Dragon Blood-Hurog 2 (23 page)

"Jade Eyes," said the stable master firmly. "He's evil, he is. Don't see what the king sees in him." Garranon gave him a faint smile and walked his horses out of the stable. The guards at the entry towers opened the gates without challenging him—as they had on other such occasions. Garranon nodded at them and hoped no one would suffer for the ease of his departure. The Tamerlain kept her distance and didn't speak until they were out of the city.

"There's no need to travel all the way to Hurog," she said. "The Hurogmeten has been camped at Menogue since he left Estian, to give him time to recover from his imprisonment. Aethervon gave him dreams so he would know to look for the boy."

Without a word, Garranon turned his horse's head down the less traveled way leading to the old temple.

"It doesn't matter where you go," she said. "He's a Finder. He'll locate you." On the tail of her words a red mare cantered into view bearing Ward of Hurog—looking much better than he had when he'd confronted the king in court. When he saw Garranon, he stopped and waited for the Shavigman to approach.

"Hurogmeten," acknowledged Garranon. "I have a gift for you—I believe he's your half brother. He calls

himself Tychis."

The big red mare flared her nostrils at his horse and ignored the Tamerlain. Ward rode close and touched the sleeping face with a look of relief.

"That's two my house owes yours," he said.

Garranon shook his head. "I think the debt still lies in the other direction. My actions have hurt you more

than I've been able to help. Take him." He glanced down at the Tamerlain, but he couldn't tell if Ward could see her, so he said, "I think he'll wake in a little bit," rather than explain her part in the boy's recovery. Even now he protected her secrets. "He might be a little disoriented and a lot hostile, but you need to get him away from Estian."

"He is my brother," answered Ward peacefully. "My brother Tychis. He belongs at Hurog." He looked at Garranon a moment, and the Oranstonian had trouble seeing behind the affable mask to the thoughts running through the Hurogmeten's head.

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"How stands your favor with the king?"

Garranon shrugged. "About as high as any man who might accuse Jakoven of being a pedophile. No. Lower than that, since I stole the boy who would be instrumental—I don't want to know how—in allowing Jakoven to use Farsonsbane."

Ward didn't flinch, so Garranon knew that the Hurogmeten knew about the Bane.

"About where I do, then," said Ward. He watched Garranon for moment and asked softly, "How stands the king in your favor?"

Garranon looked away. "As always," he managed finally. "You'd better take him and ride—I have an extra horse for him. I don't know when the king'll think to send someone to find him. You may have half a

day, maybe only half an hour."

Ward shrugged and said, "What would you do if you had a knife and found the king asleep in a back alley with no witnesses?"

Garranon didn't answer, but Ward smiled, and rode his horse around to take the reins of the extra gelding, leaving the boy in Garranon's arms.

"Then come with us to Hurog," he said. "It'll confuse the king a bit—I imagine he'll expect to find you on

your way home to Buril. But the king won't hurt them until he has you where he wants you. They'll be safer if you're not there.

"So come with us," Ward said again. "And on the way I'll try to show you why your fate—and mine—might not be as black as you think. Dark, yes. But not hopeless."

"Go," said the Tamerlain, and Ward glanced down at her.

Garranon looked at her a moment, too, then started his horse in the direction Ward had been riding.
11—WARDWICK

Home heals the heart.

I watched Garranon closely as he looked at the packed camp, glanced through the faces, and drew in a shocked breath when he saw Jakoven's brother. "Kellen?"

As I dismounted I watched expressions run across Kellen's face too fast for me to interpret, but the one that stayed was sheer pleasure.

Garranon's eyebrows rose and he turned to me and said with mock awe, "And I thought Jakoven was going to come after
me
with branding irons and skinning knives. All I stole was his new play toy—you took his brother."

