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through the gateway in the thick walls of the city. Then it all began
again the cheers, the cries, the crowds pressing so close that the escort on
either side had to wheel their horses inward to keep from riding people
down.
Sometimes they had to stop entirely, as small children sprinted across the
street in front of them. Blade saw Threstar's face in one of those moments. It
was the face of a man who would much prefer to have spurred his horse ahead
and trampled the child into a bloody paste on the stones of the street. But he
was holding himself in today, for today was the coming of the Pendarnoth and
no ill omen must be allowed to spoil it. One of the advantages of being a
messiah, thought Blade. With luck you can put everybody around you on their
good behavior even the natural storm-trooper types like Threstar.
They rode down the street from the gate for quite a while. Occasionally Blade
twisted his head around to look back at Guroth and the others especially
Curana. In this mob scene it would be easy for something to happen to her
"accidentally." But each time he looked back, she was still in her saddle. Her
face was strained and pale under the coating of dust, but she held herself as
erect as any of the soldiers around her.
After what couldn't have been more than a few minutes but seemed
like an hour, the whole procession rode out into a gigantic square. It
seemed the better part of a mile on a side, and except for a narrow lane kept
open by a double line of mounted archers, it was packed with people. Every
living soul in Vilesh seemed to have come out to greet the Pendarnoth. There
were great-grandfathers who had to be carried on litters, and there were
newborn infants in their mothers' arms.
Once again only a part of the mob was cheering, while others stood in reverent
silence. But the cheers from even that part were enough to make a constant
deafening roar in Blade's ears. For the first time, he saw Curana cringe as
the sound beat at them. And not only the sound. A quarter of a million
people standing packed under even a westering sun were not too sweet to the
nose.
At the far side of the square another wall rose, this one dazzling white.
Beyond it Blade could see the heavily gilded roofs of a number of elegant
buildings. A palace? Probably. Directly ahead, at the far end of the passage
through the crowd, stood a gateway, intricately carved and still more
dazzlingly gilded.
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The gates were swung open and a small group of richly dressed figures stood in
front of them. They were flanked by more archers in gilded armor.
As the procession approached the gate, Blade could make out the figures more
clearly: a dozen men with gray in their hair, wearing shimmering gold and red
robes; an enormously fat man in solid red, standing at their head. That must
be the Council of Regents and the High Councilor Klerus. A much smaller and
slimmer figure, dressed in gold from head to foot, stood beside Klerus. A
crown of gold set with rubies shone on his small head. King Nefus, beyond any
doubt. And another slim figure, slightly taller, dressed in white, standing
well behind the others. Princess Harima?
The archers on either side of the royal party put trumpets to their lips, and
more harsh metallic blasts rolled across the square. The trumpeters kept on
blowing until Blade wondered how they could have any breath left. The cheers
died away, and an awe-struck silence floated down over the crowd like a fog.
Threstar reined in his horse, jumped down to the ground, and took the bridle
of the Golden Steed. His face impassive, he led Blade and his mount up to the
royal party, stopping only ten feet away from
Klerus.
Blade suddenly realized he hadn't the foggiest notion of what he was going to
say. Hopefully this wasn't an occasions for speeches. But if he had to say
anything, he would have to rely on saying it as impressively, and as briefly,
as possible. The crowd seemed half ready to fall down on their faces anyway,
so they weren't going to be picking holes in his choice of words or delivery.
Threstar knelt to the boy who was King Nefus, and then to the High Councilor
Klerus. Even if he hadn't been told that Klerus was a eunuch, Blade would have
recognized it now. The man's immense physical bulk and high pitched voice were
unmistakable.
Threstar wasted no words. After kneeling, he merely raised his right hand and
pointed at Blade. "The
Pendarnoth has come, Oh King." Klerus, the entire Council, and the Princess
Harima all joined him in kneeling to Blade. Only the king himself remained
standing. Behind him Blade heard a silence fall over the crowd as people by
the thousands went down on their knees or even on their faces. But he did not
dare turn this time and look at Curana.
Instead, he sat on his horse and let the silence spread around him, until it
seemed that the whole square was holding its breath waiting to hear him speak.
He took a deep breath and spoke.
"King Nefus, I am the Pendarnoth, the Father of the Pendari, the man who rides
the Golden Steed. I
have come as it was predicted in your Book of the Nine Prophets. I have looked
upon the Pendari and I
have found them a worthy people." Blade fell silent, and realized that he
couldn't have said much more if he had to. His throat was dry and there was a
hollow cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.
But he didn't need to say anything more, because King Nefus cried out in a
clear, boyish voice, "Hail to the Pendarnoth, all people. Hail!" Klerus
screamed it out; Threstar echoed him and then the entire packed square burst
into a continuous roar of "Hail to the Pendarnoth!"
The Golden Steed neighed and shuddered nervously as the cheers of a quarter of
a million people thundered around it. Blade held the reins tightly and stroked
its mane, afraid for a moment that it was going to rear or even bolt. That
would be a fine spectacle the long-awaited Golden Steed running away with the
Pendarnoth, scattering the royal party like bowling pins.
How long the cheers and cries lasted Blade had no idea. Beyond a certain point
his ears simply wouldn't accept any more sound. Finally he became aware that
the noise was ebbing, and that King
Nefus was looking up at him. The king's face was indeed that of a boy, thin
and brown and large-eyed.
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