The Mountain Queen

Part II, Chapter Two: In the Red Tent

When I awoke it was bright day, and I could hear the cheerful noises of meal-making drifting through from the next room.  The cots beside me were empty, and so was Hollitch's bed.  I dragged myself upright and made my way to the kitchen door.

As Hollitch had expected, Cressock had returned during the night, and now the two of them were busily preparing breakfast, moving smoothly about the confined space, ducking under each other's arms and passing each other implements and pots over the table.  It was as if they had done this a thousand times.

Both men greeted me warmly, and in response to my query, Hollitch informed me that Shamus and Brody had gone off to wash their faces in Hollitch Rill.  Why didn't I join them?  I nodded sleepily and wandered off in search of my brothers.

The water was clear and cold, and the sun rising over the mountains to the east made a glowing gold border around everything the eye chanced upon.  The day before, Hollitch's little shelf of ground had seemed uncanny, unearthly; now, in the warm lap of sunrise, it seemed like its own little heaven—a welcome respite from the far stranger world outside.

As we cleansed ourselves in the stream, I heard a watery flutter off to one side, and I looked up into the eyes of an enormous white swan.  It had landed in an eddy a few yards upstream, and it sat bobbing there, all but immobile, its eyes locked on mine.

My body went very still, and I gazed at the swan in wonder.  I had never seen one so close before.

After a long moment, the great bird shook out its wings and flapped away into the sunrise, leaving me with my heart beating quickly, and a slight chill in my breast.

Breakfast was a tumbled hash of eggs and cured meat, livened with spices and served with thick tranches of black bread.  We ate in hungry, comfortable silence, and again I reflected that Hollitch's little house on the edge of everything had become, in a twinkling, something very much like a home.

When the meal was finished, Cressock rose and set his palms on the table in front of him.  His eyes ticked from me, to Shamus, to Brody, and back to me.  "It's time we paid our respects to the queen," he said.  "I gather you've already met informally, but she'll want to receive you in the throne room, with all due ceremony.  Are you ready?"

I felt my stomach twist at the thought of seeing the queen again, but I was too proud to show fear.  I nodded and slid from my chair, and after a quick goodbye to Hollitch, my brothers and I were striding up the slope in the bright sunlight, following Cressock as he led the way on foot over the rise.  As we crested the hill and came down into the main valley, the red tent rose up before us in all its brazen magnificence, growing larger and grander and more pompous as we approached.

The door to the great tent was guarded by two armored sentries, but they let us pass without sparing a glance.  Inside, the air was dark and hot, the light stained red by the tent's scarlet walls.  The vast structure was partitioned into a multitude of branching corridors, and courtiers darted this way and that before and behind us, appearing and vanishing in the half-light like ghosts.  Iron candle-stands, as tall as men, cast an uncertain, flickering light that only seemed to deepen the shadows.  Cressock's assured steps led us swiftly through the maze, and soon we found ourselves in a long, straight hall, lined with wooden benches, where lushly-dressed men and women chatted softly among themselves.  As we passed them, they fell silent and rose to their feet, so that a swelling hush announced our entrance, as my heart began to beat faster.

Ahead of us, the walls of the tent soared upward around a tall, mast-like pole, as thick and straight as the trunk of a tree.  Beyond that, the hall continued, and a black, ornate wooden throne rose up on a dais at the room's remote end.  On the throne sat Lysandra, unspeakably regal in a shimmering blue dress that pooled and flowed around her like the waters of a mountain stream.  To either side of the throne, impassively watching our approach, stood Felvin, Diana, and a man I did not recognize—a short, black-bearded man, with kindly and intelligent eyes, who stood with his hands clasped behind him and his chin gently lifted, regarding us with mild curiosity.