroughly Decian face: bronze skin, high cheekbones and a hawk nose. Her composure was formidable, though it cracked when she discovered Islantar at Ileaha's elbow. She eyed the boy in surprise, then turned back to Cor-Ibis. "This is not a counter strike."
"Not precisely, Highness," Cor-Ibis replied, ever-courteous. "Your brother's forces were defeated, and he struck at us with a gate as he fled, transporting us here. We have eluded capture, thus far."
"Have you indeed?" The princess strode out of the cell and looked around impatiently, unperturbed by the corpse which lay on the floor. "A quick and decisive battle, it must have been. Well, you need not fear that I will raise the alarm. I objected to Xarus' latest scheme, and rightly so, it sounds to me. He saw fit to confine me here. Expanding Decia's borders is one thing; throwing everything into a fool's obsession with the past is another. How many Decian born did he waste against Athere's walls?"
"There were very few survivors," Cor-Ibis replied.
"And he has slunk back to lick his wounds? Your abduction would be, what, an attempt at revenge or a clutch for bargaining chips?" The princess did not hide her disgust. "Defeat is not a thing Xarus has ever been able to accept. He will not treat you kindly if you are captured."
"No." Cor-Ibis glanced at Ileaha, indicating that she should check the other rooms. "Three of our party have been captured, and we must continue to seek them out. Please accept our protection, if you wish it."
Princess Sendel looked amused. "You may accept mine, Keridahl. There are those still loyal to me in Falcon Black, and I have no interest in prolonging hostilities with Palladium."
As Cor-Ibis negotiated polite obligation with the princess, Kel ar Haedrin opened another of the rooms off the corridor, revealing a Decian youth of about sixteen. His fine tailoring was crumpled, and he eyed the small band of Ibisians with disbelief. One hand strayed to his side, instinctively seeking an absent sword, but Princess Sendel forestalled any confrontation, turning from Cor-Ibis to eye the young man disdainfully.
"You, here?" she asked. "What became of your ambition to stride through the ashes of Athere?"
The youth glanced at Ileaha's bared sword, held far too close for any enemy's comfort. A shift of his coppery features revealed a distinct resemblance to Princess Sendel. Her son, Medair guessed.
"It remains," he said, with grim resolve. "I will see the rightful heir on the Silver Throne."
"Yet you are here," the princess repeated.
"My heart might be with my uncle's cause, Madam, but my duty lies with you," said the youth. "I could not fight at his side while he had you imprisoned."
"Vastly pretty," said Princess Sendel,
A glance down the corridor showed an open area, a station for the guards who watched over the interrogation rooms. One booted foot was all that was visible to suggest another crumpled figure. The work of a Velvet Sword.
Kel ar Haedrin was already working on the bar of the door. In a matter of moments they had it open. The room beyond was small, and lushly overwhelmed by a cushioned bed, rugs, a soft chair. It was a prison with all the accoutrements of the bedchamber of a noblewoman, including the noblewoman.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The woman was perhaps forty. She stood very upright in the centre of the room, arms folded. The room was obviously a cell, despite its luxuries, but the woman's stance was as imperious as an Empress in her throne room.
After a pause, Cor-Ibis said: "Princess Sendel?"
"As you see, Keridahl," the woman replied, coldly. She surveyed their small band, eyes disdainful in a thoroughly Decian face: bronze skin, high cheekbones and a hawk nose. Her composure was formidable, though it cracked when she discovered Islantar at Ileaha's elbow. She eyed the boy in surprise, then turned back to Cor-Ibis. "This is not a counter strike."
"Not precisely, Highness," Cor-Ibis replied, ever-courteous. "Your brother's forces were defeated, and he struck at us with a gate as he fled, transporting us here. We have eluded capture, thus far."
"Have you indeed?" The princess strode out of the cell and looked around impatiently, unperturbed by the corpse which lay on the floor. "A quick and decisive battle, it must have been. Well, you need not fear that I will raise the alarm. I objected to Xarus' latest scheme, and rightly so, it sounds to me. He saw fit to confine me here. Expanding Decia's borders is one thing; throwing everything into a fool's obsession with the past is another. How many Decian born did he waste against Athere's walls?"
"There were very few survivors," Cor-Ibis replied.
"And he has slunk back to lick his wounds? Your abduction would be, what, an attempt at revenge or a clutch for bargaining chips?" The princess did not hide her disgust. "Defeat is not a thing Xarus has ever been able to accept. He will not treat you kindly if you are captured."
"No." Cor-Ibis glanced at Ileaha, indicating that she should check the other rooms. "Three of our party have been captured, and we must continue to seek them out. Please accept our protection, if you wish it."
Princess Sendel looked amused. "You may accept mine, Keridahl. There are those still loyal to me in Falcon Black, and I have no interest in prolonging hostilities with Palladium."
As Cor-Ibis negotiated polite obligation with the princess, Kel ar Haedrin opened another of the rooms off the corridor, revealing a Decian youth of about sixteen. His fine tailoring was crumpled, and he eyed the small band of Ibisians with disbelief. One hand strayed to his side, instinctively seeking an absent sword, but Princess Sendel forestalled any confrontation, turning from Cor-Ibis to eye the young man disdainfully.
"You, here?" she asked. "What became of your ambition to stride through the ashes of Athere?"
The youth glanced at Ileaha's bared sword, held far too close for any enemy's comfort. A shift of his coppery features revealed a distinct resemblance to Princess Sendel. Her son, Medair guessed.
"It remains," he said, with grim resolve. "I will see the rightful heir on the Silver Throne."
"Yet you are here," the princess repeated.
"My heart might be with my uncle's cause, Madam, but my duty lies with you," said the youth. "I could not fight at his side while he had you imprisoned."
"Vastly pretty," said Princess Sendel,
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