The Forging of the Dragon (Wizard and Dragon Book 1) (13 page)

“I do,” Seagryn called to her back. “I’ve been cursed instead!”

“You think Dark’s gift hasn’t been called a curse many times? Right here in this cottage?” Dark’s mother did not turn around to face him as she said this, nor did she speak with much passion. Her attitude made him angry.

“What difference does it make what I feel?” Seagryn demanded. “Why should it even concern you?”

Amyryth turned around slowly and gazed at him. “Because I like you. Because I care about your being happy. Because I love the Power and see you as the Power’s handiwork. And not incidentally, because your gift and my son’s are bound up together, and his joy and safety will depend largely on you.” She dropped her eyes to the polished boards of the floor. “Even as yours will depend on him.”

Seagryn could not mistake the woman’s care for him, nor question the obvious logic of her last thought. But her unrestrained use of a common name for the One who was not named repelled him. Despite their warmth and love, how could these people say they shared his faith yet use such crass language? “Would you ... would you mind not using that name for the One beyond naming?”

“Ehm?” Amyryth asked, glancing up.

“Perhaps that seems a petty request but —”

“But all your training’s taught you to keep the Power at a holy stone’s throw. That’s all right. I’ll say the Nameless, or whatever you choose, just so long as you don’t prevent me from including Him in the conversation. He’s my friend, you know.”

Such intimacy with the One caused Seagryn to squirm with discomfort. It seemed so — coarse!

Dark’s mother chuckled at him, and Seagryn looked around at her. “You’re a spiritual, I can tell,” she said.

“A what?”

“A spiritual. You know the Nameless One so well you’re certain He could never make a move without you, and the very thought He might is obvious heresy.”

“Now wait just a moment —” Seagryn bristled, but Amyryth wasn’t in the mood for waiting.

“I’ve known plenty of you. You’re the type that sent us scrambling, not long after Dark’s gift became clear. But it’s all right — I’m happy for you. Probably a lot happier than you are for yourself.”

“And by that you mean —”

“Only that the toughest thing for a spiritual to handle is to be spit on by other spirituals. And I should know, since I was one.” Amyryth suddenly found something in her kitchen that needed attention. Seagryn sat up, dropping his feet off the side of the bed.

“You say you were one once?”

Amyryth smiled. “Once. Yes. Once upon a time. Terribly worried about the intrusion of faithlessness into the land, adhering to the path, and remaining a spiritual cut above my neighbors. But the Power took care of that. Whoops, I mean the One we do not name. Gave my son a gift beyond measure and a purpose of true spiritual import — and knocked me on my material fanny in the process.” The woman laughed again, then shook her head and gazed thoughtfully into a dark corner of the cottage. “And it made me wonder. If we don’t even know ourselves, how in the world can we believe we know all of His secrets?” Then she shrugged, grinned a wrinkled grin at Seagryn, and went to stuff more firewood into her stove.

Seagryn looked down at the quilt that still covered his lap. “And you think I’m one of these spirituals?”

“Just exactly like the ones who drove you out,” she replied without interrupting her work.

He meditated for a moment, listening to the irregular clunks as the wood dropped into the hole. “And you think this — magic — I do might be a gift and not a betrayal?”

“No,” the woman grunted as she stood up and wiped her nose with her apron. Then she looked at him. “I don’t think it. I know it.”

“How?” Seagryn demanded. “How do you know it?”

“How do you think?” Amyryth chuckled again. “I’ve got a prophet in the family!”

“Has she convinced you yet?”

Seagryn craned his neck to see Dark peeking in the doorway. Then he looked back at his bare toes. “You can come on in.”

“Does that mean she has?”

“You know already. Why ask.”

Dark stepped into the cottage and walked toward the stove to fetch a bowl. “I try not to be rude. Did you eat all of it?” He frowned down into the stew pot.

“Supper’s coming,” his mother mumbled as she elbowed him aside and reached for a pan hanging on the wall. Dark raised his eyebrows and strolled back toward the bed.

“You’re feeling better.”

“I am.”

“Ready for the next step.”

“I’m ready.” Seagryn nodded.

Dark sat beside him, sighing heavily. “I’m glad you are. I’m certainly not.”

Seagryn felt the fear grab his gut again. Sheth! There’d be the music to face. “Will there be more pain?” he asked, and Dark frowned at him.