Kellen had taken a few steps forward, but stopped cautiously at Garranon's words.
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Garranon shook his head and grinned. "I thought the king might have bitten off more than he could chew

when he attacked the Hurogs—but I didn't dream this big." He dismounted without disturbing his burden

and handed the boy to me. "What are your plans, Kellen? Are you going to run from Jakoven and hide in

the wilds of the north?" There was nothing but curiosity in Garranon's voice. I looked down into my half brother's sleeping face and wished I'd known about him sooner—and that the only reason to keep him at Hurog
was
that he was my brother. It would have made his absorption into

the Hurog household easier on everyone. I noticed also that there was a bandage around his wrist, and I worried about how much blood Jakoven had already taken from him.

Kellen said, "I plan on dethroning Jakoven and becoming king in his stead." Garranon stretched his neck, first one way, then the other. I was standing close enough to hear the cracking of his spine. Then he stepped forward and fell to his knees before Kellen in a graceful, humble gesture.

"I am your man," he said.

Kellen looked momentarily taken aback, glancing at Rosem, then Tisala before pulling a regal air out from somewhere and cloaking himself in it.

"Arise, I ask no one to humble himself so before me until I hold the throne." Garranon stood and took a good look at Kellen. "You could use a few hundred meals, my friend. But you still look much better than the last time I saw you."

Kellen glanced about. "Garranon comes—came once a week to visit me, in spite of Jakoven's disapproval. We played chess."

I remembered that all-important chessboard Oreg had destroyed, and smiled as I laid the boy on the ground. I caught Oreg's eye and he came over to check on the sleeping child. I'd begun to worry about what Tychis had been given to make him sleep this deeply. Whatever they'd done to him, I hoped Oreg could rectify it.

"Allow me," said the Tamerlain, appearing on the other side of the boy. "I know what was laid upon him,

so it'll be easier for me to break it."

I felt her power rise and cover the boy, but I couldn't tell exactly what she did. The results, however, were obvious. The boy rolled to his feet, the whites of his eyes showing as he looked around them. Then,

sprouting appalling Tallvenish gutterspeak that effectively stopped Kellen and Garranon's conversation and directed the attention of most of the people in the vicinity toward him, he reached down and grabbed

a chunk of rock in his hand.

"Impressive," I said dryly in Tallvenish—which we'd been speaking out of courtesy to Kellen anyway. As I remembered from before his imprisonment, he could get by in the Shavig tongue, but was more comfortable in Tallvenish. "What do you think happens after you've hit one of us with the rock—assuming you can throw it hard enough to matter?"

He stopped swearing and glanced fearfully from me to Oreg and on to the rest of the men (Tisala was some distance away saddling a horse) who were watching him. A couple of them stepped forward, hands on their swords.

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I shooed them with a wave of my hand. "Finish packing camp. I need a little time to explain matters to my brother here." I said it first in Shavig, for the men, and then again in Tallvenish for the boy. Turning back to Tychis, I nodded my head in greeting. "I am Ward of Hurog—your half brother. Next to me is my mage, Oreg—also a relative of sort. Your uncle Duraugh and Tosten—another of your half brothers—are over there. Tosten is the one over by that oak with his hand on his sword. Duraugh is that one," I said, pointing behind Kellen, "the one frowning at me."

"I'm not your brother," Tychis said fiercely in broken Shavig. Then he repeated it, with a few more filthy

words, mostly adjectival, in Tallvenish.

I shook my head sadly and settled myself on the ground where I was on more of a level with him, not so

threatening. "I'm sorry if it pains you—but your father was Fenwick of Hurog, as was mine. You've half a

dozen other half siblings in Hurog. Some of them, I'm sure, won't be all that you could wish for, either." The rock was getting heavier; I could see his hand droop. Neither Oreg nor I gave him reason to throw. I was safely distanced by being on the ground, Oreg leaned negligently against a trio of sapling aspens. Everyone else was farther away. The Tamerlain, I noticed, had disappeared somewhere.

"You might as well drop the rock," said Oreg. "He'll sit here all day until you do." He caught the boy's eyes. "If you don't believe in futility, you might as well give up the hostility, too. It's as easy to stay angry

with a puppy as it is to be angry at Ward. Ask Tosten someday if you don't believe me." The rock dropped at last, and the tough front cracked a bit as tears welled in the boy's eyes. "What do you want with me?'

