Whatever he was doing, it appeared to be working. He threw a few lansip leaves on the little fire, and for an instant there was a most incredible scent in that horrible place, the very smell of the Dragon Isle itself. I closed my eyes and inhaled. Just in time, as it happens, for the next moment a terrible reek and a great cloud of smoke arose from his little brazier, and the figure of a demon appeared. This one had huge eyes to go with its outsized mouth. It also appeared to be wrapped in a chain.
“Tremble, mortal, for I am—” began the demon, but Berys tugged at the chain and the thing screamed.
“You are in my power. Don’t be stupid. You have the simplest of tasks. Taste this blood and let me know if it will be acceptable to—” Here he said something that I thought might be a name, but I couldn’t understand it.
“Will it be offered in full or in part?” the thing asked, gazing hungrily at the cup in Berys’s hand.
“In part, at first,” said Berys.
“Give,” the demon demanded, and yelped again as Berys twisted the chain around it.
“You obey me for the price,” he said, and the thing bowed. “Take,” he commanded, and offered it the brass cup full of my blood.
The demon took it and drank it all down at once, whereupon it screamed far louder and more convincingly than it had at Berys’s hands. It didn’t stop screaming, and as it didn’t seem to need to breathe, the noise was appalling. It was obviously in agony. I couldn’t tell, exactly, but it looked as though it was trying to rid itself of the blood but couldn’t. It finally managed to say the words “broken” and “contract,” and Berys yelped. He sent what looked like black fire towards the thing—a kind of reversed Healer’s light—and a stream of blood, presumably mine, flowed out of its mouth onto the stone floor. It finally stopped screaming.
“What in all the Seven Hells happened?” cried Berys. “It is only blood, there is nothing in it that could—”
“Kantrissshakrim!” the demon hissed. “You fed me blood of the Kantrissshakrrrim! I will dessstroy you!”
Berys stood still as death, staring in utter astonishment. The demon tried to get at him, but the binding held. Berys shook himself and said, “Only your death would break the contract. All is done, you are released.”
“Payment!” it cried.
“You were paid with lansip when I summoned you. You have not done as I demanded, you are owed nothing. Go!”
The demon hissed like a cauldron full of snakes and disappeared with a loud bang and a reek of rotten eggs.
Berys turned to me, frowning in frantic calculation, his eyes narrowing as he started to pace back and forth in front of my cell, muttering to himself. “How is it possible? You are human, I know it, your father lies there and your mother was but a vessel made use of. Human born of human. You cannot be other, but you are.” He glanced for an instant at the smoke still hovering above the brazier. “Demonstrably.”
Then his frown disappeared and his eyes opened so wide I could see white all around. And I thought he looked insane before.
“Kantri and Gedri blood. Can it be? How in the—no, forget how. You! Speak truth!” he cried, and cast a cloud of that darkness at me. I took a deep breath and held it before the cloud reached me. “Speak! Your blood is Kantri and Gedri mixed?” he demanded.
“Go to the deepest Hell and rot there,” I said with the last of my air, when I knew I could hold my breath no longer. I was forced to breathe in that blackness—but I could not. It was like trying to breathe soil. I had choked nearly to death when he dissipated it. I knelt, desperately gasping sweet air into my burning chest, as he stared. And then he started to laugh.
That was worse than hearing the demon scream.
Berys laughed loud and long, and eventually came close to me. I shrank as far back as I could.
“I do not know what has changed you, or how, or why” he said, exhilarated, “but as of this moment, you are the most precious creature in all the world to me.”
Marik stirred at this. His breathing was returning to normal and he sat up, wincing. “I don’t see what’s so wonderful about her,” he said, his voice rough. “In any case, I’m sure it will still be wonderful when her soul is gone to pay off my demons.”
“Hmm—true enough, I suppose. Though it’s a bother I didn’t need this night,” sighed Berys, peeved. “However, I don’t need her soul for anything in particular, and she will surely be easier to transport if her will is gone. I will perform the sacrifice this very night before we leave, if only to shut you up about it.”
