Dark Thane

When they were alone at last, Crystal stood at the base of the steps and glared up at Tarn. She said nothing, merely stood with one hand thrust against her hip, one foot impatiently tapping the polished marble floor. For a while, Tarn avoided her gaze. Finally, he looked up and shouted, "To the Abyss with them. To the Abyss with them all!"

"Tarn Bellowgranite, you know that you cannot afford to make an enemy of the Hylar thane," Crystal admonished.

"I did not make an enemy of him. It is he who has made an enemy of me," the king said, his fist slamming down on the arm of the chair. "How dare he insult you in our house, in my presence?"

"Jungor Stonesinger is the Hylar thane, and he has his own opinion about the way you rule Thorbardin," Crystal said as she slowly climbed the steps to Tarn's side. "He has the loyalty of most of the Hylar, whose support you need. And he is swiftly gaining followers among the other clans as well. You know as well as I do that he covets your throne. What will happen to us if you are driven from power? What will happen to our son?"

"I am thinking of our son. What would happen to him if his father were disgraced?" Tarn asked harshly. "This idiot thane pushes me and he pushes me, and I am expected to yield at every turn. Well, this time he has gone too far with his insults."

"You must not give Jungor Stonesinger any excuse to challenge you that the Council of Thanes would support," Crystal advised. She knelt beside Tarn's throne and laid her head in his lap. "And… I hate to admit it, but Jungor may be right. The dwarves of Thorbardin will never accept me, and they will never allow Tor to be king. The old hatreds run too deep."

Tarn reached out, stroking her hair. She had worked for hours preparing herself for this day, to look perfect for the Hylar delegation. Her hair was meticulously arranged, sparkling with jeweled pins. But all her work and consideration had been for naught. They didn't see the woman eager to please them for her husband's sake. They saw only a hated Neidar, a woman of the hill dwarves.

"I had hoped our marriage would heal the breach between our two peoples," Tarn said in a weary voice. "I overestimated my peoples' love for me. I thought they would come to love you for my sake and accept you as their queen. Instead, we've deepened the divide."

"I wouldn't go so far as that. We're but two people. There is still hope. Take my pupil Haruk, for instance. He is young but wise for his years. When he looks at me, he sees his weapons master, not a hill dwarf," Crystal said, smiling at the thought of the strong young Hylar warrior she had trained. After her marriage to Tarn, Haruk had joined their household and become her apprentice as part of an effort to ease the political tensions between Tarn and Jungor. Haruk was Jungor's nephew, the oldest son of Jungor's sister, a dwarf destined to be a powerful and influential leader among the Hylar. If his heart remained as pure as she knew it to be… "There is yet hope for the future," she concluded.

"I have never regretted marrying you, though," Tarn wistfully said. "No matter what happens, I shall always know that I did the right thing. Ours was a political marriage, but I would never have gone through with it had I not loved you, even then."

"You hardly knew me," Crystal laughed.

"I knew enough. I had spies in your father's court."

"Yes, I know," she said.

"See! That's why I knew that you would be a queen worthy of the title. Beautiful, wise, a formidable warrior, and your father's most trusted councilor; nothing got by you, not even my most capable spies. I determined that I had to have you for my queen, and I always get my way," Tarn said, grinning fiercely.

But Crystal's face grew serious. "For once, then, listen. My advice was good enough for my father, so it is certainly good enough for you, Tarn Bellowgranite." She lifted her head from his lap and looked long and hard into his eyes. "Swallow your insufferable pride. Go to the ceremony on the Isle of the Dead and honor the souls of the Hylar who have laid their bones in the ground. I will stay here with our son, and we will await your return together."

Tarn closed his eyes, then nodded.

18

You wait here," the gully dwarf, Shnatz Ong, whispered around the corner.

"We follow you."

"You wait here," Shnatz repeated impatiently.

"You say follow you."

"That then. Now, you wait here!" Shnatz spun on his heel and began to creep along the narrow, dark passageway. He had gone several feet before he heard them coming up behind him again. He stopped, turned, and stamped his foot in anger, raising a cloud of dust. Someone sneezed.

"What you doing? I say you wait there," Shnatz hissed.

Twenty gully dwarves crept out of the shadows, cringing and mewling. One of them whined, "You not say how long we got to wait. We get scared. We not supposed to be here. This place forb… forb… "