“What? For
you
? I — I don’t guess I’ve thought about that much.” He squinted his eyes and peered into the distance. “You’ll be all right.” He shrugged. “It’s me I’m worried about ...”

Seagryn tried to look properly concerned for the lad, but all he felt was relief. But for how long would he do all right? Did that include some renewed relationship with Elaryl? The urge to know more was too strong to resist. “I — I will? Even against Sheth?”

“Even facing Sheth. Of course you won’t be facing him, exactly, just — stop me if I’ve gone too far ...”

“No! No, I want to know! Some at least. What is this trouble that’s ahead for you? Can I help?”

Dark shook his head glumly. “Not likely. I’m trying not to think about it. It’s as if I’m about to walk into a megasin’s cave, and I don’t relish the idea one bit!”

Seagryn frowned. “What’s a megasin?”

Dark seemed surprised, then raised a knowing eyebrow and sighed deeply. “You’ll see. Believe me — you’ll see.”

Chapter Ten

A MONSTROUS DESIGN

As they rode through thick forest, Uda regaled Sheth with an account of her mother’s most recent public triumph. She laughed much too loud, giggled far too long, and flung her head from side to side, acting every inch the giddy teen. Her eyes, however, kept a vigilant watch on the road ahead. The wizard radiated menace as he brooded beside her upon his stallion. Any minute he might turn on her and — but she wouldn’t waste precious moments enumerating the frightening possibilities. She spent her energies doing the smartest thing she could think of — she acted the fool. And for once, Uda took comfort in being ignored.

When at last the Bush House came into view, she sighed deeply and allowed herself a bit of a grin. Safe again in her father’s house! The powershaper was honest after all — or at least he had been with her — and she could now afford to enjoy the stir their entry into her father’s mansion would cause.

In fact, they found the place a clawsp castle of activity. Servants ran everywhere while being urged to redouble their efforts by more exalted servants, who were themselves hounded into still more intense activity by the steward himself. Chaos reigned — but evidently Uda was its queen, for as soon as she was spotted, the courtyard fell silent. The steward stared at her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to reprove her or fawn upon her. He chose to do neither, instead darting inside the mansion door. A moment later a snarling, snapping Paumer launched himself out of it and off the porch, running toward her with violence in his eyes. When he recognized her riding companion, however, he stopped short and made an obvious effort to reassemble some dignity. Uda watched him with relief, knowing exactly what he would do — first came the deep breath, then Paumer unveiled the smile in all its dazzling glory.

“Sheth!” Paumer grinned radiantly. “Welcome to my home! What brings you here on this rather distracting afternoon?”

“I’ve come to return something that belongs to you,” Sheth mumbled and he jerked his handsome head toward Uda. “You let your children wander in the woods?”

“I got lost,” Uda blurted, jumping down from her horse. “It was quite by accident, Father, really, and I had no wish to cause you any alarm.” She danced over and tried to kiss Paumer on the cheek, but her father stiff-armed her attempt as he continued beaming at the wizard.

“You mention my children.” Paumer chuckled. “You didn’t by chance come upon my boy also?”

Sheth frowned and made a great show of thinking deeply. Then his eyes lit up, and he raised his eyebrows as if with sudden insight. “You mean that surly young chap who sneers every time you say anything?”

Paumer winced. Uda saw, and with her seeing felt two complementary emotions erupt inside — pity for her father and hatred for this arrogant wizard who so obviously enjoyed skewering him. Never mind that Sheth was right — that only made his comment worse. “I know about Ognadzu, Father. If you’d like us to go inside I can —”

“The boy can wait,” Sheth interrupted. “We have matters to discuss, I believe?”

Paumer hesitated, then his smile broadened. “Certainly, my friend!” He was torn — Uda could see that clearly, if no one else could. Paumer loved his children. But he loved his power and influence more, Uda thought to herself as she watched her father reach out his hand and say, “Come in! Come in!” He tried to put his arm around Sheth as she’d often seen him do when closing an agreement, but the wizard’s eyes warned him off. Paumer said nothing more to Uda — didn’t even look at her as he led his guest inside. The events of the morning were not forgotten. Her father would summon her later and lose his temper and get all red in the face. But she could handle Paumer. She’d been doing it all her life. She was more concerned now with whether her father could handle Sheth.

