Storm over Vallia Read Online Free PDF

who was like an uncle to Drak, and his father the emperor and his mother the empress, all wanted Drak and Silda to marry. That seemed in their eyes to be inevitable and wonderfully apt.
    And here was Queen Lush, sophisticated, alluring, a woman of the world, sensual and clever and reputed possessed of some sorcerous powers, setting her cap at him.
    It was all a muddle.
    He glanced at his own great Krozair longsword standing in the corner by the fireplace. The coals were mostly burned through now and he’d better turn in before the room became too cold. He was a Krozair of Zy, a member of that martial and mystical Order. Yes, life was a lot simpler out there in the Eye of the World, the inner sea of Kregen. Out there, where his brother Zeg was King of Zandikar, life was simple. If anything wore green you killed it. If anything wore red you fought for it with your life.
    As for Silda Segutoria — where in a Herrelldrin Hell had the girl got herself? Where the blazes could she be? She might be in Vondium, where Queen Lush was no doubt living a life of luxury. She might be off on a wild adventure for the Sisters of the Rose. There was a strong possibility she could be with his sister Dayra, or his mother, the Empress Delia, although recent letters had not mentioned her. She could, even, be haring off into breathtaking adventures with his father, the Emperor of Vallia.
    Thoroughly dissatisfied, Drak rolled himself up in his cloak and drifted off to sleep where he dreamed dreams of men with no eyes sloshing about in the bloodied surf of Swanton’s Bay.

Chapter three
    The kov who would be king
    The loss of so many fine specimens was not to be allowed to interfere with the festivities — not if Kov Vodun Alloran na Kaldi had anything to say, no, by Vox!
    “There are captives aplenty,” he shouted at his chamberlains. “Use them! Do I have to think of everything?”
    In preparation for the many ceremonies the streets were garlanded, tapestries and carpets hung down from balconies, ales and wines were brought in by the cartful, trees were decorated with strings of colored lights for the evening entertainments.
    Strolling players, whose numbers had declined during the Times of Trouble, were now reappearing. If folk believed that these new troublous times were over, then they could be encouraged in that belief. Troupes of actors and actresses, singers, jugglers, fire-eaters, animal-tricksters, gathered in the town to add their color and sparkle to the festive occasion.
    In the natural course of his own estimation of himself, Alloran took his personal tailor on his travels. This functionary shared quarters, meals and salary with the hairdresser, the bootmaker, the perfumer, the mistress of the linen and other men and women whose sole function in life was to care for the person of Vodun Alloran.
    “I want clothes more beautiful, more sumptuous, more glorious than any seen before,” Alloran instructed his tailor, a snuffily little Och called Opnar the Silk.
    “It shall be done, my lord kov,” gabbled Opnar.
    “After all,” said Alloran, looking at himself in the tall mirror in the angle of the room, “after all, this is the first time I have been crowned king.” He smiled widely at his own reflection, pleased with the air of authority and regal command he himself sensed emanating from his reflection. “Although I am completely persuaded it will not be the last.”
    “Assuredly not, my lord kov.”
    The little Och bid his assistants bring in bales of materials so that a beginning could be made on the choice of fabrics. He was pleased in one way that the kov spoke to him in so familiar a fashion, and in another trembled lest inadvertently a great state secret should slip out and necessitate the removal of his head from his narrow shoulders.
    Alloran expressed dissatisfaction with everything he was shown, which was perfectly normal. Opnar did not take out his own fears and ill humor on his assistants. He was in general a