The Dragons of Argonath (38 page)

The conversation was desultory until young Howt finally gave voice to something that had been troubling him for days.

"Why are we fighting these poor Aubinas boys?" he said suddenly.

Eyes blinked, everyone looked up from their tasks. Wasn't it obvious?

"What's his problem?" whispered Rakama.

"Who knows, maybe got the wits knocked out of him," replied Swane.

"No, really," protested Howt at this inhospitable response. "Maybe it's because I'm just a hill-bred orphan, but I don't understand what we're fighting about. There's hundreds of them laying out dead back there, killed by us. Why are we killing them? It seems like such a bloody waste."

"Well, young Howt, see it's like nobody really understands why," said Swane, who tended to speak up first for the group. "But it's them Aubinan boys that wants this fight. Look at what they've done. Attacked Fifth Regiment, cut them up really bad, killed a lot of men. Then they attacked Posila and invaded Lucule. It's not as if we wanted any of this."

"Look, the Aubinans think they're better than everyone else. 'Cos they grow so much grain." Little Jak voiced a commonly felt perception.

"Grain is what it's all about," agreed Manuel. "This whole thing was stirred up by the grain magnates. If Aubinas were independent, they could withhold part of their crop to keep grain prices high. Because they're in the empire, they can't do that."

"But if it's just the grain magnates," protested Howt, "then, why are all these other boys fighting for them? We killed plenty of men today, and I don't think too many of them were grain magnates."

"They're payin' them," said Endi. "Stands to reason."

"They can't be payin' all of them; there's too many."

"Well, how rich are these grain magnates, anyway?"

"Rich but not that rich," said Manuel. "They use their money to stir up the people. Any small grievance can be turned into a cause of some kind. Then they spread rumors and twist it so it helps them push their agenda."

"What's that?" said Howt…

"Boy, you really are from the hills, Howt."

"Ho ho, listen to ol' Manuel there. The college boy!" said Swane.

Manuel gave no sign of being embarrassed by Swane's epithet. He was a scholar from the small academy that had been set up to train older boys to be dragoneers. Such as he were still pretty rare in the ranks, however. The vast majority of dragonboys remained orphans that no one would miss.

"Look"—Manuel shrugged off Swane's mocking grin— "an agenda is like a sort of list of things they want to do. And what they want most is to be independent, so they can jack up the price of grain. They produce one third of all the good wheat and barley grown in the Argonath. They've got the best soil in the world."

"Hooray, now we know all about it," grumped Swane, who was plainly a little angry at being shown up by the "college boy."

Howt was unappeased, however. "But I still don't see why the Aubinas boys fight for the magnates. Don't they see that the magnates ain't risking their own lives?"

"They got 'em all whipped up with this trash about how Aubinas has a bad deal and pays too much taxes," said Endi with a snort of contempt. "It's like they're all gonna be rich once they're independent." Endi clearly didn't care for the Aubinans much.

"Yeah," agreed Jak, "except that only the grain magnates are gonna get rich." Little Jak already understood the ways of the world too well.

"And everyone else would pay a lot more for bread."

"And everything else," said Manuel. "You raise the cost of something as basic as bread, and the price of everything will go up with it. That would hurt the poor really hard."

"But the magnates already make plenty. Don't they have great palaces and armies of servants?"

Everyone asserted that they did; it was well-known. To be "as rich as a farming Aubinan" was a popular saying, after all.

"How come the Aubinan boys don't see through all this?"

"That I don't know. Maybe we should ask Relkin," said Swane. "That Quoshite's been real quiet tonight."

"What do you think, Relkin?"

Relkin had been brooding.

"I don't know why they're fighting, and it's not my job to find out. But if they fight us, then they'll die. We all saw it today. Men cannot stand in battle against dragons. It's just a slaughter when they do that."

"The Purple Green seemed to enjoy it."

"He still wants revenge. Not a day goes by when he doesn't lament the loss of his wings."

There were nods at this.

"So do you think that's it?" Endi wondered. "No more fighting? They'll give up and go home."

