Hatchling (Tameron and the Dragon) (33 page)

Once they were gone, he forced himself to stay awake. He might not have much time.
Does my father really have a plan, or is he just pretending so I'll cooperate?

Tameron lit a lamp at his study table and got out the storybook with the guard routines on the back flyleaf. After a moment's thought, he pulled out one of his books that had a decent map.
Trying to make Warding will be dangerous, especially if they question Randor when I disappear. Besides, Father might be right about the Anchor Pool. But if they're looking for me in the west, will be they look as hard in other directions? And why do people always talk about Warding? Is that the only way out of Fiallyn Mor?

He looked at the map again. Desert lay to the south and east. The mountains of Athlath were to the north. If Mauric was like other people in that country, he could manage. A good thing he'd asked Randor to
fetch his armor. He might need it if he went into service to some lord there. He'd ask for Lord Duven if he could find anyone to understand him.

I'm a lot better than Mauric,
and I should be able to find a place somewhere. How do I escape to the other side of Wizardwall? Most spells don't affect me, but it takes having magic to go through the Wall.
Then he how noticed the Penwa River flowed from the northwest into Fiallyn Mor. Was the Wall weaker there? Perhaps water changed the shape of the magic and made it easier to get through there. Maybe that was why Warding was a favorite crossing spot.

Tam sighed. The river looked like his best chance. The longer he was gone before reaching an opening somewhere, the more likely they'd find him first. Whoever 'they' might be. If some other family captured him, he might wish he'd gone t
o Dever Tower.

Bitterness overwhelmed him as he
went to bed. He glanced at the small shrine. It was so late that the last rays of moonlight slanted down on the figures of the Lord and Lady. He shook his head in dismissal.
They
were generous only to mages.

Then he remembered how Dorena had found comfort telling her troubles to the icons in one of her darkest hours. Why not give it a try? So what if stories of Their intervention were only tales for children?

Tameron knelt before the images of the Lord and Lady. He silently prayed to live, and to be free without doing evil as the price. "Help me to protect Kiliane from my father's plans," he murmured. She was as frightened as he was, and with more cause. Some women still died in childbirth, even if they were mages and had healers to attend them. Like his mother. How much worse could it be for Kiliane, bearing a child she never wanted? His stomach roiled at the thought of touching her now.

"And help protect me," he begged quietly, gently tapping his fingers in the Great Supplication. He might as well ask for everything he wanted, no matter how impossible. "Don't let them force me into this. I don't want to be a beast. And...and please, please, help me find someone who cares for me. Is that too much to ask?"

Suddenly he felt lighter, as if he'd lugged a heavy burden but had finally dropped it off.

He looked out the window one last time. The sky was beginning to lighten to the east. Soon they'd be coming with the breakfast tray.

What's that?
he wondered, watching a winged shape fly north. It was too late for some birds to be out, but the bird looked like, a night-pale owl with wings like sails heading straight for Neyarmie Isle.

He laughed out loud as he realized what he was looking at. It wasn
't water that made the opening. Warding was one of the anchor points for Wizardwall! Why, the name 'Anchor Pool' should have told him that.

Of course no one fled any other way. Diesa Tower, the home of Salamander, was surrounded by desert and flame. The Mastersmith was the only commoner allowed inside, and that was only because no mage could forge iron. Mount Shiast, where Arial lived, was almost impossible to climb, though it had been done. Only desert lay to the south. Neyarmie Isle, in the middle of Kadramas Lake, was also an anchor point--for the Earth spirit that most called the Giant.

The Guardian
had
said he should visit the place where he'd been born a few months ago. He thought he'd take her up on her kind invitation very soon. He yawned, made a grateful bow to the corner shrine, and lay down on his bed.

He knew what to do, if only he was given the time.

Chapter 16

Tameron
woke up, and jumped to his feet as soon as he saw how late it was by the slant of light through his window. "Why didn't you call me?" he asked the guard outside his door. "It's the middle of the afternoon."

"The Guardian's servant told us to let you rest," the fellow said. "We were told the mistress had you up till dawn. Shall I send for a tray?"

"Yes!" He'd missed both breakfast and the mid-day meal, and his stomach didn't want to wait till evening. Tam regretted sleeping through drill--he wouldn't have a chance at a pair of the practice boots till tomorrow--but he couldn't do anything about it now.

