Dragon Blood-Hurog 2 (31 page)

There was safety in the truth of my words. If I'd been in Kellen's position, I'd be looking for someone else to throw the Five Kingdoms to, and I was grateful it couldn't be me.

"Then why not let Shavig be independent under you," he said. "You could demand it as a price for your support"

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I shook my head, relaxing against the side of Rosem's seat as if I hadn't noticed that his hand was on the

haft of his knife. Rosem worried that I'd take offense, since Kellen was all but accusing me of treachery.

But I'd been expecting this conversation since the night the Council agreed to follow Kellen. Because that night, I'd discovered that my uncle was right; I did have power.

"Shavig wouldn't survive on its own," I explained. "The reasons for uniting the Five Kingdoms are stronger now than they ever have been. Together we can weather early winters in the north by sending Tallvenish grain and Avinhelle cattle to Shavig. We can use Seaford fish and Oranstone rice to fill in when

the crops fail in Tallven and Avinhelle. Oranstone ore mixed with Shavig iron makes a fine steel for swords. Our weavers use Avinhelle wool and flax for cloth. Together our armies can run off conquerors from across the sea or the Vorsag in the south. Alone, Shavig is nothing but meat for raiders."

"All very nice, I'm sure," said Kellen, implying by his voice that he meant just the opposite. "So you have

no aspirations to the throne, and Shavig is not pursuing independence. Then why did you bring in the dragon? Once it showed itself, you knew that they would follow no other but you." My patience for this round of questioning was thinning. He'd been in the hall that night and knew very well why Oreg had come.

"If"—I bit out the words—"the dragon had not shown itself, Orvidin would have left and taken most of the Council with him. It has been too long since great magic was done in our land for easy belief. They had to see one legend to believe in another."

My temper was rising. Questioning me to ascertain my motivations was fine, but the last question implied

that he hadn't believed my answers. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Axiel was just seating himself.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, "I have a lady to mind." I stood up and bowed, as if we were at court, and strode back to sit on the boards next to Tisala.

I hadn't made any particular effort to be quiet at the last, and Tosten must have heard something of our conversation, because he patted my leg as I stepped over him where he sat on the boards between Gammon's and Qreg's seats.

"Hold on," I told Tisala as I sat down beside her. "This is a wild ride." When we stopped in a cavern where odd formations of rock crystal wept from the roof to the walls and down to drape wearily over dark stone on the shore, Kellen sat forward with an exclamation of surprise at the oddity of the grotto.

Under the cover of the ensuing conversation, Tisala touched her hand to the top of my head and said quietly, "Don't take offense at his questions. It is only that he has been betrayed so many times. It makes

him question everyone."

I raised an eyebrow and said, "Did you hear it all?"

To my surprise, color bled rapidly over her cheeks as if she were an untried maid. I shifted so I could see her better, putting my back toward Oreg as I tried to remember what we'd said that would cause her to blush.

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When I remembered, I almost let it go, but something told me that it might be time to push my suit a bit—maybe because she didn't deny Kellen's claim that she was interested in me. As she stared out blindly at the crystal-laced cavern, I said, "He had one part of it right enough. I wouldn't mind tying my house with your father's."

Expressions crossed her face rapidly before she covered them with a polite mask. When she spoke, it was with the inflection of someone repeating a rote learned speech. "I'm flattered, Ward. But you need to

look for someone younger—a Shavig maiden who will run your keep—"

