Hatchling (Tameron and the Dragon) (19 page)

For the next few days he rested, ate well from stores that no longer had to last till spring, and watched Dorena care for his wounds. She'd obviously recovered completely from the Guardian's brief possession of her body, though Aylar hovered over her till she threw him out of the place to muck out the barn or help Jarrett with the surviving cows.

Tameron winced as the ale she used to wash out the claw-marks stung, but noticed they only became a little red. That was something he could manage for himself once back in Lochil, or even in Kelemath. Stine had warned all the guards against wound-rot when out in the field away from any healer mages, and Tam knew he might be risking that no matter where he was. As it turned out, the slashes weren't as deep as he first believed. Of course, he'd have the scars forever but he could be proud of these.
Maybe I'm not a coward after all
.

By the end of the week he limped around the cabin and helped
everyone pack what they would need from here for the big house awaiting them. One day Jarrett and Aylar left early, escorting Dorena to their original manor with a wagon-load of goods. Fortunately Honnold kept to his agreement, and had even had his men deliver one of his carts for their use. They planned to return by evening. Tameron supposed they expected him to behave himself around Marysa, especially with Jorry staying behind to be a chaperone.

Marysa wouldn't meet his eyes, though, when he tried to tease her about how inconvenient some men might find this situation. Tam still saw her as beautiful, even though her looks were coarser than those of the ladies at court. He loved all of her, not just her face or body--though he was still quite fond of both! Then he realized she probably thought he meant it seriously. "Oh, Marysa, I'm not going to bite," he said, rather than let the long silences drag on. "I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. I didn't mean that much to you anyway."

"More than you think," she said softly, and smiled at him. "I didn't know you came from such a distinguished family. Jorry can always go play in the barn for a little while."

Tameron felt something false in her offer. "The choice is yours," he said angrily. "Don't throw yourself at me just beca
use I'm the Protector's son." His voice cracked a little. "You love him. It'd poison the little we did have if--if I took what isn't there."

Marysa smiled again, only this time it looked like she meant it. "You're not just Tam now. How was I to know what you were really like? Don't worry, sweet. You deserve someone who'll run to you the way I ran to Jarrett, some girl who'll give you her whole heart and not just a piece of it." She ruffled his hair, as she might for a younger brother.

He turned away, wishing she were right. "I'd like to," he said softly. "But my father will pick someone out for me to keep the Council happy. She'll only despise me for not having magic." He hated how childish he sounded, but it was the truth.

"Don't slander the poor thing before she even has a chance!" Marysa said. "Besides, with your looks and riches, you shouldn't have any problems finding someone kinder for your bed if she does prove sour."

"If you were there, I'd find it very hard indeed!" he said. He loved seeing her laugh.

The rest of the afternoon went easier. By the time everyone else returned
, he and Marysa were friends. Oh, losing her still hurt. Tam knew he'd miss her for as long as he lived. But most of the anger and hatred were gone, if only for today. Oh, how he hoped Marysa was telling the truth! If he was going to have the responsibilities of a mage and accept whoever the Council chose for him, he'd eventually be allowed to find a life partner of his own, someone who really loved
him
.

In two more days, the cabin looked desolate. Jarrett had just
returned from taking the last load to the big house that morning, and it was well after mid-day now. "Well, it's time, Lord Tameron," he said. "On my way back I saw riders with the Protector's banner. They were taking their time, but they should be here soon. Just as well they’re coming, or we might have to leave you behind." The other man's voice sounded like he was joking, but his eyes were deadly serious.

Tameron ducked into the barn and changed into his real clothes and boots. The splendid garments were looser in most places, except for his shoulders, but were too short for his legs and arms. The boots pinched his feet, and he wished he dared to keep Aylar's old ones instead. What else had he outgrown?

He folded the ones he'd borrowed respectfully. Darin must have been meant to be quite tall, if he'd been able to wear these clothes last year before his death.
I never knew you, Darin, but I offer my thanks,
he thought.
Soon your death-doll will go back to the home you once knew. Don't be angry with me because I lived and you died. I might have been your sister's husband.
Tameron imagined the look on his father's face if he'd returned with Marysa, and nearly laughed.

He gave the spare clothing to Dorena, but had a few other things to share out before saying farewell. Everyone gathered outside near the front door of the cabin. Fortunately the sky was clear and th
e sun shone brightly. He hardly felt the cold. Tameron gave the one good platter he'd managed to finish to Dorena. "May you find it useful, though you probably have a dozen better ones in your old home," he said ruefully.

The old woman embraced him. "It'll be at my place every feast-day, from spring to winter. Give your kinfolk my best.
I wish I was sure they were going to take good care of you. Don't forget to wrap up warmly and rinse that leg with ale every night till it's properly healed."

Tameron smiled, but couldn't speak. He'd miss her more than he could say. Randor did his best, but it just wasn't the same. Dorena wiped her own eyes and drew back.

Marysa stepped forward, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and thrust a small bag into his hands. "I hope you find this handy, and soon!" she whispered with a smile on her face. “Remember, men can take it too, but it has to be every day. Steep till the tea is bright green, and then swallow it down, though it takes awful.”

He took a peek, and it was full of dried herbs. Marysa winked at him.
It must be childbane,
he thought. His face went hot as he tried to remember what Dorena had told him about it. Marysa had certainly guessed the only present he wanted to give
her
! He glanced at the barn, only to notice that she was looking in that direction, too. Jarrett wore a carefully blank look on his face, but his eyes blazed with anger.
Marysa will make him feel better,
Tam thought.

