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A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3
concern and more confidence. Not that he ever really relaxed. Only fools and
the deathly ignorant relaxed in the presence of Hymneth the Possessed, and
Peregriff was neither.
Don t you remember, Lord? This is the morning you wished to review the
household guard. Turning slightly, he gestured at the open doorway. I have
come to escort you.
Ah, yes. My mind was elsewhere, good Peregriff. On other matters.
The general hazarded a guess. The one whose coming the Worm predicted?
Actually, no. Straightening, Hymneth rose to his full, towering height. I
have begun to believe no such person exists. If he did, and had power enough
to inconvenience me even remotely, surely he would be here by now. I thought
at the time that the Worm s words made no sense, and I ve seen or heard
nothing since to make me change that opinion.
Still, Lord, it pays to be cautious.
From behind the burnished steel, unblinking eyes narrowed ever so slightly;
the timbre of voice from beneath the helmet s projecting lip grew
infinitesimally softer.
Are you presuming to advise me on this matter, Peregriff?
The general did not miss a beat in his reply. If there was one fault Hymneth
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could not tolerate in his senior advisers, it was hesitancy. No, Lord. It is
only my abiding concern for your welfare that impels me to comment on the
matter at all.
Yes, well. Good intentions are always to be applauded. The voice returned to
normal, and the slight tremor Peregriff had experienced was not repeated. He
had lived and labored too long in the Possessed s service to frighten easily.
It is hard to panic a man who has long since resigned himself to the
possibility of perishing on the spur of the moment at the whim of another.
It is not caution that eases my concern, Peregriff. Stepping away from
window and wall, the autarchic ruler of Ehl-Larimar approached the doorway.
It is confidence. A mailed hand rose and gestured. The fingers were thicker
and blunter than those of any normal individual. Come, and let us review the
troops before they grow bored.
Those servants who were not forewarned of the approach of the Possessed in
time to scurry out of the way were compelled to stop whatever they happened to
be doing at that moment and prostrate themselves before him. Hymneth
considered himself a kind master, full of forbearance, a trait that he felt he
displayed on numerous occasions. This morning was no exception.
When two serving maids engaged in animated conversation failed to notice his
approach and continued
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A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3
to gab between themselves, the Possessed put a finger to the lower rim of his
helmet and commanded
Peregriff to silence. Advancing silently, he stole up behind the two before
one of them noticed, or felt, a presence. Turning, she saw who it was and let
out a heart-rending scream before fainting dead away.
Instinctively, her friend caught her, or she too might have swooned with fear.
Hymneth found this vastly amusing. Reaching out and down, he tousled the hair
of the unconscious servitor. Get her some wine, he ordered the other woman.
When she awakes, tell her that I am not displeased. After all, fainting may
be accounted a kind of bowing.
Y-y-yes, Lord. Utterly terrified by her proximity to the looming, guttural
figure, the other woman tried to curtsey and support her friend at the same
time, with the result that both went down in a heap. This caused Hymneth to
burst out laughing, a sound that many of his retainers found more dismaying
than his explosive fits of anger.
It s good when one s people can exalt and amuse you at the same time, eh,
Peregriff?
Truly, Lord. Debating which expression would be suitable for the moment, the
general settled on a slight smile.
There were no further interruptions, mirth-provoking or otherwise, as they
descended the rest of the way to the main floor. Exiting the great hall, they
emerged into another of the warm, spectacular days for which Ehl-Larimar was
famed. Below the mountain to which the fortress clung, the city and harbor and
ocean beyond spread out in three directions, a vision of consummate municipal
harmony over which
Hymneth the Possessed wielded unchallenged dominion.
Drawn up in three parallel lines before the castle entrance was his household
guard, a small regiment of cavalry maintained by him and kept separate from
the realm s regular army and police. As soon as his tall, overawing figure
appeared in the arched portico of the castle s entrance, horns and drums
struck up a welcoming tattoo.
With Peregriff hurrying to keep up, Hymneth strode forward to inspect the
first line of fighters.
Watching his master, the general could not help but feel that he was
preoccupied.
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Nevertheless, Hymneth moved down the first line of mounted soldiers with his
eyes set left and not wandering. Peregriff noted that he scrutinized each and
every individual fighter from boot to crested helmet. In any emergency or
ultimate showdown, these were the men and women who had sworn to lay down
their lives for him. There was no place in the household guard of the
Possessed for slackers.
Leather boots pressed firmly into steel stirrups. Backs straight, armor
shining, helmet visors up and locked, the men and women of Ehl-Larimar s most
elite military force sat at attention in their saddles, eyes front and lances
perfectly perpendicular to the ground. Even their mounts, a unique assortment
of the finest steeds the country had to offer, remained motionless and poised
in the presence of their
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A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3
commander in chief. A few heads bobbed and shook, an occasional leg lifted or
twitched. These deviations Hymneth was willing to forgive in a horse.
He could feel eyes flicking around to follow him as he and Peregriff came to
the end of the first line, pivoted, and started down the second. Formal
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