Murder in Tarsis (29 page)

“Evil men suspect all others of evil intent. When Boreas learned that Ironwood was in Tarsis, he suspected that his old friend was also in search of the spellbook and would soon come to steal the dragon’s heart. So Boreas hired Nistur to kill Ironwood, and when that didn’t work, he hired the street gang to keep us away from the Old City. He wanted Ironwood dead, and he wanted the remaining pieces of the dragon’s hide.”

“What do you mean, the remaining pieces?” the lord asked.

“It seems there is a further complication, my friends. Those two young men wrought more foolishness than they knew. That immature dragon left the nest too young, and its mother was compelled to search it out. When she found it slain, she fell under an overwhelming compulsion for vengeance. For all the years since, she has searched for these two, eternally confused by the separation of the heart and the hide. She found a part of the hide in a town where Ironwood had his war-harness made. She destroyed that town utterly and continued to search for the remainder. Here in Tarsis heart and hide have come together.”

“The dragon!” said the lord. “The one the sentries on the walls have reported seeing at night! I thought it only a phantom.”

“It is not too late!” Boreas cried in desperation. “She can hunt only at night and cannot bear the cold for long. I have the heart. Ironwood has …” For the first time he seemed to notice that the mercenary was not wearing his accustomed armor. “He has hidden the skin, but he will reveal its hiding place under torture. The white dwarves of Tarsis must know where the library is. With my talismans and the book, I can control her and every other dragon that lives!” He turned to the Lord of Tarsis. “I will share this power with you, my lord!”

“I must consider …”Ś the lord began, but he was cut off by a shout from Shatterspear.

“Never have I seen such a nest of lies and treachery!” he roared as he fumbled with the grip of his sword.

“It has been years since you have seen anything plainly, you sot!” the chieftain of another tribe responded angrily. Without Kyaga’s binding influence, old feuds were quickly reemerging.

Melkar turned to the lord and sneered. “You are worse than any barbarian! It was a cursed day for Tarsis when you assumed command. Get me out of these chains!”

There was a universal reaching for weapons, and the wizened little wizard, Alban, threw up his hands. “Hold! Any breach of the peace before the sun is at its zenith will bring disaster on us all!”

Hands gripping hilts, eyes wide with hate, their heads swiveled to judge the shadow. No more than five inches of shadow remained on the western side of the shaft.

“As it happens,” said Stunbog, reverting to the subject at hand, “Ironwood’s armor has been destroyed forever. Only the heart remains for the dragon to home in on. Black dragons are not very intelligent, but they are quite

relentless. She is bereaved, she is suffering, and she is very, very angry. I think she might well be angry enough to attack in the daylight. I am old, my friends. Perhaps my ears play tricks. Does anyone else hear something?”

There was utter silence; then, faintly, there came a sound like distant thunder. It was the sound of vast wings beating, and the sound was drawing closer by the second.

“Time to leave,” Nistur said to his companions. He tugged at Ironwood’s arm. “Come along.”

Slowly, still glaring at Boreas, Ironwood backed away. His former friend seemed scarcely to notice. His eyes were wide with unmitigated terror, and they grew wider as the sound of the wings drew nearer. At the entrance to the tent, Nistur turned and doffed his hat once more.

“We take our leave now. Our task is done. Gentlemen, I wish you joy of one another.”

There was a great silence as they walked away from the tent, then: “Let’s go!” Shellring cried, sprinting toward the boulders. The others were close on her heels, Stunbog holding his robe above his knees, putting on a considerable burst of speed for one of his years. They darted into the crevice, and the camouflaged door swung open before them.

“Look!” Shellring said, stopping them. They turned, then crept back toward the mouth of the crevice, drawn by a dreadful curiosity.

Men boiled from the tent as a vast shadow fell over it. Then a gigantic form dropped from the sky like a thunderbolt: a shape blacker than night and full of triumphant malice. The dragon was gaunt, almost skeletal, its once-glossy scales dull with privation, but its power was unaffected by its suffering. It landed on spread back legs, its whipping tail scattering warriors and beasts like chaff thrown up by a winnowing-fan. With savage foreclaws,

it spread the magnificent tent open like a man throwing aside a pair of flimsy curtains. Then the head and long neck, the grasping claws, disappeared within.

“Let’s get away from here,” Shellring moaned. “I don’t want to see this.” But like the others, she was unable to tear her gaze away.

The dragon drew back from the tent. In one great-taloned hand, it held the wooden casket. In the other, a human form writhed. The beast raised its fearsome snout and vented an ear-shattering roar. Then the great, leathery wings spread, and the dragon was aloft, scattering tents in the hurricane generated by its flight. With incredible speed, the black form dwindled in the western sky.

