Dragon Stones (50 page)

"Not until the water stops.  Cold does not agree with me."

"You might have thought of that before you destroyed my cooling system," Qalor muttered.

The dragon shot him a murderous look, then turned back to Diasa.  "Here, catch."  T'Sian tossed her the strange tool for retrieving the crystals; she caught it by the shaft with both hands, managing to avoid the blade and claw-like prongs.  "Cut off some of the blue crystal for me."

The dragon didn't hesitate to hurl what amounted to a pole arm at her; it probably didn't even occur to T'Sian that the tool could have killed her.  Diasa bit back an angry comment and instead examined the device.  It had a handle for working the saw back and forth, and a sliding lever in its midsection; she moved this back and forth and watched the tines extend and retract.  Clever.  You could cut the crystal with the blade, then pick it up with the metal fingers, never having to get within five feet of the mineral.  Judging by Qalor's actions and movements, not to mention his appearance, there might be some benefit to avoiding close contact with those glowing facets.

She glanced at the alchemist.  He was still trying to turn the valve; perhaps it was stuck, or rusted in place.  T'Sian would have to stay on her perch a little longer.  Moving into the ankle-deep water, she tried to pick up a shard of blue crystal, but it seemed to be stuck to the floor and would not be dislodged.  She moved to another, tried again.  It, too, refused to move.

How odd.

She approached one of the larger chunks and started sawing.  The blade cut easily through the crystal; luminous chips fell into the gushing water and were swept away.  Then a chunk came loose and she manipulated the lever, catching it in the tines as it fell.

Suddenly T'Sian cried:  "He's running away!"

Diasa whirled, just in time to see Qalor disappear through the door to his quarters.

She cast the tool aside and sprinted after him.

T'Sian crouched on the platform and stared at the crystals, tantalizingly out of reach; the pipe continued to spew water, and even from here she could feel how cold it was.  If she ventured into it, the low temperatures could harm her, make her sluggish and unable to defend herself, especially in her more vulnerable human shape.  The laboratory was more than large enough to contain her true form; she could change, gobble up both the red and blue crystals, and then return to her human guise in order to escape the castle.  Or perhaps she could escape up the chimney.  It was quite large; she could probably force her way through it, just like she used to slither along the narrow throat of her lair in the mountains.  Bones could shift; wings could retract.  At worst, she would be forced to return to human form, drop back down to the laboratory, and fight her way out; but at best, she would emerge from the top of her enemies' castle and begin laying waste to everything they held dear.

Yes.  Yes.  Yes.

It was high time Dunshandrin's ilk tasted the vengeance they had earned.

Adaran did all right limping up the dungeon corridor and into the abandoned guard post; he even managed to stumble over to the table, snatch up the mugs of evil-smelling drink, and drain them both.  But when they came to the stairs, he looked up at them, sighed, and said:  "I forgot there were so many."

"You can make it," Ponn said.  "I'll help you."

They ascended more slowly than Ponn would have liked; Adaran treated each step as if it were a pool of unknown depth and questionable temperature, testing it with one foot before committing to it.  Ponn supported as much of the man's weight as he could, but he was heavier than he looked; there must be wiry muscle beneath his thin frame.  He would never make it down the cliff, but what other path was available?  They could hardly wander through the hallways looking for an exit.  His filth and injuries clearly identified him as either a prisoner or a beggar, and a beggar was unlikely to be roaming about the castle accompanied by a dirty little foreigner who smelled like a forgotten chamberpot.

At last they reached the middle landing.  Ponn steadied Adaran against the wall, then reached for the door to the cesspool, just as it burst open and someone came charging through, crashing into him.  They went down in a tangle of limbs.  Instinctively, Ponn kicked out with his legs, feeling them strike something; he heard a cry as the other person tumbled down the dungeon stairs like a bouncing ball made of arms and legs.  Ponn jumped to his feet, grabbed the shocked-looking Adaran, and dragged him through the door.  He was surprised to find the floor wet; icy water poured down the staircase across the room, swirling around their feet, flowing into the next room.  He imagined Wyst standing there, watching the water flow into the cesspool, scooping it up and drinking it, or perhaps considering it some fresh punishment and letting it break over her as if she were a rock.

Splashing footsteps came fast down the stairs, but it was too late to hide.  He pushed Adaran to the side and raised his fists just as Diasa entered the room, sword drawn.  They stared at each other for a moment, and then Diasa said:  "What are you doing here?  Are you planning to hit me with those little fists?"

Ponn felt himself flush.  He lowered his hands.

Her gaze moved over his shoulder to Adaran, back to Ponn, then to Adaran again.  A frown creased her face.  "Oh," she said.  "It's you."

"Yes, it's me."

"I thought you were dead."

"Not yet.  Sorry."

Ponn said:  "Diasa, where is T'Sian?"

"In the laboratory.  That way."  She indicated the stairs down which she had come.  "I'm after Qalor.  He fled this way.  Did you see him?"

That must be the man who'd crashed into him.  "I think so.  He fell down the dungeon stairs."  Ponn pointed at the door behind him.

"Is he alive?"

"I don't know.  Did you get the crystals?"

"Yes.  Almost.  There's a pipe spraying cold water, and T'Sian won't come down until it's shut off.  You need to turn the valve in the wall to stop the water."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"What about you?"

"I'm going after Qalor."

"But—"  He broke off because Diasa wasn't listening; she sprinted across the room and banged through the door to the landing, her footsteps fading rapidly.  "Fine," he told the door.  "Don't listen to me.  After all, I give poor advice."

"Who are you talking to?" Adaran said.

"No one."  Ponn turned to him.  "I'm going to go check on T'Sian.  Wait for me here."

"Do you suppose I might run away?" Adaran said.