"Bah," I interrupted with a rude disgust I certainly didn't feel. That she had worried enough to memorize

such a speech surely was a good thing. If Tisala had wanted to dismiss unwanted flirting, she would have

done a much better job of it. "Do you have quarrel with the way my home runs? I certainly don't feel any

pressing need to find a wife who will run it any better. The food is eatable, and the keep is tolerably clean. I don't need a delicate flower. My father married one of those and when her children needed her to protect them, she turned to her dreamweed and sleepsease to hide from her duty." Suddenly, unexpectedly, I had a vision of the first time my father had drawn my blood. I didn't remember what had caused him to hit me so hard. I just remembered staring at the blood on my hand and realizing that it had come from my ear. My mother looked at my hand, too, and ran out of the hall—away from me. That vision was the reason I forgot my vow to be patient and spoke with sudden passion. "I don't need a pretty maid, Tisala. I need a mate who can protect her children with her sword and with her wit. One who will not let her daughter live in terror because she didn't have the ability to cry

out if attacked, or allow anyone to cut her son down until he thought the only way out was to slit his wrists, thereby missing his chance to fight for Siphern in the Afterworld. And when the bastard she married struck his son with the flat of his sword, I need a wife who would rend him limb from limb before

he could do it again."

I returned from the intensity of my feelings with the same sensation I remember from falling unexpectedly

out of a tree: out of breath, startled, and horribly aware that the murmur of other conversation had ceased

and everyone was looking at me. I hastily sat down and looked at the dark water that lapped gently at the edge of the raft. "How old were you?" Tisala asked her voice guttural.

"Eight," said Oreg when I didn't answer. "At least I think that was the first time. It got much worse later."

His quiet voice was loud to my hot ears.

"I didn't know it was so bad," said my uncle beside me.

"Sorry," I said in utter embarrassment. Then I realized I wasn't the only one I'd left exposed. "I'm sorry, Tosten." He didn't like talking about his attempted suicide so many years ago.

"If she lets you go," he replied obliquely, "she's a fool." I felt Tisala's fingers touch my shoulder in a quick

caress and she leaned closer to whisper, "Maybe you do need me as much as I need you." I took her callused, damaged hand in my free one, and my eyes met Kellen's considering gaze as Axiel gave me respite by beginning another course of the wild ride through the tunnels. The docks in the underground cavern at Callis lit at our arrival, but there was no one to greet us.

"Perhaps Alizon was unable to communicate how we were traveling," murmured my uncle as he helped Axiel tie the boat off.

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"My father would have guessed," said Tisala worriedly, stepping out of the craft and onto the ancient stone dock. "Even if he didn't intend to support you, sire, he would have left an honor guard to greet you

here."

Oreg stood flat-footed in the raft and I reached out to steady him as a wave bumped him off balance. He didn't turn his attention to me, just stared into space.

"Do you feel it?" he asked me.

Of course, once he said something, I did. It was just the remnant, like smoke after a fire, but the scent of

a Great Magic was in the air.

"Is it the Bane?" I asked, though I sensed the same flavor of magic I'd tasted in Jakoven's Asylum. Apprehensive certainty suddenly sponsored a hundred terrible things that could have caused Haverness to need his men at his side.

Oreg nodded. "But what has he done with it?'

"My lord?" said Kellen to me.

"Jakoven's used the Bane," I said.

"I remember the flavor lingered centuries where Farson loosed it. Some places I can still feel it," said Oreg dreamily as I helped him onto the dock. "There's no telling how long ago the Bane's magic was used."

"Oreg," I said sharply, and he refocused on my face.

"Oreg left just before the dragon appeared," said Garranon suddenly. "I wondered where he was going. Is Oreg your dragon, Ward?"

I looked around and realized that he was the only one who didn't know what Oreg was. Too many people were finding out, but there was nothing I could do about that now.

"A dragon and my friend, my brother," I said. "But never my dragon." Garranon laughed abruptly. "No wonder you escaped from me so easily when I tried to hold you at Hurog after your father died."

"Actually, that took Oreg
and
Axiel." I explained at the same time that Oreg said, "He did that on his own."

Tisala's anxious focus on the open metal doors that led from our landing to stone steps rising to Callis proper recalled me to more important things.

"Best we set the past where it belongs and find out what caused Haverness so much distress that he would forget to welcome visiting royalty," I said, but on the tail of my words, Haverness and a panting guardsman came through the entranceway.

