Heir of Novron (The Riyria Revelations, #5-6)

by Michael J. Sullivan

“Look at me!” She took a step back so he could get a full view. “I’m not pretty, and as we both now know, I’m the opposite of graceful. I’m not of noble blood, having been born a poor carriage maker’s daughter. I don’t think I could hope for the huntsman’s dog to sit beside me at the feast, much less have a renowned knight such as yourself riding on my behalf.”

Sir Breckton dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “Please, Lady Amilia, I beseech you. Give me the honor of carrying your token into the joust.”

Modina glanced at the mirror. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? A pity they brought such a nice one. I suppose they wanted to please me.” Amilia approached the mirror and ran her fingers along the polished edge. “How long have you had it?”

Amilia’s hands found Modina’s and cradled them as she might hold a dying bird. Amilia was having trouble breathing. As her lower lip began to tremble, she looked back at the mirror. “You’re right. It is a shame they brought such a pretty one.” She put her arms around Modina and began to cry.

Medford House, in the Lower Quarter, was a pile of smoldering beams. Nothing remained across the street except a gutted foundation and a burned sign displaying the hint of a rose in blistered paint.

He hoped Gwen had kept her promise and gone to the monastery, but there was only one way to be certain and his need to see her had grown desperate.

“So you want me to keep following you,” Royce whispered to himself. “That’s only marginally more disturbing than you knowing I’m following you at all.”

“You were the elf that they accused of thieving. They pulled your hat off.”

“Gold tenents? You got Baron Trumbul’s horse?”

“Royce?” a voice said. A woman’s voice—her voice. The forest of brown-clad monks shifted, and he spotted Gwen among them, dressed in an emerald gown. By the time she reached the aisle, he was throwing his arms around her and squeezing until she gasped. “Master Melborn, please,” the abbot said. “We are in the middle of vespers.”

“Yeah, they’re expecting huge crowds. Why?” Hadrian didn’t reply right away, staring into the single candle and massaging his callused palms. “I thought I might try my hand at being a man-at-arms again.” Albert smiled. “I think you’re a tad overqualified.” “Then I ought to get the job.”

“For some reason they stopped paying me,” Hadrian added with a shrug. A slight smile pulled at the edges of the soldier’s lips. “Not terribly loyal, are you?” “I’m as loyal as they come… as long as you pay me.” This brought a chuckle from the soldier, and he looked to

“The knightly virtues derive themselves from a standard of ethics passed down from the original empire. There are eight such virtues. The first is proficiency. It is the easiest to achieve, as it merely means skill at arms and can be obtained through practice and observation. Judging from the wear on your weapons, I trust you have a solid understanding of this virtue?”

“Excellent. Next is courage, one of the most important virtues. Courage, however, is not so cheaply bought as by charging against overwhelming odds. It can take many forms. For instance,

“The third virtue of a knight is honesty.

“Integrity is a virtue that comprises both loyalty and honor.

“True nobility lies in the heart. You must do what you know to be right.”

“How do I know I’m not being selfish?” “Ah, that brings us to the next virtue—faith. Faith is not simply a belief in the tenets of the church but a belief in virtue itself.

“Generosity is the sixth virtue.

“Respect is the virtue concerning the good treatment of others.

“The final virtue is sincerity, which is elusive at best. Nobility by birthright is clear, but what is in question here is noblesse of heart and

cannot be taught or learned. It must be accepted and allowed to grow. This virtue is demonstrated through bearing, not swagger; confidence, not arrogance; kindness, not pity; belief, not patronage; authenticity, not pretension.

“Happiness comes from moving toward something. When you run away, ofttimes you bring your misery with you.” “Who are you quoting now?”

“They look pretty, don’t they?” Nimbus whispered to Hadrian. “So do snakes in the right light. Treat them the same way. Keep your distance, watch their eyes, and back away if you rattle them. Do that, and you might survive.”

“Voices came to me. They told me everything.” She paused, seeing the shock on his face. “No, the words were not Novron’s. The truth is worse than that. Your mistake was appointing Amilia, who loved and cared for me. She freed me from my cell and brought me to this room. After so many months in the dark and cold, I was starved for sunlight. I spent hours sitting beside the window.” She turned and looked at the opening in the wall behind her. “I had nothing to live for and had decided to kill myself. The opening was too small, but when I tried to fit through it, I heard the voices. Your office window is right below mine. It’s easier to hear you in the summer, but even with your window closed, I can still make out the words.