Bazil Broketail (20 page)

Her heart was still pounding from the fight with the troll but she was suffused with excitement. Nothing had ever happened to her like this. Then she thought of poor Viuris again and felt sick to her stomach. She was enjoying this, but Viuris was dead. She felt a sudden wave of shame.

Still she kept on, following the torch in Lessis’s hand. After many minutes of tramping through the dark they suddenly came to a halt at the foot of a steep ramp.

Lessis noticed Lagdalen then.

“Ah, young Lagdalen of the Tarcho, not content with combat with trolls you wish to confront agents of the enemy, eh?”

Lagdalen had nothing to say. Her mouth had gone dry. Lessis managed a smile. “It was not your fault, girl. Viuris would not have blamed you either.”

Lagdalen felt tears welling in her eyes. Lessis frowned.

“She would not have wept either, nor condoned it in you. Now get up this ramp and keep your wits about you. I will need you to run messages.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The guards sent down the other tunnels came running to report no sign of the fugitives. Then they climbed the ramp which spiraled up a complete turn and found themselves in front of a pair of heavy oak doors shut from their side with a solid beam.

The guards lifted the beam free, pulled the doors open, and they emerged into the lower part of a pump house built alongside the sound, a good eighty meters distant from the Watergate.

“Perfect smuggler’s location, eh?” said the sergeant of the Guard.

“Perfect—the water to the side, the road to Bea just beyond that door. How long has it stood do you think?” said Lessis.

He shrugged.

“Well,” she said, “our quarry did not come this way. Come on, we have to go back.”

“You mean the beam. They could not have closed the doors behind them like that.”

“Of course.”

They retraced their steps to the point where the tunnels diverged and explored the left-hand one, which led out to a cellar in a house built along the Bea Road about two hundred meters beyond the wall.

No trace could be found there of the fugitives, either.

Finally they tracked through the left-hand tunnel and found that it opened onto a subterranean dock, cut into the land under a prosperous merchant’s house on Dock-side, inside the city.

Lessis examined the dock. Small boats could come and go easily, exiting through a tunnel that she was sure would emerge beneath the piers of the docks.

Lessis ordered an immediate search of all shipping currently docked at Marneri, some thirty vessels in all. The search went on through the night, but not a trace was found.

By the light of morning Lessis knew that she had failed and that her enemy had escaped, probably in a small boat, and had abducted the preferred heir to the throne of Marneri.

Two ships put out at once, plus several boats, with orders to scour the sound for a small boat, but Lessis knew that nothing would be found.

When she reported to King Sanker later that morning, he was struggling to suppress the joy he so obviously felt. Later there was a brief funeral ceremony for poor Viuris, after which Lessis returned to her rooms, and after seeing that Relkin was recovering quickly, dropped off into an exhausted sleep.

On the morning of the fourth day following the battle with the troll in the cellar of the Blackbird Inn, Lagdalen was summoned to Lady Flavia’s office.

She received the message in the hospital where she was visiting Helena of Roth, who had recovered consciousness only the day before.

Helena would be in bed for a long time. It was suspected that her neck had been broken. Her face was bruised and swollen, and she was barely able to speak. Lagdalen winced at the sight of the cast on Helena’s neck and mumbled something about hoping Helena would get well soon. Their eyes met then and Helena’s were filled with surprise. Lagdalen of the Tarcho was the last person she would have expected to visit her.

Especially now that the little Tarcho brat was supposed to be a big hero!

So what was this? One heroine visiting another? Helena had awoken to discover that she was a heroine herself for having survived the attack of the enemy agent.

They had already tried to question her about him, but of course she had barely seen him. All she remembered was that dark, narrow face and those blazing eyes.

And then a nurse had brought Lagdalen a note from the Lady Flavia and the Tarcho brat had left. Helena wished it was Lagdalen in the hospital bed, while she was out in the air soaking up the adulation from the people. Life was just so unfair!

Lagdalen meanwhile had left the hospital at once and headed up the hill toward the Novitiate. It was a sunny day, warmer than it had been in a week or more. The city was bustling and alive, quite unaware of the terrible danger it had been in only four days before.

