Zandru's Forge by Marion Zimmer Bradley Read Free Book Online

extra hours with wooden practice swords.
    As he sensed his father’s approach, Varzil prepared himself for the usual litany. He could recite it himself: “When will you get your head out of the clouds and pay attention? I bring you all the way to Arilinn for a most solemn occasion and you go running off on some irresponsible lark! You know how important the Comyn Council is—its influence, its politics. We Ridenow need powerful alliances, whether by treaty or marriage, and it is here they will be forged! You’ve made us a laughing-stock with your reckless prank!”
    Dom Felix threw open the door to the central sitting room. Varzil scrambled to his feet and braced himself. With a rapid glance, he took in his father’s flushed complexion, the dark brows drawn together and bracketed by incised lines. His father’s agitation swept over Varzil in a turbulence of sound and color.
    Dom Felix unclasped his cloak and draped it over the nearest chairs. No servant came forward to put the garment away, for like the Tower itself, only those of pure Comyn blood could enter the Hidden City.
    “You know I don’t approve of what you did, running off to the Tower like that,” Dom Felix began without preamble. Pacing, he pounded one fist into the open palm of his other hand. “But those—nine-fathered sandal-wearers had the effrontery to question me— me! —as if I were a landless nobody! I refused to give them any satisfaction, of course. They can take their suspicions and shove them up Zandru’s icy arse!”
    Dom Felix came to the end of the room and his breath at the same time. He paused, visibly collecting himself, and turned to his son.
    “Ah well, all that no longer matters. We’re well done with them. Come now, we have preparations to make. I mean to be on the road home before first light tomorrow.” Slinging his cloak over one shoulder, he started torward the sleeping chambers.
    Varzil remained where he was. His heart hammered against the cage of his bony chest. Sweat sprang up on his brow. His knees quivered. If he gave in now, he might never have another chance. Even the slim hope he might be able to persuade the Keeper through sheer persistence and endurance was better than nothing.
    “No, Father.”
    Dom Felix paused at the inner doorway. It took him an instant to understand. Dark brows furrowed. “What do you mean, no?”
    “I mean—” Varzil rushed on, afraid that if he once faltered in his resolve, his courage would utterly desert him. “—I’m not going home with you. I must stay until they let me in.”
    “Arilinn?” His father paused. “That is a hopeless cause. Even if I had given you my permission, you could not associate with anyone who holds the honor of our family in such contempt. The way they treated me speaks for itself.”
    Varzil took a step backward. “Truly, they should have offered you proper respect, but that is their offense against you alone. For myself, I belong there. If they will not admit me today, then I will sit at their gates until they do.”
    “You’ll have a long wait.”
    Varzil lifted his chin. “Waiting will not change my mind.”
    “There is nothing to change. You are coming home tomorrow.”
    “No, I am not.”
    “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Whatever were you thinking of, to have any dealings whatsoever with those—those Hali‘imyn? Have they poisoned your mind with their sorcery? I would not have thought it possible in so short a time.”
    “They did nothing to me,” Varzil replied with a touch of temper. He suppressed it and continued, as calmly and reasonably as he could. “Asking for admission there was my own idea. I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you first. I know it was wrong to sneak away in the middle of the night and I apologize for the worry I caused you. If I’d seen any other way, I would have much preferred to do this openly, with your blessing. I was afraid you’d disapprove without even listening to me, and that’s exactly