Questing Knight(科幻战争)-第14章

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beautiful　city。　It　had　been　home　to　Landuin；　the　finest　knight　to　have　ever　lived；　and　was　said　to　have
been　a　place　of　beauty；　culture　and　learning。　How　things　changed；　thought　Calard。
Thousands　of　downward…pointing　spikes　protruded　from　the　high　walls　lining　the　river；　set　several
feet　above　the　high…tide　mark。　Similar　spikes　adorned　the　legs　of　the　mile…long　bridge　itself。　Calard
frowned。
‘They　stop　the　city　from　being　overrun；’　said　Raben。　‘Look　there。’
Following　where　the　outcast　pointed；　Calard　squinted　through　the　gloom。　A　number　of　corpses　were
impaled　on　the　rusting　spikes。　With　a　shudder；　he　saw　that　most　of　them　were　moving。
‘Come；’　said　Raben。　‘This　is　our　gate。’
A　fortified　gate　barred　entry　to　the　north　side　of　the　city；　and　as　they　walked　towards　it；　Calard　saw
armoured　figures　waiting　for　them。　If　Raben　was　going　to　betray　him；　this　was　his　moment。
‘Just　so　we　are　clear；　you’re　on　your　own　once　we’re　inside；’　said　Raben　under　his　breath；　as　if　on
cue。
‘Fine；’　said　Calard。
‘And　if　by　some　miracle　you　succeed；　I　want　full　patronage。　A　title。　And　land。　A　castle　by　the　sea
would　be　nice。’
‘What？’　said　Calard。
‘A　little　something　to　ensure　that　I　don’t　accidentally　let　the　cat　out　of　the　bag；’　said　Raben。
‘For　a　moment；　I　was　starting　to　think　you　risked　showing　something　approaching　honour；’　Calard
snarled。