A troll inside the walls! Even now the thought of it was startling to Lagdalen. And when she recalled her own part in that adventure her hair rose, her skin went to goosebumps, and she tried her utmost not to remember the death of poor Viuris, or the body of the slain guardsman.

But Lagdalen now knew for certain that she lived in a time of great adventure and excitement. She had never felt this alive before. Each day was a wonderful day, like the greatest holiday she had ever had.

And how crowded these days had been.

First there had been the funeral for the Lady Viuris. She was buried in the Martyrs Cemetery down near Southside. Lessis had given the oration, wearing a simple white gown, with her head bare and tears visible en her cheeks.

Abbess Plesenta had read from the Birrak, and then the Last Prayer had been lead by Lessis. The body, wrapped in a shroud of grey cloth, had been lowered into the narrow, plain grave.

The stone read simply: “Viuris of the Insight.”

Lagdalen hadn’t known Viuris very well, but she did know that she was a brave woman and a companion of Lessis. Anyone who worked for Lessis had to be an extraordinarily unusual and wonderful person.

After the ceremony Lagdalen had seen Lessis by the gate leading to Water Street. Lessis’s eyes were grim, the tears were still wet on her cheeks. She’d nodded to Lagdalen and given her a long look before going on. It was as if she had just then decided something that had troubled her for a long time.

Lagdalen had waited for Abbess Plesenta to pass by, with her assistants around her, before she too slipped out into the street.

Since then she’d heard nothing of Lessis but rumors. Ships had been dispatched to the other cities of the Argonath. The counties had been raised right across Eardha. Search parties were covering all the north roads, and Lessis was said to be in the midst of innumerable wild and improbable adventures.

Of course Lagdalen’s part in the episode of the troll had become known and she was famous in the Novitiate for it. And she had struggled not to feel proud as a result. But it was hard, for it was wonderful to be noted by everyone, and for being brave and at the center of things for once and not for being caught out with an elfboy in a cupboard. Even the seniors, who ordinarily wouldn’t have acknowledged the existence of a junior, would nod to her and whisper behind her back. Some even said hello.

And yet she knew that her own role had not been particularly heroic. She had watched, legs frozen in terror, as the troll had come after her and she had done nothing. There’d been nothing she could have done. When she felt guilty she knew in her heart of hearts that it was she who should have died then and not Viuris.

Through the old Novitiate building she went, skipping up the well-worn stone steps. She reached Flavia’s outer office and was directed through the inner door by the secretary.

For good reason she always felt a sense of dread when she was in this office, and she recalled at once the last visit here, just before Fundament Day.

It was a place of white walls and dark wooden furniture, in a stout, straightforward style known as “early colonial.” On the walls were portraits of previous directors of the Novitiate. Flavia was waiting, looking as grim as ever. And in a chair to one side sat Relkin Orphanboy.

Lagdalen’s eyes widened.

“Hello,” she mouthed.

Relkin flashed her a look of warning, and she turned away at once.

“You sent for me, Lady Flavia?”

“I did, Lagdalen.”

Lagdalen had heard that Relkin and Bazil had been inducted into the New Legion. But she had not seen them for days.

“I summoned you because I have grave news for you. I am afraid this news will cause your father and mother great pain. And I am also afraid that it is you who will have to take the news to them.”

Lagdalen felt her breath catch in her throat. What could this be? Was someone in the family dead? But why would they ask her to bear the news?

“It has come to our attention, you see, that the celebrated Broketail dragon, Bazil of Quosh, came here without a full dragon stamp.”

Lagdalen felt her chest freeze. Flavia rolled on, unstoppable. “As you might imagine, the discovery of the treachery involving poor Smilgax of Treat brought a great deal of scrutiny to bear upon the offices involving dragons. The matter of the faked stamp for Bazil of Quosh came to light. Your colleague in crime over there has admitted his part in the matter.”

Flavia glanced coldly in Relkin’s direction and then back to Lagdalen. “He has implicated you. He has begged me to show leniency in your case and claims that he pressured you into breaking your vows and the laws of Marneri.”

