The Dragons of Argonath (22 page)

The 109th Marneri Dragons were unconcerned with these finer details of the situation. They returned to Cross Treys and rested up while dragonboys worked on wounds and scrapes and all their equipment.

It was an uncomfortable first parade under the angry eyes of Dragon Leader Cuzo, but he had received several messages from both Commander Geilen and the witch Lessis to the effect that the 109th had responded to "special orders" and had performed wonderfully in a crisis situation.

The fact that they had completely broken legion rules— had in effect mutinied by breaking out of the camp and going absent without leave, especially bearing arms—was to be set aside.

"Just what were these special orders, Dragoneer Relkin?"

"Not allowed to say, sir. Told to tell you that you must ask that question of Captain Kesepton."

Cuzo found this all very hard, since he was a stickler for the rules. He strutted around them, looking hard for the slightest piece of equipment that was out of place, out of shape, or lacking a suitable shine. Little Jak got hauled over the coals for some splashes of mud still visible on Alsebra's joboquin. Curf got similar treatment for the state of his boots.

When he came to Bazil and Relkin, Cuzo looked particularly hard for some infringement. The leatherback dragon had lots of fresh stitching and bandaging, at which Cuzo picked to be sure of freshness and at the same time to convey his disapproval of such damage to a valued asset of the squadron. Relkin, however, had learned long before that fanatical attention to the kit was essential to survive the ire of dragon leaders. There was nothing amiss, and so Cuzo passed on, reluctantly, and chewed out Rakama for the state of the metal filigree on Gryf's rather too fancy scabbard.

Finally Cuzo ceased prowling through the formation and addressed them from the front.

"You have all been recommended for a combat star and a battle medal for your part in this fracas. I congratulate you! The Battle of Quosh they are calling it. An Imperial medal so they say! So it will be extra special."

Dragons clacked their jaws quietly. Dragonboys swelled with pride, especially the new boys, for this was proof that they had been blooded while serving with the famous 109th.

"When I joined this unit, they warned me that the 109th had a tendency to throw itself into battles. Now I find that they were right, and I'm proud of you, damned proud."

Despite his words, Cuzo was clearly still furious, in part from missing the fight and in part from anger at their insubordination.

"However, our orders remain what they were before this sudden adventure. We will be marching to Marneri shortly, and after a little time there, we'll be shipping out to Kadein. After that we can expect to march to Axoxo for the winter."

The dragonboys shivered collectively at that thought. Even the dragons nodded a little apprehensively. The winds out there in the cold western mountains would be harsh.

After that parade, however, the dragons were informed that courtesy of the Lady Lessis, they were to receive an enormous meat pie, and with it a double hogshead of fine ale. The dragons perked up considerably and happily moved on to the Dragon House for dinner.

There they were dealt out enormous portions of pie and side orders of noodles slathered in akh, their universal condiment made of peppers, garlic, and onions. The hogsheads were broached, and the ale foamed into their cans. Dragons were never happier.

Relkin took himself back to the stall and went to work assembling all the equipment. He worked on a list of things he would need to obtain while they were in Marneri.

He'd just begun when Curf stuck his head in at the curtain.

"Relkin, got a moment?"

Curf had been trying to have a conversation with him alone since the battle. Relkin had been trying to avoid it.

"Sure."

Curf nodded to the scroll he was writing on.

"Making your winter list?"

"You got it. You already have yours?"

"Cuzo's orders. Even down to wool leggings—three pair, wool socks. You think it's really gonna be that cold out there?"

Relkin looked up. "You trying to be funny, Curf?"

"No."

"It's gonna be colder than you've ever imagined. We served a winter at Fort Kenor, right out by the edge of the Gan. That was cold. I wore two freecoats, one over the other some days, and still, half froze to death every watch. Fort Kenor's cold, but we're going to be way up in those White Bones Mountains. You know why they call them that?"

"Something to do with the bones of lost travelers?" Curf was ever the romantic.

