Taming Fire (25 page)

I stopped, but I had come far enough to see the truth of it. I could see into the room, and the bed was empty. I looked to the Kind Father and the question was clear in my eyes.

"This afternoon," he said, rising and coming to meet me. "He awoke shortly after lunch bell. And an hour later they received official word from the king about the war. When I sent notice to the Chancellor that Master Claighan was responsive, they came immediately and took him to a war council."

"Among the Masters?"

The Kind Father nodded. "The king has given them an ultimatum. They have three days to decide where the school will stand."

I chewed my lip, my mind racing, but then a thought struck me. I frowned and met the priest's eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

He nodded to the pack on my back, to the sword on my hip. "Because you look like you're about to do something stupid," he said. "And because all the other students will have heard as much from their fathers. I thought you should be advised. Wait until the Masters make their decision before you make yours."

I held his eyes for a long moment, wondering why Themmichus hadn't told me. And then I knew. I nodded. "It would make no difference," I said. "The Academy is no part of my decision."

I saw the confusion in his eyes, but he didn't press me any further. Instead he spread his hands. "If you will wait in your room, I'll send a message to you when the Master is back. He will be back here."

I hung my head at the certainty in the priest's words. Then I shook my head. "No, thank you, Father." I left his office, took one step back toward the gates, and hesitated. I turned and headed the other way.

North of the Dormitory stood the sprawling Halls of Learning. Beyond that, in a courtyard that made a garden maze of long, low reflecting pools, stood a tower that rose seven floors above the earth. It cast a shadow across all the Academy, and at its top hung the ancient, eldritch bell that chimed the time for all the FirstKing's lands.

This was the Tower of the Masters. In six months at the Academy I had never set foot in it. I went there now. The doors of the tower were heavy oak, stained to black with age, and they swung open without a sound, without a touch, as soon as I approached. The tower had no windows, but firelight sculpted of magic traced in elegant scroll along the stone walls, a hand's breadth beneath the ceiling.

A small sitting room stood just inside the outer door, and beyond it a corridor three paces wide that seemed to run in a great circle around the outer edge of the tower. I followed it around to my right, unsure where to go. After a dozen paces I saw a stone staircase on my right climbing up to the higher levels, but the sound of voices dragged me on.

Another ten paces brought me to a pair of great doors on the inner wall. I heard voices beyond. The door was open only a crack, and beyond it I could see another antechamber, another pair of doors ajar, and beyond those must have been the council hall of the Master of the Academy, because I recognized their voices.

All of them, raised in outrage. My time in the Academy had been enough to teach me Leotus's sneering cackle and Alteres's airy wheeze. I heard Bennethis shouting himself hoarse, and the Chancellor calling for order. But it was the cold, heartless voice of Seriphenes that cut through the noise and settled them all to silence.

"Enough," he said. "Claighan, we have heard enough of your objections! Hold your tongue or we'll be forced to convene a council without you."

The Chancellor mumbled an objection to that, but the Master pressed on. "No, Chancellor. There is a time and place for his foolishness, but there are grave questions at stake here. We cannot be diverted by dragon stories when there is war on our doorstep."

"There is something worse than war," Claighan said. Though it was cracked with strain, I still heard dark foreboding in the old wizard's words. I took a slow step closer, quiet as I could, and prayed no one wandered down these halls to catch me spying.

Claighan stopped to catch a breath, and then he pushed on. "The dragons are waking. A gathering of forces is foolishness. I do not care about the politics. If the king puts ten thousand strong men in one place an elder red will burn them all to ash before the day is done. Consider the cost to our nation."

"So you vote against the king?" Seriphenes asked, and there was surprise in his voice.

"I vote for reasoning with the king," Claighan said. "He must be diverted from this action."

Seriphenes snorted in laughter, and I heard other chuckles within the council room. I pressed right up against the antechamber's outer door, though I didn't dare enter for fear of making some noise.

