Dragon Venom (Obsidian Chronicles Book 3) (15 page)

And Black had said, "They're things that couldn't conquer the dragons."

But now, thanks to Arlian and his compatriots, more than half those dragons were gone, and the survivors, when they were awake, were busily destroying human settlements. Whatever the dragons had been doing to keep out those other things, the wild magic and the creatures from beyond the border, they were apparently doing no longer.

This made any discussion of avoided ambushes trivial and irrelevant; this could mean the entire nature of the conflict between humanity and the dragons must change.

"There is a theory that has been put forth, my lord," the Duke said, interrupting Arlian's thoughts. "I said I had spoken to some of the sorcerers and Aritheians, and I have; I did not say they had no answers. They do have theories, and one of them seems to be quite popular."

Arlian's heart sank. "Oh? And what would that be, Your Grace?"

"That your slaughter of dragons has weakened the magical defenses of the Lands of Man."

And there it was, then, out in the open. Arlian realized for the first time that the Duke had said he was impressed by Arlian's success in killing dragons, but he had not said he was pleased; he had called it remarkable, but never said it was good. And Lord Spider, who would ordinarily have congratulated Arlian on his successes, had said nothing at all.

Arlian upbraided himself for not noticing and correctly interpreting this sooner.

"In fact, we have a message from Sarkan-Mendoth, from the surviving members of the Dragon Society," the Duke said, gesturing.

Arlian hardly needed to bother looking; he knew the Duke was indicating the woman in the blue mask as the messenger. "Their letter tells us the same—that the dragons, destructive though they may be, embody the magical essence of all the lands we call ours, and that their mere existence is enough to keep the wizards and monsters beyond the border."

That made a distressing amount of sense, but Arlian was momentarily distracted from the information by its source. The dragonhearts had sent a representative openly—then were Tiria and Zaner also in the Citadel legitimately? If so, why did Zaner bother with the mask?

No, those two probably were spies, operating clandestinely while this blue-masked woman served to distract the Duke. She was not a dragonheart, Arlian was sure; the Society would not risk openly sending someone whose mere presence in Manfort carried a possible death sentence. Whoever this woman was, she had not tasted the foul mixture of blood and venom.

At least, not yet; perhaps running this errand would earn her that false reward.

"Today we know of catastrophes in the Borderlands," the Duke said. "Pon Ashti and Skok's Falls and who knows where else fallen to wizards, the thing in Tirikindaro expanding, sending its slave-soldiers everywhere . . . it's a disaster, Obsidian. Bad enough that we have been losing hundreds of innocent lives to the dragons every summer—at least we could see an end in sight, and we had your obsidian weapons to defend us. But these things? If they cross the Desolation, will obsidian defend against them?w

"Cold iron will fend off some of them," Arlian said, without thinking. "Silver is proof against others, and there are certain stones . . . "

" I don't care!"
the Duke bellowed, rising from his chair. "Do you think I want to live the way the Aritheians do, beset by nightmares, every road lined with iron posts to keep back the monsters? Hlur has told me what it was like there, and I will not have that in my lands!"

Arlian bowed a silent acknowledgment, but the Duke was not finished.

"And that's just the south," he said. "There is said to be wild magic beyond the western deserts as well, and in the icefields to the north, and beyond the mountains to the northwest—what's to stop all of it from pouring in on us if the dragons are all gone?"

"I do not know, Your Grace," Arlian said quietly.

"Much as I hate to say this, Obsidian, we need the dragons. Better those monsters than the things beyond the borders! Unless you can offer an alternative, and prove that it will work, you are not to slay any more dragons! Is that clear?"

"Utterly, Your Grace." Arlian turned to the blue-masked woman.

"And will the Dragon Society undertake to arrange a truce in exchange, and ensure that no more innocents are slaughtered this summer?"

"I am only a messenger, my lord," the woman said. "I am sure they will do what they can, but they are the dragons' servants, not their masters."

"Do they admit that?" Arlian asked, startled.