"That's in one legend all right, but the real reason is they're always covered in snow. It's always cold there, and in the winter it's like being in the arctic."

"Brr, sounds like I'd better be sure to get an extra of everything when we're in Marneri."

"Yeah, do that."

Relkin wrote down "extra wool leggings, extra wool socks, buy pair of good gloves."

"Uh, Relkin, I wanted to ask you something, about that dream and all."

Relkin grunted. He'd known it was coming, still he did not welcome it.

"Yeah?"

"It was so vivid, Relkin, like I could see you in my dream just like I'm seeing you now. You just floated there, and you talked, and it sounded like you were very small and far away. But I understood you clearly."

"Yeah." Relkin was noncommittal.

"Absolutely, Relkin, I heard you, but you was in Quosh, and I was here in camp."

"Yeah."

"So?"

Relkin said nothing for a second or two.

"So what?"

"So how did you do it? By the Hand, Relkin, that was mighty magic. How did you make that dream?"

Relkin sighed. For a second he had a glimpse into that weariness that he sometimes detected in the Lady.

"Curf, listen to me. There's some things in life that you don't want any more of than absolutely necessary. This is like that."

"Is this something you learned in that elf city?"

"I don't know if 'learned' is the right way to describe it. Let's say it almost killed me. It's too strong for me, Curf. It's too strong for anyone who hasn't had the training. You've got to learn so much before you can handle that stuff with safety, and I don't know anything."

All I know is war, he thought with a trace of bitterness.

"Yeah, but, well, surely you must have learned something, else how could you do it? You know all the dragons saw you too. Even the Purple Green!"

Relkin heard the heightened interest in Curf's voice with concern. This thing could get out of hand, start turning into a legend. Then he knew he'd be besieged forever. Whoever had an illness that couldn't be cured, or wished to transmute hay into gold, they would come to Relkin of Quosh. He didn't think he could face that prospect.

"I heard. Look"—suddenly he glared fiercely at Curf— "I didn't know what the hell I was doing. It was just that everything was completely desperate; we had to try and get help fast. Otherwise we were all going to die. So I tried to do it, but I had no control of it. I don't know even how to describe what I did."

Curf looked down sadly, disappointed more than anything. Curf might easily become one of the legion of amateur potion and enchantment fanatics.

"Oh, I see."

"Well, I wish I did. But believe me, Curf, you're better off not knowing."

The flap lifted again, and Swane came in.

"Hey there, Quoshite! Heard the word?"

"What's that?"

"We march to Marneri in two days' time. They've accelerated the schedule."

"Hope we can be ready in time."

"There's more." Swane wore a happy smile. There was nothing he loved more than being the one bearing the hottest, latest words of rumor.

"Well, don't keep us waiting forever."

"There's a parade at the Tower of Guard, and they'll give us our medals there. They're making this into a big, la-dee-da thing, it seems."

"Ah."

"Great! All the girls will see us!"

Curf's sudden excitement brought a grim smile to Relkin's lips. Watching Curf was like watching a version of yourself from a few years earlier. And then something that Lagdalen had said once came back to him. They'd been talking about the Lady, and why Lagdalen was glad to be leaving the witch service and going back to civilian life.

"For the Lady, it has all happened before, so many times. She's seen everything, heard everything, seen millions of people born, grow old, and die, and millions more replace them. She wants to die, Relkin, but she cannot. She is protected by some great magic from the beginning of the world. They say she is five hundred years old, but I tell you that I think she is much older than that. She has been cursed by the great magic that they practice. I want nothing to do with that. I want to live a normal life and see my children and grow old and die eventually and return to the Mother's Hand. That is where peace lies, not in the magic arts. In those doctrines you only find hard bargains. For what they give, they ask a heavy price."

Those words had stayed with Relkin since the morning he'd seen Lagdalen in Marneri, shortly after they landed, back from Eigo alive if rather tardy. They had confirmed what he had already decided, the life of a sorcerer was not for him. He wanted to farm and live with Eilsa and Bazil and raise a family. He wanted all the things in life that he had never known. He didn't want to know about having blue fire shooting through his body or sorcerous worlds inhabited by seductress demons that could ravage your heart and disappear in the blink of an eye if so willed by their creators.