She glanced around and realized most of the servants were staring at her. This was not the Hovel, where the help was accustomed to watching world-changing events unfold in their presence. Nor did these people seem to know how they should regard their master’s daughter. She took this opportunity to set them straight. “Do you believe yourselves to be important or some equally ridiculous notion? Stop scowling at me and get back to work!” She spun around and stalked into the house, not watching to see if her order was obeyed. Whether it was this time or not didn’t matter — only that they should know she felt in charge of both herself and them.

Now, how to help her father? She couldn’t trust him to take care of things himself. Where were they talking? And where exactly was the magic talk-box Ognadzu had told her about? In the library, she remembered. But where was the library in this rambling palace? “You!” she shouted at the steward, who had followed her inside. The man’s eyes hew wide, and he bowed officiously. “Where’s the library?” she snapped.

“The — library?” he asked.

“Of course!” Uda barked. “Do you take me for a dunce who never reads? Show me to it this instant or I’ll —” But she didn’t need to finish the threat, for the startled servant was scuttling toward a hallway, smiling nervously as he waved his arm for her to follow.

He stopped at a pair of engraved doors, then bowed to her again and opened them. “The library,” he said.

“Yes.” Uda nodded. Then she frowned.

“A — problem, milady?”

“Yes. Is this the lower library, or the upper library?”

“Ahh. Once inside, you’ll see a staircase which spirals upw —”

“Fine. Go away.”

The man did so with haste, and Uda walked into the library. She didn’t give a second glance at the volumes which lined its walls, but went straight for the staircase and up. It opened into a large room with two alcoves attached by narrow corridors. In one of these Uda found what she sought — a gilded box the size of a linen chest. There was no one else in the area, either downstairs or up. Nevertheless she glanced around to see if anyone hid behind the stacks and watched her. She saw no one and turned her attention back to the box.

How did it work? She knelt down and leaned her ear against it. Nothing. She searched around its back and found that it was lidded, and that the lid was held closed by a clasp. This was padlocked shut, and she slapped it in frustration, cursing her brother for not leaving the key. To her surprise, the lock dropped open, and her curse turned into praise for Ognadzu’s thoughtfulness. The padlock was off in a moment, and the lid was up —

The box opened into a backed bench, the back and seat both being covered by thick cushions of green velvet. Uda put her ear to the seat, but still heard nothing. Then she turned around and plopped into it. Conversations suddenly erupted into her mind.

“Ohh,” she yelped and jumped up. The talking stopped. “Any conversation in this palace,” she muttered to herself, remembering Ognadzu’s words. “But how do you settle on just one?” That he hadn’t explained. She sat gingerly on the cushion and once more her mind filled with spoken words. This time, however, she was prepared. Using mental processes honed by years of tuning in private conversations in the midst of filled ballrooms, she began running through the different discussions, discarding those of no interest to her. She chanced upon one exchange that infuriated her. She couldn’t tell from where it came, but it seemed to be between two maids and it centered on her multiple inadequacies, both as a guest and daughter. If Ognadzu had heard such discussions about himself, no wonder he’d torn a swathe through the servant population! “And no wonder they fear him so,” Uda mumbled to herself. He had at his disposal a potent instrument for uncovering disloyalty!

“What was that?” she heard Sheth’s voice say quite clearly, and she froze.

“What was what?” she heard her father answer.

“Are you certain we’re alone?” the wizard growled. “I thought I heard someone.”

“There’s no one! We’re perfectly safe within this chamber! The walls have been lined with lead — as I’m sure you’ve noticed by the stifling heat. Unless there’s another wizard in here who’s cloaked himself remarkably well, we can speak freely. And I venture to say Nebalath is miles away, playing with whatever pet project has taken his fancy this week.”

“There is another powershaper who can cloak himself,” Sheth murmured quietly.

“Oh?” came Paumer’s worried response.

“But you needn’t fear him today. I left him head first in a mud puddle.”

“The — the — new shaper that abominable Dark boy brought with him? He can cloak himself?”

“He can.”

“Did you — kill him?”

“Why?” Sheth chuckled. “What kind of alliance do you plan to offer him as soon as I’m out of your sight?”

