The Dragon of Despair (49 page)

Elise bit her lip, willing herself not to scream or give warning, trying to remember if Firekeeper could accurately throw her Fang, wondering what she would do if the wolf-woman fled again.

Judge Ulia looked at Firekeeper, flat brown eyes meeting those so dark that they seemed almost without color, and found no retreat.

“You say you will answer for him,” the judge said, “but you yourself have already proven to be too dangerous to be trusted with control of such a deadly beast. There is no other answer. The wolf must be destroyed.”

Firekeeper howled, a single long, shrill note that Elise didn’t doubt contained a wealth of meaning for the right ears. Then she bared her teeth at the judge.

“I tell Brotius,” Firekeeper said, “what happens if Blind Seer is hurt. You are as warned as he.”

Shouts came from outside the inn and the whinny of a horse in panic. Elise thought she heard Edlin’s “I say!” above the other voices and wondered just when he’d slipped outside. Doubtless as soon as he recognized the threat to the wolf. If he’d risk trouble for fighting dogs, he’d risk more for a companion.

“Grab Lady Blysse!” Captain Brotius shouted to his men, even as Wendee and Derian moved toward the wolf-woman, obviously hoping she would not harm them as she would a stranger.

Then the door into the inn’s common room opened and a man in traveling clothes stepped through. His amiable features were illuminated by the outside light and Elise thought she saw several people in the room—Captain Brotius among them—stiffen.

“I’ve been listening from outside,” the newcomer said, in New Kelvinese, “and it has been very interesting. Lord Kestrel has a hold on the wolf, but no one will harm it without killing the young lord—a thing his grandmother the duchess would not like at all.”

Elise quickly translated the gist of this speech.

“Firekeeper, Blind Seer is safe. Edlin is protecting him.”

Firekeeper relaxed marginally, but her hand remained in the vicinity of what Elise was now certain was her Fang.

“Judge Ulia, you have really done very well,” the newcomer said, “but perhaps you and I should adjourn and discuss this last sentence further.

Judge Ulia dismounted the high seat from which she had passed her rulings with alacrity, ordering that the New Kelvinese bullies be taken away, and for everyone else to settle down. The pair were gone for a far shorter period of time than Elise would have thought possible to sort out such an intricate problem.

The newcomer took a stand at the front of the room alongside the judge. Although he did not wear the black stripe, it was evident that Ulia respected him as a peer—or at least that she feared him enough to defer her authority. Elise wasn’t certain which was true.

Judge Ulia spoke in New Kelvinese. The newcomer, speaking in very good Pellish, offered a summary immediately after.

“Judge Ulia has agreed,” he said, fixing his gaze on Firekeeper, “to accept Lady Blysse’s decision to answer for the wolf, Blind Seer’s, actions. After all, the wolf only acted in defense of his mistress and with more restraint than did she herself. He should not be killed for that.”

Firekeeper listened and though her tension did not leave her, Elise no longer feared the wolf-woman would spring upon the next New Kelvinese to step near her.

“Then we can go?” Firekeeper said when the newcomer paused.

“You can go,” the newcomer replied.

He motioned for Judge Ulia to precede him, and they led a general exodus of chattering New Kelvinese from the room. Elise and her party followed more slowly.

“What a good man,” she said, overcome by relief, “and what good luck that he arrived when he did.”

Grateful Peace turned toward her, his expression somber.

“I don’t doubt that he is a good man—in his way and when it serves him, but as for it being luck that brought him here at this time…”

Peace trailed off, shaking his head slowly.

Elise stared at him, suddenly afraid again.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Peace replied, “that the newcomer who so easily overruled Judge Ulia was none other than Xarxius, a member of the Dragon’s Three, and a very powerful person indeed.”

XIX

WITH THE SOILED ROBE
wrapped into a neat square package, Toriovico went searching for help.

The Dragon Speaker and the Healed One maintained separate staffs for many things. Ostensibly the reason for this was that while whoever held the post of Dragon Speaker could—theoretically—change on a regular basis, the Healed One reigned for life. It would not do for his administration to be disrupted whenever a Dragon Speaker lost the confidence of the Primes.

This was a good reason, but as Toriovico alone knew, it was not the real reason. The real reason was that the First Healed One had been a cynic and had desired to set up a government that would devour as many resources as possible—human and otherwise. Two sets of clerks, two sets of spies, two sets, even, of purely mundane things like stationery and pens.

So although the Dragon Speaker’s spy network had been disrupted by the defection of Grateful Peace, the Healed One’s had not.

Apheros was clearly Melina’s creature—as indeed he should be, Toriovico thought, nearly drowning in a wave of guilt, for was she not the wife of the Healed One? But this meant that Toriovico could not risk that word would reach Melina through Apheros or one of his lackeys that her husband was looking into her activities. Just the thought of her displeasure were she to know chilled his bones.

Therefore, Toriovico did not go to where his watchers maintained their offices or to where Apheros’s maintained theirs. Instead, he went to the little museum within the Earth Spires kept by the Sodality of Lapidaries. It was not a grand place compared with their own museum in their Hall of Minerals in the city proper, but it had one resource that the grand museum lacked—Columi, emeritus Prime, and currently retired to the token job of custodian.

When seeking to have the dirt clinging to the hem of Melina’s robe identified, Toriovico could have tried several of the sodalities.

The Lapidaries concerned themselves with gems and all manner of minerals, but the Smiths also knew much of what came out of the earth. The Illuminators, too, had much curious knowledge, garnered in their perpetual quest for new, brighter, and more vivid pigments. Finally, the Alchemists had burned, boiled, or exploded at least one of everything that they could lay hands on. They were quite likely to have someone who was a specialist on dirt.

