The Name of the Wind (69 page)

It's best to humor people in delirium, lest they turn violent. “I think about you all the time, Denna,” I said.

“Don't patronize me,” she said crossly, then her tone softened again. “You don't think of me like that. That's fine. But if you're cold too, you could come over here and put your arms around me. Just a little.”

My heart in my mouth, I moved closer and sat behind her, wrapping my arms around her. “That's nice,” she said, relaxing. “I feel like I've always been cold.”

We sat looking to the north. She leaned against me, delightful in my arms. I drew shallow breaths, not wanting to disturb her.

Denna stirred slightly, murmuring. “You're so gentle. You never push….” She trailed off agian, resting more heavily against my chest. Then she roused herself. “You could, you know, push more. Just a little.”

I sat there in the dark, holding her sleeping body in my arms. She was soft and warm, indescribably precious. I had never held a woman before. After a few moments my back began to ache with the pressure of supporting her weight and my own. My leg started to go numb. Her hair tickled my nose. Still, I didn't move for fear of ruining this, the most wonderful moment of my life.

Denna shifted in her sleep, then started to slide sideways and jerked awake. “Lie down,” she said, her voice clear again. She fumbled with the blanket, pulling it away so it was no longer between us. “Come on. You've got to be cold too. You're not a priest, so you're not going to get in trouble for it. We'll be fine. Just a little fine in the cold.”

I put my arms around her and she draped the blanket over both of us.

We lay on our sides, like spoons nesting in a drawer. My arm ended up under her head, like a pillow. She curled snugly along the inside of my body, so easy and natural, as if she had been designed to fit there.

As I lay there, I realized I had been wrong before,
this
was the most wonderful moment of my life.

Denna stirred in her sleep. “I know you didn't mean it,” she said clearly.

“Mean what?” I asked softly. Her voice was different, no longer dreamy and tired. I wondered if she was talking in her sleep.

“Before. You said you'd knock me down and make me eat coals. You'd never hit me.” She turned her head a little. “You wouldn't, would you? Not even if it was for my own good?”

I felt a chill go through me. “What do you mean?”

There was a long pause, and I was beginning to think she'd fallen asleep when she spoke up again. “I didn't tell you everything. I know Ash didn't die at the farm. When I was heading toward the fire he found me. He came back and said that everyone was dead. He said that people would be suspicious if I was the only one who survived….”

I felt a hard, dark anger rise up in me. I knew what came next, but I let her talk. I didn't want to hear it, but I knew she needed to tell someone.

“He didn't just do it out of the blue,” she said. “He made sure it was what I really wanted. I knew it wouldn't look convincing if I did it to myself. He made sure I really wanted him to. He made me ask him to hit me. Just to be sure.

“And he was right.” She didn't move at all as she spoke. “Even this way they thought I had something to do with it. If he hadn't done it, I might be in jail right now. They would've hanged me.”

My stomach churned acid. “Denna,” I said. “A man who could do that to you—he's not worth your time. Not one moment of it. It's not a matter of him being only half a loaf. He's rotten through. You deserve better.”

“Who knows what I deserve?” she said. “He's not my best loaf. He's it. Him or hungry.”

“You have other options,” I said, then stalled, thinking of my conversation with Deoch. “You've…you've got…”

“I've got you,” she said dreamily. I could hear the warm, sleepy smile in her voice, like a child tucked into bed. “Will you be my dark-eyed Prince Gallant and protect me from pigs? Sing to me? Whisk me away to tall trees….” she trailed off to nothing.

“I will,” I said, but I could tell by the heavy weight of her against my arm that she had finally fallen asleep.

I
LAY AWAKE, feeling Denna's gentle breath against my arm. I couldn't have slept even if I'd wanted to. The closeness of her filled me with a crackling energy, a low warmth, a gentle thrumming hum. I lay awake savoring it, every moment precious as a jewel.