I sat up and pinned him with my eyes. "I want you to be safe. I want to bring you back with me to Hurog—as my father should have."

"I'm a bastard. The son of a whore and your father," he spat, then added the bit he certainly seemed to think damning. "And the whore was your father's cousin."

Oreg made tsking sounds with his tongue. "The Tallvens have certainly done a job on you, haven't they. In Shavig, cousins marry all the time." That was overstating matters, but for a good cause. "Duraugh's son

is married to Ward's sister—your sister, too—and no one thought a thing about it." Tychis begun to look faintly alarmed—which was better than the fearful defiance he'd displayed before.

"No one says you have to marry a cousin," I soothed. "But you do have to be polite around Beekram and Ciarra—that I will insist upon." Since politeness was the last thing he was worried about, it succeeded in distracting him.

"Do you know how to ride a horse?" I asked, changing the ground under him. He shook his head. I stood up and held out a hand. "Well then, come and meet your mount and I'll get you started. By the end of this trip, no one will ever know you weren't born in the saddle." The bait was too great. Soon he was sitting on a bay gelding, newly named Death-Bringer. I'd given Tychis several choices of names. From the size of the horse's barrel I'd have called him Hay-Mower. But

Death-Bringer pleased the boy, and the height of the horse gave him the illusion of safety.
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As I was coaching Tychis in the proper manner to sit (preferably on top of the horse), steer (mostly let him follow everyone else), and stop (pull back), my uncle, who'd been in an animated conversation with

Kellen and Garranon, gestured to me. I handed Death-Bringer's reins to Oreg and joined the discussion.

"Garranon says it's possible that Jakoven will launch an attack on Hurog immediately," said Duraugh.

"Is

it really safe to bring Kellen there? The gate was off the curtain wall when we overnighted in Hurog on our way to rescue you."

"Right," I agreed. "I've two good men working on the ironwork for Hurog—I suspect that the gate and a

gatehouse or at least a portcullis will have climbed to the top of their list of things to do. Stala was left expecting the worst. I trust she'll have something devised by the time we arrive. Were this summer we'd be in trouble, but by now the snow is knee deep there. With your men from Iftahar, we can hold off a besieging army for a week—and southern-bred men in tents won't survive a week at Hurog."

"I can help, too," murmured Oreg, who'd led the boy close enough to overhear. I shot him a repressing look. "
Mages
are always useful in such situations." Duraugh said, "If the weather's not bad enough at Hurog, you're going to have to see if your dwarves can transport Kellen away. They may not want to involve themselves in a human dispute."

"Dwarves?" said Kellen, startled.

Tosten grinned. "They owe Ward a favor or two."

My uncle guided us through a few harvested fields and onto a track I'd never taken to Hurog. Stala's second, a Shavigman by the name of Ydelbrot, led the men and organized the march. At my uncle's request, I trotted Feather over to Ydelbrot and told him we needed to make as much speed as possible since the king might be "just a wee bit miffed that we took off with Kellen and Tychis." He grinned and nodded. "Wouldn't want to be overrun by a Tallvenish army on Tallven soil." I smiled, but in truth I was more worried about how much blood Jakoven had taken out of Tychis's wrist

and just what he could get Farsonsbane to do with it.

The whole column broke into a trot. I held Feather as it passed me, swinging in to ride next to my brother—who happened to be behind Tisala. She was riding next to Tychis.

"He looks like Tosten at that age," said Oreg, coming up to us and pointing at Tychis—who bounced so much, I winced in sympathy. Tisala leaned over and talked to him and he stood up in his stirrups. I could

almost hear his horse's sigh of relief.

"I was never so scrawny," disagreed Tosten stoutly, but with such good humor, I turned in my saddle to stare at him. He and Oreg seemed to be getting on much better since they'd organized my rescue. It is difficult to talk while trotting, so for the next hour or so we were mostly quiet. I watched Tisala and

savored the fresh air. At long last we walked the horses. They weren't too tired yet, but by the time we stumbled them into Hurog, they wouldn't be good for much for a month or more.
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I dismounted when it was time to walk to save Feather as much as possible—I weighed half again what some of the other men did.