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Authors: Deby Fredericks

Too Many Princes (69 page)

BOOK: Too Many Princes
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COUNCILS OF WAR

 


I know what you are thinking, Father,

Yriatt said with calm ferocity,

but I will not stay behind. I refuse.

The sun was sinking in earnest, casting its red glare over the walls of the keep and the town beyond. The Sea of Carthell had turned a strange, murky brown as it lapped at the duke's private pier. The four wizards had returned there to wait for the griffins, which Yriatt had summoned.

They had to get to Harburg right away, Lottres knew. Now that they knew where Ysislaw was, speed was of the essence. Just knowing his location didn't solve all their problems, however.


You must stay behind,

Ymell said, matching Yriatt's urgency.

I will not have you going anywhere near Ysislaw. He has already taken too many of my loved ones. Further, now that Carthell is mobilizing, someone must fly to Firice and assure their troops are marching. I cannot do it. You must.


If you feel it is so dangerous, I will not leave your side,

Yriatt answered with a fiery sweetness.


The risk is too great,

Ymell insisted.


No, Father,

Yriatt said.

Lottres watched with embarrassment as the two dragons clashed. He didn't know whose side to take. What he did know, with a wrenching certainty, was that Brastigan was in terrible danger. Like Shaelen, he couldn't bear to wait around while his brother was alone, suffering.


Cousin!

With relief, Lottres turned away from the confrontation. Dietrick had emerged from the water gate. Lottres strode back to meet him. Dietrick carried one large canvas bag over his shoulder and a smaller one at his side.


Before you go, I must return these,

Dietrick said. He set down the small bundle and rolled the larger one over his shoulder. Unknotting a drawstring, Dietrick presented Lottres's sword. Lottres accepted it, and passed back the sword he had borrowed. Then, with a small bow, Dietrick offered Shaelen her bow and arrows.


It seems you didn't need them,

Dietrick added wryly,

but we shouldn't keep what isn't ours. There is also this.

He lifted the smaller bundle.

Food for your journey, since you haven't eaten with us and now must travel again.


My thanks.

Lottres accepted the package eagerly. His stomach gurgled in agreement.


No, it is I who must thank you,

Dietrick answered.

It will be good to have a clear purpose again.

Lottres found he had to look away from the emotion in his kinsman's eyes. It seemed impossible that a man of Dietrick's integrity could spring from the court of Carthell, where the duke had such slippery morals. Lottres wondered if Johanz understood what a prize he had in his son. Recalling how Ymell and Yriatt were locked in their contest of wills, Lottres thought perhaps some fathers never did fully appreciate their children.


Maess!
Why must we wait?

Shaelen cried. Her face was pale, her expression agitated. Shaelen, even more than Lottres, was attuned to Brastigan and aware of his distress.

He needs us!

Lottres was sure he saw a trace of pity on Yriatt's face, but she answered with steely patience,

As we already have discussed, the gateways are no longer open to us. Ysislaw controls too many of them.


He would know at once where we are,

Ymell said.

We must surprise him, if we can.


I know,
Maen,
but why can't we go?

Shaelen cut the air with an exasperated gesture, taking in Lottres and herself.


Yes,

Lottres said with quick excitement.

Why can't we?


You would face Ysislaw alone?

Ymell asked, aghast.


I know how to keep quiet,

Lottres answered defensively.

I did it all the way to Altannath, didn't I,
Maess?

Yriatt nodded, reluctant to agree.


There's a gateway right near Harburg,

Lottres went on.

It's called the Dragon's Candle. Yes, he'll sense when we come through, but he'll be expecting the two of you. Shaelen and I should be able to deal with whatever guard he has on it. And there can't be much—nobody ever goes up there, and a guard would be noticed.

Lottres eyed the darkening sky.

We could get into Harburg before the gates close, if we hurry.


Then the two of you could fly to Firice together,

Shaelen said.

Maess
wouldn't have to go by herself.


Or you could simply fly to Harburg,

Lottres added.

You both can change your eyes to see in the dark. Can the griffins do that?