Then I heard the distant crack of a breaking branch. Then another. Earlier I wanted nothing more than the draccus to hurry to our fire. Now, I would have traded my right hand to have it go on its merry way for another five minutes.

Still, it came. I began gently untangling myself from Denna. She barely stirred in her sleep. “Denna?” I shook her gently, then harder. Nothing. I wasn't surprised. There are few things deeper than a sweet-eater's sleep.

I covered her in the blanket, then set my travelsack on one side, the oilskin bag on the other, like bookends. If she rolled in her sleep, she would butt into those before getting close to the edge of the greystone.

I moved to the other side of the stone and looked out to the north. The clouds were still thick overhead, so I couldn't see anything outside the circle of firelight.

Feeling carefully with my fingers, I located the piece of twine I had laid across the top of the greystone. The other end was tied to the rope handle of the wooden bucket below, midway between the fire and the greystones. My main fear was that the draccus might accidentally crush the bucket before it smelled it. I planned to haul the bucket to safety if that happened, then cast it out again. Denna had laughed at my plan, referring to it as chicken-fishing.

The draccus came to the top of the hill, moving noisily through the brush. It stopped just inside the circle of firelight. Its dark eyes shone red, and there was red on its scales. It made a deep huffing sound and began to circle the fire, slowly rocking its head back and forth. It blew a wide plume of fire in what I was coming to recognize as either some sort of greeting or a challenge.

It darted toward our fire. Despite the fact that I'd watched it at some length, I was still surprised by how quickly the huge animal could move. It pulled up short of the fire, huffed again, then advanced on the bucket.

Despite the fact that the bucket was sturdy wood and built to hold at least two gallons, it looked tiny as a teacup next to the draccus' massive head. It sniffed again, then butted the bucket with its nose, tipping it over.

The bucket rolled in a half-circle, but I'd packed the sticky resin in tightly. The draccus took another step, huffed again, and took the whole thing into its mouth.

I was so relieved that I almost forgot to let go of the twine. It was jerked out of my hands as the draccus chewed the bucket a little, crushing it in its massive jaws. Then it worked its head up and down, forcing the sticky mass down its gullet.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and sat down to watch as the draccus circled the fire. It gushed out a billow of blue flame, then another, then turned and rolled in the fire, wriggling and crushing it into the dirt.

Once the fire was flattened, the draccus began to follow the same pattern as before. It sought out the scattered pieces of the fire, rolled in them until they were extinguished, then ate the wood. I could almost imagine each new stick and stump it swallowed forcing the denner resin deeper into its gizzard, mixing it around, breaking it up, forcing it to dissolve.

A quarter-hour passed as I watched it complete its circuit of the fire. I'd hoped it would have showed the effects of the resin by now. By my best guess, it had eaten six times a lethal dose. It should rush quickly past the initial stages of euphoria and mania. Then would follow delirium, paralysis, coma, and death. By all my calculations it should be over within an hour, hopefully sooner.

I felt a pang of regret as I watched it go about the business of crushing out the scattered fires. It was a magnificent animal. I hated to kill it even more than I hated to waste upwards of sixty talents worth of ophalum. But there was no denying what would happen if events were left to run their course. I didn't want the deaths of innocents on my conscience.

Soon it stopped eating. It merely rolled on the scattered branches, extinguishing them. It was moving more vigorously now, a sign that the denner was beginning to take effect. It started to grunt, low and deep.
Grunt. Grunt.
A wash of blue fire. Roll.
Grunt.
Roll.

Finally there was nothing left but the bed of glimmering coals. As before, the draccus positioned itself on top of them and laid down, extinguishing all the light on the top of the hill.

It lay there quietly for a moment. Then grunted again.
Grunt. Grunt.
Wash of fire. It wriggled its belly farther into the coals, almost like it was fidgeting. If this was the onset of mania, it was coming too slowly for my liking. I'd hoped that it would be well on its way to delirium by now. Had I underestimated the dosage?

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, I realized there was another source of light. At first I thought the clouds had blown over, and the moon was peering in from the horizon. But when I turned away from the draccus to look behind me, I saw the truth.