Relkin shook his head. If only it could be that easy.

"We beat them, but we didn't crush them. I don't think this thing is over. There's going to be a battle soon."

"Real battle?" said Little Jak, who heard that prophetic certainty in Relkin's voice. Little Jak had learned to trust Relkin's visionary moments.

"Yes, I can sense it. Real battle, not too long now."

As if cued for dramatic effect, there was a faint, but unmistakable rumble of thunder. Another storm was blowing in from the Bright Sea.

"By the Hand, more rain?" grumbled Swane.

"Streams are already overflowing their banks."

"Better make sure everything's stored under cover. Cuzo will want to flay anyone with a wet joboquin on their dragon."

They broke up and began to make preparations for a wet night.

Rain splashed in the gutters; it thrummed on roofs and windows. A fierce wind whipped through the streets of the city of Marneri. As a result few people were out. It was an hour or so before dark, and already the light was dim because of the heavy cloud cover.

Down Tower Street the shopkeepers were shutting up early. Shop boys were battening down awnings and fastening the shutters. The lamplighter was making an early start on his chores, and not having an easy time of it either with the wind so fierce.

On Water Street, one purposeful figure was walking uphill, her waxed rain cape and hat shedding water as she dodged the puddles on the sidewalk. The wind kept trying to pluck her hat away, but it was firmly tied on under her chin.

Lagdalen of the Tarcho was hurrying home to be with her daughter Laminna, who would be waiting for her evening lesson. That night it would be a reading from the great
Geographia
, which had descriptions brought back by sea captains from the white fleet. Laminna loved these stories of far corners of the world.

She crossed the street where it bent back on itself as it zigged up the steepest part of the slope. Here the gutters had overflowed, and a brown stream was surging down over the pavement. There would be more flooding down by the Watergate, and along Fish Row the shops would be awash. Lagdalen couldn't recall ever seeing this much rain at this time of the year.

She consoled herself with the thought that at least the day was over at her office. Ten hours solid of frantic work had just about cleared the backlog of paperwork. Letitia and Rose and the other girls would keep things running without her. Lagdalen had great anxieties about this, but there was nothing to do except trust everyone. They would have to keep the cases going. Which meant meeting with their court advocates, preparing evidence, hunting for witnesses. There was always a lot to do in the service of the crown of Marneri, and for a while Lagdalen wouldn't be there. She would be, well, almost anywhere, because she would once more be in the service of the Lady Lessis… a prospect that filled her with mixed feelings, very mixed. She had served Lessis for some years and felt extremely lucky to have survived.

And yet all her anger at being torn away from her work and her little girl was countered at times by an almost inexplicable thrill at the thought of working with the older woman again. It was exciting, she had to admit, to just be in Lessis's company. That ancient mind, so wise, so understanding, so farseeing. It broadened one to be that close to her. Then there was the intoxicating effect of being close to the center of the empire's nexus of power. Lessis was privy to the greatest secrets, and spoke regularly with the emperor himself. Lagdalen had seen enough in her service with the Lady to understand some of the deeper flows in the deadly game they played with the enemy. She could grasp the international picture fairly well too, having been exposed to so much during her service in Ourdh and Eigo.

Lagdalen chided herself for even thinking these things, but that excitement did not go away. Then she realized that really she was the only person in the world who could adequately serve Lessis as an assistant. There was no one else who had seen the other side of the curtain for herself, who had been there where the witches fought Padmasa's cruel tooth and claw with their wits and their magic. The things she'd seen. The things she'd been!

Lagdalen still had nightmares on that score.

But there was no escaping this duty. Laminna would have to get Nanny to read to her in the evenings. Nanny would read lots of nice stories, which Laminna even preferred to the
Geographia
, really. Lagdalen understood the limits of the appeal of information about the world. But how would Lagdalen feel about not being there to read to her daughter? How would her mother's heart take that blow?

There was a bitter taste to this kind of service.