‘No　fear　of　that；’　said　Raben。　Calard　began　to　answer；　but　Raben　interjected。　‘Careful　now；　they’re
watching；’　he　said。　‘You　want　to　get　near　the　duke；　don’t　you？　One　word　from　me；　and　your　quest　is
over。’
They　drew　closer　to　the　checkpoint；　and　Calard　saw　that　there　were　more　than　twenty　soldiers
stationed　here；　armed　with　crossbows　and　halberds。　The　gates　were　closed　and　barred。
‘If　we　get　through　this；　and　you　somehow　prove　to　me　that　I　would　not　regret　it；　I’ll　see　you　are
rewarded；’　said　Calard。　‘I　will　offer　you　no　more　than　that；　but　you　have　my　word。’
‘Just　keep　silent　then；’　said　Raben　as　they　came　to　a　halt　in　front　of　the　gate。　He　flashed　a　sardonic
smile　at　Calard。　‘Trust　me。’
‘YOU　I　KNOW；　sir；　but　who　are　these；　then？’　said　the　captain　of　the　guard；　eyeing　Calard　and　Chlod
suspiciously。
‘My　second　in　command；’　said　Raben；　‘and　my　servant。　Let　us　through；　captain。　I　don’t　want　to　be
any　later　than　we　already　are。’
‘What’s　his　name？’　said　the　captain；　indicating　Calard。　‘I　don’t　recognise　him；　and　I’ve　a　gift　for
faces。’
Calard　opened　his　mouth　to　speak；　but　Raben　interceded。
‘Valacar；’　said　Raben。　‘His　name　is　Valacar。’
‘Why　don’t　he　speak　for　himself？’　said　the　captain。
‘He’s　mute；’　said　Raben　in　a　deadpan　voice；　ignoring　Calard’s　stare。
‘He’s　not　on　my　list；’　said　the　captain。　‘And　neither　is　your　servant。　My　orders　are　strict。　Ain't　no　one
not　on　my　list　getting　through　this　gate。’
‘Let　me　make　this　simple；’　Raben　said；　reaching　out　to　put　his　arm　around　the　captain’s　shoulders。　‘
The　Duke　Merovech　is　a　close　personal　friend　of　mine；　and　he　is　expecting　us　to　be　there　tonight。　We　are
already　late　as　it　is；　and　if　we　are　any　later；　I　will　make　certain　that　I　inform　the　duke　personally　exactly
who　it　was　that　detained　us。　It　is　Harol；　isn’t　it？　That　is　your　name；　if　I　am　not　mistaken？’
‘You　are　not；　sir；’　said　the　captain；　swallowing　heavily。
‘Are　we　done　here；　captain？’　said　Raben；　slapping　the　man　hard　on　the　shoulder。
‘We’re　done。　I’ll　have　a　coach　drop　you　at　the　palace　right　away；　sir。　Open　them　up！’
Raben　released　the　captain；　and　gave　Calard　a　wink　as　the　gates　yawned　open。
‘Oh；　and　sir？’
‘Yes；　captain？’　said　Raben。
‘Enjoy　the　celebration。’
‘Oh；　we　will；’　said　Raben　with　a　smile。
IX
THE　COACH　ROLLED　smoothly　to　a　halt　and　its　black　lacquered　doors　swung　open；　seemingly　of　their
own　accord。　A　small　set　of　steps　unfolded　with　a　clatter；　and　Calard　and　Raben　stepped　down　from　the
plush；　dark　velvet　interior。
Other　coaches　were　lined　up　around　the　curve　of　the　circular　roadway　inside　the　palace　gates。　Each
was　gleaming　black；　and　on　every　door　was　emblazoned　a　black　fleur…de…lys　upon　a　white　shield。
Hunched　coachmen　sat　up　front　of　each；　garbed　in　flowing　black　robes；　their　faces　hidden　by　dark
hoods。　Six　immense　horses　were　harnessed　to　each　coach；　their　coats　the　colour　of　the　midnight　sky；　and
immaculate　feathered　plumes　the　colour　of　congealed　blood　bobbed　above　their　heads。　Each　horse　stood
unnaturally　still；　like　statues。
Chlod　had　ridden　up　front　with　the　driver；　and　he　stood　waiting　for　them；　his　face　drained　of　colour
and　his　eyes　wide　and　unblinking。
Twelve…foot…high　fences　enclosed　the　palace；　tipped　with　wickedly　sharp　silver　points；　each　shaped
as　a　fleur…de…lys。　Calard　noted　that　there　was　a　heavy　guard　presence。　They　stood　at　regular　intervals
around　the　palace　exterior；　utterly　motionless；　their　features　hidden　in　fully　enclosed　black　plate　armour　of
ancient　design。
Grandiose　stairs　of　red…veined　black　marble　swept　up　before　them；　and　Calard’s　gaze　rose　towards
the　palace　itself。
It　was　breathtaking　in　its　scale　and　the　sheer　audacity　of　its　darkly　majestic　design。　It　was　oppressive
and　domineering；　yet　in　places　its　architecture　was　as　delicate　as　lace。　Dozens　of　spires　rose　like　needles
above　immense　lead…plated　domes；　linked　by　a　web　of　delicate　buttresses。　Hanging　arches　that　seemed
to　defy　all　the　laws　of　gravity　stretched　between　knife…edged　towers。　Slender　columns　reared　up　to
support　heavy　archways　that　concealed　grand　stained…glass　windows　in　their　shadows；　the　coloured　glass
glinting　in　the　fractured　moonlit　straining　to　penetrate　the　clouds。　Rainwater　dripped　from　the　gaping
mouths　of　fanged　gargoyles；　and　winged　statues　carved　of　black　granite　gazed　down　upon　them　in　mute
disdain。
Other　late　arrivals　were　hurrying　past　them　up　the　steps。　Flustered　ladies　garbed　in　velvet　and
adorned　with　precious　jewels　were　being　hastened　towards　the　palace　by　knights　wearing　freshly
laundered　tabards　over　battered　suits　of　armour。
Calard　and　Raben　climbed　briskly；　their　faces　grim；　while　Chlod　trotted　along　behind　them　in　silence。
The　entry　hall　of　the　palace　was　cavernous；　the　arched　ceiling　a　hundred　feet　high。　Statues　of　past
dukes　of　Mousillon　were　arrayed　on　pedestals；　each　standing　in　heroic　poses　and　dressed　for　war。
Pre…eminent　was　a　dramatic　sculpture　of　Merovech　himself；　five　times　life　size；　carved　from　a　block　of
faultless　white　marble。　He　stood　gazing　into　the　distance；　hair　flowing　in　a　frozen　wind；　one　foot　upon　the
chest　of　a　headless　enemy。　The　expression　he　wore　was　one　of　noble　arrogance。
Standing　as　still　as　any　of　the　statues；　dozens　of　guards　stood　arrayed　around　the　grand　foyer；
blocking　access　to　closed　doors　and　sweeping　staircases　that　rose　up　to　higher　levels。　The　doors　to　the
west　wing　had　been　thrown　wide；　and　it　was　through　here　that　Calard　and　Raben　marched；　following　the
other　late　arrivals。
Oil　paintings　lined　the　hallway；　some　of　them　almost　twenty　feet　in　height。　Their　frames　were　opulent
and　heavy；　though　many　were　fading　and　crumbling。　Gaunt；　unfriendly　faces　stared　down　at　them　from
dark　and　somewhat　disturbing　portraits。　Eyes　seemed　to　follow　them　as　they　hurried　by。
Turning　a　corner；　Calard　instinctively　reached　for　his　sword　as　they　were　suddenly　surrounded　by　a
swarm　of　pale；　aristocratic　courtiers；　richly　dressed　as　if　for　a　masquerade　ball。　The　ladies　wore
extravagant　ball　gowns　and　seemed　to　barely　touch　the　ground　as　they　glided　across　the　floor　upon　the
arms　of　their　partners；　who　were　garbed　in　strange；　archaic　fashion。　All　asks；
complete　with　devilish　horns；　jagged　teeth　and　long；　pointed　noses。　An　icy　chill　seemed　to　penetrate
Calard’s　bones　as　the　courtiers　passed　them　in　silence；　and　he　released　his　grasp　on　his　sword　hilt。
They　moved　deeper　into　the　palace　and　could　soon　hear　the　ring　of　clashing　swords。　The　harsh
sound　echoed　through　the　cold　halls；　and　as　it　got　steadily　louder；　they　could　also　make　out　polite
clapping　and　the　dull　murmur　of　conversation。
Rounding　a　final　corner；　they　approached　a　large；　domed　chamber。　Hundreds　of　knights　were
gathered　within；　clustered　in　small　groups　and　drinking　wine。

‘Where　is　Chlod？’　said　Calard　s