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Authors: Joanne Bertin

Dragon and Phoenix (28 page)

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix
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The journey to Casna, the
great port city of Cassori, went swiftly and uneventfully. Linden hoped it was a portent for the rest of the trip.
They reached the city gate just as dusk was falling. Unlike the last Dragonlord visit here, this time they entered the city without state, riding in as merely another group of travelers.
Just as Linden preferred it.
The guards stopped the band as they did all those seeking entrance. The harp case on Otter’s back, the red of his cloak, and a flash of his bard’s torc were assurance enough for the guards; they waved the travelers on and retreated to the fire in the gatehouse.
While he silently thanked the gods for it, the casual attitude rankled the mercenary in Linden’s soul.
They’ve been at peace for so long, they’ve gotten soft. Ah, well; better that than war and distrust.
He drew the hood of his cloak close as if against the chill—though by the standards of Dragonskeep far to the north, it was merely cool—as they passed through the gate and into the streets, lest some attentive guard or citizen recognize him from his previous visit. It had, after all, been only a few months since the regency debate. At least this time the Dragonlords’ presence was … unofficial.
He’d had more than enough pomp and ceremony during that other visit to last him a century or two. He was well pleased to make a way without fanfare to the house of Maurynna’s kin—and now his as well—here in Casna.
Gods, it was good to have kinfolk again. But better yet a soultwin. He shifted his weight in the saddle. Shan moved sideways enough to let Linden’s leg brush lightly against Maurynna’s as they rode side by side.
She flashed a mischievous grin at him. “Aren’t you going to miss your old quarters?” she teased. “That house you were lent in the noble’s section is much larger than my aunt and uncle’s new home, I’ll wager.”
“True,” Linden said, smiling in return. “But the beer wasn’t as good.”
“You couldn’t complain about the wine cellar, though,” Otter called back from just ahead of them.
Linden agreed, laughing. Trust the bard to have appreciated the wine there; though truth be told, it had been superb. But he still prefered Elenna’s beer.
He looked over his shoulder. Raven and Taren rode just behind, with Lleld and Jekkanadar bringing up the rear with Jhem and Trissin (or the Two Poor Bastards, as Chailen called the other Llysanyins pressed into service) on leads. Lleld caught his eye and waved. Her eyes darted from side to side; Linden guessed she was wondering which corners in the daytime might support a performance by a juggler and a tumbler. He knew she and Jekkanadar had done it before while traveling unheralded.
“Do you have the directions to their new house?” Lleld asked.
Maurynna drew a folded sheet of parchment from her belt pouch. “Yes,” she said and rode forward. “They were in Maylin’s last letter. Here, Otter—I think you know Casna better than any of us.”
“At least Casna nowadays,” said Jekkanadar, looking around. He pointed to a group of buildings. “If I remember rightly, there was a green for sheep there some eighty years ago. And that street’s new.”
“Hrmm, hrmm,” Otter muttered as he peered at the parchment in the dim light. Nightsong ambled along, the reins loose on her neck. “Thank the gods Maylin writes a nice, clear hand; this light is terrible. Now where … ?”
“And where’s the little fountain that was here only a century or so ago? Things change so quickly,” Lleld complained.
Linden smiled as Raven nearly choked at that remark. Even Taren, always calm and unruffled, boggled a little.
“Ah! Now I know where to go,” Otter announced. The bard led the way through the streets of Casna, guiding them unerringly to the Vanadins’ new home, a reward from Prince Rann. The rest followed, holding to their roles as servants and fellow players.
Linden grew uncomfortably warm within the closeness of hood and cloak. He wanted to throw back the hood at least, but there were still too many people out. So he rode on, feeling sweat trickle between his shoulder blades. He hoped Elenna had plenty of that good brown ale left.
At last they were at the house. They clattered into the courtyard, larger than the old one, the Llysanyins and Taren’s gelding crowding together companionably. Lleld and Jekkanadar slipped the halters from the Two Poor Bastards. The door opened, and a man Linden didn’t recognize stood in it, the warm lamplight from the house streaming out around him.
“Who is it?” the man called, squinting into the darkness.
As Linden threw his hood back, Maurynna cried, “Uncle Owin! You’re here this time!” and clambered down from Boreal.
The man descended the three steps. “Rynna?” he said, his voice filled with delight. “Is that really you? What are you doing back in Casna?” He held his arms out.
She threw herself into them, hugging her uncle. “I’m so glad you weren’t on another trip,” she said. “I missed you the last time.”
Linden swung down from Shan as her uncle replied, “And I missed you—and quite a bit of excitement, they tell me.” He held Maurynna from him and looked up at her with wondering eyes.
Then Owin must have caught a glimpse of Linden’s approach from the corner of his eye, for his head turned. Linden saw his eyes go wide as the man guessed who he was.
“Dragonlord,” Owin said formally. Then his face melted into a smile and he held out his hands. “Kinsman. Welcome once again to my house.”
His heart glowing, Linden caught the proferred hands. They were warm and steady and strong, much like the man himself, Linden thought. “Thank you,” he said, finding it a little hard to talk. He cleared his throat. “Again—thank you.”
Then a delighted shriek from the doorway caught everyone’s attention. “Rynna! Linden! What are you doing here?”, and Maylin was trying to hug both of them at once. She stepped back, pushing her brown curls back from her face and laughing. “Otter! You’re here as well? And who—”
She broke off so suddenly that Linden looked around in alarm to see what was wrong. But all he saw were the others, still mounted, as Otter swung down from Nightsong’s saddle: Lleld, Jekkanadar, Taren, and—
No. Raven had dismounted. He stood with the light from the house illuminating him, glowing in his red hair. He was watching with a closed expression as Maurynna greeted her family.
And, Linden belatedly realized, watching as they greeted him as kin. No doubt Raven had thought to stand here one day, meeting these people as Maurynna’s husband. Instead another man was in “his” place, here not just as husband, but as something far, far more.
Soultwin.
It was all there in the boy’s face. Then, with an abrupt movement, Raven was astride Stormwind once more.
“I’ve decided to stay at the inn with the others,” he said. To his credit, Raven’s voice did not betray him—much.
“But Raven—” Maurynna began.
Linden hastily mindspoke her, allowing Otter to “eavesdrop” to forestall any comment from the bard.
Let him, love. This is rubbing his nose in it, seeing me with your family
.
She nodded almost imperceptively.
“Well enough, Raven. I think we should be off, then,” Lleld said, entering the conversation. With a nod at Taren, she continued, “It’s been a long day’s ride. I say we save the introductions for tomorrow and leave you two and Otter
to the gentle care of your family, Rynna.” She flashed a mischievous smile at Owin and Maylin, who looked up at her, curiosity writ large across their faces. Who, after all, would dare tell a pair of Dragonlords what to do as this seeming child did?
A hand flashed up in salute and Lleld wheeled Miki around. Jekkanadar followed with a wave and a grin of his own.
Good thinking, Lleld
, Linden thought in amusement.
Two Dragonlords in your yard are surprise enough—but four?
After them went Taren, slumping now in his saddle, weariness in every line of his body. Raven followed close behind. His back cried out his smoldering anger.
As the sound of trotting hooves disappeared into the darkness, Maylin said, “That was your friend Raven, Maurynna? The one you grew up with in Thalnia?”
“Yes,” said Maurynna.
“You never told me he was handsome.”
For a moment Maurynna looked surprised. “Is he? D’you know, I’d never even thought about it. He used to be terribly gawky. Has he come out of it well, then?”
“I
think so,” said Maylin with a smile like a cat’s.
Linden heard Otter’s snort of laughter and touched the bard’s mind.
Oh, gods
—
do
you think I should tell my poor idiot of a nephew he might as well surrender now?
said the bard.
Linden replied,
What do you mean?
though he had a fair idea. He hid a grin.
Boyo, you’ve no idea how determined that young lady can be. Remind me to tell you about my encounter with her at the kitchen table the last time we were in Casna. What Maylin sets her sights on, she gets.
Otter’s shoulders shook in silent laughter.
She’s more than a match for Raven.
Maylin said, “The three of you must be hungry. I’ll set out bread and cheese and ale for when you’ve finished with the horses.” She turned away, still smiling, and walked lightly back to the house.
Her father cleared his throat. “Ah, the stable is full,” Owin began. “There’s a public stable nearby, but—”
“If it’s agreeable to you, uncle,” Linden said, “we’ve grain for them, and they could stay in your garden tonight.”
Owin’s face glowed at “uncle,” then creased in concern. “Won’t they wander off?”
“No, Uncle Owin,” Maurynna said. She caressed Boreal’s neck. “They’re Llysanyins.”
“Oh,” said Owin, eyes wide. “
Oh.
”
“Just so,” Linden said, smiling at the awe in his new kinsman’s wondering
gaze. He caught up Shan’s reins. “Come along, crowbait. Let’s get you settled; I want that bread and ale.” He led the snapping stallion into the garden behind the house.
 
