“None for me,” Dallandra said.
“Nor me, either,” Branna said. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”
“Very well. I’ll be taking myself to the kitchen hut to help Lonna and Kov with the meal.” Wynni glanced at Branna. “I do think my sister, she’ll be marrying far sooner than I. She be fair taken with Kov, and the island demands she give it heirs.”
With a nod all round, Berwynna hurried out. Branna moved around the table to sit next to Dallandra, who had brought the dragon book down with her. Dallandra opened it randomly to one of its infuriatingly identical pages.
“I’ve tried all the simple ciphers I know,” Dallandra told Branna. “Reading the first rune of each line, and then the last, and every third word and the like. None of them make sense except by chance. Down here—” she pointed to the bottom third of the page, “if you take every third word starting at the last word, you can put together ‘after the rabbit tree.’ I doubt me if that has much to do with anything.”
Branna laughed and nodded her agreement. The sound of a bronze gong drifted in through a window, growing louder as the boat made the journey back across the lake. Dallandra left the book with Branna and walked outside in time to see Valandario and Grallezar disembarking at the pier. With a shout of greeting, she trotted down to meet them.
“I’ve got the crystal!” Valandario patted the quiver slung across her chest.
“Splendid, and my thanks,” Dalla said.
“My heart aches to see the dweomer book at last,” Grallezar said. “Though truly, my mind does need a few quiet moments to recover from riding upon dragonback.”
“Well, the lady of the manse has planned a feast for tonight,” Dalla said, “so I suggest we find some quiet spot outside and study it there.”
Dallandra went to the nearest window and called to Branna to bring the book. They walked around the manse in the opposite direction from the pier. Branna joined them at the back door, and they trooped down to the lakeshore. As they walked along, looking for a place to sit, Dallandra heard a sound she couldn’t quite place at first. A bird, perhaps?
“Someone weeps,” Grallezar said. “The sound does come from that willow tree.”
On the little bench under the willow they found Avain, sitting slumped over and sobbing into her cupped hands. When Branna rushed over to her, Avain looked up but continued weeping.
“Here, here,” Branna said, “what’s so wrong? You sound as if your heart would break.”
Avain paused to wipe her eyes and her nose as well on one sleeve. “Avain wants to see the dragons.”
“Well, mayhap later you can go across and see them.”
Avain’s eyes narrowed in thought. “The dragon, he be not my da. Mama did make me stay here.” With that she began sobbing again.
“Branna?” Dalla said. “I doubt me if she understands what you mean by ‘later.’ Time is a hard thing for such as her to comprehend.”
“So I see.” Branna hesitated, then smiled. “I’ll fetch Wynni. I’ll wager she knows what to tell her.”
The elder dweomermasters stood helplessly around as Branna trotted back in the direction of the manse and the kitchen hut. In the soft summer breeze the overhanging willow branches rustled softly, as if commiserating with the poor girl. Dallandra noticed Grallezar studying Avain with half-lidded eyes.
“Avain?” Grallezar said suddenly. “Be it that you wish you were a dragon?”
Avain looked up with snot smearing her upper lip. “Avain wants to fly.” She paused to wipe her nose on her sleeve again. “Avain dreams about dragons.”
Dallandra became suddenly aware of Avain’s green eyes, lashless, round, and slit vertically. She opened her sight and immediately saw what Grallezar had seen: Avain’s etheric double, a faint dragon-shape hovering around her. Tonight the moon will be dark, Dalla thought. Rori’s true form will be dominant, so why not Avain’s as well? The three dweomerwomen exchanged glances, but no one spoke until Branna returned with Berwynna.
Wynni immediately went to Avain and threw an arm around her sister’s broad shoulders. She spoke in Dwarvish, a soft murmur of words that soothed Avain the way a soft voice and stroking will soothe a nervous horse.
“I’ll coax her back to her tower,” Wynni said. “My thanks for fetching me, Branna.”