Swane was grinning wildly.

"Quoshite's thinking those deep thoughts again."

Relkin came back to reality.

"Well, at least I can, more than can be said for some of us."

"You must be talking about Rakama."

"Oh, no," groaned Curf.

"What is it this time?" said Relkin, strangely pleased at the chance of hearing about the latest tussle between the two bull-headed big guys in the unit.

It was a small room, thickly carpeted and hung heavily with fabrics to muffle all sound. There was a small blackboard on one wall, and the single window was hidden behind thick curtains, blocking out all daylight.

The only illumination came from a pair of lamps set on the witches' desks. Relkin was being interrogated by two witches, Bell and Selera, a bright-eyed pair who missed nothing. They had none of Lessis's faded look, in fact, they had all the energy in the world. They asked questions, endlessly, and scribbled notes in heavy ledgers set before them. At the end of each session they closed and locked the ledgers. Relkin was then blindfolded, led from the room and released in an antechamber close to the central staircase of the Tower of Guard. All he knew, therefore, was that this was the fifth floor of the tower, a place of mystery and secretive bureaucrats.

Relkin sat on a hard chair. He'd been sitting there for days now, from the ninth hour of the morning to the third hour of the afternoon, and sometimes there had been a second session, from the fifth hour to the seventh hour of the evening. He was tired of the room, tired of the hard chair, and tired especially of answering questions. The witches were tricky and quite merciless, boring in on sensitive areas that he preferred not to discuss.

His time in the wild southland of Eigo had brought him into some complicated emotional and romantic territories. There were things that had happened that he simply could not verbalize, could barely comprehend, in fact.

The witches did not seem to care much for his feelings in the matter. Indeed they sometimes took a lofty tone to him that implied that the doings of dragonboys were unimportant in the great scheme of things.

In that case, he wondered, then why the hell did they need to take up his time with all these questions after so much else had happened?

He did his best to answer truthfully, but it was difficult at times. Especially when they wanted to hear his views on things like the magic systems of the elf lords. How could he, a mere dragonboy, know anything about that?

"The elf lords are dead," he said for the umpteenth time. "Those who didn't die when their worlds died were burned by the slaves in the rebellion. I don't know how they made their magic worlds."

"But you visited the worlds, Relkin," said Selera. "You are the only one who we can question about the experience. You must understand that this is now a state secret of the Empire of the Rose. We have to know everything."

Everything took a little time to tell, and Relkin had long since grown impatient with the process. Today they were pressing him on his relationship with Lumbee, the Ardu girl that he had traveled into the deep interior with. The witch Bell, with her handsome open features and soft brown hair, was the tricky one. Selera, who was paler than parchment with deep-set dark eyes and bright red lips, was more direct. Selera usually carried the conversation, but Bell was the one who would dive in on something sensitive and start probing.

"Relkin," said Bell in her soft, deadly voice, "you spent several weeks on the boat alone with the Ardu girl."

"Bazil was there."

"Yes, Bazil was there, but there was no other human presence."

Just the two of them and a thousand miles of strange, alien forest.

"Yes."

"The two of you must have thought about the sexual aspects of the situation. Didn't you ever feel like reaching out to her and giving her a squeeze, or perhaps a kiss on the lips?"

Once he might have blushed at being asked a question like that by a handsome woman. No longer. Still, he wished they wouldn't ask. "Well?"

They were staring at him with those bright eyes that didn't miss a trick. He knew there was no way he could successfully lie to them, these trained witches from Lessis's own outfit.

"Why should that matter?"

Bell ignored his question and just bored right in.

"Well, did you?"

"Ah, well, yes, now that you mention it."

"And so you acted on these impulses, didn't you?"

They just wouldn't leave it alone. They wanted to know what he'd done when he and Lumbee had been alone so long. It wasn't their business, but they said it was.