"Perhaps 'partners' would be a better term than 'servants'? I do not think they are slaves, but all who live under their administration recognize that the dragons are more powerful than any humans, and that for the most part the dragonhearts obey the dragons, and not the reverse."

Arlian decided to withhold further comment; he had his own opinions as to power and humanity, but saw no point in arguing the matter here and now. He turned back to the Duke.

"Your Grace, you have my word that I will not hunt down any more of our draconic enemies without your permission until we have some solution to the situation beyond the Desolation. I trust I may be permitted to defend against any that emerge from their lairs, however? That I may continue to fortify the cities and towns of your realm against them?"

The Duke glanced at the messenger, then at Lord Spider, and

finally Spider spoke. "I think that should be acceptable," he said. "The dragons must restrain themselves if we are to put an end to these invasions in the south."

"Then that will do," the Duke said. His expression softened. "Lord Obsidian, I know you hate the dragons for what they did to your family and your home; I know you hoped to exterminate them entirely. This must be hard for you to accept—but there are worse things than dragons. We have all lived with the dragons all our lives; we can live with them longer. You had no way of knowing what would happen."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Arlian said. He was unsure what he was thanking the Duke for, but could think of no better reply.

"You have fought hard for many years; go home and rest, and let the rest of us arrange matters." He waved in dismissal.

Arlian bowed; the audience was clearly at an end. Anything else he might want to discuss with the Duke—and with the altered circumstances, Arlian was no longer sure what that might be—would have to wait. He retreated quickly, and left the room.

He hesitated in the corridor, debating whether to go about any other business while he was in the Citadel, but decided he was in no mood to deal with the mundane concerns of the city's warlord.

Besides, he told himself, he had arranged to meet with Tiria and Zaner. He had thought that was to be a duel of wits, but now it appeared more likely to be merely settling the terms of his surrender.

He already regretted making his promise to the Duke; he still wanted to hunt down and kill the three dragons that had destroyed his home on the Smoking Mountain when he was a boy. Sparing the others in exchange for their services in magically defending the borders and an agreement not to raid undefended villages was hard, but perhaps something he could learn to live with; sparing the monster that had killed his parents, his grandfather, and his brother . . .

Well, he told himself, he would just have to bear it—or find some other means of defending the Lands of Man from the wizards and monsters.

Perhaps there was some means; perhaps he would find it. After all, Enziet had found the secret of the dragons' vulnerability to obsidian.

And as a dragonheart, he had plenty of time.

A Visit from Lord Zaner

13

A Visit from Lord Zaner

Arlian was not surprised when a footman brought word that his din-Arlian was not surprised when a footman brought word that his dinner guest had arrived at the Grey House; he was startled to discover that the arrival was Lord Zaner, still masked and calling himself Tooth, and not Lady Tiria.

They met in the passage by the foyer. "My dear Tooth!" Arlian said, taking his hand. "A pleasure to see you!"

"Is there somewhere we could speak privately, my lord?" Zaner asked nervously.

"Of course." He gestured to Wolt, the footman who had escorted Zaner from the gate. "Where might we speak undisturbed without inconveniencing anyone?"

The footman glanced down the passage toward the kitchens, where the household staff was bustling about preparing the evening meal, then toward the gallery, where Amberdine could be heard laughing gaily over some new game her sister had devised. "Perhaps upstairs, my lord? Your study?"

Arlian had left Isein and Black in his study, where they were going over some of Enziet's old papers on sorcery in hopes of finding some hint about just how the dragons kept other magic beyond the borders.

With Isein there, Qulu still not returned from Arithei, and Lilsinir up at the Citadel comparing notes with Tiviesh and Asaf, the third floor was uninhabited for the moment—and a sudden whim struck Arlian.

"This way, my lord," he said, momentarily forgetting that he was not supposed to know Lord Zaner's identity or status. He led the way up two flights, his white-masked guest close behind; at the top he took a lit candle from one of the wall niches, and then marched down the length of the corridor to a heavy wooden door set with black iron brackets.

The bar that had once rested in those brackets was gone, but Arlian had deliberately kept the room otherwise much as he had found it upon first inheriting the Grey House. He opened the door and gestured for Zaner to precede him.

