Dragon's Treasure (18 page)

"Two deaths!" DiSorvino reddened again. "Thirty died in Castella!"

"Thirty-six, actually," the Lemininkai said. "And one woman."

"No!" Marion diSorvino was shaking with rage. "Atani, I will not be denied in this. This man is mine."

Karadur said nothing. He stood, and let them look at him, at his height and breadth, and at the dragon armband that gleamed on his forearm.

Then he said, "I hold to my claim, my lord."

There was a silence.

Kalni Leminin said, "Allumar, what do you think?"

Allumar Marichal said, "Oh, I am not nearly so wise as to be able to resolve this dispute." He smiled benignly. "Judgment is the privilege of kings." He coughed, and tapped the board. "I believe this is my game, Kalni."

The Lemininkai surveyed his pieces. "You are right. It is." He tipped the Winter King on its side. "Would that all our conflicts might be resolved with such dispatch. I believe we need a mediator in this matter, someone who can be both impartial and wise." He raised his voice a little, though there was no need for it: the silken-walled space was utterly silent. "We need judgment. Highness, can you help us?"

If he was surprised by the question, Cirion did not show it. He said calmly, "My lord, I am at your service."

"Excellent." The Lemininkai spoke softly to a guard. He strode away, and returned carrying a high-backed wooden chair. He set it in the center of the pavilion.

DiSorvino said angrily, "What is this mummery?"

Crossing to the chair, Cirion seated himself, and folded his hands in his lap. He said, "What matter you bring before me, I will hear it." There was weight in the words, and ceremony. Somehow—it was not entirely clear how—the perfumed, silken tent had become a court.

Kalni Leminin said, "Allumar, you have no stake in this. If you would, present the arguments, all of them, so that his highness may understand what was determined, and why we cannot agree."

"Certainly," Allumar Marichal said. "My prince, this dispute regards a man, an outlaw, presently in custody in Ujo." Swiftly he set out first the Lemininkai's claim to Treion Unamira—the sack of Castella, a garrison burned alive, the death of a governor—then Marion diSorvino's claim—four towns plundered, men and women killed for resisting the looting. Then he made the dragon-lord's claim.

Cirion listened intently.

Then he said, "Of all these crimes, the destruction of Castella and the death of the garrison seems to me to be most brutal. Yet you, my lord diSorvino, claim that because the attacks in diSorvino's domain precede in time the attack on Castella, Ujo's right to take this man should yield to Sorvino's. Do I have it correctly?"

"You do," Marichal said.

Cirion's gaze was austere.

"My lord diSorvino, you cannot have it both ways. If your claim takes precedence to the Lemininkai's because the
man's offense against you predates his offense against Ujo, then Atani's claim takes precedence to yours. The prisoner is Atani's."

Everyone in the pavilion looked at the dragon-lord. His expression, not surprisingly, gave nothing away.

Allumar Marichal pursed his lips. "This decision seems to me to be both equitable and logical. Well judged, highness."

"I agree," said Ydo Talvela.

"No!" said Marion diSorvino. "I do not accept this." His hands worked. "This is legalistic rubbish." He faced the Lemininkai. "Kalni, this is your city. You are the law here. Give me Unamira."

Kalni Leminin said, "I respect your passion, Marion. But does not our ancient compact state that we are subject to the king's justice?"

DiSorvino said furiously, "He is not king yet."

The Lemininkai said, "He will be." He nodded to Karadur. "My lord, my men shall bring Unamira to the Hotel Goude."

Karadur said, "Thank you, my lord. Edruyn, find Herugin." Edruyn bowed and padded away.

DiSorvino looked from the Lemininkai to Allumar Marichal to Cirion Imorin. His voice rose.

"This is no justice. Damn you, I see what it is. You are afraid of him. You fear he will burn your cities, as his father did Mako." He flung his glass across the tent. It hit a pole and broke. "You are fools, fools! Kojiro Atani would have taken what he wanted and burned you all to ash by now. Gods rot you all, you are cowards and sons of cowards!"

