Dragon Stones (38 page)

Gelt made a sloppy lunge.  She blocked it easily, but then felt a sting across her belly and leapt back.  She felt the cold air bite against her stomach; he had cut her, slicing through her tunic, but not with his sword.  She noted a tiny dagger in his left hand, the weapon so small she could scarcely see it in his beefy grip.  He'd pulled the miniature blade from somewhere and nearly slit her open with it.

"Oh!"  Gelt said.  "Where did
this
come from?"

"Cheap theatrics," Diasa said.

"I fight to win, not for the thrill of combat."  He held the tiny blade sideways, exactly the way he'd earlier held the sword.  A single, glistening drop of blood slid off it and fell to the dock.  Gelt smiled and tossed the dagger aside, then came at her again, bellowing and swinging the sword over his head.  She parried the blow, and the next, and the next.  He pressed the attack, forcing her to retreat.  The crowd parted as he drove her back, not giving her time to launch her own strikes.  She felt unaccountably slow and tired; her sword was an anchor, her arms weak as a feverish little girl's.  Why couldn't she counterattack?  Suddenly her legs gave out and she stumbled to her knees, then to her side.  A hazy glow filled her vision; the cut in her belly throbbed, a thin line of fire, and she finally realized that the dagger must have been poisoned.

Gelt stepped up to her.  She lifted her sword; the tip wavered in the air and he knocked it aside easily.  He raised his weapon over his head, ready to strike her down.

Four dark shapes broke from the ranks of the spectators, came forward, closed around Gelt.  Her darkening eyes could not make out any details, but she thought they carried pole arms, long-handled and heavy-bladed, axe heads black as burnt-out ashes.  The Withered Ones.  They fell on Gelt, attacking in a frenzy.  She heard him grunting, heard his breath coming fast and heavy.  His sword rang against their weapons.  The shapes formed a tightening circle around him, keeping him at bay in the center of their formation.

She picked up her sword, hauled herself to her feet, and staggered to join her allies.  They parted just as she reached them and she struck, ramming her blade into Gelt's stomach just above his groin.  She twisted it and yanked it out.  Ropy, slimy stuff came with it.  Gelt, a look of astonishment on his face, pawed at the wound as if he thought he could hold his innards in, as if he would be all right if only he could get everything stuffed back inside.  One of the Withered Ones struck him in the face with its weapon and he fell off the dock.  Diasa swayed on her feet in front of the bloody splotch where he'd been standing; the sword fell out of her hands, clattering to the wooden surface.

Then she, too, toppled over, and the water came rushing up to meet her, cold and dark as death itself.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

As soon as T'Sian landed—somewhere in the plains to the northeast of Astilan, out of sight of even the highest-flying eagle, well away from the fighting—Ponn stumbled out of her grip, turned, and gasped:  "You flew away!"

She sat on her haunches and began shrinking into human form, not answering the implicit charge of cowardice.  If they were looking for her, she would be much harder to spot as a woman.  She lost sight of Ponn during the change, when her senses fled; after they returned, she saw him pacing around the vicinity, looking very agitated.  Realizing she had come back to herself, he stopped and said:  "What happened?  You were supposed to save Astilan, not leave it in Dunshandrin's hands!"

"I am not
supposed
to do anything.  In any case, t
here is little left of Astilan to save."  Then, pointedly:  "I was barely able to save
you
, Pyodor Ponn, and t
he only reason I could was because you told me where you were, in that dream."

He sighed.  "Yes, I thank you for that, but I don't understand what happened.  Who will repel Dunshandrin's men?  They will take the castle easily.  They've probably captured or killed the king by now.  We cannot let them succeed."

"In the air, I met a man who spoke powerful words.  He commanded a creature that controlled the earth.  They took me by surprise and I … I could not defeat them."

"Words?  You mean a wizard?"

"Is that what they are called?"

"Yes, but even a wizard will burn."

"Not this one.  He had protected himself, and my flames would not touch him.  And then he took hold of me somehow, and drained my fire away."

"What?"

"He emptied me.  I have no fire left."

"But … you will make more, won't you?"

"The crystals make the fire, Ponn," she said.  "In here."  She touched her fingers to her chest.  "I swallow the two kinds of stones, and together they burn.  When I use them up, I must swallow more.  I should have had enough fire to last for months, perhaps years, but the man took it all away.  Until I find more crystals, I will have no fire."

"Should we return to the islands and get more stones?"

She shook her head.  "Without the blue crystals, the red will not make fire.  Neither suffices without the other.  And as I told you, the blue crystals are far to the north, buried in the ice.  I hoarded both kinds in my lair, but Dunshandrin's men killed my babies and took my stones, all of them."

"Well, if you kept crystals, then other dragons would as well.  Perhaps you could borrow—"

"There is no
borrowing
," she said.  "A dragon fends for itself.  The nearest dragon that I know of is four days' flight from here, on an island far to the south.  Even if I made the journey, I would have to kill him to take his stones."  She thought for a moment.  "It will not work.  He is large and ancient and has his fire.  He would kill me."

"Perhaps you could persuade this other dragon to help us."

"Dragons have no interest in the doings of men.  If he had not slain my hatchlings, I would let this Dunshandrin swarm across the continent."

"What do you propose we do, then?" Ponn said.  "If we cannot fight because you have no fire, and you will not go into the north to get more crystals, then what is our next move?"

"We will go to the place called Achengate," T'Sian said.  "The others are there, are they not?  The oracle and the woman who has your daughter?"

"Yes," Ponn said, brightening.  "My daughter."

"Perhaps you can take her and make your way back to Enshenneah," the dragon said.  "Then you would be out of this."

