Malloreon

PART ONE Melcena CHAPTER ONE Her Majesty, Queen Porenn of Drasnia, was in a pensive mood. She stood at the window of her pink-frilled sitting room in the palace at Boktor watching her son Kheva and Unrak, the son of Barak of Trellheim, at play in a garden drenched with morning sunlight. The boys had reached that age where sometimes it seemed almost possible to see them growing, and their voices wavered uncertainly between boyish soprano and manly baritone. Porenn sighed, smoothing the front of her black gown. The Queen of Drasnia had worn black since the death of her husband. "You would be proud of him, my dear Rhodar," she whispered sadly. There was a light knock at her door. "Yes?" she replied, not turning. "There's a Nadrak here to see you, your Majesty," the aged butler at the door reported. "He says you know him." "Oh?" "He says his name is Yarblek." "Oh, yes. Prince Kheldar's associate. Show him in, please." "There's a woman with him, your Majesty," the butler said with a disapproving expression. "She uses language your Majesty might prefer not to hear." Porenn smiled warmly. "That must be Vella," she said. "I've heard her swear before. I don't know that she's really all that serious about it. Show them both in, if you would, please." "At once, your Majesty." Yarblek was as shabby as ever. At some point, the shoulder seam of his long black overcoat had given way and had been rudimentarily repaired with a piece of rawhide thong. His beard was coarse and black and scraggly, his hair was unkempt, and he looked as if he didn't smell very good. "Your Majesty," he said grandly, attempting a bow which was marred a bit by an unsteady lurch. "Drunk already, Master Yarblek?" Porenn asked him archly. "No, not really, Porenn," he replied, unabashed. "It's just a little carry-over from last night." The queen was not offended by the Nadrak's use of her first name. Yarblek's grip on formality had never been very firm. The woman who had entered with him was a stunningly beautiful Nadrak with blue-black hair and smoldering eyes. She was dressed in tight-fitting leather trousers and a black leather vest. A silver-hilted dagger protruded from each of her boot tops, and two more were tucked under the wide leather belt about her waist. She bowed with infinite grace. "You're looking tired, Porenn," she observed. "I think you need more sleep." Porenn laughed. "Tell that to the people who bring me stacks of parchment every hour or so." "I made myself a rule years ago," Yarblek said, sprawling uninvited in a chair. "Never put anything down in writing. It saves time as well as keeping me out of trouble." "It seems to me that I've heard Kheldar say the same thing." Yarblek shrugged. "Silk's got a good grip on reality." "I haven't seen you two for quite some time," Porenn noted, also sitting. "We've been in Mallorea," Vella told her, wandering around the room and looking appraisingly at the furnishings. "Isn't that dangerous? I've heard that there's plague there." "It's pretty much confined to Mal Zeth," Yarblek replied. &amEddings, David is the author of 'Malloreon ', published 2005 under ISBN 9780345483874 and ISBN 0345483871.