Jowls red as poppy, he stormed from the pavilion.

* * *

There was a long silence. Pages moved softly forward to sweep up the glass.

Then Ydo Talvela said gruffly, "DiSorvino is wrong. It's a fair judgment." He held out his glass for his son to refill. He said to Karadur, "You'll kill the man, of course. Your father would have had him flayed. Or cracked his spine for him, and hung him living on the wall of his castle, till hunger or thirst or pain killed him."

"Yes," Karadur said, "I know. My lord," he said to the Lemininkai, "thank you for your hospitality. I must go."

Of course you must," the Lemininkai said.

Karadur turned to Cirion. "Prince, I leave in your debt. You have my thanks."

Cirion smiled gravely from his seat. "My lord, I am pleased to have met you. Safe journey to you all."

Karadur strode from the tent. Eastward the sky was grey with twilight. In th ewest the sun lay low on the horizon. Shadows splayed across the grass. A light breeze blew through the trees.

Herugin arrived. He said, somewhat breathlessly, "My lord, you sent for me?"

Karadur said, "Treion Unamira is here in Ujo. The Lemininkai's men have him. They're bringing him to the hotel. Meet him there. Put him in the stable, under guard. We'll leave for home tomorrow."

* * *

Later, much later, in the privacy of his bedchamber—which smelled, very faintly, of lilies—Kalni Leminin lay staring at the ceiling. He was thinking.

He was quite happy. the week had proceeded almost exactly as he had intended it should. His beloved daughter was wed, to a comely and clever young man, who was also heir to the kingdom. His city was peaceful, and very much richer than it had been: the multitude of visitors, lowborn, highborn, and in between, had spent a great deal of money in its streets.

He had had a number of very satisfactory conversations. He had spoken with Lukas Ridenar and Allumar Marichal, and confirmed their understanding of the political situation. With the internal situation in Chuyo as uncertain as it was, they knew how vital it was to fortify the south. Lukas, whose intelligence network was nearly as good as the Lemininkai's own, had promised to keep an eye open and an ear cocked for any hostile movement.

He had spoken with Dennis Amdur, and impressed upon the cavalry officer the importance of the work he was being sent to do. The captain had understood. The Lemininkai had no doubt that he would do his best. Dennis Amdur's best was very good indeed.

He had spoken with Cirion, and recommended that he strengthen Selidor's friendship with Merigny and Firense. He had suggested that Cirion keep a close watch on Evard diScala, who was a snake. Cirion had promised to do so. He had no doubts of Cirion. He would make a good king. He had captivated the city's elite, and charmed Allumar Marichal, that most clear-sighted observer. He was noble, clever, and unambitious, which was excellent, since the Lemininkai had more than enough ambition for both of them. Moreover, Selena loved him. He hoped there would be children soon.

That, of course, was up to his daughter.

It had been wise of Cirion to come to Ujo for the wedding, instead of insisting that Selena come to Lienor, as rank and custom dictated: it had allowed him to meet and assess men and women whom otherwise he would not have had a chance to meet. Ydo Talvela would never have gone to Lienor. He was sorry Sunudi Isheverin had not been able to come. The common folk of Ryoka had no idea how grim the situation was. They would not, the Lemininkai thought grimly, until the caravans that brought silk and wine and spices and sword blades ceased to come across the border. But that day might not come. At the moment, according to Danae Isheverin, the lords of Chuyo could scarcely sit in the same room together.
They hate you,
Danae had written,
but they hate each other more.
He hoped they would continue to feel so. He was not prepared to give up Chuyo. It was part of Ryoka. His progenitor had won it.
Bright swords in the vanguard and sorrow in his wake
... He smiled into the darkness, thinking of a battle he had not been alive to see.

