Dragon's Treasure (14 page)

"What happens tonight?"

"There's a reception tonight for the prince in the Hotel

Azure. Luke Ridenar is hosting it, but the Lemininkai's paying. All the folk of rank will be there, and anyone else who can beg or steal a way in. Your lord will go, of course."

* * *

The Hotel Azure was six blocks from the Hotel Goude. There were no horses or wagons to be seen: between the sunset bell and midnight, only foot traffic was permitted in the center of the city. Karadur wore black: in an uncharacteristic show of wealth, he had covered his left arm from wrist to elbow with armrings, all different widths and weights, all gold. On his right arm, the golden dragon gleamed.

At the corner of Lilac Avenue and Silver Row, three buxom women, elaborately gowned and coifed, crooned throaty endearments.

"Ooh," one said, "look at the shoulders on that one, will you! And the hair!" Swiveling, Herugin scowled mightily at them. They broke into rapturous giggles.

They turned the corner into Willow Square. Instead of a fountain, a huge willow tree occupied the center of the square. Tiny lanterns, hundreds of them, red, gold, blue, green, swung from the branches. Three banners dangled from the Hotel Azure balcony. The one on the left showed the red fox, the Ridenar emblem, on a white field. The one on the right showed the Lemininkai blue arrow on a silver field. The one between them was black, embroidered with three silver emblems: a sword, a jewel, and between them, a crown.

The hotel doors were wide-open. Two sweating pikemen, blades crossed, stood ceremonially in front of the entrance. A man with a captain's emblem on his silver-and-blue shirt stood beside them. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the dragon badges, and the armband on Karadur's forearm. He bowed.

"My lord, welcome to the Hotel Azure." The pikemen drew their weapons back. Karadur strode past them. The hall was thick with scent, and filled with people. Servants, trays propped on their shoulders, circulated through the crowd; their trays held wine, fruit pastries, and cups of raspberry sherbet. The sherbet was melting in the heat. A harpist, scarcely audible through the buzz of voices, played from a dais.

Hunter,
Karadur said,
find me Kalni Leminin.

She pivoted on her heel, listening and looking. Near the dais, a phalanx of richly dressed backs shifted to reveal the diminutive lord of Ujo leaning casually against the wall, talking to a taller, red-haired man.

There he is, my lord. The shorter man, in blue.

Karadur walked to the dais. The people near the Lemininkai drew back. Karadur halted. "My lord of Ujo," he said, "I am—"

"I know who you are. The Dragon of Chingura," the Lemininkai said cheerfully. "Of whom marvelous tales abound. They have been telling stories about you the length and breadth of Ryoka. Welcome to my city. You know Lukas Ridenar?" He jerked a thumb at the man beside him. "The lord of Firense is host of this overheated affair."

"The nominal host," Lukas Ridenar said amiably. He was older than Karadur, but younger than the Lemininkai. His elegant clothes hung gracelessly on his frame. "Everyone knows this is really your party. I have not even seen the guest list. Atani, you are welcome." He snagged a wineglass off a passing tray, and handed it to Karadur. "Your health."

"Yours." They drank.

"Where are you staying?"

"The Hotel Goude."

"How was your journey from Ippa?"

"Uneventful," Karadur said. "My lord of Ujo, I have a message for you. Erin diMako sends his greetings."

"I am happy to accept them, but I had hoped to see him in person. Is he indisposed?"

"He is quite well. He said to tell you that having seen four daughters wed in four years, he has had enough of weddings."

The Lemininkai laughed. "Gods, I don't blame him! I should not want to do this more than once. Not that I have had much to do. As my wife keeps telling me, weddings are women's business. You have not yet met my wife. Tomorrow you will, and when you do, you will understand. Sarita is a formidable woman."

"I look forward to our meeting," Karadur said politely.

It was going well. It was going very well. On the dais, the harpist cased his harp, and retreated in favor of a lute- player and a man with a drum. Silent figures stood like statues against the walls. Drifting into shadow, Hawk joined them. Most wore Lemininkai badges, but here and there she glimpsed other emblems: a red fox, a silver spear, a yellow diamond.

