Bard's Oath (61 page)

Lady Romissa went on, “Or perhaps Corrieton. My husband likes to choose his own gems for the harps.”

Linden caught the faint note of derision on the word “husband.” Suddenly fed up with Lady Romissa and her self-importance, he said curtly, “My thanks, lady. Now I bid you good day.”

Without waiting for a reply—or, more likely, a thinly veiled dismissal—Linden wheeled Nightsong away. “Back to the Bards’ School, my grey-maned lady.”

She snorted and set off at a ground-eating walk. Linden let the reins rest on her neck and thought.

Gull and Leet. It could explain a great many things, but as yet it was naught but speculation. What they needed was proof, hard and cold as iron. But Thomelin wasn’t here to give it—even if he would talk.

Very well, then. He’d do this the hard way: find out whether Gull’s witch spruce was standing or not. And of the three Dragonlords, only he had been alive when Worton, the village Gull had terrorized, still thrived. It was not a place he’d ever visited, but he knew roughly where it had once stood. He was also the closest since he was already in Kelneth.

What else must be done? A trip to the library of Dragonskeep for— He couldn’t do it all. There wasn’t time. He must reach Maurynna, and soon. Thank the gods he was riding a Llysanyin and not an ordinary horse. Closing his eyes, he “cast his call on the wind” and sent his thoughts winging toward his soultwin.

At first he thought it was too far for him to reach her without some other source of magic to draw upon. But his fear for Raven lent him the strength he needed, it seemed, for he “heard” her astonished
Linden?

It was faint, but it was real.
Maurynna, listen well,
he said, putting all the urgency he could into his mindvoice.
I can’t hold this for very long. I know you’ll want to stay with Raven, so send Shima to Dragonskeep. Tell him to get there as fast as he can and go to Lukai and Jenna. Tell him to find out from them the books Leet was reading when he was there—
especially those by Lord Culwen—
and to bring them back to Balyaranna. Understood?

He remembered belatedly that she hadn’t been present at the conversation two years ago with Lleld and Otter about Leet’s odd reading habits, and prayed that she wouldn’t ask for explanations now.

Yes,
she replied. He could feel her puzzlement, even at this distance, but she wasted no time demanding to know what this was all about, or what the chief archivists of Dragonskeep had to do with their plight. For a moment he felt her mind turn away from his; then she was back, saying,
Shima’s off as soon as he can find a place large enough to Change.

Good. If I’m right, we’ll save Raven from that gallows yet, Maurynna-love,
he said.
Now I’ve a journey to—

The contact was slipping from him. He had time only for a farewell and it was gone.

“Dragonlord? Are you well?”

Startled, Linden opened his eyes and looked wildly around. Before him stood the sturdy timber-and-stone stable of the school. A worried groom was looking up at him.

“Yes, I’m well. I was just mindspeaking my soultwin,” he said. The groom’s mouth made an O of surprise.

Linden swung down. To the Llysanyin, he said, “Thank you, Nightsong.” She lipped his hair in reply. To the groom, “Please see to her.”

As Nightsong followed the groom, Linden stood thinking furiously. Otter had named Charilon as one of the two people he needed to speak with at the school. He’d already spoken with Rose, and the bard should be awake by now.

But he needed to find lost Worton and the secret its forest held as soon as possible. Night was coming but he didn’t want to wait until the morning. There was too little time left. No; Charilon could wait. If necessary, Linden knew he would have no compunction against rousting the bard out in the middle of the night.

His mind made up, Linden strode through the grounds of the school.

*   *   *

Oh, curse it all!
Maurynna fumed silently. She’d been just about to tell Linden her suspicions about Leet’s harp when the contact between them faded. She kicked herself mentally; between her surprise at “hearing” Linden and astonishment at his request, she’d never thought to try to help him hold the contact. “Idiot,” she growled at herself.

She jumped up from her chair and began pacing their sleeping chamber. And what in the name of all that was holy did
books
have to do with any of this, anyway? Books didn’t make music.