“About damn time,” growled Marik, climbing slowly to his feet. He stood before me, just out of reach, his face distorted by the mixture of triumph and hatred. “These are your last hours, girl,” he growled, adding in a voice only I could hear, “all of you.” Then, louder, “Suffer as I have suffered, sure in the knowledge that before midnight your soul will be in thrall forever to a Lord of Hell.” He laughed then, a soul-chilling laugh because it sounded so normal. As if he laughed at a slight witticism rather than rejoicing in the hideous fate he planned for me.
I stood up straight, summoned what defiance I could muster, and responded, “I am alone and unarmed. What you say may indeed come to pass.” I forced myself to attempt a smile, anything to plant some seed of doubt in Marik’s mind. “But you are, of your own free will, actively sacrificing your only child to the powers of darkness. How do you hope to escape the same fate I shall suffer?”
He smiled. “As long as you go first, I don’t really care.” He turned and left, whistling. Berys, once his bears had cleared away the trappings of his altar, stopped and grinned at me. “Soon,” he said, as he summoned his Healer’s power and gestured at me.
“Sleep,” he said.
I knew no more.
Will
Well, I admired Varien’s dedication, but you’d not get me running down that road in the dark so soon after a decent meal. I’d get a stitch in my side in no time, and I expected he would too. But there, he was following his love.
Well, so was I.
I glanced over at Aral, almost unconsciously sitting beside Vilkas as she spoke with Maran. As though it were her natural place. She chose not to notice that Vil, close as a brother to her, had never indicated that he felt anything other than that for her. I noticed. He had never said … we had never spoken of her in that way, but after these two years I knew them both well enough. That churning soul, never at rest even in sleep: he did not long for Aral as I did, as a man longs for a woman, but he needed her desperately. It was that she sensed. It can be a powerful attraction for a young woman, knowing that you make a genuine difference in a man’s life, that you are truly needed. It is not enough, of itself, to make anything other than friendship, but Aral was very young. I knew she loved him and that he did not return it, and when we had all three been cast by Berys to float on the tides of the world, I had resolved to be with her when she came to need me, for that day would surely come.
I was interrupted by Gair, the landlord and a friend of mine. “Lo, Willem,” he said, cheerily. “You are right welcome, you and your friends who pay good silver in good time!”
I grinned. “Well, if you can’t make your hints any broader than that, I’ll not pay you until I see you next.” To still his spluttering protests I drew forth a small handful of silver and paid the shot I’d run up over the last few months.
Gair took it with thanks, and said with some amusement, “You’ll never credit it, but I heard some of the old lads talking about dragons this afternoon! Can you imagine? Dragons!”
I raised my eyebrows and stared at him. “You amaze me.”
“Sure as life. They sat out there”—he gestured to the common room—“and said they’d seen dragons—not the little ones, the big ones! Like in the children’s tales!” He laughed. “Perhaps I’d best cut the ale with more water next time!”
“Gair, where have you been this day long?” I asked, as innocently as I could. Goddess, it was hard to keep a straight face.
>
“Cooking all day, since before dawn,” he said. “This is my baking day. You’re lucky I made extra bread and those honeycakes on a whim. Mind you, I expected that roast to last me all week. I’ll have to start another tomorrow.” He looked around. “You don’t think all this food just appears from nowhere, do you? It’s taken me most of the day, starting when late turns to early. Why, what’s been happening?”
“Have you never looked out your door, man?” I asked, stunned.
“Only to look away south and wonder what was keeping the trade away.”
I took him by the shoulders and drew him back into his kitchen, trying not to laugh. “Gair, my friend—the old men were right. There are dragons here. Now. Not just the little ones, the Lesser Kindred—though they are come into their own. They can speak and reason now, Gair, the little dragons. They are intelligent.”
“Never!” he cried, eyes wide. “Impossible! I’ve seen the creatures in the woods for years, they’re no brighter than cattle!”