"That has served you well in your prior efforts," Leotus sneered. "Will
you
go tell the king to overlook a rebellion in his lands?"

"In our lands," Seriphenes said. "Pollix is a day's ride from here. Claighan's bedtime stories aside, we
should
be better served if the king did not bring his chaos to our door."

"But it is already decided," the Chancellor said. "Read the missive. The only question before us is whether we answer his summons or stand in defiance."

"We cannot war with the crown," Alteres wailed.

"Nor should we war with our countrymen," Seriphenes said firmly. "I do not believe the king will send his armies against us, no matter what we choose."

There was silence for a moment, then the Chancellor sighed. "We can claim neutrality in this. The king will not like it, but I suspect you are right, Seriphenes. He is unlikely to attack us directly."

Claighan grunted. "That is not
enough
. We cannot afford to let him draw this army."

"Be still!" Seriphenes shouted, and I flinched in spite of myself. I knew the outburst far too well. "Who could stop this king from calling this army? And what reason could we give him? That a Master he has despised anticipates some dark apocalypse? Have you even seen a dragon?"

"I have seen a dragon," Claighan said, and a stunned silence fell in the room. There was a rustle of movement, and Claighan said, "On our doorstep, as you say."

"I am not interested in the drakes that play in the forested hills around far Cara," Seriphenes said. He tried to make it cutting, but he faltered.

There was grim confidence in Claighan's answer. "I do not ask you to be. I ask you to consider the threat of an adult black no more than a day's ride from here."

"Impossible," Leotus cried, but Seriphenes did not answer.

Alteres spoke up. "I had heard rumors," he said. "From out of Pollix. In the Sorcerer's Stand?"

"Indeed," Claighan said. "I have seen it with my own eyes. It has a summer lair among the cliffs at the heart of the woods. And there are more. I've found signs of them among the hill breaks to the west, and in the highlands to our east. There are new stories of serpent strikes among the sailors of the channel, and I have stood in a shadow dark as night while an elder blue flew above me beneath the Drakespines to the north."

"Impossible," Leotus said again, but his voice quavered now. My own pulse raced, and I felt a weakness in my arms and shoulders. There had always been dragons in the histories and stories. The king's own father had killed a drake with his own hands before rising to the throne. But never so many as Claighan described. Never all at once.

"I lay no stock in the stories of fishermen," Seriphenes said, dismissive. "Nor in the tales highlanders tell. None of our histories describe any manner of dragon habitat there. The Drakespines, perhaps. It is a remote range, far from any significant populations. An ideal place for an elder to take refuge through the long years."

"And the Sorcerer's Stand?" Alteres asked. "You have an answer for that?"

"I have an answer," Seriphenes said, and Daven heard dark victory in his voice.

"No," Claighan said, his voice barely more than whisper.

"We shall settle it ourselves," Seriphenes said. "Three answers in a single action."

"No," Claighan said. "Don't be a fool. This is no hatchling drake—"

"I don't care if it's an elder legend!" Seriphenes said. "We are the Academy of Wizardry. We are the greatest power in this land. I'm tired of you slandering our power over guesswork and lies."

"The histories are clear," Claighan said. "Dragons do not obey our workings. We may not be able to harm them at all. That's why we must—" Seriphenes cut him off.

"I have seen the power in the Chancellor's hand," Seriphenes said. "I have seen my own terrible strength. Even yours, Claighan, is sufficient to make armies tremble. Tell me not of the histories. Did the wizards of yore have an Academy such as this to train them? We have unlocked mysteries and powers man has never known before. We can face a single scaled monster."

"You are a fool," Claighan said. "And soon to be a dead one."

"Claighan!" the Chancellor said, softly chiding, but Seriphenes cut over him.

"Leave him be," he said. "He is broken and sick with delirium. He speaks out of a melancholy. Does anyone else here truly believe we, combined, cannot answer the threat of a dragon?"

