A Guile of Dragons Read Online Free PDF Page A

and went to meet her inquisitors.
    There were eight Guardians waiting for her in the dooryard of the tower. Four wore long bloodred cloaks like Earno did. She knew (now) that this marked them as vocates—full members of the Graith of Guardians. The others wore short gray capes—that meant they were thains, mere candidates to the Graith, really. They were the most soldierly of the three ranks of Guardian, and these ones carried spears taller than themselves. They might have been mere ceremonial weapons; the shafts were ivory-pale and the gores glittered like ice. But the thains carried them lightly, as if from long practice, and they looked sturdy enough to do some damage at need.
    â€œSo!” laughed Nimue, pointing at the points. “You’ll poke me with those until I talk, eh?”
    â€œBe quiet,” said one of the vocates, a furious white-faced, white-haired woman. “We don’t need you to talk.”
    â€œGod Avenger, Noreê!” uttered another vocate, a dark-haired man who moved with catlike grace and wore a sword at his side. “Please ignore my colleague’s ill-temper, Nimue. Talk as it suits you—though it’s true that it doesn’t matter what you say. The real questions, and answers, will not involve words.”
    â€œThey never do. Naevros,” she added impishly, reading his name floating on the surface of his mind. He had been thinking of introducing himself but then thought better of it.
    His pleasant face didn’t twitch, but inwardly he recoiled violently when he realized what she’d done.
    The gray-caped thains weren’t as self-controlled and moved farther away, as if that made their thoughts safer from intrusion. Since they were taking her to have her thoughts intruded on, Nimue found this amusing and laughed outright.
    â€œWell, Guardians,” said a tall, bendable, fair-haired vocate, “she’s either got nerves of stone or she has no idea what’s ahead of her. Or she’s crazy. Or maybe there’s something I haven’t thought of; it’s just barely possible. Madam, I’m called Jordel. Naevros you know, and he has introduced Noreê to you. It remains to me to introduce the brooding silent craglike figure yonder, known with bitter irony as Illion the Wise.”
    Illion’s wry jester’s face grinned a little wider and he said, “Ignore him, Nimue. We all do.”
    â€œExcept when you need me.”
    â€œWe never need him. Shall we introduce the thains, too, Jordel, or should we be off?”
    â€œFirst, you should be off. Second, she already knows their names. Third, I can’t remember their names. Fourth, I don’t want to know their names, because I don’t anticipate needing the services of these quivering custards in gray capes on any future occasion.”
    Sullenly, the thains closed in again, their clenched determination to do their duty like heads of barley on the long wavering stalks of their fear.
    Jordel and Illion led the way with two of the thains while the others followed. As he walked Jordel chatted with her, the thains, Illion, and stray passersby—either to set her at ease, or to pass the time, or because he couldn’t bear to do otherwise. Underneath he was like steel—so guarded in his thoughts that she wondered if even he could hear them.
    They came finally to the old wall of the city. It had long since fallen into ruin through disuse, but the Chamber of Stations was there, where the ruined wall met the river Ruleijn. There the Graith of Guardians had met since before there was history (so Earno said). The chamber was faced and domed in red marble, a beautiful if somewhat sinister shade, reminding her of dried blood. A single thain stood on the steps outside the chamber, spinning her heavy spear idly in her fingers as if it were a stylus. Her hair was mingled red and black; her eyes were amber; her skin was pale; her mouth was like a wound. She