Dragon and Phoenix (29 page)

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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix
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Of all the idiotic …
She stalked through the gate and around the corner.
 
“Remember the last time we stood in a garden by a well?” Linden said softly.
“Gods, yes,” Maurynna said with feeling.
“Was your silver well spent?” he teased, remembering how he’d come upon her just after she’d tossed a coin to the moon’s reflection in the well to make a wish.
 
He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Indeed,” she answered. “There I was, worried about finding my dockhand again and lo! A Dragonlord found me instead.” A moment’s pause; then, dryly, “I was, to say the least, surprised.”
He laughed, remembering her face, and suddenly crushed her against him. She clung to him with equal fierceness. No matter how long it took, Jehanglan would come all too soon. Once again he would be without his soultwin, as he had been for so many long centuries.
Who knew when they’d be together once more?
 
She found him hiding in the shadows as he peered over the garden gate. A murmur of soft voices from inside the garden drifted wordless on the night air, revealing who stood inside. She could guess where they were, too: near the well.
Cloak drawn tight around her, Maylin watched Raven watching Maurynna and Linden. She knew he had no idea she was there; how could he? All his attention was for the two standing by the well. When he shifted to get a better view, the moonlight limned his face.
She sighed. There was no mistaking the stubborn jut of his chin. Maurynna was right; Raven was not one to give up a notion, no matter how idiotic it was. And this one was foolish indeed.
Besides, she had her own notions that required him to change his. She might have her work cut out for her, but she would prevail. Maylin was certain of it. It just might take a bit longer than she wanted.
First she had to get him to notice her—
truly
notice her. She crept up behind him.
Then she poked him.
His nerves were good even if his manners needed mending. For though Raven jumped a good handspan or two into the air, he made no sound. He did, however, whirl around in a fighting crouch when his feet touched ground once more, his hand flying to his belt dagger. Maylin saw with satisfaction that he had the grace to look embarrassed at the sight of her. There was hope for him yet.
“Are you done with being rude?” she whispered.
He glared at her, but followed when she pointedly turned and walked away.
When they were at the beginning of the alley, Maylin said, “I thought you’d gone to the inn.”
Raven shrugged and made no explanation. He muttered, “It’s not fair.”
“Fair?” Maylin said. She had to tilt her head far back to look him in the face. It was a decided disadvantage; however, Maylin had never let that stop her before. She folded her arms across her chest. “
Fair?
Since when is anything in life fair? Not that ‘fair’ has anything to do with this. If you’d take the time to look beyond the tip of your selfish nose, you’d see how right they are for each other. They belong together, Raven.”
“I’d thought Rynna and I would …” He trailed off.
“
In
-deed?
And did you ever discuss this with Rynna? No? Then don’t get all into a snit that she didn’t follow the story you’d written—not when you didn’t tell her the tale.” She rested a hand on his arm. “Raven, please; look at them and truly see them, not what you want to see.”
He shook her hand off and stalked away.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the inn.” But after three long strides he stopped. Half looking back over his shoulder, he said, “Blast you. Why do you have to be right?” Then he was off again before she could say anything else.
Maylin walked slowly to the gate leading to the courtyard in the front of the house and passed through. Shutting the gate behind her, she leaned against it, lost in thought until the chill of the autumn night drove her inside once more.
 
Raven walked quickly through the streets of Casna.
Curse
the girl! She was right and they both knew it.
Maurynna would never be his.
 