Off to the southwest, barely two miles away, Trebon was full of firelight. Not just dim candlelight from windows, there were tall flames leaping everywhere. For a moment I thought the city was ablaze.

Then I realized what was happening: the harvest festival. There was a tall bonfire in the middle of town, and smaller ones outside the houses where people would be giving cider to the weary workers. They would drink and throw their shamble-men into the fires. Dummies made of wheat sheaves, of barley shocks, of straw, of chaff. Dummies built to flare up bright and sudden, a ritual to celebrate the end of the year, something that was supposed to keep demons away.

Behind me I heard the draccus grunt. I looked down at it. Just as I had been, it was facing away from Trebon, toward the dark cliffs to the north.

I am not a religious person, but I will admit that I prayed then. I prayed earnestly to Tehlu and all his angels, asking for the draccus to die, just slide quietly asleep and pass on without turning around to see the city's fires.

I waited for several long minutes. At first I thought the draccus was asleep, but as my eyes sharpened I could see its head weaving steadily back and forth, back and forth. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, the fires of Trebon seemed to grow brighter. It had been half an hour since it had eaten the resin. Why wasn't it dead yet?

I wanted to throw down the rest of the resin, but I didn't dare. If the draccus turned toward me, it would be facing south, toward the town. Even if I threw the sack of resin directly in front of it, it might turn around to resettle itself on the fire. Perhaps if—

The draccus roared then, deep and powerful as before. I had no doubt they heard it in Trebon. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that they had heard it in Imre. I glanced at Denna. She shifted in her sleep but didn't wake.

The draccus bounded off the bed of coals, looking for all the world like a frisking puppy. The coals still glimmered in places, giving me enough light to see the great beast roll around, flip. Bite at the air. Turn…

“No,” I said. “No no no.”

It looked out toward Trebon. I could see the leaping flames of the town's fires reflected in its huge eyes. It breathed another gout of blue fire in a high arc. The same gesture it had made before: a greeting or a challenge.

Then it was running, tearing down the hillside with demented abandon. I heard it crashing and snapping through the trees. Another roar.

I thumbed on my sympathy lamp and went to Denna, shaking her roughly. “Denna. Denna! You have to get up!”

She barely stirred.

I lifted her eyelid and checked her pupils. They showed none of their earlier sluggishness and shrank quickly in response to the light. That meant the denner resin had finally worked its way out of her system. This was simple exhaustion, nothing else. Just to be sure I lifted both lids and brought the light back around again.

Yes. Her pupils were fine. She was fine. As if to confirm my opinion, Denna scowled fiercely and squirmed away from the light, muttering something indistinct and decidedly unladylike. I couldn't make out all of it, but the words “whoremonger” and “soddoff” were used more than once.

I scooped her up, blankets and all, and carefully made my way down to the ground. I bundled her up again between the arch of the greystones. She seemed to rouse herself slightly as I jostled her around. “Denna?”

“Moteth?” she muttered around a mouthful of sleep, her eyes barely moving under her lids.

“Denna! The draccus is going down to Trebon! I have to…”

I stopped. Partly because it was obvious she had dropped back into unconsciousness, but also because I wasn't entirely sure what it was I had to do.

I had to do something. Normally the draccus would avoid a town, but drug-crazed and manic, I had no idea what its reaction to the harvest fires would be. If it rampaged through the town it would be my fault. I had to do something.

I dashed to the top of the greystone, grabbed both bags, and came back down. I upended the travelsack, emptying everything onto the ground. I grabbed the crossbow bolts, wrapped them in my torn shirt, and stuffed them into my travelsack. I threw in the hard iron scale too, then stuffed the bottle of brand into the oilskin sack for padding and put that in my travelsack as well.

My mouth was dry, so I took a quick swallow of water from the waterskin, recapped it, and left it for Denna. She would be terribly thirsty when she woke up.