“Oh! No deal, no. None at all. We have — or, I assume you and I have — a working relationship that is constant. Solid. Irrevocable, from my side.” Uda heard Sheth’s disbelieving snort, and began to relax. They were talking business now, no longer worrying about someone listening in. Uda was quick-witted, and it made good sense that, if she could hear them while she sat here, they could possibly hear her. She would take care never to speak or sneeze while she sat here.

“No,” Sheth continued, “I did not kill him. I was just about to when I thought of a marvelous scheme. He can help us with it and we can dispose of him at the same time.”

“Scheme?” Paumer chuckled, and Uda knew why. One of her father’s chief joys in life was being privy to secret grabs for power. If Sheth was playing Paumer for a fool, he’d certainly chosen the right gambit. Oh, Uda thought to herself, if her father would only let
her
advise him!

“A monstrous design,” Sheth said and now he chortled, too. Uda suddenly relaxed. With that one statement the wizard had revealed his own weakness. This was a man in love with his own ideas. Uda recognized the character flaw easily, for her mother shared it with Sheth.

“Monstrous in what way?” Paumer asked with calculated excitement. Good, Uda thought — he’d recognized it, too.

“I can make a dragon,” Sheth whispered, and the chill in his voice set Uda shivering.

“A — dragon?” Paumer said. “I’ve heard of such — some that fly, some in the sea and so forth — but they’re all elsewhere — aren’t they?”

“I don’t know,” Sheth muttered. “I’ve never seen one either — except my own.”

“You’ve made a dragon?”

“A tiny one. Formed from two mice. Counting wings and all, it’s only as big as a rabbit, but it can fly, and it has a nasty temper.” Sheth chuckled. “It likes to kill cats!”

“Oh?” Paumer asked, and Uda could hear her father’s mind working diligently behind his words. “And how does it do that?”

“I don’t exactly know. Its two heads just seem to —”

“It has two heads?”

“It does — they seem to mesmerize the cat and then it simply — sizzles away.”

“I see. And you keep this dragon caged, I assume?”

“Of course.”

“And what does all of this have to do with —”

“My dragon is tiny. Necessarily so, since I had only rodents to work with. Ah, but give me a pair of beasts of enormous size, and I could make a dragon huge enough to change the destinies of nations!”

“A pair of — tugoliths?”

“Precisely.”

“This new wizard would be one of them?”

“No. This new wizard would lure a pair to us, then would help me shape the beast. It’s terribly draining work, Paumer. It’s the real reason I’ve not been much help lately to the Prince of the Army of Arl. I’ve been exhausted. But I know now how to do it and how to conserve my strength. We’ll let this Seagryn believe himself to be my apprentice and use his energy to bind the two beasts together. Then,” Sheth finished, “I’ll dispose of him.”

Uda listened to a lengthy pause. When her father then asked, “Have you checked all this with Dark?” Uda gaped in astonishment.

“I thought you loathed Dark,” Sheth muttered.

“I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that he knows the future. Have you checked any of this with him?”

“I’ll not do it,” Sheth snapped. “You may, if you choose.”

“No, no, no ...” Paumer trailed off. “Two tugoliths, you say?”

“Two. Perhaps three would make an even bigger dragon, but I know I can make one of two, and why take chances?”

“Wise thought. Ah — I have a tugolith —”

“You? You do?”

“It’s a pet. My daughter’s. But once she understands my need for it, she’d be happy to give it up —” Uda suddenly had an idea of her own as her father continued. “I
would
like to know a bit more about how we would control this beast that would, as you say, dominate the destinies of nations? And how will we convince this fellow Seagryn to fetch us what we need? Small matters, of course —” Paumer added sardonically.

“He believes himself to be a member of the Grand Council. Why not use that in some way? Exactly how, I’ll leave to you. I’ll handle controlling the beast once it’s made.”

“I see. And, of course, my interests will be served by the finished monster, as well as yours?”

“Of course,” Sheth responded quietly. “I understand we have a solid, irrevocable agreement.”

“Ah — yes. But — can you tell me why I should trust you? I mean, when I loan money I require collateral —”

“Be grateful I don’t require collateral of you!” Sheth roared, and there was a sudden jarring “
snap!
” that shook the whole box, knocking Uda off of it. Terrified of being discovered, she closed the lid quickly and replaced the clasp and lock, putting it back just as she’d found it. Then she fled down into the lower library, grabbed a book at random, and flung it open.