Read Online Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno by Violette Malan - Free Book Online
Authors: Violette Malan
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lip trembling, finally touching her hand to her lips and inclining her head to acknowledge her people’s welcome.
One of the guards in green reached his hand into the litter chair, and out of the shadows beneath the canopy came a very old, very tiny woman. Grasping the guard’s wrist, she pulled herself upright and accepted a black walking stick inlaid with silver filigree. She advanced, step by slow step, until she was close enough to Cleona to speak without raising her voice.
“I salute you, Princess of Arderon,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I am Tahlia, House Listra, head and chief of the Council of Noble Houses. I am also the oldest female relative of the Tarkin Falcos Akarion, and in his name I welcome you to Menoin.”
Very sharp , Parno thought as he watched the exchange of formalities between the two women. Very smart this Tarkin Falcos. Rather than coming himself, to send his ranking female relative, a House head in her own right, and chief of the council, to greet the royal daughter of a country where women had the exclusive rule—that was good thinking on his part or on the part of those who advised him.
Parno eyed the Royal Guard standing nearest to them. Unlike the others, he wore a light metal helmet shaped to his head, with a short nose guard. When he noticed Parno watching him, his eyes widened, and he lifted his chin in acknowledgment. Parno gave the slightest of nods and shifted his attention back to the old woman.
“Mercenary Brothers,” House Listra was saying. “If your contract is to bring the Ladies of Arderon to Menoin, you may consider your task completed. Here are guards enough of the Tarkin’s own choosing.” Those standing nearest wore a crest of black, blue, and purple sewn on the left shoulder. Those would be the elite of the Tarkin’s personal Guard. Some one of them knows what happened to our Brothers , he thought.
“With respect, House Listra,” Dhulyn said. “We must deliver our charges to the Tarkin himself.”
“As you will,” the old woman said. “The Mercenary Brotherhood is always welcome in Menoin.”
Are we , Parno thought as he touched his forehead in acknowledgment of the old lady’s welcome. Then where are our missing Brothers?
By the time they were mounted, Parno and Dhulyn on their own warhorses and the princesses on two beautiful bays provided for them by the Tarkin, more of the Palace Guard had arrived, along with additional squads of the City Watch, to control the increasing crowd. These guards formed an avenue that allowed passage to where the palace, a spread of ancient buildings in golden brown stone, stood high above the town on its rocky hill.
Parno looked around him with interest. Unlike his Partner, he was always happy to be in a new town. Uraklios, capital and principle city of the ancient island Tarkinate of Menoin was a prosperous trading center, visited by both coastal merchants of the Midland Sea and Long Ocean Traders, though the harbor was notably empty at the moment. To Parno’s eye it presented a familiar aspect, whitewashed buildings with tiled roofs, some with signs denoting shops and here and there a tavern. Houses, sometimes with balconies on the street, clearly built around central courtyards, cobbled and flagstone streets and alleyways narrow to make as much shade as possible, and growing steadily steeper as the Arderon party rode away from the water and up the hill to the palace.
There were Stewards and pages in plenty once they reached the main courtyard of the Tarkin’s palace, but Cleona waited for Tahlia Listra to join them in the entrance doors. Waiting for them there was a woman of middle years, wearing the royal crest of black, blue, and purple on the left shoulder of her tunic and bearing at her waist a large ring of keys.
“My lady Princess,” she said. “I am Berena Attin, your Steward of Keys. The Tarkin invites you to take refreshments informally with him prior to tomorrow’s formal ceremony of
One of the guards in green reached his hand into the litter chair, and out of the shadows beneath the canopy came a very old, very tiny woman. Grasping the guard’s wrist, she pulled herself upright and accepted a black walking stick inlaid with silver filigree. She advanced, step by slow step, until she was close enough to Cleona to speak without raising her voice.
“I salute you, Princess of Arderon,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I am Tahlia, House Listra, head and chief of the Council of Noble Houses. I am also the oldest female relative of the Tarkin Falcos Akarion, and in his name I welcome you to Menoin.”
Very sharp , Parno thought as he watched the exchange of formalities between the two women. Very smart this Tarkin Falcos. Rather than coming himself, to send his ranking female relative, a House head in her own right, and chief of the council, to greet the royal daughter of a country where women had the exclusive rule—that was good thinking on his part or on the part of those who advised him.
Parno eyed the Royal Guard standing nearest to them. Unlike the others, he wore a light metal helmet shaped to his head, with a short nose guard. When he noticed Parno watching him, his eyes widened, and he lifted his chin in acknowledgment. Parno gave the slightest of nods and shifted his attention back to the old woman.
“Mercenary Brothers,” House Listra was saying. “If your contract is to bring the Ladies of Arderon to Menoin, you may consider your task completed. Here are guards enough of the Tarkin’s own choosing.” Those standing nearest wore a crest of black, blue, and purple sewn on the left shoulder. Those would be the elite of the Tarkin’s personal Guard. Some one of them knows what happened to our Brothers , he thought.
“With respect, House Listra,” Dhulyn said. “We must deliver our charges to the Tarkin himself.”
“As you will,” the old woman said. “The Mercenary Brotherhood is always welcome in Menoin.”
Are we , Parno thought as he touched his forehead in acknowledgment of the old lady’s welcome. Then where are our missing Brothers?
By the time they were mounted, Parno and Dhulyn on their own warhorses and the princesses on two beautiful bays provided for them by the Tarkin, more of the Palace Guard had arrived, along with additional squads of the City Watch, to control the increasing crowd. These guards formed an avenue that allowed passage to where the palace, a spread of ancient buildings in golden brown stone, stood high above the town on its rocky hill.
Parno looked around him with interest. Unlike his Partner, he was always happy to be in a new town. Uraklios, capital and principle city of the ancient island Tarkinate of Menoin was a prosperous trading center, visited by both coastal merchants of the Midland Sea and Long Ocean Traders, though the harbor was notably empty at the moment. To Parno’s eye it presented a familiar aspect, whitewashed buildings with tiled roofs, some with signs denoting shops and here and there a tavern. Houses, sometimes with balconies on the street, clearly built around central courtyards, cobbled and flagstone streets and alleyways narrow to make as much shade as possible, and growing steadily steeper as the Arderon party rode away from the water and up the hill to the palace.
There were Stewards and pages in plenty once they reached the main courtyard of the Tarkin’s palace, but Cleona waited for Tahlia Listra to join them in the entrance doors. Waiting for them there was a woman of middle years, wearing the royal crest of black, blue, and purple on the left shoulder of her tunic and bearing at her waist a large ring of keys.
“My lady Princess,” she said. “I am Berena Attin, your Steward of Keys. The Tarkin invites you to take refreshments informally with him prior to tomorrow’s formal ceremony of
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