Herugin appeared, holding two sausages, each within a wrap of bread. Hawk shifted to make room for him. He handed her a sausage.

Suddenly Kalni Leminin left the corner. Striding toward the rear of the hall, he vanished amid a swirl of men in blue cloaks. He reappeared in a moment, followed by a slim, dark-haired man dressed in grey silks. A narrow circlet of silver glittered on his brow.

"Gods," whispered Herugin, "he's young."

Conversations stilled. With the Lemininkai at his elbow, the prince circled the hall, stopping now and then to speak to someone. They came to the corner where the dragon-lord stood.

Kalni Leminin said, "My lords, I would like you to meet Cirion Imorin, Prince of Lienor. Highness, this is Lukas Ridenar of Firense, whom you know, and this is Karadur Atani, of Dragon Keep."

Lukas Ridenar bowed. "My prince. It's good to see you again."

"The lord of Firense I know well: he has visited my home, and he and his family have many times entertained my sister." The prince's tone was light, with a thread of gaiety running through it. "How fares your family, my lord?"

"They're well. How is your lovely sister Idana? Fierce as ever?"

"More than ever so. She sends greetings to you and your lady." He looked at Karadur. His eyes were grey, and clear, and acute. He seemed entirely at ease. "The Dragon of Chingura and I have never met, to my regret. A pleasure, my lord."

Karadur said, "The pleasure is mine." He bowed smoothly.

Herugin said softly, "He did it."

A dark-haired woman in a grey cloak glided to stand behind Cirion's left shoulder. She was lean and supple as a sapling. Her gaze touched Hawk's.
Sister hawk
, she said, in the accents of Voiana.
I greet thee.

Hawk blinked. It was as if she looked into a mirror, and saw herself as she had been, twenty years before.

Sister,
she said.
Who art thou?

I am Jada Afar. I serve the prince.

Terrill Chernico. I am with Dragon.

At the other end of the hall, the rhythm of laughter in the gathering changed. Like figures in a military march, the revelers had formed themselves into two lines. A woman stood alone in the high-arched doorway. Her gown of sky-blue silk was trimmed at hem and neck with silver. A web of tiny diamonds glittered in her auburn hair. Smiling buoyantly, she walked between the lines. Cirion went to greet her. She put both hands out to him with tender grace.

A child toddled out of the crowd, carrying a bouquet of pink flowers nearly as large as she was. Selena took the bouquet. Cirion, laughing, swept the child up onto his shoulder, swung her into the air, and set her on her feet again.

A man in dapper satin spoke at Karadur's elbow. "They make a charming couple, don't you think?" He had a seamed, long-jawed face, and dark eyes, made prominent by deep eye ridges and the jet-black eyebrows that hung over them. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Marichal."

"Atani."

"I know: the Dragon of Chingura. I knew your father. You look like him. We fought together under Pohja Leminin, twenty-five years ago."

Karadur said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord. Were you friends with my father?"

"Friends? No. He had a damned imperious way about him, and a demonic temper. But his soldiers would have followed him to hell if he chose to lead them there."

Karadur said mildly, "So will mine."

Allumar Marichal smiled. "Is this your first visit to Ujo?"

"No," the dragon-lord said. "I have been here before, with Erin diMako." He did not elaborate.

"Kalni's proud of his city. As well he should be." He lifted a glass off a passing tray. "Proud of his girl, too. She's a beauty, is she not? Quite a triumph, this wedding."

"That's generous of you, Marichal," said a grating voice at Karadur's back. "Too bad that your own plans fell through. I heard you wanted the girl for one of your boys. Ario, I heard it was."

Marichal turned. For a moment, it appeared as if he was about to snub the interloper. Then he said, rather frostily, "My son Ario is happily married, my lord." He gestured. "Do you know each other? Karadur Atani; Marion diSorvino."

The dragon-lord said, "My lord of Sorvino."

"Atani. Yes. I heard that you were here." DiSorvino was a bulky man, with wide shoulders and a fleshy, ruddy face. "I have a bone to pick with you. You had Treion Unamira in your hands last winter, and you let him go. You know what he did in Castella. You should have killed the murdering bastard when you had the chance."

