The Fire Dragon (40 page)

“That be Werda,” Jahdo said. “Let's join her. I doubt me if anyone will mind our pushing in front of them.”

Indeed, the crowd seemed more than willing to let Jahdo and Dallandra get between them and the dragon. They worked their way through the muttering townsfolk, then jogged across the open stretch of plaza. By then Werda
had climbed a flat-topped boulder and stood, staff in hand, looking toward the crowd. Dallandra saw Niffa, standing on the paving stones just below the Spirit Talker's rocky perch. She could just get a glimpse of Arzosah, sitting behind the boulders, and Rhodry, standing in front of her in an oddly protective stance—just as if Arzosah weren't capable of tearing this crowd to shreds, Dallandra thought.

“Fellow citizens!” Werda called out. “Listen to me, if it pleases you.”

The crowd began to hush itself in a murmur like sighs. When most had fallen silent, Werda continued.

“I have spoken to this dragon. She does have words, she be no mindless beast. She may therefore be reasoned with, and truly, she did assure me that she wishes none of us the slightest harm.”

The crowd nodded, murmuring in some relief among themselves. Jahdo stood on tiptoe to whisper to Dallandra.

“Then Arzosah does lie a little bit,” the boy said. “We all do know she'd gobble Raena down if the gods did but give her a chance.”

“True spoken,” Dallandra whispered. “But we don't need to tell anyone that right now.”

Werda held up her silver-touched staff again, and the crowd once again fell silent.

“Go now about the business of your day,” Werda called out, “as I shall do with mine. Fear not! If you wish, come greet her and hear her speak with your own ears.”

Many of the townsfolk called out their thanks; others clapped or waved. Slowly, talking among themselves, they began to scatter across the plaza or head back to the downhill path. Since no one seemed to be taking Werda's offer to come meet the dragon, Dallandra and Jahdo hurried over to pay their respects to the Spirit Talker, who with Niffa's help was clambering down from the rocks. Arzosah waddled up the last few feet to the plaza as well. As always Dallandra marvelled at how awkward she was on the ground in contrast to her ease and beauty in the air.

“Dalla!” Rhodry called out. “All's well on our end. How have things been going here?”

“Quiet so far, and my thanks to every god for that.” “Quiet be a lovely thing, truly.” Werda joined them.

“You must be Dallandra. Young Niffa has told me many a pleasant thing about you.”

“My thanks, then,” Dallandra said. “And I'm truly glad to meet you. There's rather a lot we need to discuss.”

Werda's house stood just downhill from the plaza at the end of a path made of wooden steps, some way from the ruined temple and right beside a little shrine to the gods of the lake. To talk in privacy Werda took Dallandra and Niffa into her house, but Jahdo stayed outside with Rhodry and of course the dragon, who would never have managed to squeeze herself inside even if she had been invited. The shrine itself was a simple thing: four stone pillars held up a wood roof that sheltered a roughly worked block of stone. Bunches of yellow wildflowers lay on this plain altar, and a scatter of little green stones. In front of the shrine stood a wood bench. Jahdo and Rhodry sat there, while Arzosah spread herself out on the cobbles to take the sun.

“Where's Dar and his men?” Rhodry said.

“Camped down by the lake,” Jahdo said. “I did see Princess Carra this morning, and she did tell me that the prince be powerful eager to leave here and go back to the grasslands.”

“No doubt. But I think me we'd all best stay till this matter of the alliance is settled. If the Horsekin take Cerr Cawnen, it'll be so much the worse for Deverry.”

“I'd not thought of that. I—wait. Here comes Verrarc, and we'd best hold our tongues around him.”

With a forced smile Councilman Verrarc came striding up to them. He hadn't slept very well, apparently; the dark shadows under his eyes stood out against the pale of his skin.

“Good morrow, Jahdo,” he said. “I did wish to thank you for those splendid tales you told last night.”

“Well, my thanks. I did feel as if I were stumbling over my own tongue by the end of it, and my throat be a bit sore this morning.”

“No doubt.”

“And yet I've not told you all of it,” Jahdo went on. “I do feel that there be much I've forgotten, or mayhap knew not the meaning of.”

Verrarc stepped back with a toss of his head, then forced out a smile.

“All in good time, no doubt.” The councilman glanced at Rhodry. “We've not met, good sir.”

“So we've not,” Rhodry said. “My name is Rhodry from Aberwyn.”