But it was Columi himself who had tilted the balance in favor of the Lapidaries. Indeed, though Toriovico tried to hide the thought from himself, the Healed One was planning on consulting the old man not merely as an honored and wise member of his order and as someone he had known from childhood—but as someone he knew did not at all like Melina.

Columi and Melina had disputed last winter during the analysis of the artifacts brought from Bright Bay. Toriovico didn’t know the details. Their mutual dislike was a thing more sensed than known, something read in the intricate dance of human relations.

Toriovico skipped a few steps of a favorite folk reel to calm his nerves. Let any who watched him think he was going to the museum for something to do with the upcoming harvest celebration. Besides, dancing seemed to clear his head.

An elaborate chime made from elongated splinters of some shining dark rock—Toriovico thought it might be obsidian—made a delicate, glassy clangor as he opened the door. The museum occupied the base of a tower whose other functions Toriovico could not remember—if indeed he had ever known. Some days it was a busy place, but this afternoon it drowsed in cool, mineral-scented, just faintly dusty stillness.

The museum was not the only thing drowsing. Seated in a comfortably padded chair, his feet up on an equally padded footrest, the museum’s custodian was blinking himself awake.

Columi was a man of moderate height who looked smaller than he was. Much of this illusion was due to the fact that he seemed built from a series of spheres. A remarkably round head was set almost directly onto a plump torso. Robes, of course, hid the details, but short pudgy fingers extending from well-cushioned palms enhanced the impression.

Although barely awake, Columi struggled to stand as soon as he recognized his caller. Once he was upright, he immediately worked his way awkwardly to the floor to make the necessary obeisances, pressing his forehead to the floor in abject apology for having been caught less than fully alert for his sovereign’s visit.

Had the matter been left to him, Toriovico would have excused the old man. Indeed, his own joints ached in sympathy as he watched Columi bobbing away. The problem was, the matter was not up to him. His role in these rituals had been dictated long ago. He could not change it without offending not only the living but the dead.

So Toriovico bore the bobbing and formal greetings stoically, not even extending a hand to help Columi to his feet. Columi might have remained on the floor, but happily, there was a cane near at hand. He grasped it and used it to push himself up.

To Toriovico, who knew something of the internal rituals of the Sodality of Lapidaries, the ruddy brown of the cane’s polished wooden length, inlaid with a small fortune in precious and semiprecious stones, spoke of a lifetime of meritorious service by Columi to both his organization and to his kingdom. To a less well educated eye, the cane looked remarkably like the popular conception of a wizard’s staff—a bit shorter perhaps, but evocative nonetheless, right down to the polished rock-crystal sphere set in a stylized eagle’s claw at the top.

“Honored One,” Columi wheezed, surreptitiously patting his midsection to encourage his breathing to slow while leaning heavily on his cane. “I am honored by your presence in this temple dedicated to knowledge. Our hard-earned learning is enhanced threefold and more by your crossing the threshold.”

Now Toriovico could offer a bow—brief and without the apologies, but an honor to any who merited it.

“Although I bring with me the accumulated wisdom of the ages,” the Healed One replied, knowing how very minimal that knowledge was, “I am honored to have such a wise and ancient teacher ready at my disposal.”

“Not quite as ready as I should be,” Columi replied a touch ruefully, his manner becoming easier now that the formalities were over and there were none to observe them, “but ever ready to serve the Healed One.”

Had there been a slight hint of emphasis on the term “Healed One”? Toriovico wondered. Who else had been inquiring after Columi’s services?

“Has the museum been busy?” he asked.

There was the slightest of pauses, and then Columi replied, “About usual for the season, I believe. The Illuminators brought by a group of apprentices for a test on raw mineral identification. They like to do it here rather than at the Scriptorium lest some enterprising soul get a gander in advance at their collection and so identify a specific piece rather than a mineral type.”

Toriovico grinned. He’d heard similar tales from each and every sodality. Sometimes he thought that if students put half the energy and ingenuity into learning their subjects as they did to trying to outwit their instructors they would do far better. On the other hand, that was a test in itself. Rarely did the cheats rise high, and those who did had wit and cleverness to offer in lieu of perfect knowledge.

“And that’s all who have graced these halls?” Toriovico prompted.

Again Columi paused, but that might simply have been an effort to gather his still ragged breathing.

“A few have come by to ask specific questions or even to enjoy the quiet and the coolness.” The Lapidary’s round face grew rounder as he chuckled. “I’ve compared notes with other museum custodians. All the museums seem more popular in the heat of summer or the cold of winter when they offer relief from the elements. Spring and autumn see a distinct falling off of custom.”

Toriovico decided to leave this matter, though he remained curious as to what Columi might be hiding. Did he perhaps have a lover with whom he lightened his hours? Or was he playing politics still and wanted to conceal who might come to use this unfrequented spot for a meeting or as a place to pass messages?

“If the museum has not been too busy,” Toriovico said, “then I would not be inconveniencing any scholars if I asked you to close the doors and meet in private with me? I am correct in guessing that we are alone, am I not?”

A blush reddened Columi’s face, quite visible as he wore nothing but his accumulated tattoos and a bit of emphasis about his eyes. Clearly he was still embarrassed about being caught napping.

“We are alone, Healed One,” he said formally, “and if you will bide a few moments, I shall take precautions to assure that we will remain so.”

The Lapidary returned before Toriovico had time to do much more than study the nearest case of specimens, which contained some very nice fossils, including creatures he was certain no longer walked the earth. Then again, he could be wrong.

Do the horns of a wondrous mountain sheep remain golden after the creature is fossilized?
he wondered.
They would if they were really metal, wouldn’t they?