I think this very ill advised,

Yriatt answered sternly.

You are still inexperienced,
Thaeme,
and you...

She trailed off, regarding Shaelen.


I'm all right,

Shaelen answered stoutly.

Dietrick, standing forgotten, suddenly asked,

What are these gateways you speak of?


A magical construct,

Lottres answered.

A kind of wizard's gate. It would look like a tall mound with a stone on top, and a large pool of water.


Like that?

Dietrick pointed, and Lottres turned to follow with his eyes. To the south of Carthell's walls, a single hill rose smooth and dark against the ruddy sunset sky.

We call it the Dragon's Well. It's said if any man goes up there, he will never return.


In a sense, that is correct,

Ymell allowed. To Yriatt, he chuckled,

Where do they come up with these names?


Does it matter?

Yriatt snapped back.

We should not be using the gateways.


But it's so close,

Shaelen murmured, her eyes fixed on the distant mound.

Lord Dietrick, would we be able to borrow a pair of horses?


Of course,

Dietrick said, although he looked askance at Yriatt.

Ymell eyed the two of them thoughtfully, Lottres and Shaelen, each driven by the same need. A human need, which the dragons, however well intended, could never fully understand.


We must go,

Lottres insisted.


You are not our slaves,

Ymell said at length.

We will not forbid you to do what you must.


We can only hope you do not compromise our secrecy,

Yriatt said with angry tartness.

A part of Lottres cringed from her displeasure, but he couldn't be swayed. Despite all their disagreements, Lottres knew that nothing would stop Brastigan from coming to his aid if he were the one held prisoner.


Maess,
it doesn't matter. Ysislaw has Brastigan.

Shaelen's voice trembled, and her eyes gleamed with tears. Yriatt scowled.

Brastigan knew our plans. I can't think how Ysislaw would not acquire his knowledge.

There was a thunderstruck silence. Lottres hadn't thought of Brastigan's trouble in those terms. He should have.


You are certain Ysislaw has Brastigan?

Yriatt demanded.


We both feel it,

Lottres said.

Even if he didn't, his
eppagadrocca
here won't answer when he calls them. I believe he must know where we are.

The two dragons glanced at each other, abruptly reassessing the whole situation. Once again, Lottres sensed a communication between them too deep and swift for mere words.


In my experience,

Dietrick said,

you should avoid doing the exact thing your enemy will expect you to do.

The silence stretched on. When no one answered, he awkwardly asked,

Do you still need those horses?


Yes.

Ymell spoke slowly, with quiet portent.

I believe we do.

* * *

In the fading daylight, Lottres and Shaelen trotted toward Harburg's south gate. The road was crowded with traffic, most of it going the other way. It was slow work to move against the tide, but Lottres pursued it with all the patience he could muster. They had to get inside the city before the gates closed with nightfall, and time was growing short.


They're not letting anyone in,

grumbled the driver of a passing ox cart.

The inns are all full.

Lottres glanced over, saw the hay wagon piled high with household goods. Half a dozen children, perched among the furniture, gazed back at him anxiously. The peasant farmer looked grim. His wife, seated beside him, was having a hard time holding back her tears.

As a royal prince, Lottres expected no difficulty gaining entrance to the capital once he reached the gate, but there was no way to say so without seeming arrogant or cruel—or both.


I thank you for the warning,

Lottres said.

Even this reply seemed inadequate to the upheaval in the peasant family's life. However, there was nothing he could do to help them. Lottres turned away, to see sunset gilding the towers and hoarding on Harburg's city wall. It was his second sunset in one day, a novel experience that somewhat diverted Lottres from his worries.

From the moment they passed through the Dragon's Well, he had felt probes. Ysislaw's awareness followed them, seeking. In response, Lottres had been keeping his thoughts placid as the pool beside the Dragon's Candle. Nor did he and Shaelen speak to each other. Ysislaw would have heard them, and guessed who they were. Only now, as they approached the noisy crowds of Harburg, did he think it safe to speak at all.

BOOK: Too Many Princes
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