“And I be Verrarc, councilman to this town.”

The two men shook hands briefly, but it seemed to Jahdo that they would rather have challenged each other.

“It's a strange thing.” Verrarc looked away absently. “The world's a cursed sight wider than ever I thought, and here every summer have I ridden into Dwarveholt to trade and suchlike. Tell me somewhat, lad. Think you that you'll find this town tedious from now on?”

Jahdo was about to deny any such thing, but all at once he wondered how he would feel when the relief of being home wore off. Rhodry was watching him with a slight smile that struck him as a challenge.

“Well now,” Jahdo said at last. “I truly hope I'll be happy to stay in Cerr Cawnen all my born days, but I do wonder.”

“So do I,” Verrarc said. “I'm minded to make you an offer, you see. You ken a fair bit about this world of ours, and there be a need on me to take an apprentice soon, someone to learn the trading.”

Jahdo stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets, to gain a little time. His first thought was that he was being offered something wonderful; his second, that perhaps Verrarc was trying to buy his silence; and his third, that perhaps Verrarc intended to murder him on the road when they were far from town.

“Do think well on it,” Verrarc said. “It'll be needful for us to consult with your mother and suchlike before you can say me yea or nay.”

“You do have my thanks, Councilman,” Jahdo said. “I promise you that I'll do some hard thinking about your offer.”

“And no doubt your father will want to do some of his
own. No rush, lad, no rush for your decision.” Verrarc glanced away, paused, then waved to someone up on the plaza. “It be old Hennis, summoning me. I'll just be off, then.”

Verrarc turned and climbed up the stairs leading to the plaza. Jahdo stood watching him make his way over to the elderly councilman.

“You look surprised,” Rhodry said.

“I am that. Verrarc did his best to send me off to my death with Meer. Though—wait—truly, I do him an injustice. He did save my life, more like, now that I know the truth of it.”

“He what?”

“He did save my life by sending me away. I did tell Jill this tale, but mayhap not you. Last summer it was, and I was picking herbs in the water meadows, and I did stumble across Verrarc with this woman, and she did demand he kill me. I think now that she were Raena, for who else would have been working evil near our town? And Verrarc did refuse. He ensorceled me instead.”

“That shows he has some heart left, then.”

“Truly. And—wait! The talisman!”

“Now what?”

“I did find a little silver disk in the grass that day. I knew not what it might be, back then. But it were a talisman, just like the ones Meer showed me. I gave it to Tek-Tek for her hoard, but Jill did say it were important.”

“Then we'd best go fetch it. Are you sure that woman was Raena?”

“Well, not truly. She were all bundled in a cloak, and I do remember seeing her sweat and wondering why she did wear it, but her face was hard to see.”

Rhodry swore in Elvish.

“What be so wrong, Rori?”

“I was hoping you could testify that it was Raena in a court of law.”

“A court of law?”

“Of course. Jahdo, think! Raena's a traitor to your people. She'd turn you all over to the Horsekin in a heartbeat if she could. We need evidence that will convince the council no matter how hard Verrarc fights to save her.”

“Ye gods,” Jahdo whispered. “Truly—she were there at the siege! By those hells of yours, Rori! I do be as big a lack-wit as poor Magpie. Not till this very day did I remember that. Why, I wonder?”

“I don't know, but I'd wager a fair bit of coin that it's all part of Verrarc's ensorcelment. No wonder he went so stiff when you spoke of leaving things out of your tales.”

Jahdo turned sharply and looked in the direction that Verrarc had taken—no sign of him now.

“Verrarc does have dweomer?”

“He must,” Rhodry said. “You'd best talk with Dalla about this.”

“True spoken!”

The familiar plaza, empty now under the bright sun, seemed somehow small and strange. Jahdo stood for a long moment, looking around at one of the places that had meant home in his memories. He was beginning to realize that, in truth, he had changed, and irrevocably.

“Here,” Rhodry said, “are you all right?”

“I am, my apologies. Just thinking.”

“That's a good idea in times like these. But let's go steal Tek-Tek's treasure before you forget again.”

“She'll not like that. I'd best find a trinket to give her in return.”

“I've got a coin or two. I'll trade her.”