Across the city, the temple bells rang the hour. The distant sound mingled with the nearby sound of water falling. It was not true that every room in the Lemininkai palace had a fountain in it. But most did. The one in this room was a water-spouting serpent.

He was sorry about Castella. The death of innocents was regrettable. He himself was not fond of country living, but the town had been a pleasant place. But the outlaws who had attacked it, nearly all of them, had been captured. Niello Ciccio was dead. Unamira would be dead soon. And the Dragon of Chingura, while formidable, had proved quite amenable to civilized negotiation. He liked him. Cirion, too, had liked Karadur Atani, though something curious had happened between them which the Lemininkai had not understood.

Kalni Leminin said aloud, to the only person in the world with whom he shared all his thoughts, "What did you think of Atani?"

Sarita Amarinta Leminin answered, "He's dangerous."

"As dangerous as his father?"

"Probably," Sarita said. "He is Dragon, after all."

"I liked him. So did Lukas. His bluntness has a certain charm."

"Kojiro could be charming, too. You remember."

"Yes." He remembered Kojiro Atani well. "But Kojiro was savage, even at his sanest. This one seems quite restrained."

Sarita said, "Too much so. I would feel better if he had an heir."

"Allumar said he spoke of the diSorvino girl."

Sarita said, "I suspect
that
interest will wane, now that he's met her father. Gods, that man's an idiot! An idiot and a bully. He hates women, you know."

"How do you know?"

"He has three children, all daughters. He disowned all three. And both of his wives ran away rather than live with him."

"Why does he hate women?"

"Because he has no sons."

Kalni Leminin, whose posterity consisted solely of one beloved daughter, said, "That makes no sense."

"Of course it doesn't. But for some men, the begetting of a son is evidence of manhood, against which all other proofs are insignificant. Marion has no sons. It is the fault of any woman he has ever slept with, and possibly every woman in the world, that his seed throws only daughters."

The Lemininkai considered this. He himself had had no doubt about his manhood since the year he turned twelve. He moved his leg against hers in the fragrant darkness. They had been together twenty-two years. He had never wanted another woman.

"Is that why he repudiated his daughter? And why he hates the Unamira boy?"

"It's likely. One can't be sure; he hates easily. A flaw in his character: it makes him brutal, and stupid. Someday someone will kill him for it. You, perhaps."

* * *

The guards took Treion from his cell sometime after sunset. They struck off the long chain that secured him to the wall of the cell and fitted him with manacles. He asked for a drink of water, and they gave it to him.

They led him into the city. It was a warm night. Overhead, the moon was brilliant. The torchlit streets were bustling with people. A juggler stood on a box, juggling plates and knives and torches. Vendors brushed by, their trays piled with food: skewers of meat, grilled corn, slices of sweet melon.

"A fine night," one of his guards remarked.

A trio of singers strolled by, two men and a girl, their voices raised in harmonious warble. A pleasant scent filled the air.

"Where are we?" Treion asked.

"The Perfume Quarter."

It was not a part of the city in which one would hold an execution.

"Why?" They did not answer. Ahead of them, across a smooth green lawn, stood an elegant edifice of rose-pink stone, flanked by a marble fountain. A long stair led up to its wide double doors. "What is that place?" Again they did not answer.

Two men walked around the corner of the building. One of them had a jagged raised scar across his face.

He said, "Treion Unamira. It's been a while. Do you know me?"

"I know you."

"Good," said Herugin Dol. He wrapped his fingers around Treion's upper arm. "Thanks, we'll take him now." The Ujo guards left. Herugin jerked him forward. They went round the back of the hotel, to a stable. They walked inside the horse barn. A man stood guard outside a horse-box. It was empty, save for a heap of straw.

"In," Herugin said. Treion walked in. In the left-hand stall, a horse stamped and snorted: a big horse, from the sound of him. An owl hooted in the hayloft. "Sit down. Not there. Against the wall."

Treion did as he was told. Herugin whipped a loop of rope around his neck and fastened it to a ring above his head.