Assassin's Quest (94 page)

Do you truly believe that could happen and you not know of it? Besides. She seemed more than capable of caring for herself and the child. And Burrich for that matter. Stop thinking of them. And stop indulging in self-pity. I have a task for you.

I returned to the dragon and picked up my broom. I had been sweeping for some minutes before Verity seemed to notice me. “Ah, Fitz, there you are.” He stood, stretched, arching his back to take the ache out of it. “Come with me.”

I followed him down to the campfire where he busied himself for a moment by putting water to heat. He picked up a piece of the dry-cooked meat, looked at it, and said sadly, “What I would not give for one piece of Sara’s fresh bread. Oh, well.” He turned to me. “Sit down, Fitz, I want to talk to you. I’ve been giving much thought to all you told me, and I’ve an errand for you.”

I sat down slowly on a stone by the fire, shaking my head to myself. One moment he made no sense at all to me; the next he sounded just like the man who had been my mentor for so long. He gave me no time to mull my thoughts.

“Fitz, you visited the place of the dragons, on your way here. You told me that you and the wolf sensed life in them. Wit-life, you called it. And that one, Realder’s dragon, seemed almost to awaken when you called him by name.”

“I get the same sense of life from the girl on the dragon, in the quarry,” I agreed with him.

Verity shook his head sadly. “Poor thing, nothing can be done for her, I fear. She persisted in trying to keep her human shape, and thus she held back from filling her dragon. There she is and likely to remain for all time. I have taken to heart her warning; at least her error has done that much good. When I fill the dragon, I shall hold nothing back. It would be a poor ending, would it not, to have come so far and sacrificed so much, to end only with a mired dragon? That mistake, at least, I shall not make.” He bit off a chunk of the dry meat and chewed it thoughtfully.

I kept silent. He had lost me again. Sometimes all I could do was wait until his own thoughts brought him back to some topic where he made sense. I noticed he had a new smudge of silver at the top of his brow, as if he had unthinkingly wiped sweat away. He swallowed. “Are there any tea herbs left?” he asked, and then added, “I want you to return to the dragons. I want you to see if you can use your Wit with your Skill to awaken them. When I was there, try as I might, I could detect no life in any of them. I feared they had slumbered too long, and starved themselves to death, feeding only on their own dreams until nothing was left.”

Starling had left a handful of wilted nettles and mint. I gingerly coaxed them into a pot, then spilled the heated water over them. While they steeped, I sorted my thoughts.

“You want me to use the Wit and Skill to awake the dragon statues. How?”

Verity shrugged. “I don’t know. Despite all Kestrel has told me, there are still great gaps in my knowledge of the Skill. When Galen stole Solicity’s books, and ceased all training for Chivalry and me, it was a master stroke against us. I still keep coming back to that. Did he even then plot to secure the throne for his half-brother, or was he merely greedy for power? We will never know.”

I spoke then of a thing I had never before voiced. “There is something I do not understand. Kettle says that your killing Carrod with the Skill left you injured yourself. Yet you drained Galen, and seemed to suffer nothing from it. Nor did Serene and Justin seem to take ill from draining the King.”

“Draining off another’s Skill is not the same as killing one with a blast of Skill.” He gave a brief snort of bitter laughter. “Having done both, I well know the difference. In the end, Galen chose to die rather than surrender all his power to me. I suspect that my father made the same choice. I also suspect that he did so to keep from them the knowledge of where I was. What secrets Galen died protecting, we now have an inkling.” He looked at the meat in his hand, set it aside. “But what concerns us now is waking the Elderlings. You look about us and see a lovely day, Fitz. I see fair seas and a clean wind to bring Red Ships to our shores. While I chip and scrape and labor, Six Duchies folk die or are Forged. Not to mention that Regal’s troops harry and burn the Mountain villages along the border. My own queen’s father rides to battle to protect his folk from my brother’s armies. How that rankles within me! Could you rouse the dragons to their defense, they could take flight now.”

“I am reluctant to undertake a task when I do not know just what it demands,” I began, but Verity stopped me with a grin.

“It seems to me that just yesterday that was what you were begging to do, FitzChivalry.”

He had me. “Nighteyes and I will set out tomorrow morning,” I offered.

He frowned at me. “I see no reason to delay. It is no long journey for you, but merely a step through the pillar. But the wolf cannot pass through the stone. He will have to stay here. And I would that you went now.”

