The Gauntlet Thrown
Page 77
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Brydon’s voice thundered in Toryn’s head.
//Damn it, Toryn! Do not confront him on your own! You can best him with a sword, but his mind is his weapon of choice!//
Toryn tried harder to push Brydon's voice from his mind and managed to quiet his mental chastisement to a dull roar. He did not bother to send a response, knowing Brydon would object to anything Toryn had to say on the subject.
And he did not intend to give Reed enough breathing space to use his bloody mental powers.
At the doors that led into the Great Hall, both soldiers guarding the portal saluted Toryn as he passed, though they eyed him in puzzlement. He saluted back and grinned once past them. It was nice that Brydon’s friend Rakyn had supplied them with uniforms of rank.
Most of the guests were seated and Toryn threaded his way through those that still stood about. He recalled the last time he had been in this room. It had been empty them, but now nearly all of the open space had been filled with crude benches. The thrones had been removed from the dais and taken Adona knew where. In their place stood a large marble altar draped with scarlet cloth. Two massive candlesticks flanked it, topped with spiral candles whose wicks burned brightly.
Behind the altar stood a round-faced man dressed in the robes of a Gauntlet Knight, though Toryn instinctively knew the man was a fake. It was more likely the cretin was a priest of Shaitan and carried a wicked gold dagger somewhere under his false robes.
Toryn threaded his way through the nobles, and then sat down at an empty aisle seat in the third row. A noblewoman with an atrocious amount of rouge on her pudgy white cheeks glared at him, but he ignored her while he sought Reed. A small group of noblemen stood near the officiant, but Reed was not among them. Most likely he intended to make some sort of royal entrance.
The woman next to Toryn tapped his hand sharply with her fan. She had been making snortling noises that Toryn had ignored. He turned an icy stare on her. She quailed for a moment and the red spots on her cheeks looked like blood as she, incredibly, paled even more. Then she remembered herself and sat up straighter, hitching her bulk as she did so.
"That seat is reserved for my husband," she huffed in a nasal, affected tone. Toryn studied her for a long moment while he bit back a dozen comments that would likely cause her to swoon in appalled shock. He imagined the thunderous roar that would result from her hitting the floor and held his tongue, not wishing to attract the attention of every person in the room.
"I shall be here but a moment," he said carefully, trying to mimic Brydon’s courtliest speech. The brief thought of Brydon caused his mental shouting to begin anew and Toryn winced against the strength of it. He was developing a vicious headache.
The woman huffed haughtily and shifted her weight again, nearly knocking him off the bench. He glared at her, but she pretended not to notice him.
The blare of trumpets almost made him jump out of his skin and he turned with the rest of the crowd to view Reed—who paused in the doorway looking as though he had already been crowned king. The bastard was dressed all in white with silver trim and a silver coronet adorned his dark hair. The red crystal pendant dangled blatantly from a gold chain around his neck. There was a scramble for seats as Reed began his stately walk down the aisle, heading for the dais. His ermine cloak swirled dramatically and the heels of his polished white boots struck an imposing rhythm on the stone floor as he progressed up the central aisle. His wide smile gladdened the throng as his dark eyes drifted over them. Toryn kept his head partially bowed and watched Reed’s approach from the corner of his eye. The evil usurper drew closer, drew abreast of Toryn—and sprawled in an ungainly heap when Toryn’s black-booted foot shot out to trip him.