Chapter One
* * *
Quentin stood at the high parapet overlooking
the tranquil forest. His eyes scanned the gently lifting hills
clothed in their greens of early summer, all softened in the
golden afternoon light by the gathering mists of evening. At his
hand upon the cool stone balustrade a thin parchment roll fluttered
in the easy breeze. At his feet lay a leather case from
which he had drawn the scroll to read only moments before.
The case bore the royal insignia he knew so well: the terrible,
twisting red dragon of the Dragon King.
The warmth of the later-afternoon sun splashed full on his
face, and yet Quentin felt a chill creeping through him. He
sighed a heavy sigh and hung his head, shaking it slowly from
side to side. Hearing a rustle behind him and the brushing tread
of a soft foot on the stone, he turned to see Toli gliding up.
The tall young man settled himself easily on the edge of the
parapet and crossed his arms over his chest. He regarded
Quentin with a quizzical brown eye and then looked out over
the forest, cocking his head to one side. "Listen," he said, after
a moment. "It is the sound of a world at peace."
Quentin listened and heard the faraway chirp of birds as
they flittered among the whirtle berries, the breeze nudging the
leaves, voices murmuring in a courtyard somewhere below.
"They told me a rider from Askelon had arrived with a
message for you. I thought to come and see if my master
required anything."
Quentin looked at his friend and smiled. "You mean curiosity
moved you from your beloved stables. Yes, a message from
the King." He picked up the parchment and handed it to Toli,
who began to read.
Presently Toli's head came up, and his eyes found Quentin's
studying him. "This does not say what the trouble is."
"No, but it is not a request for a friendly visit. There is
some need behind it, and some urgency. If it were but a small
thing Eskevar would have waited. We're due to travel back to
Askelon soon anyway"
"And this recommends that we leave right away. Yes, I see.
But there is something else?" Toli's sharp eyes appraised
Quentin, who stiffened and turned away from their piercing
gaze.
"What makes you say that?"
Toli laughed softly. "Only that I know my Kenta very well.
You would not look so if you had not a suspicion of what lay
behind this innocent summons."
"Innocent?" He fingered the leather case that he had
stooped to retrieve. "Perhaps. But you are right, Toli; there is
something else. I don't know-it just came over me as I was
reading."
Toli watched Quentin closely and waited for him to
continue.
"I'm afraid if we go to Askelon now, we will never come
back to Dekra again."
"You saw this?"
Quentin only shook his head.
"Well, then it may not be. Your feelings may only be a
warning of what may come if we do not go at once."
Quentin smiled again; this time a flicker of relief shone in
his eyes. "Yes, perhaps you are right. As usual the servant has
rescued the master from himself."
"We can leave tonight. It will be good to sleep on the trail
again. We have not done that in a long time, you and I."
"We shall, but not tonight. Have you forgotten that tonight
we dine with Yeseph? If I am not mistaken, we have only
enough time to prepare ourselves and go to his house. He will
be waiting."
"We will leave at dawn instead," said Quentin.
"So be it," said Toli, inclining his head in a slight bow. "I
will see to our preparations when we have supped with Yeseph
and Elders."
Quentin nodded and took the rolled parchment which Toli
offered him, then slid it back into its case as they turned and
walked back into Quentin's rooms.
Quentin dressed quickly, donning a fresh mantle and tunic,
and pulling on fine leather boots. He met Toli at the door and
the two set off for Yeseph's lodgings.
Yeseph lived in a quarter of the ruined city near the library.
As they walked along together, Quentin looked upon the home
he had come to love. His eyes, long ago accustomed to the tum
bled structures that still met his gaze on every side, seemed not
to notice the destruction, but instead saw it all the way it had
been in the time of the mighty Ariga.
In his mind he saw stones lifted back into place one upon
another; arches reconstructed with their colorful tiles, and
beautifully carved doors thrown wide in welcome; courtyards
once again abloom with flowering plants; streets echoing laughter
and song. He saw it all as he imagined it had been. Quentin
always experienced the same magical sensation when he
moved about the city. In the ten years he had lived in Dekra, he
never lost the rapture it held for him, or the feeling that he
belonged there, that Dekra was his home as was none other he
would ever find.
"It will be once more," said Toli as they moved along the
quiet streets, over stones worn smooth with time.
"What will be?" asked Quentin absently.
"This city. It will be again what it once was: the way you
see it in your head."
"Do you think so?"
"Don't you?"
"I believe that it will. I want to believe it. Though it seems
sometimes that the work goes so slowly. There is so much to
be done. We could use more hands."
"But look how much has been accomplished since we came
here. And every year our numbers grow. Whist Orren blesses
our efforts with his own."
It was true. The work of restoring the ancient city and populating
it with people who shared the dream of rebuilding it to
its former glory, of studying the ways of the Ariga and their
god-that was going on at a fine pace. Much had been done in
ten years' time. The work of a lifetime, however, still
remained. And that was what pricked Quentin's impatience.
They met Quentin's stooped old teacher where he stood
waiting for them at the gate of his courtyard. His face beamed
when he saw the two young men striding up. "Hello! Hello, my
friends!" cried Yeseph, running out to meet them. "I have been
waiting for you. You are the first to arrive. I was hoping that
would be the case. I wanted to talk to you both."
He drew them into the shady courtyard and led them to
stone benches under a spreading tree. The yard was spotless and
furnished as nicely as any garden could be whose owner loved
plants and flowering things.
"Sit down, please. Sit. Omani!" Yeseph clapped his hands
when his guests had seated themselves beneath the tree. A slim
young girl appeared with a tray of wooden goblets and a stone
carafe. She floated forward with an easy grace and laid the tray
at Yeseph's elbow where he sat. "You may pour, bright one," he
said gently.
The girl poured and served the beverages around. She turned
to leave and Yeseph called after her, "See that the meal is prepared
when the others arrive. It will not be long now, I think."
She bowed and retreated into the house, smiling all the while.
The Curatak did not have servants. But often young girls or
boys would attach themselves to the households of older
Curatak leaders or craftsmen to serve and learn at their hand,
until they decided what they wished to do with their lives. In
that way those who needed the assistance of a servant did not
lack, and young people found useful occupation until they
could enter the adult world.
Yeseph watched the girl disappear into his darkened doorway
a little wistfully. Quentin noticed his look and commented,
"She's a very able helper, Yeseph. You are blessed."
"Yes, and I am sorry to lose her."
"Why would you lose her?"
(Continues.)
