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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: The Last Dragonlord
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Once more the cousins’ eyes met, this time in frustrated
anticipation.
I’m going to scream,
Maylin mouthed, hands yanking at her curls.
“So what is it, for pity’s sakes?” Otter asked from where he helped Kella poke among some bolts of silk.
“What? Didn’t I—? Brown peppercorns from Jehanglan. Near a half pound’s worth, I’d say.”
“What!”
Otter exclaimed. “Good gods!”
Maurynna felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Jehanglan—the Kingdom of the Phoenix far to the south! A land half a fable and wholly mysterious.
The box alone, being Jehangli jade and work, would have been enough. But add to it that kingdom’s famed brown peppercorns, fragrant, flavorful, numbing to the tongue instead of hot as pepper from Assantik was, and so rare as to be worth their weight in gold, and one had a princely gift indeed.
She was glad she’d given it away.
All at once she had to sit down. This was all too much, too unexpected.
And she wanted none of it. She did not trust the fair Lady Sherrine.
 
“Well, then, boyo—that’s the whole of it,” Otter said as they walked among the topiary animals in the garden behind the townhouse, safe from eavesdroppers. “Did you order Sherrine to do it?”
Linden shook his head in mute astonishment as he had all during Otter’s tale. “No. In Cassori it’s likely no wergild would have been assessed against Sherrine even if Maurynna had been blinded. Not to a merchant. I couldn’t insist. Not without making people wonder. And Maurynna accepted it?”
“She did. Even to the ‘washing away’ of all ill will that stood between them and binding her kin to end the quarrel as well.” Here Otter paused a moment and tugged at his beard. “Good gods—that means it’s binding on you, too, doesn’t it?”
Still boggled by the size of Sherrine’s wergild to his soultwin, it took Linden a moment to realize the full import of Otter’s words. “Oh, for—Yes. Yes, it does.”
Otter went on, “Maurynna’s wondering why Sherrine did it. She doesn’t trust her, of course.” He grinned.
Linden smiled rather distractedly in return. A good question, that; why did Sherrine do it? He said, thinking aloud, “My guess is that she did it to show me that she truly was sorry—but it changes nothing.”
He remembered something from their last, painful conversation. “She did offer to pay a wergild as if Maurynna were royal,” he said.
Otter laughed quietly. “Did she? To a mere merchant? Interesting; she must have been desperate to convince you of her sincerity, hoping you’d take her back. Very desperate, indeed. The Colranes are not noted for openhanded generosity.
“Ah, well, one has to allow that she certainly did pay a royal wergild,” Otter continued. “And of her own free will. One fit for a king or a queen or …”
He paused, then finished in an ironic drawl, “A Dragonlord.”
The five days since she’d
seen Linden felt more like forever. Maurynna ran fingers over the fading line on her cheek. “I hate him,” she whispered.
Danaet looked up from her tally sheets. “What? Did you say something, Maurynna?”
Maurynna swung her legs and jumped down from the stacked crates she’d been straddling. “No. Are you almost done?” She walked all around the sacks Danaet was working on and back again.
“No, I’m not. I’ve no intention of rushing the valuing of this wergild of yours. And will you please sit still? You’ve been hopping up and down all day. It’s making me nervous when it isn’t making me tired.”
Maurynna muttered something under her breath and gently kicked a crate by her foot. The markings on the box declared it from her least favorite Thalnian cousin’s ship. She kicked it again, wishing Breslin were here to fight with. She was in the mood for a good, rousing, knockdown, drag-out argument—and since she couldn’t fight with Linden, Breslin was just the man for it.
“I hate him,” she said again.
Danaet raised her eyebrows. “While I admit Breslin is as personable as a stoat with the toothache, I would have thought that a bit extreme.”
Maurynna shook her head impatiently. “Not Breslin; he’s just annoying.”
“Then who—? Ah. Never mind. I think I can guess.” Danaet sighed. “I don’t know if his being a Dragonlord is any improvement over being a dockhand, you know that? Both ways he’s trouble. And if you don’t stop moping around here,
you’ll drive my clerks mad. They never know when you’re going to pop up and snarl at them. You had Leela in tears yesterday.”
Shocked and contrite, Maurynna stopped pacing. “I did? Oh, gods—I’m sorry, Danaet. I wasn’t angry at her—truly I wasn’t. It’s just—I’ll tell her I’m sorry.”
“I sent her off to play messenger for me today. I wasn’t having her subjected to any more of your moods. Maurynna, I hate to say this, but will you please go somewhere else until you’re fit to speak to again?” Danaet pleaded.
That stung, badly. Maurynna drew herself up. “I will. I apologize. I hadn’t meant to make anyone else miserable.” She spun around and walked out of the warehouse.