"Lord Kellen," he said smoothly. "Welcome to Callis. You must be Rosem, welcome sir. And you as
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well, Lord Duraugh. Garranon, it is good to see you again, my friend. And you, Lord Wardwick, Lord Tosten, and Oreg." I was impressed that he'd remembered Oreg's name after four years. "I'm sorry to be late, gentlemen—but you arrived on the heels of some other guests and it took me a moment to break away when my guard told me you were coming."

He turned to his daughter. "Alizon tells me that you and the young Hurogmeten have decided to escalate

our careful plans."

She took his hands and held them tightly for a minute. "Father, it's good to see you." She stepped back and said formally, "Matters have escalated it for us, sir. As Alizon doubtless also told you."

"Indeed," he said, glancing at Kellen thoughtfully. "But now come and allow me to extend my hospitality.

Time enough this evening for politics."

I noted as we climbed that the passage here at Callis was rougher than the one leading to the Dwarven Way at Hurog. Did that make Hurog's older?

Callis was larger and more luxurious than Hurog. Kellen and Rosem were given a large suite near the family apartments, of course. But I was given a room to myself—though it was small and spare. I realized

with wry humor that I hadn't had a private place since I'd left the King's Asylum. The room came complete with a cold lunch set on a low table—the only furniture in the room aside from the bed. I ate as I walked the space and figured measurements, and thought it might be possible to make a small addition onto the south side of Hurog and give us six extra rooms to put guests. Then I'd still have to share if the Council descended again, but any small group of noblemen—

"If you put an extra door in the side of the great hall, you could put a few of these on the south side without making the keep less secure," said Oreg from the doorway as he munched on an apple.

"Reading minds now?" I said, licking grease off my fingers. "I thought you said that wasn't one of your talents."

He grinned. "I saw you pacing the room off. It wasn't such a leap. I came by to congratulate you on your

successful stalking of the warrior maiden."

I laughed. "The only thing I succeeded in was making an idiot of myself." He smiled like a cat and shook his head. "I disagree. You convinced Tisala that you knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that she was it."

"Do you think so?" I was skeptical. "I was more of the opinion that I sounded like a pitiful sad-story hero who languishes and dies in the final refrain, leaving everyone feeling sorry they hadn't treated him better."

"Trust me," said Oreg lightly. "It wasn't pity I saw on her face, it was revelation." I stared at him and saw that he was serious.

"If so," I replied slowly, "then I don't mind embarrassing myself in front of everyone. I'd suffer a lot worse than a little humiliation to win Tisala."

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Through the arrow-slit window in the side of the room I heard a commotion outside. It was probably only the arrival of one of the men Alizon and Haverness had summoned to Callis, but I started for the door anyway.

I had a moment of anxiety when I stepped into the corridor and realized I didn't know which way to go.

"Which way to the great hall?" I asked Oreg.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he answered with a grin.

So I turned right and, with Oreg unhelpfully following, explored the twists and turns until I found a section of keep that looked familiar. Doubtless there were several paths I could have taken that were shorter, but we made it to the great hall before the new guests were welcomed. Haverness was already in the room, seated by the fire where a scattering of chairs and benches made an impromptu conversational area. He was shaking his head as Alizon leaned forward and spoke with an earnest air. Garranon had draped himself against the wall, listening expressionlessly. My uncle was leaned back in a wooden chair, elbows braced on the chair arms and his hands folded thoughtfully under his chin. I knew that pose and wondered when he would loose his first attack in whatever conversational battle they were engaged in. Axiel stood with his back to them all, watching the

fire dance. Tosten was seated a little apart with his battered harp, playing a bit to keep anyone from overhearing the discussion. I'd used him that way before—no sense making things too easy for the king's

spies that doubtless infested both Hurog and Callis.

Tisala sat on the flagstone of the floor, her shoulder resting against Haverness's knee. I met her steady gaze and saw something that made me think that Oreg might be right. Neither she nor I smiled, but some