Harps did. Maurynna stopped short and dug her fingers into her long black hair, tugging it this way and that. She was the only Dragonlord left now in Balyaranna. She feared that if she left, something might happen to Raven. But ever since the conversation with Rann, a small voice inside her had been clamoring that what had happened to Kella would unlock this mystery.

Fifty-six

Pod had no idea how
long they ran for. All she knew was that it seemed forever, a nightmare scramble through briers and brambles, over fallen trees and old stone walls. They’d long since lost all trace of direction. And now and again they could hear Arlim behind them, sometimes close by, sometimes far off as they twisted and turned like fleeing rabbits.

She knew that Arlim would find them; part of her suspected that he was toying with them, drawing the chase out deliberately. Sooner or later they had to face him.

Should they turn at bay and face him? Her greatest fear was that they would be too tired to fight when the chase finally ended. But they had no weapons save their small belt knives, nor had she seen any place that was easily defensible.

And night was coming. Soon it would be too dark to see. They had to find someplace to rest. The thought of stopping chilled her. At least Arlim wouldn’t be able to see any better than they could in this poor light.

She pushed through a stand of tall weeds. Her heel came down on solid earth, but her toe … Pod staggered and swayed, her arms windmilling for balance, suddenly aware that she stood on the edge of nothing. It was only by the grace of the gods that she didn’t scream aloud and give their position away to Arlim.

And it was Kaeliss who kept her from falling. The young Wort Hunter grabbed the back of Pod’s tunic and yanked. They fell in a tangled heap. “Thanks!” Pod gasped. Together they crawled to the edge and looked down.

It was a gully, a little deeper than she was tall, Pod guessed, with a trickle of water running through it. She peered through the fading light.

“Look,” she whispered, pointing. “See that fallen tree? Let’s see if there’s a place to hide under it—it’s big enough.”

They scrambled down and slipped and slid their way over mossy rocks to the tree. By the time they reached the tree, they were both soaked to the knees.

But it was worth it, every scrape and bruise. When the tree had fallen from its place on the edge of the gully, its roots held the bank at that spot, while the dirt below had eroded. The undercut formed a “cave” whose entrance was hidden from above by the huge trunk. They crawled inside and collapsed.

Pod lay with her eyes closed, gasping. She could go no farther. If Arlim found them, they would make their stand here.

She levered herself up onto her elbow, to tell Kaeliss that she at least was spent, when she heard twigs breaking in the woods above. She froze.

Footsteps came closer and closer to the edge. She clawed at her knife. Then came a startled curse and the footsteps retreated at a crashing run, fading into the distance.

They sat without speaking until full dark fell and the only noises were the normal sounds of a forest at night. Pod slumped against the back wall of their shelter; as her terror ebbed, she realized just how exhausted she was. Every limb trembled with weariness.

“We have to eat,” Kaeliss said at last. Her voice sounded leaden with fatigue. Knowing she was right, Pod fumbled through her pack, finding her waterskin and a handful of cold cooked day lily tubers by feel. She could barely see her hand in front of her face.

After the pitiful meal, Pod unrolled her blankets. “He’s gone—at least for the night. I think it’s safe for both of us to sleep at the same time,” she said. “Besides…”

“If we did try to take watches, we’d just fall asleep anyway,” Kaeliss finished wearily.

Pod pulled her blanket over herself. “Just so. May the gods watch over us.”

Fifty-seven

Shima landed heavily on the
large flat cliff the Dragonlords often used when flying to or from Dragonskeep. He sank to his belly, letting his wings fall to either side. By all the Spirits, he hadn’t flown this far this fast since his desperate first flight back in Jehanglan when he and Maurynna chased the mad truedragon Pirakos! His flanks heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

After a moment, he Changed. The cold of the mountain night washed over him. It felt good. Lying sprawled upon the rock, he made a decision; he was too exhausted to move, but from the urgency he’d felt in Maurynna’s mindvoice when she’d laid this task upon him, there was no time to lose. Jenna and Lukai must begin looking for the needed books as soon as possible.