He told me so calmly to go without my wolf. I would sooner have gone stark naked. “Now? As in
immediately
?”

“Why not? You can be there in a matter of minutes. See what you can do. If you are successful, I shall know it. If not, come back to us tonight, through the pillar. We will have lost nothing by trying.”

“Do you think the coterie is no longer a danger?”

“They are no greater a danger to you there than here. Now go.”

“Should I wait for the others to return and let them know where I have gone?”

“I will tell them myself, FitzChivalry. Will you do this thing for me?”

There could be only one answer to such a question. “I will. I go now.” I hesitated a final time. “I am not sure how to use the pillar.”

“It is no more complicated than a door, Fitz. Place your hand on it, and it draws on the Skill within you. Here, this symbol.” He sketched with a finger in the dust. “That is the one for the place of the dragons. Simply put your hand on it and walk through. This,” another sketch in the dust, “is the sign for the quarry. It will bring you back here.” He lifted his dark eyes to regard me steadily. Was there a test in those eyes?

“I shall be back this evening,” I promised him.

“Good. Luck ride with you,” he told me.

And that was it. I rose and left the fire behind me, walking toward the pillar. I passed Girl-on-a-Dragon and tried not to be distracted by her. Somewhere off in the woods, the others were gathering firewood while Nighteyes ranged all around them.

Are you really going without me?

I shall not be gone long, my brother.

Shall I come back and wait for you by the pillar?

No, watch over the Queen for me, if you would.

With pleasure. She shot a bird for me today.

I sensed his admiration and sincerity. What finer thing than a bitch who kills efficiently?

A bitch who shares well.

See that you save some for me, as well.

You can have the fish,
he assured me magnanimously.

I looked up at the black pillar that now loomed before me. There was the symbol. As simple as a door, Verity had said. Touch the symbol and pass through. Perhaps. But my stomach was full of butterflies and it was all I could do to lift my hand and press it to the shining black stone. My palm met the symbol and I felt a cold tug of Skill. I stepped through.

I went from bright sunlight to cool dappling shade. I stepped away from the tall black pillar and onto deeply grassed earth. The air was heavy with moisture and plant smells. Branches that had been beaded with leaf buds the last time I had been here were now lush with foliage. A chorus of insects and frogs greeted me. The forest around me swarmed with life. After the empty silence of the quarry, it was almost overwhelming. I stood for a time, just adjusting to it.

Cautiously I lowered my Skill walls and reached warily out. Save for the pillar behind me, I had no sense of Skill in use. I relaxed a bit. Perhaps Verity’s blasting of Carrod had done more than he realized. Perhaps they feared to challenge him directly now. I warmed myself with that thought as I set off through the luxuriant growth.

I was soon soaked to the knee. It was not that there was water underfoot, but that the riotous growth of grasses and reeds that I waded through were laden with moisture. Overhead twining vines and hanging leaves dripped. I did not mind. It seemed refreshing after the bare stone and dust of the quarry. What had been a rudimentary pathway the last time we were here was now a narrow corridor through leaning, sprawling plant life. I came to a shallow gurgling stream, and took a handful of peppery cress from it to nibble as I walked. I promised I would take some back to camp with me come nightfall, and then recalled myself to my mission. Dragons. Where were the dragons?

They had not moved, though greenery grew taller around them than it had been. I spotted a lightning-blasted stump I remembered, and from there found Realder’s dragon. I had already decided he might be the most promising one to start with, for I had definitely felt a strong Wit-life in him. As if it could make some difference, I took a few minutes to clear him of vines and wet, clinging grasses. As I did so, one thing struck me. The way the sleeping creature was sprawled upon the earth followed the contour of the ground beneath him. It did not look like a statue carved and then set in place here. It looked like a living creature that had flung itself down to rest and never moved again.

I tried to force belief on myself. These were the very Elderlings that rose to King Wisdom’s call. They flew like great birds to the coast and there they defeated the raiders and drove them from our shores. From the skies they fell on the ships, driving the crews mad with terror or oversetting the ships with the great wind from their wings. And they would again, could we but wake them.

