Journey Of Thieves (Book 5) by C.Greenwood Page B

that reached past their knees. They were unlike the warriors in that their heads were unshaven. And they had no wings, despite possessing other Drejian features. I wondered if their wings had been removed to symbolize their servant status or to show they belonged to a lesser class. Whatever the case, these dull, motionless observers showed no interest in me.
    Since they all seemed to be awaiting something or someone, I stilled the nervous fluttering in my stomach and adopted a waiting stance myself. A sudden rumbling sound drew my attention across the room to where a pair of heavy doors slowly swung back. Through this entrance marched a small procession led by a tall figure clothed in red.
    The first female Drejian I had seen, she was as tall and powerfully built as any of her warriors. Atop her shaven head rested a circlet with long strands of golden beads descending like a mane over her shoulders and flowing down her back. There was a scepter in her hand, and bracelets adorned her arms.
    Flanked by a dozen others of her kind who I guessed were nobles or councilors, the queen mounted the dais and seated herself on the high-backed throne. When she surveyed me with her golden gaze, I tried to appear respectful but not overawed. Confident but not arrogant. It was a difficult manner to convey, and I had no idea whether I managed it.
    One of the Drejian warriors who had taken me into custody stepped forward now, placing himself between me and the queen. After offering her a deferential gesture, he delivered a short speech in their strange tongue, probably a report on the cause and means of my capture.
    Listening, the queen’s eyes widened in surprise and, at one point, apparent anger. But she quickly recovered, a mask of cool boredom slipping over her face. When the warrior fell silent, she flicked her bony fingers, motioning him to one side. I saw that her claw-like nails were sharp and long.
    Although I sensed through my dragon-scale augmenter that she was unnerved, the queen’s expression was tranquil as she addressed me in my own language. “I am told you have trespassed on my lands, puny stranger, and that you have killed my dragon, Micanthria.”
    “That is true …” I hesitated, trying to decide what honorific she was accustomed to before giving up.
    “And you make no defense of these crimes?” she questioned. “Are you not aware that the sentence for a captured spy is slow death?”
    “But I’m no spy.”
    Her eyes flashed. “Liar. I know what you are and whence you come. None but a filthy magicker could have defeated Micanthria. You are one of those cliff-dwelling rats from Swiftsfell.”
    I bit my tongue, remembering more lives than mine were at stake, and spread my hands in a pacifying gesture. “It is correct that I am a magicker with connections to the cliff-dwellers. It is on their behalf that I come.”
    “As an assassin,” she accused. “Here to destroy my beautiful and terrible Micanthria.”
    My mind raced. A dangerous plan was beginning to form in my head, and there was no time to consider whether it was good or bad.
    “Come to execute Micanthria,” I corrected, “for the killing of my grandmother. But I have another purpose as well. I am here as a representative of Swiftsfell, to arrange an agreement that will see the end of the Drejian attacks on that village.”
    At this, the queen’s surrounding companions began whispering among themselves.
    She ignored them as, eyes narrowed, she asked, “You have authority to speak for the cliff-dwellers?”
    “Absolutely,” I lied.
    “It will take a very high price to diminish my wrath after the destruction of my dragon. Swiftsfell’s tribute is doubled.”
    I took a chance. “I haven’t traveled all this way to pay the gold demanded. I had come instead to claim the ancient right of judicial combat.”
    Throughout the room, all whispers fell silent and a hush descended.
    The queen’s face was hard and her voice strained, yet I sensed a twinge