Yet he didn’t want to be the one to roust the archivists from their beds. But there was someone who would happily do just that if her curiosity was aroused enough.

Luckily that was no great task.
Lleld?
he said.
Are you asleep?

After a moment, a sleepy mindvoice grumbled,
Not anymore, thank you very much. Shima, it’s
candlemarks
yet until dawn. What is so bloody
—

He felt her snap fully awake.

What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Cassori with Linden and Maurynna! Is something wrong? And why do you sound so tired?

Because I flew here with hardly any rests,
he snapped. Then, before she could say anything else,
I hope this will make more sense to you than it did to either Maurynna or me; I’m just passing on a message. From what Maurynna said when she sent me off, Linden seems to think that there’s a clue in some books Master Bard Leet read when he
—

At last!
Lleld crowed in his mind.
At last I’ll find out why he was reading those horrid tales!

Shima clutched his head and groaned. That had
hurt
.

Apologies, Shima,
Lleld said, though her mindvoice held more glee than regret. Shima would have wagered she rubbed her hands in happy anticipation.
I know some of the books he studied while he was at Dragonskeep and I’ll get Lukai and Jenna to make certain of the rest. Meet you in the library.

Shima rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars fading in the sky, counting to himself.
One, two, thr
—

Lleld’s mindvoice filled his head once more.
“Clue”? Clue to what? Uh, Shima—what’s this about?

Tell you when I get there.

Frustration; a brief image/feeling of Lleld, fists wound in his long, black hair, yanking as hard as she could. Then,
Damn it all! You’d bloody well better hurry!

The next instant she was gone. Shima could picture the little Dragonlord leaping from her bed, dressing at breakneck speed, and running like a madwoman through the halls of the Keep.

At least he hoped she remembered to dress first. And why was he not more surprised that Lady Mayhem would know which books the Master Bard had read while he was here? He stood up and dusted himself off. He was curious to see those “horrid tales” for himself.

*   *   *

It was no use going any farther tonight, Linden decided. Yes, he could easily reach the general area of Worton. But he didn’t know just where it had been. And even if he found it by luck it would still be dark when he got there. Dragonlord or not, it would be impossible to search the forest in human form.

He swooped lower, searching the ground for an open area. Spotting a large clearing by a river, he landed on the bank and drank deeply. He stretched his wings and settled himself, his wings rattling against his scales as he tucked his feet under and curled his tail around them like a cat. Then he stared into the darkness as he waited for the dawn.

Fifty-eight

When she awoke the next
morning, Pod panicked. For a moment she thought she’d been buried alive; all she saw around her in the dim light was dirt. Then she remembered where they were.

She rolled over. Kaeliss was still asleep. Even in this poor light Pod could see how pinched and wan her face was under streaks of dirt. She guessed her own looked just as bad. As quietly as she could, Pod crawled out of their shelter, scrambled to the top of the gully, and looked around, trying to get her bearings.

There—where the sky glowed blood-red with the rising sun—that was east. The old rhyme came back to her: “Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Red sky at morning, shepherds take warning.”

She climbed back down to awaken Kaeliss. It was time to enter the nightmare again.

*   *   *

Linden? Linden, can you hear me?

Linden roused himself from the waking dream that dragons often fell into while resting. He recognized that mindvoice—nor was he surprised to hear it, he realized. What did surprise him was its unwonted seriousness.
I hear you, Lleld. Did Shima tell you what’s at stake?

Yes.
Lleld couldn’t quite hide her distress.
We have the books by Lord Culwen that Leet read the most, Jenna says. What do you need from them?

The location of Worton and if at all possible, the whereabouts of the witch spruce. I never visited Worton, so I’m not certain just where it is.

More distress and a deep sadness.
I know where it was. I … I had friends there.
She then told him what to look for, finishing with,
The twin lakes and the esker between them are your best landmarks, I think, to find Worton. But someone—we think it was Leet—has cut a page from one of the books.