“Now,” Stunbog said quietly, “we can go.”

*****

“Here is what you asked for,” Hotforge said, handing Stunbog a large earthenware jar with its mouth stoppered by a wooden plug and sealed with wax. “You won’t forget your promise, now.”

“Of course not, my friend,” Stunbog said, somewhat out of breath. The dwarves had hustled them through the labyrinthine tunnels, and they were now at the foot of a ramp leading up to the surface.

“What is it?” Ironwood asked.

“You recall what Granny Toadflower said?” Stunbog delivered a fair imitation of her demented speech. ” ‘You want a cure for dragon bite? Down there! Find the lightning-worm!’ This is a portion of the heart of the behir, along with several of its talons. They each have properties to prevent or counteract effects of poisons.”

“It can cure me?” Ironwood asked.

“I doubt it can effect a permanent cure, but if we can find a properly qualified practitioner of the magical arts, I think we can bring about a remission of the effects of the dragon’s poison for a long time, perhaps long enough to find a complete cure.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing,” Ironwood said.

“It is truly difficult to make you happy,” Nistur complained as they trudged up the ramp. Then the doors swung wide, and they stepped out onto a grassy mound. The sun had already melted away the last of the snow, and above them the sky stretched in a broad blue expanse. A few yards away, Myrsa and Badar held the reins of six horses, and they cheered when they saw the four tired figures emerge from underground.

“What favor did you promise Hotforge?” Nistur asked Stunbog.

“He asked that I spread word of their plight among any other dwarves I might come across. They have much to trade and, with an infusion of new blood, their hereditary ills will disappear after a generation or two. The dwarves of Tarsis may grow numerous and prosper once more.”

They turned at a dull, inchoate sound from behind them. It came from the city, or just beyond it. There were roaring and crashing noises, and smoke began to ascend.

“That started a while ago,” Myrsa told them. “It must be a battle or a riot.”

“I thought I saw a dragon flying,” Badar added. “Did you see it?”

“That we did,” Nistur informed him, “and from uncomfortably close range at that.”

Stunbog shook his head. “What folly. After all that, after all the revelations they have been granted, they still want to fight.” He sighed. “I have lost all my books and artifacts, but a scholar’s true treasure is here.” He tapped his temple.

They began to mount, but Shellring held back, looking toward the city. “I’ve never been anywhere but Tarsis.”

“You cannot stay,” Stunbog said. “You have too many enemies there now, even if the nomads don’t destroy it.”

“Come with us,” Nistur urged. “See something of the world.”

She eyed a horse warily. “I’ve never ridden before.”

“I will teach you,” Badar said. “Ride with me for a while. I show you what to do.” He reached down a hand. Shellring smiled and took it. With an easy surge, he pulled her onto the saddle behind him.

“That was easily accomplished,” Nistur said.

Ironwood laughed richly. “What a group we are! Look at us: an unemployable mercenary, an assassin who can no longer assassinate, a sorcerer who has forsworn magic, a thief, and a pair of outcast barbarians!”

“And yet, fate has thrown us together,” Nistur observed.

“Aye,” Stunbog agreed. “And I cannot help but think it is for some purpose.”

“We may have saved the world from a tyrant,” Nistur said.

Stunbog nodded. “True, but much of the danger was of our own making. Does it not occur to you that the four of us—Nistur, Ironwood, Shellring, and myself— are much alike? In the past each of our lives took an evil turn, and we sought prosperity through the easy path. Truly, I should not include Shellring, for she was desperate and had little choice in adopting the life of a thief. The three of us had no such excuse. I think we have all been given a chance to atone for our sins and the evils we have brought on the world. We must use this opportunity wisely. We will not get another, for as we have just witnessed, there is yet true justice in Ansalon.”

As they sat their mounts and gazed at the black smoke now rising over Tarsis, they pondered these sobering words.

“But what are we to do?” Shellring asked at last.

“Is it not obvious?” said Nistur. “We were commissioned to solve a murder. If I may say so, we accomplished this task with no little distinction. If the Lord of Tarsis had such a problem, might not others? Let us hire ourselves out as solvers of crimes, ferreters-out of murderers, champions of justice! Do you think that lot”— his sweeping gesture took in the city of Tarsis—”are an aberration? Nothing of the sort!”

“Then, where shall we go?” Ironwood mused.

Nistur leaned forward in his saddle. “Ah, my friends, that is the beauty of this career! Unlike mercenaries, we do not have to seek out a war. Unlike merchants, we do not have to find a market.” He leaned back and spread his arms wide. “No matter where we go, we will always find wickedness! And there we shall be in our element.”

And with that they wheeled their mounts about and rode away from Tarsis the Proud.