No one spoke. Claighan grunted, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to argue anymore. When Seriphenes spoke again, his words dripped with satisfaction. "Then, as I said, three answers in one. We shall settle Claighan's nonsense with incontrovertible evidence. We shall exterminate the threat of a dragon on our doorstep. And we shall demonstrate the power of the Academy to the king, before we stand in defiance of him. We shall hang the black beast's head above our gates, and let the king find soldiers willing to face a force capable of that action."

Silence fell on the room. After a time, Alteres spoke up. "Are you all agreed, then? Would you really stand in defiance of the king?"

"We will," Seriphenes said, before anyone else could answer. "We are the Masters of the Academy. Who is a king to call us like hounds to heel?"

No one answered that. I heard Claighan give a weary sigh, but he'd lost the strength to fight them. I stood there, stunned, leaning against the wall beside the open door.

And then a hand like tanned leather closed around the edge of the door inches from my ear. I startled back a step as the door swung silently open and a figure slipped through it. He was furtive, and I knew in an instant that he, too, had been eavesdropping on the war council, from within the antechamber. Likely he'd been the one who left the door cracked so I could listen in.

And I knew immediately why. He turned to me, and though I knew nothing of him but the shape of his wretched shadow against a wall, I knew him. He stank of sour sweat and cheap beer. His fine clothes were threadbare and grass-stained, and his long cloak showed the tatter of heavy use. His skin, too, was rough and sun-scorched, his features thin, and his deep-set eyes were dark with weariness and worry.

They fixed on me, and I expected him to shout. I expected him to run. I fumbled clumsily for my sword, stumbled one step back, but he flew to me in an instant. The traitor Lareth clapped one strong, stinking hand over my mouth. He slammed the other on my right wrist, trapping my sword in its scabbard, and hissed a word of power.

Empty air rained on me like the blows of a Guardsman's club. They cracked down on my shoulders and crashed against the backs of my knees, driving me down to the ground. And as I went the wizard went with me, stinking hand still clamped over my mouth. When I was flat on my back, he whispered another word and the crushing blows subsided.

He stooped there beside me, resting lightly on his heels. Then he threw one glance back toward the council hall. The Masters still muttered among themselves beyond the cracked door. Even as the thought crossed my mind the rebel wizard pulled a sturdy little work knife from his belt and pressed its tip into the soft skin beneath my chin. He pressed until the point bit against my flesh, then raised both eyebrows and removed his hand.

The Masters still lingered in their council hall. I knew I could cry out and bring them here—and he could slit my throat and disappear in an instant. So I held my tongue, trembling with fear and fury, and he watched my eyes with his head half-turned, as though he were also listening to the murmur in the other room.

After a moment he leaned closer. "Who are you?"

"Just a student at the Academy," I said.

His head twitched, and he frowned at me for a moment. Then I felt the knife tremble lightly against my throat and a cruel smile curved his lips. "Who knows you are here?"

I thought fast, closed my eyes for a heartbeat, and then looked up at him. "The Kind Father sent me," I said. "And I told the Chancellor's apprentice I would be here. And Master Claighan expected me."

"Ah," he said, disappointed, and then a moment later. "Ah. You are Claighan's boy."

I said nothing, but he saw confirmation somewhere in my expression. He grinned. "The things I'll be allowed to do to you...."

"You have done enough," I said. I tasted the bitterness in the words, and Lareth seemed to take great joy in it.

He hissed, "Tell me about it."

I wanted to spit at him. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to cry out, but I didn't dare. He rocked on his heels above me and pulled the knife away to rest his elbows on his knees. He was still close enough to kill me with one motion, but I saw my chance now. Delight at my predicament shone in his eyes. I remembered him beating Claighan for fun. He was doing the same thing now. He wanted to hear my pain, and I could use that. If I could keep him distracted long enough the Masters would find him on their own. And even Seriphenes could not protect this one if he were caught by the other Masters.