Zaner started in, then stopped. "What is this, Arlian?" he asked.

"This is a room where we may speak undisturbed," Arlian replied.

"It looks like a prison!"

"And so it was, when Lord Enziet owned this house. Now it is a memorial." He stepped into the room himself, his free hand taking Zaner's arm and urging him forward.

Once inside, Arlian closed the door and set the candle atop a crude, massive table that stood nearby. The candlelight vividly illuminated several dark stains on the table's rough surface.

The room they had entered was good-sized and appallingly bare; the only furnishings besides the table were two large chests pushed up against one wall. A long-unused fireplace filled one end of the chamber, and the opposite wall had two sets of heavy chains bolted to it. The walls were stone, and the floor bare and ancient planks, stained in several places.

"Why is this here?" Zaner asked. "What did Enziet want with it?"

"You might say he used it as a playroom," Arlian said, leaning against the table. "When I first saw it he had two women imprisoned here—one still alive, though he had already poisoned her, and one very, very dead. Both of them were my friends, one of them perhaps more than a friend; they are now buried in the garden of the Old Palace."

Zaner shuddered, the movement plainly visible despite the mask, even in the dim light. "That's horrible."

"Worse than you know—but I will spare you the details. This was one reason I pursued Enziet with such determination, into the Desolation and to the cave where he died."

"Why did you bring me up here? Surely there must have been another room we could have used!"

"Oh, most likely, but I thought it fitting to show you this, to remind you that I have very real and personal reasons for loathing the dragons and their pawns."

"There I think I can equal you, Arlian. Just as you haven't told me everything, there are things I haven't told

"I hope you don't simply mean your identity, my lord; I recognized you at the Citadel this morning. Please, my dear Zaner, feel free to remove your mask; I can't believe it's comfortable."

"I thought you might have," he said, as he pulled the mask up and off. "But no, that's not what I meant."

"Then what is it that you've come to tell me? I confess to some surprise that you came; I had thought you would want to keep your face hidden, which is hardly possible at the dinner table. What is so urgent that you gave up your secret for it, and wanted to assure our privacy before revealing it to me?"

"I want you to cure me," Zaner said. "That's what's urgent, and why I don't care if you see my face—I'm taking you and the Duke up on your offer. And I came early and alone so Lady Tiria wouldn't find out."

This was not at all what Arlian had expected; he had assumed that it would be he who yielded, thanks to the situation in the Borderlands.

"You mean you want your heart to be cleansed of its taint? You want the Aritheian magicians to restore you to mere humanity, and remove the dragonspawn in your blood?"

"Yes, exactly."

"You know what's involved?"

"Not every little detail, but I think I have the gist of it. What does that matter?"

"I'm told it's excruciatingly painful."

"I don't care."

"You could have arranged this more easily by other means," Arlian said. "You could have surrendered to the guards at the Citadel today."

"But I wanted to talk to you," Zaner said. "I needed to talk to you."

"Now, my lord, I confess myself confused. Suppose we sit down upon these chests—I'm sorry now I did not choose a room with better seating—and you tell me everything you came to tell me. I admit I am very curious about your motives—after fourteen years of war, why do you decide now, when it appears that your compatriots in the Dragon Society have found a way to sway the Duke and compel a truce in your favor, to surrender yourself?"

"I don't think of it as surrendering," Zaner protested. "I'm asking to be purified. That's hardly the same thing."

"As you will, then. Tell me, in your own words, what brings you here today."

"I will." He looked around, but despite Arlian's suggestion he remained standing, while Arlian remained where he was, leaning against the table. He took a deep breath and began.

"You understand, Arlian, that I know the dragons are monsters.

They killed everyone in Oginathi while I watched, more than five hundred years ago—I was a merchant, passing through town on my way home to Lorigol, and I hid in the watering trough in the stable beside the inn. I cut my forehead on the rim one time when I was ducking back down out of sight, and venom from the burning inn had gotten into the water, and here I am, centuries later, still alive—but I remember what I saw there. Men and women and children burned to death, or torn apart..." He shuddered again.