To please Wynni—and upon the promise of apple cake—Avain stopped weeping. She stood up and let her sister lead her away down the path toward the manse and tower. Grallezar set her hands on her hips and watched them till they disappeared among the apple trees.
“Well, well,” Grallezar said. “I think me we now know what we might do with that excess of etheric substance. It wraps Rori up like a pit in a peach, and truly, I did have doubts we could earth all of it after we stripped it away.”
“Indeed,” Dalla said. “I see what you mean—if we can keep from killing both of them.”
Grallezar smiled with a show of fang. “Too true, but still, I do count this as one problem solved.”
There remained the problem of the dragon book or, to be precise, the problem of reading it. Dallandra sat down on the bench astride, as if she were on horseback, so that she could lay the book down in front of her. Branna hunkered down at the far end of the bench to watch. Both Valandario and Grallezar preferred to stand and keep their feet upon solid ground after their experience of sailing through the sky.
Valandario handed Dallandra the black crystal. A quick glance into it confirmed what Laz had told her, that the white one lay at the bottom of the lake.
“I hope the black will work by itself,” Dallandra said. “Wish me luck!”
First, Dalla tried looking at one of the pages through the crystal with no particular result. When she set it down on the page, nothing changed. She tried placing it upon the front cover, the back cover, on each page, in different areas of each page—still nothing. Finally, she picked the crystal up, holding it without thinking close to her face.
“You wretched book!” she snapped. “Will you unlock, or shall I burn you?”
The book shimmered like the reflection of a book upon water. Dallandra nearly dropped the crystal in surprise as the illusion disintegrated. The front cover vanished first, then the back. The pages began to peel away, one at a time, and fade into air. In a startling gleam of silver light the last page but one followed the others into nothingness. A single piece of parchment, slightly singed around the edges, lay on the bench.
“Ye gods!” Branna whispered.
“He always did like to make a gaudy display,” Dallandra said. “Evandar, I mean, when he worked dweomer, no matter how much dweomer force he wasted doing it.”
Valandario quirked an eyebrow in her direction.
“Let’s see what this thing says.” Dallandra handed the crystal back to Val. “I know what you’re thinking, and no doubt you’re right. Does it matter? He’s gone now.”
“That’s very true,” Val said. “I shan’t mention it again.”
When Dalla picked up the parchment, she was relieved to see that the writing had turned into simple Elvish. As she read, she translated the words into Deverrian for the sake of Branna and Grallezar.
“If the man’s shadow survives, then he will survive,” it began. “If his shadow has died, then he will die unless he remain a beast.
Fear not the dark of the moon but its full. Unweaving the dweomer is much like unpicking a length of cloth. Unraveling the threads is a simple task, but without a spindle upon which to wind them, they tangle and are lost. If you lack a spindle, then he will be lost. If the threads fall into water, they will drain the man’s life. If they fall upon the ground, they will strangle the one who attempts the unweaving. If they come loose and waft through the air, they will destroy the spindle.”
Dallandra looked up to find her listeners nodding in understanding.
“Well and good, then,” Dalla said in Deverrian. “At last! Somewhat that’s perfectly clear.”
“True spoken,” Val said. “But
you do realize, don’t you, that he just copied that out of the Pseudo-Iamblichos Scroll?”
“Now, now,” Grallezar broke in before Dallandra could make an angry reply. “He did copy a bit here, a bit there, but he did put together a new sense out of the bits. And here, did he not point to the source with the picture upon the cover of the book?”
“Of course!” Dallandra said. “That’s why it’s the opposite of the picture on Laz’s copy of the Scroll.”
“That’s very true,” Val said. “I wonder if he saw Laz’s book somewhere, but it doesn’t matter anymore. We have the information we need.”
Branna looked so stricken that Dallandra could practically hear her thinking, “We do?” Grallezar gave her apprentice an indulgent smile.
“I shall tell you the answers to these riddles before the night does fall,” Grallezar said. “But for now, I think me that Dalla’s part of this work lies with Avain. Think you her mother will agree to what we have in mind?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to go ask Wynni first.”