“How do you like this room?” Maylin asked as she dropped the bundle of blankets on the bed much later.
Maurynna looked around, shaking her head in wonder. “It’s lovely with these carved beams! And look at the tiles around the fireplace; I’ve never seen such a pretty pattern. It’s so different, isn’t it?”
“From the old house? Yes, much larger and brighter. Kella and I can each have our own room now. But, d’you know, sometimes I miss the old house. We haven’t rubbed all the hard edges off of this one yet, so to speak. But when Prince Rann offered …” She shrugged.
Who were we to refuse a prince?
the lift of her shoulders said.
“We could have put up all of your friends,” she went on, “even if we’d had to double up a bit. At least your friend Raven … .” she said with careful diffidence.
Maurynna snorted. “I’m glad he’s staying at the inn tonight. He’s being an ass,” she snapped.
“Oh?” Maylin paused as she spread the first blanket. “Do tell.”
“Maylin, you will not believe this … .”
Maylin sat down, ready to listen, until Linden should interrupt them.
 
It had been a joyous reunion, but now everyone else had retired to bed a candlemark or more ago. Linden and Maurynna stood, arms tight around each other, in the garden. The new house was so different from the old, familiar one. Bigger, richer, but without the well-lived-in feeling of the old.
At least the garden felt more familiar, filled with roses—now fading with the autumn—and a well like the old one, even to the moss growing on the stones. A single ball of coldfire hovered nearby, its light shining like crystal in the frosty air. Maurynna’s head rested on Linden’s shoulder; he stroked her hair. The Llysanyins stood together close by, heads down and hipshot, drowsing. He was glad they’d slipped out for a final look at the horses.
They stood together with no need for words between them.
 
Maylin sat by her window overlooking the street and brushed her hair. It had started out a dull day, but what an ending! It was good to see Rynna and Linden and Otter again. She wondered how long they were staying; when she’d asked them, they’d danced nimbly around that question with no real answer.
More importantly,
why
had they come?
Yawning, she laid down her brush. She’d get it out of them soon enough;
time for bed now. But as she stood up to tug the window hangings closed, a flash of movement from the street below caught her eye.
She pressed her face to the glass to get a better look. A shadowed figure slipped around the side of the house into the alley that separated the Vanadin’s home from the next.
Oh, for
—
!
Fuming, Maylin left her room and pattered barefoot along the hall, and then down the stairs. At the door, she snatched her cloak from its peg by the door and threw it over her nightgown. Then she pulled back the bolt, eased the door open, and slipped outside.
BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix
7.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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