Crown of Vengeance (Dragon Prophecy) Read Online Free Page B

said.
    “I know not what cause you have against this lady, but I say to you, you may not bring your quarrel here,” Nithrithuin said sternly.
    “I?” Harthelin answered. “I hold no quarrels but that of my lord, and it is his word—the word of Caerthalien—that Farcarinon shall be cast down and ended.”
    Two of the hospital servants appeared, carrying a litter between them, and swiftly and efficiently transferred Lady Nataranweiya to it. Nataranweiya would not release her death grip upon Maeredhiel’s hand, so when the servants lifted the litter to carry it away, Maeredhiel had no choice but to accompany them.
    *   *   *
    The Sanctuary hospital was a quiet place. It trained the Lightborn who would become Healers throughout the Fortunate Lands, and was the last resort of those whose hurts could not be mended by their own Lightborn. This realm was Mistress Healer’s jealously guarded domain, over which she ruled as absolutely as the Astromancer ruled the Sanctuary itself.
    Here Nataranweiya was laid upon a bed in one of the small chambers used for the healing of Banespells. A stool was brought for Maeredhiel, as each time she tried to pull free of Nataranweiya’s grip, the lady’s agitation because so great that Mistress Healer told her to remain.
    What came next should have been done in decent privacy, but the hallway outside the room was crowded with Lightborn and gawking servants, and Komen Harthelin had not withdrawn when Nataranweiya was set upon the bed, but leaned against the wall, her arms folded across her chest.
    Servants entered with braziers and such other things as might be required for the ease and comfort of a patient. A touch of Nithrithuin’s hand unmade each seam of her patient’s garments, and their jeweled fastenings rang upon the floor as Nithrithuin pulled them away. Those ragged clothes had been sodden with blood, so the chamber now stank of it.
    “My daughter … my daughter…” Lady Nataranweiya moaned until her words were cut off by a new spasm of pain. She thrashed weakly upon the mattress.
    “Not even the Silver Hooves can hurry a birthing babe,” Maeredhiel said for Harthelin’s benefit. She possessed no understanding of the birthing mysteries, but no daughter of the Hundred Houses grew to adulthood without knowing how much blood a body could hold—and how much blood one could lose before they must ride with the Starry Hunt.
    “No!” Celelioniel said, forcing her way through the press of servants and dropping to her knees beside Maeredhiel. “She must not be hurried! Delay—you must delay the birth until dawn. Then we will all be safe!”
    Maeredhiel made to get to her feet. If Celelioniel’s madness had fixed upon this inconvenient Lady and her even-more-inconvenient babe, Maeredhiel wished to be elsewhere. But Lady-Abeyant Nataranweiya still would not release her, and though a week-old kitten could have broken that grasp, it was enough to hold Maeredhiel where she sat.
    “Where is the birthing-woman?” Celelioniel demanded, sounding frantic now. “Where is Thelfelient Lightbrother?”
    “At Farcarinon,” Komen Harthelin said, the mockery in her voice enough to make Maeredhiel set her jaw. “He was called to attend the birth of the heir. So I am told.”
    “Surely in all the Sanctuary one Healer skilled in midwifery remains?” Maeredhiel snapped, her patience—never great—coming to an end.
    Harthelin laughed in triumph. “No Healer can stay the lady of Farcarinon from the journey she must make. Indeed, she fails because my lord of Caerthalien has succeeded for all of us, and Serenthon has gone to the Vale of Celenthodiel before her!”
    “Silence, armored whelp!” Nithrithuin Lightsister rapped out. “You attend here by our courtesy, nothing more.”
    Maeredhiel felt a spasm of relief at the intercession of Mistress Healer, for no one would willingly cross one whose services they might someday need. But when Nithrithuin Lightsister laid her hand upon