“Lady,” he said, his voice barely audible, “will you keep me company through the dream paths of the night? Will you dare the dream with me?”
Ravenna lifted her head until her eyes met his. She smiled. “Gladly.”
Unnoticed by all those still filing past, tendrils of blue and green mist slid about the Lord of Dreams and his Lady, drawing them back into the darkness until all that was left was a brief sliding shadow and the hint of a smile.
They emerged into bright sunshine and the worried faces of those trapped above.
“What happened?” Joseph hissed as he hauled Garth from the shaft, Vorstus close at his shoulder. “We heard the thunder of the sea below…how…what? Where’s Cavor?” He turned slightly. “Maximilian—did you prevail?”
Maximilian, brushing himself down to one side, grinned weakly. “It is a long story, Joseph, but, yes, I did prevail.”
Joseph’s eyes returned to the shaft and his mouth dropped open. “And who are all these men?”
Garth took his father’s elbow and guided him away a few steps, attempting to explain the unexplainable.
Only later did anyone realise that Drava and Ravenna had not emerged from the shaft.
Furst slumped wearily to the floor of the cage and waited for death. That it would claim him he did not doubt, but he wondered why it should take so long.
Cavor was immobile now, save for his darting eyes, and Furst did not doubt that he longed for death as well.
Abruptly the screeching of the cage reached unbearable limits, and Furst screamed, his hands tight about his ears.
The next instant the cage crashed through the glass floor of the shaft into the turbulent depths of the ocean beyond.
It took a very, very long time to reach the ocean floor.
TWENTY EIGHT
ON THE BEACH
Maximilian stood on the beach and let the stiff sea breeze whip his hair about his face. Far out to sea one of the vivid Corolean trading ships ploughed through the seas; no doubt heading for Narbon to disgorge its goods. He watched it for a while, wondering if it carried news of the strange realms to the west. Well, if it did, no doubt the news would reach his ears soon enough.
In the eight weeks since he’d emerged from the Veins, Maximilian had worked tirelessly to consolidate his hold on the throne and on Escator. The people had by and large welcomed him, but there was seventeen years worth of news and developments to catch up on, ambassadors to receive and counsel, courts to preside over, decisions to be made, nobles and merchants to be entertained and listened to; and amid all this frantic activity, he’d had to find the quiet and the time to grieve for his parents.
In all, this was his first opportunity to get away and think.
Maximilian turned and smiled. “Do you see the ship, Garth?”
Garth shaded his eyes against the glare of sun across water; wearing a fine linen shirt and a well-cut jacket, he was dressed almost as well as the king beside him. “Assuredly, Maximilian. Once I dreamed I would grow to be a pirate and sail such ships as that.”
Maximilian returned his gaze to the sea for a moment. Garth had stayed by his side for these past eight weeks, providing sorely needed friendship and the benefit of advice offered from his fresh and uncorrupted perspective. Sometimes Maximilian found the court intrigues that had enveloped his life almost as restricting as his life beneath the hanging wall. Almost.
Without speaking, both men began to walk slowly down the beach towards a small cliff that had partly collapsed into a tumble of rocks. Waves washed over them, and seals, barking with laughter, clambered from perch to perch before launching themselves back into the sea.
Three days ago they’d ridden from Ruen to Myrna, and from there to the Veins, the Emerald Guard at their back. The men Maximilian had rescued from the Veins had quickly (some said magically) turned themselves into an elite fighting force, uniformed in distinctive emerald tunics with the outline of the Manteceros in brilliant blue prancing across their chests.
As they walked, a comfortable silence between them, Garth smiled to himself. No wonder Nennius had chosen the Manteceros for his emblem; the ungainly blue creature hid a power and an authority that could only be guessed at. And a lesson there for the learning—always within sadness, there was hope.
The Veins had almost proved unrecognisable. After he had risen from the depths, Maximilian had ordered that the iron poppet heads, and all the superstructures and buildings, be torn down. The Veins would operate no more. Indeed, even had he wanted to, Maximilian could not have ordered that gloam production continue. The sea had now completely claimed the Veins; yesterday Garth had stood at the lip of the main shaft for almost an hour, mesmerised by the lap of deep green water several paces below him. Below the surface were the shadowed shapes of fish while agile crabs clambered about the shaft walls.
No-one would ever be sent down the Veins again.
The mounds of gloam had been transported away, and only a few piles of iron girders and wheels were left. Soon even they would be gone. The filthy greyness had virtually disappeared from ground and building alike, and Garth could see that the health of the inhabitants of Myrna had improved dramatically.
Now that the gloam production had ceased, no doubt the economic health of Escator would suffer. But Maximilian planned to expand the realm’s trading potential, perhaps even build a fleet of ships that could trade across the Widowmaker Sea, and he also wanted to rebuild the academies and universities that had fallen into disuse over past generations. Knowledge would replace degradation and pain, enlightenment would replace darkness. Vorstus was ecstatic.
Their steps slowed as they approached the pile of rocks. Some of the seals paused briefly to gaze at them curiously, but otherwise paid them no attention. Maximilian stared at them a long time, then finally spoke.
“I suppose your father wants you back in Narbon now that things have settled down, Garth.”
Joseph had stayed a week in Ruen, then had hastened down to Narbon to be reunited with Nona.
“The surgery is busier than ever, Maximilian.”
Maximilian turned completely from the seals and stared intently at Garth. “Will you go?”
“I need to finish my apprenticeship. And I’d like to see my mother.”
“You are almost fully trained, Garth. And you could finish what training you need in Ruen. Visit your parents by all means, but…”
Garth watched him carefully. “What are you saying?”
Maximilian took a deep breath. “I have a palace and a realm and no friends with which to share them. “Will you stay awhile?”
Garth laughed, breaking the tension between them. “Cavor tried his best to get a Baxtor back to court, Maximilian. Now you do the same.”
“The court needs a Baxtor, Garth.”
Garth hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I would be proud to serve at court, Maximilian. But only if, once my apprenticeship is done, you let me set up a surgery for the ordinary folk of Ruen as well.”
Maximilian visibly relaxed. “I agree and I thank you, Garth. You do me honour.”
Slowly they began to walk back the way they had come. In the distant dunes Garth saw a flash of green. The Guard waited there for them. No doubt they would ride for Ruen tonight. Maximilian had needed this visit to let go old ghosts.
“Have you ever seen her?” he asked softly.
Maximilian took a deep breath. “No. You?”
Garth shook his head. “Where is she?”
“With her Dream Lord, I suppose.”
“We both lost her.”
Maximilian rubbed the mark on his arm absently. “Yes, Garth. We both lost her. She is a lady of dream, and she always belonged to that dream.”
They walked in silence for some way, then Garth grinned. “Oh, I don’t know about that! No doubt we shall see her again.”
Maximilian stared at him, then burst into laughter—and, laughing, they walked up the beach to where the Emerald Guard waited.