Lagdalen felt as if a heavy stone had replaced her heart in her chest. Of course! The Smilgax affair would have had them turning over every record in the Dragon Office. She was sunk. And she would have to tell her father! It would kill him.

“I have listened to his story very carefully and I have sifted through the evidence. There is no doubt in my mind that you broke your vows as a witch of the Novitiate and then broke the laws of this city as well. There is also no doubt that you did this as a personal favor for a friend. Such behavior is utterly unacceptable from someone in your position.”

“So I am afraid I have no choice in the matter—the penalty is laid down very clearly. You are to be expelled from the Novitiate at once. You may apply to join the New Legion’s female auxiliary if you so desire. You will take this news to your parents for me and repeat it to them.”

Flavia had passed the sentence of doom. Lagdalen sagged in her seat. It had all been for nothing, all those long years of her education in the schools. All that time and effort spent to win a place in the Novitiate, and now she’d thrown it all away.

She avoided looking at Relkin Orphanboy. She thought if she did she’d burst into tears, and that she would not do in front of Lady Flavia. Lagdalen swallowed, fought back the tears.

“I am sorry, Lady Flavia. I thought it would only help if Bazil of Quosh could join the New Legion.”

Flavia sighed, the poor child had a good heart.

“The Broketail dragon will do well in the legions, and you did not do wrong in thinking that. But what if it had been another Smilgax and this young rogue here was just another agent of the great enemy? Then you would have paved the way for another piece of great treachery. Our rules are what we survive by and if we break them we threaten our survival. This has to be understood by every novice of every class and every priestess of every rank.”

“Yes, m’Lady.”

Flavia swung her fierce gaze across to Relkin.

“As for you, young man, I hope you understand as well. I must uphold the rules that bind together our mission. Without them we are poised for destruction. You have ruined Lagdalen’s career in the Temple, and she was on her way to a great one.”

Relkin did at least appear genuinely contrite.

“I am sorry as well,” he mumbled. “I did not think this would happen.”

“Indeed,” sniffed Flavia. “Well, you belong to the legion now and there’s no point in raking this matter up. We are assured that there is no taint on either you or your dragon, and since you are shortly to be in Kenor we see no point in trying you in the city courts.”

Relkin licked his lips nervously.

“Now you may go.”

He got to his feet and tried to make eye contact with Lagdalen, but she refused to look his way and in the end he mumbled something inaudible and sidled out.

When the door closed behind him, Lagdalen felt tears welling up and was forced to dab them away with quick moves of her hands.

“I am sorry that it has come to this, Lagdalen of the Tarcho. A few days ago I thought that I might have finally gotten some sense into you, but it does appear that you are unable to grasp the fundamentals of our life in this institution.”

Lagdalen stifled a sob. Flavia knew when to cut these things short. The girl was a trier, but she just could not submit to the sort of discipline that was necessary in the mission.

“You may go now, child. I think it would be best if you went at once to your parents and told them. Later you can collect your things.”

Lagdalen went back out into the bright daylight but could hardly see a thing for the tears that were brimming in her eyes.

A touch on her shoulder turned her head.

A simply dressed woman in a grey robe was there. She was not much taller than Lagdalen herself and very slight.

Lessis!

She wore a grim little smile.

“Lagdalen of the Tarcho, I do believe you’ve been thrown out of the Novitiate, haven’t you?”

“Yes, my lady. I broke the rules. I…” She trailed off.

“Good, you strike me as the sort that doesn’t mind going around the rules. I have something to say to you, and you will have to make a great decision. The remainder of your life will rest upon it.”

Lagdalen looked at her blankly. The tears were drying. She hated to seem weak when Lessis was talking to her.

“Look, we need your kind of spirit in the Office of Insight. To be more specific, I need your kind of spirit. I want you to become my assistant.”

Lagdalen gasped. Was she dreaming? Suffering delusions?

“Would you be interested in this sort of life? One thing I can assure you, it will not be an easy one. Nor will it be dull.”