The alliance of the Midlands, headed by the Mother Confessor herself, held council in the palace, and there, too, lived the Confessors. On her way up to the Keep, there was rarely a turn in the winding road that hadn't offered Abby a view of the sprawling splendour in white stone that was the Confessor's Palace.
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They had looked to her to be little more than boys, but boys with the thin veneer of youth shedding too soon, like a snake casting off its skin before its time, leaving the emerging maturity scarred.Ībby had also seen such an array of important people as she could scarcely believe: sorceresses, councillors, and even a Confessor come up from the Confessor's Palace down in the city. Some wore uniforms still filthy with dirt, soot, and blood from recent battles.Ībby had even seen two officers from her homeland of Pendisan Reach. The officer, his grim gaze unseeing as he swept by, didn't return the salute as the bridge guards clapped fists to the armour over their hearts.Īll day soldiers from different lands, as well as the Home Guard from the vast city of Aydindril below, had been coming and going from the Keep. Abby and the rest of the supplicants waiting at the head of the stone bridge moved tighter to the side, even though the soldiers had ample room to pass. 'Īn officer, trailed by a troop of assistants, aides, and guards, marched out from under the massive portcullis that loomed nearby. 'Something precious?'Ībby clutched the burlap sack to herself as she shrank a little from the grinning woman. ' As the woman peered up, she licked the tip of her tongue through the slot where a tooth was missing. She turned to the hunched old woman in front of her. The sinister spectre of the Keep had seemed to be staring back the whole of the day as Abby had waited. Abby was watching a distant flock of whistling swans, graceful white specks against the dark soaring walls of the Keep, as they made their interminable journey past ramparts, bastions, towers and bridges lit by the low sun.
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