The bright sunlight hurt her eyes.
Where to go?
Nothing appealed to her. Wandering the streets and byways and just looking at the varied peoples who came to Casna was usually one of her favorite things, but not this time. All she had to do at her aunt’s house was look out a window into the garden and she’d be in tears. And she was through crying for Linden.
Her last haven lay before her. Maurynna watched the
Sea Mist
roll gently on the swells and felt sorry for herself.
An instant later she came to a decision. She’d hide on board her ship, absolutely wallow in her misery and get it out of her blood once and for all. Feeling more cheerful in an upside-down sort of way, Maurynna trotted up the gangplank. Her crew saluted her warily. They looked relieved when she went straight to her cabin.
She collapsed onto her bed.
Guess I have been a raving bitch.
The thought made her giggle and the giggle dissolved into tears. She buried her face in her pillow and cried.
It was a long time before she finally felt at peace. She’d had a chance at her dream and it hadn’t quite worked out. So be it. She curled herself around her pillow and fell asleep, spent.
Some time later a soft voice woke her. Maurynna thrashed on the bed, her eyes gritty, trying to identify who had called her, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Captain
Erdon is it now? Haven’t we come up in the world. Still know your old friend Eel?”
 
“Lord Sevrynel!”
The Earl of Rockfall turned in the saddle at the sound of his name. He blinked in surprise when he saw who had hailed him; he and the elegant Baroness Anstella of Colrane moved in very different circles. “My lady?” he said doubtfully.
But it seemed she had indeed been the one who had called him. For she guided her palfrey—a lovely animal, Sevrynel thought with pride; the mare had come from his stables—alongside his horse. She smiled at him.
For a moment Sevrynel forgot to breathe.
“My lord,” she said, “may I congratulate you? Lord Duriac was just telling me about your new brood mares. He said they were some of the finest animals he’d ever seen.”
Sevrynel straightened his stooped shoulders with pride, too pleased at the compliment to wonder why in the world Lord Duriac would be discussing horses with Anstella of Colrane. “That they are,” he said, beaming. “Royal stock of the Mhari line, direct descendants of Queen Rani’s own mare.”
Anstella gazed upon him with awe. “Truly? You are, of course, going to have one of your famous gatherings to celebrate their arrival, aren’t you?”
“My lady, what a lovely thought! I believe I shall. It would welcome my royal ladies properly.”.
“And all the more so if you invited the Dragonlords. I’m sure they would be most interested—especially Linden Rathan.” A hint of sadness overshadowed her beautiful face.
Now why—Oh. Oh, dear.
Sevrynel suddenly remembered something he’d heard about … .
Oh, dear.
Flustered, he said, “Um, do you really think—?”
“Oh, yes. Why, according to the legends, he would have seen Queen Rani’s mare, wouldn’t he?”
That decided Sevrynel. He simply
had
to have Linden Rathan’s opinion on his new beauties. And the Dragonlords had already attended one or two of his other little gatherings and
had seemed to enjoy themselves—especially Linden Rathan when he’d been shown the stables.
He’d do it. “Baroness, I thank you for such a lovely thought. I shall set it in motion immediately. And, my lady, will you and Prince Peridaen also honor me with your presences?”
“My lord, we wouldn’t miss this for the world. When will it be?” Anstella asked with flattering eagerness.
Sevrynel thought a moment. “Tomorrow,” he said. “It shall be tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” Anstella said.
 
Maurynna gaped at the figure standing in the doorway. “Eel? Is that really you?”
A preposterous little man bounced into the cabin, resplendent in a wildly patched jerkin and tunic, the colors of which would have hurt Maurynna’s eyes if the patches hadn’t faded into decent drabness. Despite the heat, Eel, as always, wore a grimy cap. He swept it off, revealing a fringe of grey hair around a shining pate, and bowed as elegantly as any court dandy. “It is, indeed.”
She sat on the edge of her bunk and laughed. “Where have you been? I expected you to show up long before this.”
“I was in Balyaranna, working the big horse fair up there, but the pickings were lean. Everyone who can be is here in Casna to see the Dragonlords.” He cocked his head like a motley, bright-eyed robin. “So I came back. The Watch have better things to do these days than watch me. And the crowds here are simply lovely. Easy pickings, every last one, bless ’em.” He sat down at the table.
Maurynna joined him. With one of the lightning movements she’d come to expect from the old thief, Eel reached into his bulging belt pouch and came up with two ripe peaches in one hand. An instant later a tiny knife appeared in the other; he began peeling the peaches.
She watched him, chin resting on one hand. She was fond of the slippery little Cassorin thief; she’d once saved his neck for him.
Probably the only time in his life he was innocent,
she thought. Since then he’d done her many little favors. But she liked him most of all because he made her laugh.