“What about Avain?” Val said. “We should be asking her.”
Dallandra laughed, one startled bark. “True spoken! But I think me Arzosah can convince her.” She swung her leg free of the bench and stood up. “Val, if you’d call Arzosah over? I’ll just be talking with Wynni in the kitchen.”
Although she never would have claimed that she understood the dweomer in Evandar’s book, Branna did have some vague idea about the meaning of its instructions. She merely had no idea of how the elder dweomermasters were going to carry them out. One thing had come clear to her, however, the reason that Laz would remain in raven form for the rest of his life. His “shadow,” his human etheric double, had indeed died. Trying to unwind the raven form would kill him.
When Dallandra went to the kitchen, Branna followed the others down to the pier and the lakeshore. They could see both dragons, Rori lounging in the grass, with the two small figures of Angmar and Mara beside him, and Arzosah, lying a good distance away with her back firmly toward the group. When Valandario cupped her hands around her mouth and called out the dragon’s name, Arzosah roared in answer and took to the air. With a few beats of her enormous wings and a glide she crossed the lake and landed nearby on the sandy fringe of beach.
Out in deep water, a beast rose to the surface and lifted its head to stare at the dragon. Branna could see a fine row of needle teeth as it opened its mouth, but it came no closer.
“It’s trying to smell us,” Arzosah remarked. “They have another nose, as it were, deep in their throats.”
“These beasts never lived in this lake before,” Valandario said. “So they must have arrived with Haen Marn. Do you know what they are?”
“Water beasts is what I’ve always called them. A few live up in the Northlands. They’re really quite stupid, just animals if huge ones.” Arzosah rustled her wings in a shrug. “Their race, though, is even older than wyrmkind. I’m surprised that any are left.”
A second beast rose out of the water to stare. Arzosah swung her head toward them and roared so loudly that the sound echoed back and forth across the surrounding hills. Both beasts dove with a splash and disappeared into the rippling water with a flick of their long skinny tails.
“Ai!” Branna said. “My poor ears!”
“My apologies, but sometimes a lady just has to relieve her feelings.” Arzosah turned toward Valandario. “Now, why did you fetch me?”
“There’s a person here we very much want you to see.” Val paused and glanced back at the manse. “We need your opinion about—Ah, here she is, in fact, with Wynni and Dalla.”
Avain saw the dragon, broke into a grin, and came skipping down the path ahead of her two companions. Arzosah’s lower jaw sagged open. She shut it with a snap of fangs, then shook her head.
“The poor soul!” the dragon muttered. “Trapped in that nasty pink skin.” She raised her voice. “Little hatchling, come here!”
Avain ran the rest of the way. She threw her arms around Arzosah’s neck as far as they could reach while the dragon murmured to her in a soothing flow of incomprehensible words—Dragonish words, Branna assumed. When Avain let Arzosah go and stepped back, the dragon licked her face with just the very tip of a surprisingly gentle tongue. Avain laughed and clapped her hands together.
“You agree, then?” Val said. “That she’s a dragon in her soul?”
“Of course she is,” Arzosah said. “Will her mother let her fly free, or will she insist on snatching her away like she’s snatched Rori?”
“Mam will do what be best for Avain,” Berwynna said. “And truly, that would be letting her go. But, Stepmother, there be a need on you to know that my sister does have her troubles. Never has she had keen wits.”
Arzosah snorted and rolled her eyes. “She’s very young, is all—for a dragon. Fear not, once we restore her to her true self, her mind will begin to blossom.”
“Well and good, then,” Grallezar put in. “You do know more of such things than we do.”
“Of course I do.” Arzosah snorted again. “I suppose Evandar had somewhat to do with this poor child’s misery.”
“He did not,” Dallandra snapped. “And you’re a fine one to talk! You’re the one who insisted Rhodry become a dragon in the first place, aren’t you?”
Arzosah glowered but held her enormous tongue.
Distantly, the boat’s gong began to ring. Berwynna shaded her eyes with one hand and looked across the lake.