Her motherly anger put an extra kick into her step, and she increased her pace up the hill. Laminna, poor child, had finally grown used to having her mother around this past year. In the girl's earliest years, Lagdalen had often been absent. But since Lagdalen's return from Eigo, she and her daughter had been together every day. Now they'd be separated for who knew how long. It might be a few days; it might be years. It might be forever.

And then there was her husband, Hollein. When he'd heard about Lessis's request, his face had just sagged. He knew the terrors that Lessis fought. He knew the risk. Then his anger came to the surface. As far as he was concerned, she'd given more than her share for the cause. Hollein Kesepton loved Lagdalen with all his heart and soul. He could not abide her being put at risk. The thought of losing her drove him to distraction.

But this was part of her service to the city, and no one else could do it.

Poor Hollein, she gave an inward sigh. But then he too was on his way into danger. Riding the Wheat Road to join the army in Aubinas. There was fresh fighting around Posila, and they needed every man who could ride. Reinforcements had been landing in Marneri all week. Several detachments of Kadeini reserve infantry had arrived and headed west at once. With them had gone more riders, mustered from the wealthy classes of the city, who had responded strongly to the call.

The bankers and merchants of the city had also raised one hundred thousand pieces of gold for supplies. It was their recognition of the severity of the need. Lagdalen had not been surprised at this news. She had expected it from the Marneri merchants, who weren't at all like the Aubinan magnates. In Marneri there was little ostentatious display by the wealthy. Plain cloth and pewter was preferred to silk and gold for the most part. Marneri's wealthiest men were also the city's most charitable, although this too was done quietly. The white city on the sound shone for the brilliance of its soldiers and sailors, and for its extraordinary efforts in every area of the Imperial enterprise. Which was why it was the recognized heart of the Argonath, even though it was scarcely a third the size of great Kadein.

Lagdalen was at the switchback on Water Street, where it zigzagged up the steepest part of the hill, when two other figures appeared, coming up the street behind her. They spotted her and increased their pace. Lagdalen, too absorbed in her own thoughts, while at the same time dodging the puddles, never saw them. She skipped over the deepest part of the stream and started up the next section. Here the sidewalk ran beside a four-foot-high retaining wall. As she stepped up the walk, four men emerged abruptly from the shadows, where they had been crouching, watching her approach.

Lagdalen saw them for barely a moment before one had an arm around her throat. She let out a yell and bit his arm. He struck her head, but she bit harder and kicked backward into his knee. Another man had her arms. She tried to kick him, but a third was wrapped around her legs, and they were tying her ankles together. The one she was biting hit her much harder, and she lost her grip. She felt her arms pulled behind her back by overwhelming strength. Rope was looped around her wrists. It was done in a moment, and she was trussed. A gag was forced into her mouth, and a sack was slipped over her. Then she was picked up and carried away.

The two figures who were coming up from the lower part of the street heard Lagdalen's scream. They started running, calling out. As they came they soon separated, since Eilsa Ranardaughter was twenty years younger than her chaperon Aunt Kiri.

Eilsa sprang up the road, turned at the zigzag, and saw four men briefly at the top of the zag. Then they disappeared between houses. Eilsa looked back. Aunt Kiri was far behind, calling her name. Eilsa ran on, keeping quiet now, regretting her earlier shouts. The men would know that someone was coming. She carried a long knife, and she knew how to use such a weapon. She was the daughter of Clan Chief Ranard of Wattel, after all! But she was alone.

At the top of the zag, the street bent back toward the east and climbed to the edge of the plateau on which sat the Tower of Guard, the Dragon House, and the parade ground.

The men had gone down a side street. She ducked along, listening carefully. There, was that a click of steel? She peered down Feather Lane, but saw nothing. On she went to the next, Meal Lane. She looked east down the narrow little street, and saw three men standing outside an open door no more than ten feet away. By ill chance one of them looked up just then, and saw her.

"Get her!" said someone in a harsh voice.

Eilsa turned up the street and ran, calling for the watch as loudly as she could manage. Unfortunately there were few inhabitants on that stretch of the street, which was filled with warehouses and workshops. Before she'd gone sixty feet, they were on her. A hand caught her cloak. She whirled to face them, her knife ready.