While he waited for the food, he decided he'd better pick what he need
ed if he had to escape in a hurry. Tameron wished he could bundle it together, but the servants would notice that and tell his father. At least this way he'd remember where everything was if he had to move fast.

A good thing he had more than one cloak. The thin b
lack one would make a good carryall till he reached the stables.
I'll wear my thick winter one, but if I turn it inside out, no one will see the fancy beadwork on the collar or the edge.
Fortunately, the lining was dark blue.

Tam
looked at his shirts. The servants had left a few of his old ones, which hung side by side with the new
. I'd better take a couple of the ones I've outgrown. The sleeves are too short, but the buttons on those look valuable. I learned all about being poor this winter.
He found his one good necklace, took it out of its box, and put it underneath one of the older shirts on a hook in the closet. He didn't want to waste time looking for it later. Who knew how quickly he might have to move?

The tray came and
he ate heartily. He wished someone had returned his woodworking tools, the ones that Randor had given him. A thief might take his weapons or the necklace, but if he only had the tools he could make his living anyway.
It doesn't matter. If I have to, I'll sweep the stables somewhere or chop wood till I can earn enough to buy more. Aylar and his family survived losing nearly everything, and so can I.

If only I had the Jewel that my father should have given my mother at my birth.
It hurt just thinking about it. Why, he was no better off than young Jorry that way!

That doesn't matter.
At least not as much as making sure I don't die or get chained up in Dever Tower.

He looked around at his quarters, as if saying good-bye. The place seemed smaller than ever. On impulse he picked out the little spell
book that had started all his troubles, and put it in the pocket of his good winter cloak. After a moment's thought, he added the children's storybook.
The notes I made inside might be useful.

Tam dug out the lumpy pouch that was in the pocket on the other side and opened it. He sneezed when he found the dried, powdery leaves and seeds inside,
and smiled.
Oh, Marysa! How could I ever forget your last gift to me?
He remembered her farewell kiss when she'd given him the childbane. Perhaps it was a sign that he wasn't always going to be alone. He didn’t know how men could use the stuff, but someday his bride might be grateful for the herb.

He stuffed the pouch back into the pocket,
and put his slippers on. It was annoying how like a child wearing them made him feel. How ironic that the Protector had provided him with clothing that fit him so well as quickly as possible, except for proper boots. Oh, his father was so careful to make everything
look
as if he truly cared for his son.

And yet, from what he’d heard, the Protecto
r truly had done his best. It wasn’t good enough, though, and it was time to make shift for himself.

Someone knocked on the door. Tameron left the empty tray and followed his escort.

He was surprised when the guards took him down to the drill area instead of to the audience chamber where his father should be sitting in judgment, then even more amazed when they led him away from it towards Stine's office.

Someone was yelling inside. Suddenly, Mauric burst out of the door. He took one look at Tameron and shoved him against the wall, shouting obscenities. Tam butted Mauric in the chest with his head and fell on him when the young mage began to retreat. Tameron was so angry he didn't stop hitting Mauric till one of the guards pulled him away.

Then Stine's voice cut through the fog of rage around him. "Stop this immediately!" she shouted. "Both of you were fighting like a couple of village drunks! Lord Tameron, I trained you better than that." Then she glared at the escort. "I'll speak to all of you later. Lord Tameron wasn't in much danger, but it's small thanks to any of you!"

Tam sheepishly stood up, then offered his hand to Mauric to help him up. "I'm sorry. I went far beyond defending myself."

The young mage glumly got to his feet. He stank of wine. "Don't want your help," he said. "Kiliane doesn't either. Must be nice to have a father who'll go out and procure for you."

Tameron withdrew his hand. "Don't speak th
at way about the Lord Protector," he said, appalled at Mauric's words. "He won't listen to me, either. I meant what I said about not using my rank that way, Mauric."

"Right. Just hide behind his shadow and say you have no choice. It's easy for you." Then he walked away.

No, it's not!
Then he noticed everyone staring at him. "I apologize for this disturbance, Commander," he said to Stine.