“Here they do come,” Wynni said, “Mam and Mara, that be. Let me speak to my mother straightaway about Avain.”
“Avain wants to fly.” The subject of this discussion spoke up at last. “But Avain loves Mam and Wynni and Mara.”
“We all shall talk about this.” Wynni caught her sister’s huge hand in both of hers. “See you Mam? She be on the boat, and the boat, it does come toward the pier.”
“We’ll let you all make this decision in private,” Dallandra said. “We need to go plan things out.”
“Will you be joining us for the evening meal?” Wynni said.
“We won’t. We all have to fast, and truly, Avain should as well, if you can explain it to her.”
“That be no hard task. She does eat oddly little, and often but once a day.”
“Good. We’ll wait at the bench under the willow. If you could let us know what your mother—”
“Of course! I know not how long I’ll be.”
Dallandra glanced at the sky. “We have a long while till sunset. If your mother will agree to releasing Avain, we’ll go across the lake to speak to Rori. Otherwise—well, otherwise I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“Naught, I should think,” Grallezar said. “Lest we slay the man we do try to save.”
Berwynna gave her a sharp look, began to speak, then turned to Avain. “See you the boat?” she said. “Go you now to the pier and wait for them.”
Avain trotted off, humming a little tune under her breath. Berwynna set her hands on her hips and considered Grallezar for a moment.
“Be you telling me,” Wynni said at last, “that my sister be the price of my father’s return?”
“Not a price that we demand,” Grallezar said, “but no great dweomer comes without great price.”
“Never did I think that it were you who did demand it.” Wynni caught her lower lip between her teeth and thought for a long moment. “I’ll be telling Mam that. It be a hard choice.”
“Oh, come now,” Arzosah said. “She can always fly your way and visit.”
“As a dragon, not as Avain, and never will she be able to fly across the lake again to join us in the manse.” Wynni turned away. “The boat, it be docking.” She strode off, heading for the pier.
“Come along,” Dallandra said to her flock of dweomerfolk. “We can’t influence their decision either way. Arzosah, that means you, too!”
Grumbling under her breath, the dragon waddled after them as they walked away.
While
Berwynna helped her mother and Mara climb onto the pier, Avain kept up a constant flow of chatter in Dwarvish about the black dragon. Berwynna had never seen her sister so happy, her smile so broad, her eyes so bright with life. Her words, too, made better sense than Wynni had ever heard her make. When, however, they turned to leave the pier, Avain realized that Arzosah had gone, and she burst into tears.
“Here, here!” Wynni spoke in Dwarvish as well. “She’s just gone round to the willow tree. She’s still on the island, Avain.”
The tears stopped, and the bright smile returned.
“Well, now,” Angmar said. “I see that Avain has a new friend.”
“More than a friend, Mam,” Berwynna said. “Come inside, and let’s sit down, and I’ll tell you what’s happened. I’m not sure how much she understands.”
Although Avain disliked being inside the manse, for this occasion she did come in with them. She refused, however, to sit down at the table. Instead she wandered around the great hall, looking at the carvings on the walls and glancing out the windows, while the rest of the family discussed a wyrd she could barely understand.
Angmar spoke not at all when Wynni told her of the price of Rori’s return. Mara had a few questions, but it seemed obvious to Wynni that the sort of dweomer Dallandra and Grallezar wanted to work lay well beyond her sister’s knowledge. Finally, Angmar shook her head and sighed.
“I don’t understand everything,” Angmar said. “But I’ve always understood the price that Haen Marn demands for its dweomers. It exacted the fee of my whole life when it brought me here. It demanded that Avain’s father marry a half-breed woman he’d never seen. It took me away from my Rori when he was a man, and it took him away from me by turning him into the silver wyrm. Why would I be surprised that it would demand such a great price for giving him back?”
Mara and Berwynna exchanged a glance. Berwynna noticed with some surprise that her sister’s eyes were full of tears. I never truly knew her before, she thought. Her heart’s not stone after all!