Karadur said, "My lord, what I do in my domain is my own business. But I regret I have offended you. I had hoped we could be cordial."

"Why?"

"I want to speak with you about your daughter Maia. She lives on my land."

"My daughter?" DiSorvino scowled. "You have been deceived, my lord. I have no daughter. My late wife Iva bore a pinched-faced whelp who lived in my house for a time. Who the bitch's father was is anyone's guess."

Repugnance, quickly concealed, crossed Allumar Marichal's ugly face. He said, "Atani, you must excuse diSorvino, he has no manners."

DiSorvino purpled. "Mind your own business, sir! My manners are my own. Should I wish for a tutor, I'll pay one." He nodded to the dragon-lord. "Take the girl if you want. Be warned, though. She's probably a whore, like her mother."

Karadur's face went still as stone. Then his eyes changed, from cobalt to searing, diamond-white.

The lute-player's fingers jangled to a halt. Herugin started forward. Hawk clamped her fingers round his arm. "Don't be a fool," she said. No one moved.

Suddenly Cirion stepped between Karadur and diSorvino. With a nod toward Marichal, and not even a glance at Marion diSorvino, Cirion said to Karadur, "My lord, forgive me for interrupting your conversation. There is a contest in the square you should witness. Your man is in it; the black-haired archer." He gestured toward the doors. "Join me."

It was, quite clearly, a command.

Cool grey eyes met that fiery gaze, and held. Hawk felt the shock of it through her nerve endings. Then Karadur Atani's preternatural gaze metamorphosed into something human, endurable. Calmly, Cirion turned. Karadur and Marichal both followed him through the chamber. Lukas Ridenar padded after them.

Herugin said softly to Hawk, "What the hell just happened?"

"I don't know," she said. Her head throbbed. "Come on."

The evening was balmy. A fragrance of honeysuckle hung in the air. The sky was tinged with lilac. A swelling moon, a hairsbreadth short of full, edged slowly over the city's rooftops. Selena Leminin stood on the lowest step, gazing across the shadowy lawn toward the huge willow tree. Facing the tree, at the far edge of the lawn, Finle Haraldsen stood, bow in hand. Next to him stood a second archer, a solid, stocky youth, not as tall as Finle. Finle lifted the bow and loosed an arrow. It hissed through the darkness. An amber lamp, the string that held it to its branch severed, fell to the ground. A page darted out to seize it. The other man shot. A blue lamp dropped from the tree. A page scooped it up. A trio of groundskeepers stood by with pails of water, lest one of the falling lamps ignite. The two men shot again in turn. Two lamps dropped.

There were four lamps left on the tree.

Marichal said, "You said this was a competition. I see two men."

Cirion said, "You missed the beginning. There were nine contestants to begin with. If a man missed a shot, he had to drop out. These two alone are left."

Lukas Ridenar said, "Allumar, one of those men is wearing your badge."

"That is so."

"And looks remarkably like your son Daniello."

Marichal said complacently, "Indeed, I believe it is my son Daniello." Again the men traded shots. Two more lamps fell.

Suddenly the great doors opened wide. Laughing and jostling each other, a crowd of merrymakers spilled down the steps. The archers ignored them. Finle aimed and loosed. A red lamp dropped from the tree. The second man shot. No lamp dropped. The shooter let out a crow of laughter.

"I'm done!" he announced gaily. "My friend, you have the prize."

Allumar Marichal said, "Daniello!" The young man turned. "Daniello, come here. Say hello to the prince, whom you know, and to Karadur Atani, whom you do not. My lords, this is my son, Daniello."

"My lady, my lords, I am honored." Daniello bowed, first to the prince, then to the dragon-lord. He looked very like his father. "My lord Atani, your man's skill makes the rest of us look like children. I counted myself a good archer, until tonight."

Lukas Ridenar chuckled. "By the gods, Atani, your man just beat Daniello Allumar at archery. Not very diplomatic of you to let him do that."