I slung the travelsack over my shoulder and cinched it tight across my back. Then I thumbed on my sympathy lamp, picked up the hatchet, and began to run.

I had a dragon to kill.

 

I ran madly through the woods, the light from my sympathy lamp bobbing wildly, revealing obstacles ahead of me bare moments before I was on top of them. Small wonder that I fell, tumbling down the hill, ass over teakettle. When I got up I easily found my lamp, but I abandoned the hatchet, knowing deep in my heart that it wouldn't be of any use against the draccus.

I fell twice more before I made it to the road, then I tucked my head like a sprinter and ran toward the distant light of the city. I knew the draccus could move faster than me, but I hoped it would be slowed by the trees, or disoriented. If I made it to the town first I could warn them, get them ready….

But as the road emerged from the trees, I could see the fires were brighter, wilder. Houses were burning. I could hear the draccus' near-constant bellowing punctuated by shouting and high-pitched screams.

I slowed to a trot as I came into town, catching my breath. Then I scampered up the side of a house to one of the few two-story rooftops so I could see what was really happening.

In the town square the bonfire had been scattered everywhere. Several nearby houses and shops were staved in like rotten barrels, most of them burning fitfully. Fire flickered on the wooden shingles of a handful of roofs. If not for the evening's earlier rain, the town would already be ablaze instead of just a few scattered buildings. Still, it was just a matter of time.

I couldn't see the draccus, but I could hear the great crunching it made as it rolled in the wreckage of a burning house. I saw a gush of blue flame rise high above the rooftops and heard it roar again. The sound made me sweat. Who knew what was going through its drug-addled mind right now?

There were people everywhere. Some were simply standing, confused, others panicked and ran to the church, hoping to find shelter in the tall stone building or the huge iron wheel that hung there, promising them safety from demons. But the church doors were locked, and they were forced to find shelter elsewhere. Some people watched, horrified and weeping, from their windows, but a surprising number kept their heads and were forming a bucket line from the town's cistern atop the city hall to a nearby burning building.

And just like that I knew what I had to do. It was like I had suddenly stepped onto a stage. Fear and hesitation left me. All that remained was for me to play my part.

I jumped to a nearby roof, then made my way across several others until I came to a house near the town square where a scattered piece of bonfire had set the roof burning. I pried up a thick shingle burning along one edge and took off running for the roof of the town hall.

I was only two roofs away when I slipped. Too late I realized I'd jumped to the inn's roof—no wood shingles here, but clay tiles slippery with rain. I held tight to the burning shingle as I fell, unwilling to let it go to brace my fall. I slid nearly to the edge of the roof before I came to a stop, heart pounding.

Breathless, I kicked off my boots as I lay there. Then with the familiar feel of rooftop under my calloused feet I ran, jumped, ran, slid, and jumped again. Finally I swung myself one-handed by an eave-pipe onto the flat stone roof of the town hall.

Still clutching the burning shingle, I made my way up the ladder to the top of the cistern, whispering a breathless thanks to whoever had left it open to the sky.

As I'd sprinted across the rooftops, the flame on the shingle had gone out, leaving a thin line of red ember along the edge. I puffed it carefully back to life and soon it was blazing merrily again. I broke it down the middle and dropped half to the flat roof below.

Turning to survey the town. I made note of the biggest fires. There were six especially bad ones, blazing up into the dark sky. Elxa Dal had always said that all fires are one fire, and all fires are the sympathist's to command. Very well then, all fires were one fire.
This
fire.
This
piece of burning shingle. I murmured a binding and focused my Alar. I used my thumbnail to scratch a hasty ule rune onto the wood, then doch, then pesin. In the brief moment it took to do that the entire shingle was smoldering and smoking, hot in my hand.

I hooked my foot around the ladder rung and leaned deep into the cistern, quenching the shingle in the water. For a brief moment I felt the cool water surround my hand, then it quickly warmed. Even though the shingle was under water, I could see the faint line of red ember still smoldering along its edge.