"I should have watched him more closely myself," she said. "Smooth your hair down and straighten your collar. And as for
you
--" she said, looking at the other guards, "that could have been a real assassin. No wonder he's nearly been killed a couple of times. You wait here. He'll be safer with me and the senior officers today."

He followed her into the chamber. Once the door was closed, she said, "I spoke with your father last night about the possibility of you being my successor someday if you aren't going to be the next Lord Protector. The Guardian suggested today that you've heard enough cases about missing cows for a while, and that you need to learn that I do more than teach swordplay. There's plenty
more I can show you in Kelemath, but today we'll make a start. Your father can't keep you hidden away forever."

He desperately hoped that meant the Protector had changed his mind, but couldn't help remembering the words, "I could always
offer
him the position." The events of last night were beginning to get jumbled up, but that part stayed with him loud and clear.

He
sat in a chair next to hers behind a sturdy desk as the shift-leaders filed in. Once they were all there, Stine cleared her throat and said, "Today Lord Tameron will be sitting in with us as an observer. Someday, of course, he'll be much more. I would normally hear reports this afternoon, but I've just received permission to put guards on the roof to observe the walls."

His heart skipped a beat when he heard that.
There goes my last chance. If I have to leave, they'll find me even if I follow the dragon's path.
His hopes revived as he listened to her briefing.

"It'll take a few days to reset all the positions and to work out the new routines. We don't have any more sentries than we started with, so we'll have to use single guards in places where we normally have two. Fortunately, the Guardian says she believes the weather is going to get worse this next week, so that will reduce travel in and out of Lochil and ease some of
that
burden. It's going to mean extra hours, too, at least till the Protector and his party leave."

Tameron took mental notes as Stine described the new plan, and how it'd contribute to extra security once in place. A few of the soldiers glanced at him uneasily as they spoke. They obviously knew his father's orders. After a while
, they became used to his presence as he kept quiet. He could play the game of letting everything
look
right, too.

He tried to create a picture inside himself of how many guards would be stationed where, especially during the change. Bad weather could work for him. It was amazing how many of the soldiers were there just to watch over him, though as far as Tam was concerned, they could all g
o back to their families' farms.

I was glad to have them in Lochil,
he thought, remembering the surprise attack in the alleyway.
I hate thinking of them as my enemy! A good thing I'm not going to become a bandit in the hills. Stine has taught me everything I know, and the rest of them would gladly risk their lives to save me. Well, except Gerad, but even he didn't know I was going to be in real danger. But it's better they don't know what my plans are. Stine would tell me to do what Father says just like Randor did. Why do I have to do something wrong just because of politics?

After the meeting was over and they were alone in the office again, Stine said, "There's more to being a soldier than swordplay or shield work. Most of the skills Tayn beat into you will come in handy here, too. Blessed Lady, some days I feel like throwing my papers into the fire just to get rid of them!"

"I didn't know that it was so complicated," he replied. "Why is it going to take a week to change to the new plan?"

"Why it's going to take
only
a week is more like it. If I hadn't worked it out ahead of time, it'd most likely take a month. But I have to match people with shifts, get them used to new positions, find out who's going to throw up or get dizzy from being on the roof, keep soldiers who hate each other from being on at the same time, and make sure nobody who must patrol alone has a tendency to go to sleep. You can order guards to do nearly anything, but if you want it done right it helps to know what they're really good at."

The commander paced around the room. "For instance, your friend Lorin was caught climbing on the walls yesterday, just like someone else I know. When
I reported it to the Guardian was when she allowed me to put archers on the roof. When I told her about some of his beliefs--he's not the only candle-burner around here--she decided the lad needed some time for meditation near the north gate. Most people don't like that post, with all the dragons on that side staring down at whoever's there, but she thought it'd do him good. When he comes back, I'll probably put him right up on the roof. I don't waste people with a good head for heights. Like you, for instance. It'd be a pity if your window had to be locked again."

Tameron looked around the room with a silent sigh of despair. Too bad all this ins
truction was going to be wasted.
I want to thank her for everything, but how can I without giving away how much I know?
"I don't know what to say," he finally replied.

"It does seem like a lot to learn all at once, doesn't it?" she said. "I must say that was a dirty trick yesterday, faking a bad knee. Keep it up! You'll live a lot longer that way! But stay off the walls. It really sets a bad example for the others."