“Believe me. Awake and aware and capable of speech.” I started to smile, watching his face. “And, Gair—breathe, man, life has changed but all’s well enough—the True Dragons are here as well. They arrived this morning.”
He went from astounded to annoyed in the instant. “Nonsense!” he scoffed. “It can’t be. They’re not real, man!”
“Then I’ve been talking with tales all the day long, aye, and for some days since,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“But—but in the tales they’re huge, they couldn’t come and—not be—seen—Will, you bastard, you’ve seen them!”
“Gair, you idiot, they only bloody well landed in your field!” I said, laughing openly now. “Damn near two hundred of them, not half a mile away—oh, no—I suppose it’s nearer four hundred now.”
“What!” I could see the white all around his eyes.
“Oh, don’t worry, they’re not breeding that fast,” I said, snorting. “No, no. It was quite a show, but one of the big ones and two of the folk out there managed to—oh, never mind, it’s too long a tale. But be told. They are here, they’re as big as legend makes them, they’re brighter than you or I will ever be, and they’re—they’re good folk, Gair. As long as you tell them the truth. They can spot a lie a league off.”
Gair didn’t speak. I don’t think he could. I was casting about for some way to reassure him when Rella came to the door. “Have you run out of ale, landlord?” she asked brightly.
“D-d-d-dragons!” Gair yelled. “Dragons! It’s the end of the world!”
“Don’t be stupid, man. It’s a new start, and you’re one of the first to know about it,” she said. That seemed to get through, a little. At least he was breathing again.
“A new—a new start?” he asked. “How? How can we fight something like that?”
“Goddess, man, there’s no need to fight them! They’re creatures of Order. Trade with them! They are new-come to this place, they have no food, no shelter.” She grinned then, moved close to him, and murmured conspiratorially, “You do know what they say about dragons, don’t you? Think, man! What do they sleep on, hmmm?”
At least he knew his children’s tales. “Every fool knows they sleep on beds of go—” The transformation was nearly magical. Where a moment before horror had reigned, now greed opened his eyes wider and brought a mad smile to his face. I’d seen that smile earlier in the day when I told Timeth of his great good fortune. Rella grinned. “Good lad,” she said cheerily. I nodded to him and took the ale to where the others sat.
Jamie
I woke suddenly in darkness and was just starting to curse Hygel for a liar when there came a knock at the door.
“Master, are you waked?” said a young voice. “There’s a man to see you i’ the common room. Will ye come?”
“Aye. Come and light my candle, lad, I can’t even find the door latch it’s that dark in here,” I replied. The voice proved to belong to a young lad of maybe ten years, who wandered in, lit the candle by the door from the candle he carried, and disappeared. I went to the basin and splashed my face with cold water, for I was still muzzy from sleep. It helped a bit.
The common room was lit by several lamps as well as by the fire, but despite that—or perhaps because of it—there was a generous helping of shadowy corners. Hygel came over to me, shook his head, and muttering something about what the cat dragged in, led me to a dimly lit alcove where sat a man of about my own age. He looked nothing special, short dark hair well salted with grey, a trim beard with more grey than dark, a nondescript cloak thrown around his shoulders against the cold nights of early spring. When he stood, though, his eyes gleamed in the firelight, and I saw the mind behind them awake and on guard.
“Magister Rikard, this is the man I told you of.” Hygel glanced at me, muttered, “Good luck,” and left us to it.
“I don’t believe in wasting time, sir,” said Rikard, swiftly seating himself. All his movements were quick and precise like his speech, and his eyes were sharp and bright. “I have known Hygel for years, and if he vouches for you, I am willing to at least begin with you, but he says you have impugned the Archimage. How do you dare to speak ill of so good a man?”
“I’ve known him longer than you, if not as well,” I replied cautiously “Though to say truth, I would not so corrupt the word ‘good’ as to speak it in the same breath.”
“I have had concerns myself,” he said, equally cautious. “If you have a complaint to make against the Archimage, I pray you, tell me. He surely would not be pleased to know that there were those who felt ill-used by him.”