And gods knew that she could use that now. He cut the peaches into precise sections with the little razor-sharp blade he used for relieving unsuspecting victims of their belt pouches, and prattled about the country yokels who were now sadder and wiser—and poorer—thanks to him.
By the time she’d finished her peach, Maurynna was laughing heartily at one of Eel’s many stories.
“Whinnied like a horse, he did, when he realized his ring was gone. ‘Whe-e-e-e-ere’s my ring?’ he kept whining. ‘Whe-e-e-ere? Whe-e-e-ere?’ Annoying he was, so I—”
Maurynna held up a hand; she’d caught the sound of boots crossing the deck.
A voice called out, “Rynna?”
“In here, Otter,” she answered.
Eel half rose as if to flee; Maurynna motioned him back to his seat.
Otter ducked through the doorway, blinking as his eyes adjusted. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
She waved Otter to a chair. It seemed she was going to have a party whether she’d planned it or not. “No. Otter, this is Eel, a friend of mine. Eel, this is Bard Otter Heronson. He is,” she said, fixing Eel with a stern eye, “a very good friend as well as a bard.”
Eel grinned and tapped his long, nimble fingers together before his face. “Understood, O Captain.” He jumped up for another of his elaborate bows. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Bard Otter, and desolate that I didn’t bring another peach to share—but alas! I didn’t know I’d have the honor of your company.”
Otter, Maurynna thought, did very well at hiding his smile. “The honor is mine, good sir. I merely came to deliver a message to Rynna.”
She froze. There was only one person Otter would carry messages for—at least, she hoped so. If he bore a warning from Aunt Elenna that dinner would be late, or some other piddling news, she’d tie him to the anchor and go fishing for
whales. She waited breathlessly for the bard’s next words.
“I saw Linden today. He said that he would still like to go to the
tisrahn
with us. He feels it would dishonor Almered and his nephew not to, and might cause you to lose face with them.”
All the old hurt came back in a rush, growling like a black dog in her ear. She snorted. “As if someone as high and mighty as he would care about that.” Yet mixed in with the hurt was a rushing excitement at the prospect of seeing Linden again.
Eel’s gaze darted from one to the other of them.
Otter pressed his lips together. “Rynna, don’t be stupid. It’s for your own safety that Linden has—”
Eel interrupted, “Linden? Do you mean Dragonlord Linden Rathan?”
“Yes,” said Maurynna. “Unfortunately. He and Otter are old friends.”
Otter ignored her and said to Eel, “Maurynna knows him quite well, too. They met when she mistook him for a dockhand and ordered him to unload her ship.”
Eel’s jaw dropped. Maurynna said, “I do not know him well. And it wasn’t quite like that, Otter.”
“No? I believe your words were ‘Get your ass over here and earn your pay,’ weren’t they? He did a good job of it, I heard. Earned every copper you didn’t pay him.”
Eel’s eyes threatened to pop from his head and roll about the floor like marbles. “You did? He did? You didn’t? Oh, my. Oh,
my
!” the little thief gasped and went off into peals of laughter.
Maurynna divided a scowl between thief and bard. Would she never hear the end of that wretched mistake?
At last Eel stopped laughing. He said, “The evening crowds to see the Dragonlords should be gathering soon. Must be there when they do. Fare thee well, beautiful captain and honored bard. I’ll wave to your Dragonlord for you, Rynna m’dear.” And with another flourish of his dilapidated cap, Eel was out the door.
Otter, bless him, waited a decent interval before he burst
out laughing. “What an odd little duck. And since he’s no Yerrin to bear a name like that, I’d love to know how he got it. Just what is he?”
“A thief,” Maurynna answered. “And a very good one, too. That’s why I warned him off you. He won’t bother my family or friends. I did him a good turn once. Pointed out the real thief to the Watch when he’d been falsely accused of robbing someone’s belt pouch.”
She pushed one of the peach pits around the gimballed table. “Linden will really go to the
tisrahn
?”
“Yes. He made a commitment. He will honor it. Maurynna—he wants to go. And not because of the shadow puppets, either.”
She didn’t believe that. Not at all. But that didn’t stop her fool heart from singing. Yet all she said was, “Give him my thanks. Not only would I have been shamed before Almered but also House Erdon.”
“That’s all?” Otter asked as he stood up to leave.
She wouldn’t look at him. She’d betray too much if she did. “That’s all.”
Three days until she could see Linden again …
Otter walked out, then stuck his head back in the cabin. “You’re not the only one hurting, Rynna. He misses you as well,” the bard said and was gone.
Her breath caught at his words. It couldn’t be true—could it? But Otter wouldn’t lie to her; not about something so important. Hope blazed up in her heart.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please let it be true.”

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