With the talisman safe in his coin pouch, Rhodry left Arzosah sleeping in the sun on the ruins of the temple and went down to the lakeshore. Since he'd been raised in Aberwyn, boats held no mysteries for him, and he paddled across fast to the welter of houses on their pilings and crannogs. By asking people here and there for directions, he found his way to the town commons and Daralanteriel's camp. The prince's guard were sitting out in the grass near their horses and squabbling over dice games, while the prince himself paced up and down by the lakeshore. At his throat the gold chain of Ranadar's Eye glinted in the sun, but he'd tucked the actual pendant inside his tunic. There was no sign of Carra and the baby, but Rhodry noticed that the tent-flap hung closed.

“Ah, there you are,” Daralanteriel said in Elvish. “Is everything going well up on Citadel?”

“As well as it can be,” Rhodry said. “The townsfolk seem to have taken the dragon in their stride. Dalla and the local priestess have shut themselves up for a talk.”

“What about Raena?”

“She's not back yet. She may not have been heading for Cerr Cawnen when we saw her. What if she's bolted? If she's off among the Meradan, we'll never be able to fetch her back.”

“True, but if she has to live among them for the rest of her life I'll count her well punished. It creeped my flesh, seeing Dalla talking with that wretched Mera woman.”

“Well, here, now!” Rhodry made his voice sound as quietly reasonable as he could. “You remember Meer, don't you? He was a man like any other. It behooves us to treat his mother—”

“I never trusted that hairy bastard. How do you know he wasn't sending messages to the Meradan sieging Cengarn?”

“Why would they have killed him if he was their spy?”

“Well, maybe they didn't trust him either. By the Dark Sun! How can you expect me to tolerate these people? Don't you remember that they wanted to kill my Carra and the baby both?”

“Well, that's true, isn't it? But those were Horsekin, not Gel da'Thae.”

“I don't care about fine distinctions.”

“Only the Horsekin worship Alshandra. She's the one who wanted Carra dead. Well, in truth it was the baby she wanted slain. I doubt if Carra mattered to her one way or the other.”

“I don't find that particularly comforting.”

“Well, try! The Gel da'Thae wish no harm to you or yours.”

Dar set his mouth in a tight line and looked away, glaring at the lake. At his temple one vein throbbed, and he laid a hand on his tunic, rubbing the pendant through the cloth. He was, Rhodry supposed, thinking about the deaths of his royal ancestors.

“Ah well,” Rhodry said at last. “Promise me one thing? Don't do anything rash.”

“Anything murderous, you mean?”

“Just that.”

For a moment Dar scowled down at the grass, then he shrugged and looked up.

“Very well,” Dar said. “You have my word on it.”

“That's good enough for me.”

And yet Rhodry felt trouble gathering. Dar had, after all, been raised for a revenge that had seemed impossible to gain, out on the grasslands. Now here the ancient enemies were, close at hand.

It was late in the day when Raena finally did return, though not in any way that Verrarc might have expected. The councilman had gone down to the walls to discuss with Sergeant Gart the matter of raising and arming a larger militia. Together they climbed a wooden ladder to the catwalks that ran just below the top of the stonework. On folded arms Verrarc leaned onto the stone and looked west across farmland, pale green with new-sprouted grain.

“One good thing about this town,” Gart said. “We'll never lack for water no matter how long they besiege us.”

“True spoken. With enough food stored up, I think me we could hold off an army. If of course our men have the weaponry.”

“Just so. That does trouble my heart. We'd best be taking a good hard look at what we've got in the armory.”

Verrarc nodded his agreement. Distantly he heard shouting, and as the sound grew louder he and Gart turned toward the source: the south gate. A sudden horn rang out.

“That be the alarum!” Gart said abruptly. “We'd best hurry.”

They set off around the wall as fast as the rickety catwalk would allow—a little less than a brisk walk.

“We'd best get this shored up,” Verrarc said.

“Cursed right!” Gart said. “There'll be a need on us to move the men round quickly. Well, if the worst happens.”

The news met them halfway when Kiel came striding along from the south gate.

“Horsekin, Sergeant,” Kiel blurted. “They do claim they come in peace, but we did shut the gates nonetheless, for there be about a score of them. Uh, Councilman, I ken not how to say this graciously. Your wife be with them, riding at their head bold as brass.”

For a moment Verrarc could neither think nor speak. He felt so cold that he was sure his face must have blanched, right there for his men to see. In his mind he could hear Zatcheka's voice, sharp with anger: a human woman at that, come to preach the false goddess. With a shake of his head he forced himself under control.