He
kept own his face bland. Then he bent down and presented his best carving to Jorry. He was glad that Aylar hadn't thrown the small piece of rockwood he'd found into the hearth long ago. He'd begun this work at Midwinter and had finished it just yesterday. "I hope you remember me, if only for a little while," Tameron said to the boy, who was enthralled with the tiny dragon despite its flaws. "Careful with the wings, they're a bit thin." They'd both enjoyed the story of the Littlest Dragon whenever Marysa had told it.

He glanced over at the dragon tattoo on Jarrett's wrist. He owed the man far too much to tell Stine
everything
when he got back. If Jarrett had been a bandit in his wanderings, he'd also had the good sense to come down from the hills and warn an impetuous boy about following the same dangerous path.

Tameron bowed his head towards Jarrett, who looked startled. "Jarrett, I have to thank you for your help when the wolves attacked, as well as for saving my life when Tigran's men were here. Perhaps--perhaps I'll be in Warding someday, and think about what you said. For that I also thank you." It was a comfort to know he had a way out besides the edge of his blade if he ever felt as desperate as he had last fall.

His rival looked nervous. "I can't think of any reason you'd need to know about it, but who am I to tell such a noble one what is right or not?"

"You're the one who went to the Guardian for Marysa's sake," Tam said. "Tell me anything you like! Besides, how do you think my family would feel about one of their own who'd dare to strike a fellow mage?
Kin-privilege only goes so far."

Jarrett relaxed. Tameron then turned to Aylar. "You saved my life, sir, and offered me comfort when I had none. I want to prove to you that some mages can be trusted. Maybe the people around the Guardian like money too well, but I doubt they'll be there long once she knows about it. She only cares about justice! And if I ever get powers like that, I won't forget what it was like without them. I
won't!"

"Come look at these wolf hides I took from those you killed," Aylar said, and they walked around behind the barn away from the others. "I'll send them to Kelemath when they're ready. You earned them. You'll carry the marks of their claws for the rest of your life from protecting my stringy old cows. I daresay you'll get more scars fighting off different wolves once you get home. If you never do
have magic, let me know. I'll find you something better for you than to be pawned off on someone who wants you for influence or a hostage."

"I'm too old to start getting any powers," Tam said unhappily. "Father said I was to be Protector after him anyway, but I don't know how I'll be able to do it. I don't even know if he's telling me the truth about it sometimes."

"Then become Protector! Do the best you can, and make the ones who doubt you eat their words! You can be a bridge between the silk robes and the rest of us. You probably know what it's like to be less than the dust beneath their feet already, which is more than I can say about any wizard
I've
ever met! You can show them that we're not any less human because we do more with our lives than chant spells. Remember the song that Marysa said she sang about the Wall. No mage is ever to hear it."

"'I'll build a bridge, wide enough for two...'"
Tameron smiled ruefully as he remembered the line. "A bridge is made of stone. I'm not. They only see what I don't have."

"Then make that bridge wide enough for two, like it says in the song. You've certainly shown talent for that already. You've got my blessing, for what it's worth. Don't waste it doing anything stupid. Save running to Warding for when your life's at stake, nothing less. Face up to them!"

Tam hoped Aylar had never seen the scars on the inside of his wrists, or didn't know what they meant. "Yes, sir," he said. He knew Marysa's father was right. It was up to him to make things right, even when nobody else cared. Maybe he
could
be a real Protector, and not just a figurehead keeping the chair warm.

Six soldiers and a mage in a brown, fur-trimmed robe rode into the clearing by the cabin. Their banner showed a bright blue star on a field of white, the sign that they represented the Protector himself.

The cloaked figure got down from the horse and threw his hood back. He was a tall young man with reddish-blond hair and freckles. "I am Mauric, sent here to take the Protector's son back to Lochil."

Tameron remembered the fellow sitting next to Lady Kiliane during that last disastrous Council session. "Thank you for coming," he said as he stepped forward. He meant it now.

The mage bowed, and said, "Will you please allow me to lift you, my lord? If you have gained or lost much weight, someone will need to shift some of the rocks back inside the Guardian's stronghold. The rest of you, please stay back. You might be hurt if you stand too close once we leave."

That made sense. He knew that mages who 'jumped' like this, especially with a passenger, did so with a counterweight left behind for themselves and whatever they took with them. This way the Giant would think that nothing had really changed and allow the trip. If the balance was wrong, then the Earth Spirit often took a terrible revenge on those who would disturb Him so. No matter how carefully the calculations were done, it was still a good idea for others to back off.

Tameron felt himself rising in the air, but only an inch off the ground. No doubt that was all Mauric needed to judge his current weight. The mage's face turned pale and sweat appeared on his brow despite the chill in the air. "Your shields are formidable, lord prince," he said.

Mauric must be from Outside to use a strange foreign title like that,
Tam thought. He dropped back down to the ground and watched as the young man closed his eyes, probably 'speaking' to someone back in Lochil.

"Remove one of the smaller stones," Mauric said out loud, apparently not expert enough to be able to 'speak' this way in silence. His eyes opened. "We're ready now."

"If you need rest, or food and drink, say so," Tameron said. "I don't want to end up there in pieces!"

"I'll be all right, lord prince," the young man said with a wry smile. "I thank you for your grace in asking, though. Now please hold still..."

Soon a light glowed around both of them. The cabin and the people outside of it disappeared in a familiar glittering cloud that surrounded Tameron and Mauric. Tam closed his eyes, suddenly heartsick at having to leave the only real family he'd ever known.
I won't forget them,
he thought.
If I ever have anything to say about it, I'll make sure no one is ever treated like they were again!

Chapter 11