They left the room, and Stine turned him over to his escort. The guards looked suitably chastened, though the commander had said little to them. It was strange they hadn't stopped Mauric. If the young mage had had a knife or other weapon, Tam knew he might not be standing here now. As they marched him down the hall, he suddenly figured it out.
Mauric's a mage. No matter how well they're trained to defend me, no one in Fiallyn Mor is going to affront a mage unless they must, or unless they have magical powers themselves. Of course, he wasn't any real threat to me. But what happens the next time, unless Stine herself is there?

He was delivered like a package to the library, where his father greeted him.
His stomach growled even though it'd only been a few hours since he'd eaten. Neither Lady Kiliane nor Mauric were there, just his father. Was it too much to hope that they'd fled?

"Sit down with me a bit, Tam," his father said. "The Guardian told me she kept you up late last night. I'm sorry all this has been so hard on you."

Tameron wanted to be angry, but it was hard when the Protector talked to him like this. "I don't know what to do," he said. If only he knew of a way out of this dilemma that didn't involve hurting someone. It wasn't right to act like a beast towards a young woman whose only crime was to love someone else, but he knew his father's political problems might cause his own death if something wasn't done.

At first, the Protector asked him about a case they'd listened to the day before, one involving a bull that one farmer accused another of killing.
He was tired of pretending that everything was just fine, but answered as respectfully as he could. "Did anybody look for rotwort in the area? The stems look a lot like florfox in the fall when it dies back, and cows will eat both anyway."

"I had no idea you were so knowledgeable about cattle," his father said dryly.

"I'm not, but Dorena was. They lost three cows the first year they lived in the cabin till they found where the poisonous stuff grew, uprooted it, and burned the ground around it two years running. She showed me the place, but I had to take her word for it, with so much snow on top."

"Perhaps someday you can put all this to good use," the Protector said as he rose from his chair.

Tam automatically did so as well. "I thought I already was," he said.
Does Father really believe I still think I'm going to be Protector after him?

"I believed that when I was your age, too," Lord Sidian said
with a faint smile. "It's nearly dinner time. We'll eat in my chambers this evening. I've let my other duties take precedence over you, and that isn't right."

He
forced himself to smile, but he was frightened inside. How could he get out of this without revealing how much he knew?
Maybe he really means well, I wish I could trust him. Oh, Lord and Lady, please let him tell me the truth!

They went to the rooms set aside for his father near the baths, Tam's escort walking right along beside them. The Protector dismissed the guards as soon as they entered the door.

The sitting-chamber was large and luxurious. Heavy velvet curtains embroidered with pictures of spring blocked winter from the room, while a fire burned merrily on the hearth. Several plush chairs sat on a floor covered with a rich, thick carpet. Tam began sweating from the heat, though his father moved closer to the fire and warmed his hands at it.

The Protector sat down, and motioned Tameron to one of the other chairs. A cup, covered with a small cloth, waited on the small side-table next to his father's chair.
I hope it hasn't been sitting there long.
He remembered the poison he'd drunk in Kelemath.

His father leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Have you thought about Lady Kiliane since last night?" he asked.

"Yes." He'd thought about little else. Oh, why did she have to be so desirable?

"I'm sorry she was so unkind to you. She keeps hoping to be allowed to have a child with Mauric, and she took her disappointment out on you. I spoke with her later, and she sincerely regrets what she said. In fact, she's changed her mind and is willing to cooperate now."

"I am surprised to hear that, sir," Tam said.
What did they do, press a knife to her throat?
The sound of her weeping filled his memory.

"Tameron, I simply do not understand your reluctance. I know you're attracted to her. I know how impatient I was for my first Festival. The Guardian says you were a bit hasty with the young woman who lived in the cabin, but such things are
understandable at your age. Speak to Kiliane yourself and she'll tell you that she no longer has any objections."

Would it be her talking, or the Red Cup?
He inwardly cringed at the thought of anyone being privy to how he'd reacted to Marysa's touch. "Then you must have found a way to change me into Mauric. I thought I was immune to any spells."

The Protector laughed sourly. "A pity I can't, though I suspect you'd object to that as well. Tam, you must not let childish scruples get in the way of necessity."