“I shall try,” I said aloud, and then repeated, “I shall wake them,” and sought to have no doubt in my voice. I walked slowly about Realder’s dragon, trying to decide how to begin. From the wedge-shaped reptilian head to the barbed tail, this was one stone dragon that was all of the stuff of legend. I reached an admiring hand to run it over the gleaming scales. I could sense the Wit curling lazily through it like smoke. I willed myself to believe in the life in it. Could any artist have contrived so perfect a rendering? There were knobs of bone at the apex of its wings, similar to those on a gander. I did not doubt that it could clout a man down with it. The barbs of its tail were still sharp and nasty. I could imagine it lashing through rigging or rowers, shearing, slicing, snagging. “Realder,” I cried aloud to it. “Realder!”

I felt no response. Not a stirring of Skill, not even much difference in its Wit. Well, I told myself I had not expected it to be that easy. In the next few hours, I tried every way I could imagine to wake that beast. I pressed my face to its scaly cheek, and quested into that stone as deeply as I could probe. I got less response from it than an earthworm would have given me. I stretched my body out beside that cold stone lizard, and willed myself to oneness with it. I sought to bond with that lazy stirring of Wit within it. I radiated affection toward it. I commanded it strenuously. Eda help me, I even sought to threaten it with dire consequences if it did not arise to obey my command. It all availed me nothing. I began to clutch at straws. I recalled the Fool to it. Nothing. I reached back for the Skill dream the Fool and I had shared. I brought into my mind every detail of the woman in the rooster crown that I could recall. I offered her to the dragon. There was no response. I tried basic things. Verity said perhaps they had starved. I visualized pools of cool, sweet water; fat, silvery fish there for the devouring. I Skill-visualized Realder’s dragon being devoured by a greater one, and offered it that picture. No response.

I ventured to reach for my king.
If there is life in these stones, it is too small and sunken for me to reach.

It troubled me a little that Verity did not even bother to reply. But perhaps he too had seen this as a desperation measure, with small chance of success. I left Realder’s dragon and wandered for a time, from stone beast to stone beast. I quested amongst them, looking for any that might have a stronger flicker of Wit-life to them. Once, I thought I had found one, but a closer check showed me that a field mouse had made its home under the dragon’s chest.

I chose a dragon antlered like a buck and tried again every tactic I had tried on Realder’s dragon, with as little result. By then, the daylight was waning. As I picked my way through the trees back to the pillar, I wondered if Verity had truly expected any sort of success. Doggedly, I moved from dragon to dragon on my way back to the pillar, giving each one a last effort. It was probably what saved me. I straightened from one, thinking I felt a strong Wit-life coming from the next one. But when I got to him, the hulking winged boar with his curving razor tusks, I perceived the Wit was coming from beyond him. I lifted my eyes and peered through the trees, rather expecting to see a deer or wild pig. Instead I saw a man with a drawn sword standing with his back to me.

I folded up behind the boar. My mouth was suddenly dry, my heart hammering. He was neither Verity nor the Fool. That much I knew in an instant’s glance. He was someone shorter than I, sandy-haired, and holding a sword as if he knew how to wield it. Someone dressed in gold and brown. Not bulky Burl, nor slender dark Will. Someone else, but Regal’s.

In a moment all became clear to me. How stupid could I have been? I had destroyed Will and Burl’s men, horses and supplies. What else would they do, but Skill to Regal that they needed more? With the constant skirmishing along the Mountain borders it would be no trick for another raiding party to slip through, bypass Jhaampe, and travel up the Skill road. The slide area we had crossed was a formidable barrier but not an insurmountable one. Risking his men’s lives was something Regal was proficient at. I wondered how many had attempted the crossing and how many had survived. I was sure now that Will and Burl were once more comfortably provisioned.

Then a more chilling thought struck me. He might be Skilled. There was nothing to stop Will from training others. He had all Solicity’s books and scrolls to draw on, and while Skill-potential was not common, it was not excessively rare. In moments my imagination had multiplied the man to an army, all at least marginally Skilled, all fanatically loyal to Regal. I leaned against the stone boar, trying to breathe softly despite the fear coursing through me. For a moment, despair had me in thrall. I had finally realized the immensity of the resources that Regal could turn against us. This was no private vendetta between us; this was a king, with a king’s armies and powers, out to exterminate those he had branded as traitors. The only thing that had bound Regal’s hands before was the possible embarrassment if it were discovered that Verity had not died. Now, back in this remote area, he had nothing to fear. He could use his soldiers to do away with his brother and nephew, his sister-in-law, with all witnesses. Then his coterie could dispose of the soldiers.