"Are you saying you would let me go?"

"I no longer have need of you," she said.  "I know who my enemy is.  I know where to find him."

Ponn looked thoughtful.  "Enshenneah," he said.  "Home."  Then he shook his head.  "No, I can't go home.  Not yet."

"Your goal has always been to save your daughter.  Once you have her back, why continue to risk your life?  And hers?"

"Hers?  No, I will not risk hers.  She must stay safe."

"Then return with her to Enshenneah."

"But Dunshandrin and his sons must pay for their crimes.  Their men may have murdered my son.  They left me to die on that island.  They killed the man who rescued my daughter."

"They
will
pay," T'Sian said, "but you are an innkeeper, a merchant, a smuggler.  Our success or failure does not rest on your shoulders."

"Are you saying I have nothing to contribute?"

"I only mean that you must consider the likelihood that you will be killed, and weigh it against the benefits that your presence brings," she said.  "Do not think yourself invulnerable.  You are not a dragon."

Ponn began pacing back and forth and said nothing for a little while.  Perhaps she had offended him, but she only spoke the truth.  She moved some distance away and assumed her true form once more; when her senses returned, he was standing in front of her.  "I've thought about what you said, and I will consider it.  But for now I make no decision."

"Very well," she said.  "Then let us go.  The others wait for us in Achengate."

Diasa awoke, not in the water, but in a bed.  She felt weak and exhausted, as if she had just crawled mewling from her mother's womb.  She blinked, and blinked again, which seemed to make the room look a little less fuzzy; so she blinked a few more times, bringing her surroundings into some semblance of focus.  She realized then that she lay in her tiny garret room at the inn.

Had it been a dream?  Gelt, Tolaria, the guards from Flaurent appearing, like apparitions, to save her?  She slid her hand down to where the short blade had cut her stomach, felt a bandage across her abdomen.  The cloth was damp.  Blood?  She sniffed her fingertips, smelled alcohol and herbs.

"You're awake."

She looked to her left, where Tolaria sat in a small chair in front of the window.  She looked young and frightened, like a runaway caught on the street.  "Much to my surprise," Diasa said.  "What happened?"

"Talbrett's sailors pulled you out of the water.  We brought you back here.  You were feverish from the poison."

So the blade
was
envenomed.  "Why am I still alive?"

"Wert told me what ingredients I needed for an antidote."

"
Wert
told you
?"  Then:  "And you
listened
to him?"

"I cannot say how he knew, but he told me exactly which herbs would draw out the venom and help you recover.  And here you are, alive and speaking."

"Wert has become a spigot of unexpected information," Diasa said.  She closed her eyes again.  "Are they still here?"

"Who?"

"The Withered Ones."

"The what?"

"You were at Flaurent.  Don't you remember the guards?"

"Yes, of course.  I was thoroughly frightened of them."

"They came here to save my life."

"No they didn't.  Talbrett's men saved you."

There was that name again.  Diasa opened her eyes and tilted her head to regard Tolaria.  "Who is Talbrett?"

"The merchant who took the knife meant for me.  When you fell, his men attacked Gelt with boards, oars, anything at hand.  Two of them were hurt and one was killed.  I think Gelt would have killed all of them if you hadn't gotten up again."

"I saw … I mean, I thought I saw … the Withered Ones."

"It must have been the poison, making you hallucinate."

"I'm sure it was my guards," Diasa murmured.  Tolaria looked at the floor and said nothing.  "What of your friends, then?  Those who were killed?"

"Gargan is being taken downriver by boat, to be returned to his family.  We're going to take Talbrett out onto the lake tonight and sink him."

"A sort of burial at sea, eh?"

"As close as one can come to it in Achengate, at any rate," Tolaria said.  "Why don't you get some more rest?  I'll check on you later and make sure that you're all right."

Diasa nodded, lay back, closed her eyes.  She was hungry, but tiredness won out; she decided to eat the next time she woke up, whenever that was.

She heard Tolaria get up and leave the room.  The door clicked shut behind her.

"It
was
the Withered Ones," Diasa whispered.  "I
saw
them."

Tolaria went down to the common room, where Wert and Ilfiss sat at a corner table with the girl, Prehn.  Ilfiss appeared to be getting ready to make his farewells, because he stood as Tolaria approached.  "How is Diasa?" he asked.

"Tired, but I think she'll be fine."

"Good."  Ilfiss spread his arms.  "I wish I could stay to see her get well, but my wagon is waiting for me.  Radovar is already upset that our departure was delayed.  I must go."

Tolaria nodded.  "I'm sure Diasa will understand."

Ilfiss still looked anxious, as if he were afraid Diasa would send him angry letters for the rest of her life, accusing him of abandonment.  He nodded and bowed to Tolaria, then returned to the table, said a few words to Wert, snatched up a tiny valise, and hurried out the door.

Tolaria sat at the table, across from Wert.  He stared at her with pop-eyed fascination.  "Tolaria," he said.  "So good to see you again."

She hadn't realized that her presence at Flaurent had ever registered on the little old man.  "Yes, it's good to see you too," she said, hoping she sounded sincere.  Looking at him made her think about what she might become, as the months went by and the lingering effect of the vapors became clearer.

"Diasa is well, and yet you seem sad."

"Well, it's a bit much, isn't it?"  She lowered her voice so no one would hear.  "My friends murdered, Flaurent and the Crosswaters destroyed, Astilan overrun, Diasa nearly killed."

Wert nodded.  "Yes, Dunshandrin has much to answer for."  Then:  "You'll all go together."

"Go?  Where?"

"The castle," he said.  "You'll all go together."