Tolaria blinked a few times, as the ceiling gradually came into focus.  She lay on the floor looking up at it, a sour, metallic taste in her mouth.  After a moment she realized she had bitten her tongue, no doubt in the throes of a vision, and was tasting the blood.

She sat up, reaching out to steady herself against the bed.  The room seemed to be slowing from a wild spin, like a top coming to rest, tipping onto its side.  She tried to remember what she had seen, but could not; and there was no one here to tell her what she might have said, except for the little girl.

Tolaria attempted to speak, but it turned into a fit of coughing.  When the attack passed, she tried again.  "Prehn?"

No answer.

The oracle hauled herself onto the bed, sat on the edge.  She didn't see Prehn.  She got to her feet, felt unbalanced, sat down again.  She needed to lie down for a little while, but for some reason felt she could not spare the time.

"Prehn?"

Still no answer.  Where had the child gone?  Was she hiding, perhaps frightened by Tolaria's behavior?  No, the door to their room was ajar.  Tolaria had latched it after Ponn left; Prehn must have opened it and gone out.  She went to it and peeked out.  The hallway was empty; the common room below seemed quiet, the noise barely rising to the level of a murmur.  Lunch was long since ended, and dinner had not yet arrived.  Had Prehn gone down there?  Could she risk going to look for the girl?  She was supposed to stay in the room, lest someone should recognize her or, worse, ask her a question; but she had told Ponn she would watch over his daughter, a simple task, at which she had failed.

Why had the others left her alone, putting her in such a predicament?  The twins had crippled her with their meddling.  She needed someone to watch over her at least as much as Prehn did.  It was all in her mind, wasn't it? If she concentrated hard enough, could she not overcome it, say what needed to be said instead of the truth, ugly and unpainted?  Probably not.  When she answered questions, she did so automatically, below the level of thought.  By the time she thought of a lie, she would have already answered with the truth.

Still, she had to go and find Prehn.  She had promised.

As Tolaria stepped out into the hallway, Prehn came into view, tottering up the stairs, using both small hands to carry a wooden cup.  Greatly relieved, Tolaria returned to the room, settling onto her bed.  The straw crackled and shifted beneath her.  Prehn entered momentarily; she closed the door and then wordlessly brought the cup over, proffering it to Tolaria.  She took it, sniffed the contents, took a sip.  Water.

"What's this for?" she said.

The little girl shrugged and climbed onto Diasa's bed, keeping a watchful gaze on Tolaria.  The oracle thought for a moment, then said:  "Did I ask for water?"

The child nodded.

So.  Her vision must have involved water, but what about it?  There was no shortage of it here; the lake was full, the river high.  Perhaps the vision had been about a ship? A flood? It may have been completely unrelated to their current situation; after all, nothing required that everything she foretold must involve Dunshandrin.

"Did I say anything else?"

No answer.  Prehn might be talkative with her father, but not with anyone else.

Tolaria was quite sure that she hadn't had a vision of herself being thirsty, but whatever the actual premonition had been, it was locked away inside her head, inaccessible.  She rolled onto her back, feeling drained and useless, spouting predictions that no one heard, a town crier without a town.

The little girl was still watching her, perhaps waiting for her to drink the water.  She took a sip.  "Good water," she said.  Prehn giggled and pushed her face into the straw-stuffed pillow as if trying to climb inside.

Well, at least she had made a child happy today.  That put her ahead of many others, didn't it?

Diasa paused a moment on the landing, listening.  She heard nothing, no footsteps rushing down to meet her, no tramping feet as the guards took up positions above or below.  The utter lack of opposition had begun to worry her.  At first she had attributed it to a shortage of manpower or to general incompetence—these were, after all, the same people who had let Tolaria simply walk out of their castle—but this negligence was too gross to be unintentional.  No, she had to assume that someone somewhere in the chain of command, perhaps even the twins themselves, had realized what they were facing.  The response, when it came, would be proportional to the threat; fortunately the wizard and Deliban were elsewhere, and if Ponn was correct, the alchemist was at the bottom of the steps.

She descended quickly, taking the stairs at a reckless pace.  They ended in an abandoned guardroom.  She noticed a thin trail of blood, and followed it to a cot against the wall, partially hidden behind a screen.  Qalor lay on it, his face contorted.  He looked at her and groaned.  "Not you again.  Haven't you tormented me enough?"

"Hardly," she said.  Although his body had already been warped and twisted from his work, she thought that the tumble might have dislocated his right shoulder.  He had other worries, though; his right leg was badly broken, the bone protruding from the skin.  That was the source of the bleeding.  She had hoped to take him as a hostage and a source of information, but in this condition that would be impossible.  She would have to carry him up the stairs and out of the castle, and she could hardly do that.  "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now for all that you've done."

"You would murder a man in this condition?"

"A man such as you?" Diasa said.  "A man who was party to the destruction of my home?  Who breeds monsters and crafts terrible weapons?  I would, and I will."

"I was only doing as my liege commanded."

"Spoken like a true scoundrel."

He closed his eyes.  "Get on with it, then."

She just stood there, and after a moment Qalor opened his eyes again.  He said:  "Well?"

"Tell me where you got those scrolls," she said.

After a careful climb, Ponn reached the top of the flooded steps.  The door that earlier had been barred now stood open.  He splashed across a shabby, barren room and entered a cavernous chamber that could only be Qalor's laboratory.

Suddenly a massive talon snatched him up, holding him roughly, the way a bully might hold a doll he had grabbed from a smaller child, just before dashing it against a rock.  "T'Sian!" he cried.

"
Pyodor Ponn.
"  The claw brought him up to the massive head, where one of T'Sian's smoldering eyes examined him.  "
What are
you
doing here?
"