I said nothing.
“Well? What’s wrong?” he snapped.
“I don’t know you, Magister. I barely know Hygel, and neither of you knows me from Farmer Jon’s off ox. And none of us can afford to be wrong.”
“Goddess knows, that’s true enough,” he said. “Though a legitimate complaint would have to be investigated. We healers are not ruled by the Archimage, but led by him. Even he is answerable to the Council of Mages assembled.”
“Would the word of one man, unknown to any of you, have any weight in that Council?” I asked wearily.
“It might, if you have proof, or another witness,” he replied. “Have you?”
“The proof of my own eyes and those of half a dozen others, of spiriting a”—I took a deep breath, and pitched my voice low that it might not crack—“of spiriting my daughter away from me and from her husband some four days since. But I don’t know where he is. I need help.”
To my surprise Rikard closed his eyes, as if in pain. “Shia keep you, Master Jamie,” he said, wincing. When he looked up again, those sharp eyes were more gentle. “I really am a Healer, you know,” he said quietly. “I’ve been doing this for forty years, I don’t need to summon power to see your pain. The merest glance—very well. Let us start again. I am Magister Rikard, of the College of Mages. How may I help save your daughter? Is she ill?”
“No. She’s in the power of the bastard you serve, and I fear with every breath I take that he’ll murder her soon if he hasn’t already.”
Rikard caught his breath, and his eyes widened. “Why has he taken her?” he asked urgently.
“I have no idea, though I think it might be to put her in the power of Marik of Gundar.” Her father, as it happens, but you don’t need to know that. “What I don’t know is where he has taken her. Is Berys here at the College?”
“I spoke with him not half an hour gone.”
I felt a great weight lift from off my shoulders. “Blessed be Shia. If he’s here, she’s here.”
“How can you be certain?” asked Rikard quietly.
“I can’t, not entirely,” I said quietly. “He might have murdered her by now; but if she lives he’ll have her close. Likely in one of those old detention cells, if you don’t know different. I know not what he needs her for, but certain sure he’s not stolen her away for her health.”
“May the Goddess bless you forever, Master Ja
mie,” said Rikard, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “I’ve been trying to get hard evidence against him for years.” Suddenly he drew back. “Though I warn you, if you are lying, Healer or no I’ll have it out of your hide.”
“He really is a twisty bastard, isn’t he?” I chuckled. “Goddess. If you’re looking for treachery everywhere—no wonder he’s grown so strong.”
Rikard sat back. “It’s true. Though I have no real reason to trust you.” His gaze never left mine, and after a while he added wearily, “Right now, I don’t even care. I’m sick unto death of it all. If you’re working for him, so be it. I’d rather have an open fight than creep about suspicious of everyone for the rest of my life.” His eyes began to gleam again in the firelight. “And if you speak truth—Goddess, I’ve been looking for proof against him for years now.”
“You haven’t been looking in the right places,” I snorted. “Hells, I saw him murder a poor babe near twenty-five years gone, making a Farseer. He was a demon-master then. Lady Shia only knows what he is now.”
“Will you denounce him in public?” asked Rikard. The change in him was amazing—he looked now like a drawn sword ready to strike. “Will you dare repeat such things to the assembled Council of Mages?”
“I’ll cry it in the town square if you like, but first”—I grabbed a fistful of his robe and pulled him close to me—“first I get my daughter out of his hands.”
“Agreed,” he said calmly. “Let go of me, please, and listen carefully The passwords you will need are very simple.”
“M’name’s Gerander,” I said, sweeping off my recently acquired cap. “I’m Magister Rikard’s new man, come to sign in.”
“Left it a bit late, haven’t you, Gerander?” asked the man at the gate, suspiciously. As well he might be. I had been living rough for some time, I had put on my grubbiest clothes, and I had to admit that I looked more than a bit suspect. That was the idea. Let him see the clothing, not the man, and I could pass easily enough later without being recognised. “And you’ve chosen the wrong name to call, Magister Rikard is—”