The next day was spent quietly. Word was sent to the palace of their arrival, a privy message for the eyes of Duke Beren, regent of Cassori. A short, cryptic note came in return, bidding them await a visit that evening from one who would arrange what they needed.
So when the early autumn darkness fell, they met in the front room of the
Vanadin home. Linden looked around the table; to his left was Otter, then Raven, Elenna, and Owin. Next came Jekkanadar and Lleld, with little Kella on her new heroine’s other side. Lleld had spent the day teaching the girl a few tumbling tricks, and now the child wanted nothing more than to run away and join their troupe. Judging by the look in her mother’s eye, Kella might well be tied down when it came time for them to leave—just in case. Maylin sat nearly opposite Raven; Linden noticed her eyes rarely left him. He, on the other hand, seemed hardly to notice her.
Only Taren was absent, having pleaded fatigue earlier. They’d left him resting at the inn.
“Why can’t I come with you?” Kella asked Lleld for perhaps the hundredth time. “I did well, didn’t I? I want to learn juggling next.”
“Perhaps next time, sweetheart; this time we’re for a long journey to visit Rynna’s other kin,” Lleld said.
Kella sighed. “I never get to go anywhere. Bother; well then, I shall teach Rann what I’ve learned today the next time I play with him.”
Linden said in surprise, “You play with Rann?”
“At the palace,” Kella told him proudly. “We have fun. He’s my best friend.”
How did this miracle come about, Linden wondered. He would have thought the Cassorin aristocracy too rank-proud to stand for their prince playing with a merchant’s child. Then he realized: commoner though she was, Kella was bloodkin to one Dragonlord and marriage-kin to another. That would be good enough for even the most snobbish Cassorin noble.
He found himself suddenly wishing they were not traveling in disguise. He would have liked to go to the palace with Kella and see the little Cassorin princeling again. Surely the boy was in better health now that his traitorous uncle Peridaen, and Peridaen’s mage, Kas Althume, were no longer slowly poisoning him.
But in the end it was Peridaen who saved the child when Kas Althume would have slain him,
a part of Linden’s mind reminded him.
So he did—and died in Rann’s stead
, Linden said in amends to Peridaen, silently thanking the man.
On the heels of the memory came a knocking at the door. After a glance at the Dragonlords, Owin went to answer it himself.
Linden heard the door open, heard a mutter of voices and a low exclamation of surprise. Then came the sound of running feet, and a boy dressed in the livery of a servant pelted into the room and flung his cloak to the floor. Linden stood up in time to catch the child as the boy launched himself at him.
“Dragonlord! Linden Rathan! You came back!” And Prince Rann was in Linden’s arms once more, arms tight around his neck.
But what a Rann this was! The little boy Linden had left behind was thin,
sickly, and pale, only beginning what promised to be a long recuperation from his illness. This lad was sturdy and hale, with rosy cheeks and a glow in the brown eyes that peeked out from beneath thick bangs.
“Ooof! Gods help us—look at you, boy!” Linden laughed as he ruffled Rann’s brick red hair. “This is wonderful!” He hugged the boy in return.
As he had done once before, Linden balanced Rann on one hip. Rann waved to Maurynna.
“Hello, Captain Erdon!” the boy began, then stopped in confusion as she laughed and held up a hand in greeting. “I mean, Maurynna Kyrissaean. Hello, Bard Otter.”
“Hello, boyo,” Otter said with a wink.
Rann beamed.
Owin and another man entered, the latter with a rueful grin. He, like Rann, was dressed in a servant’s livery. It was a moment before Linden recognized him as a supporter of Duke Beren in his bid for the regency a few months ago. What was the man’s—ah; he had it.
“Lord Tyrian, I’m pleased to see you again. And thank you for bringing Rann.”
The man’s face lit with pleasure at being remembered. Then the rueful expression was back. “Don’t ask me how he found out you were coming, Your Grace, but find out he did, and wouldn’t give poor Beren any peace until he was allowed to come along tonight.”
“Well, I for one am glad,” Linden said as he pulled up his chair once more. “But I think we need to get down to business right away. It wouldn’t do for Rann to be missed at the palace.” He sat; Rann curled up in his lap, head on Linden’s shoulder. Linden heard the boy heave a sigh of pure happiness; he wrapped an arm around the child and wished they didn’t have to leave Cassori so soon.
There was a general murmur of agreement on the need for haste. The mugs were refilled with Elenna’s ale, a new one poured for Lord Tyrian.
Then Lleld once more took over as leader of the expedition. “We need,” she said after introducing herself and the others Tyrian didn’t know, “swift passage to Thalnia for ourselves and one other who is not with us tonight. We must be there before the winter storms strike—and Maurynna says we’ve not much time until they do.”
“Why not Change and fly there?” Tyrian asked innocently.
Only a sharp intake of breath from Maurynna broke the sudden silence. But Tyrian knew his business; Linden saw the man’s eyes dart from one Dragonlord to another, seeking an answer to a very different question.
Then Otter said, “Because we wish to travel together, my lord, and neither my nephew nor I—nor the other man with us—are Dragonlords. Besides, there are the horses to consider.”
“Of course,” said Tyrian with a look of chagrin. “How silly of me to forget you’re truehuman.”
Otter laughed. It sounded genuine; but then, Linden thought, it would. Otter was a bard down to his fingertips, and well used to dissembling.
“A pity, that,” the bard said, “considering what the voyage here from Thalnia was like. I’d just as soon pass up another trip at sea. But at least this time I shan’t be at the mercy of a certain mad sea captain.” He blew Maurynna a kiss, his eyes twinkling.
Her answering smile was tight and brittle but convincing enough. Tyrian, however, still looked a touch … Wary? Suspicious? Linden shifted Rann in his lap as if readying for battle.
But Tyrian let the silence stretch on as he watched his forefinger trace a pattern on the table. Linden relaxed again.
Abruptly the Cassorin said, “May I ask, Your Graces, why this hasty voyage and why such secrecy?” Once more his gaze flickered from Dragonlord to Dragonlord.
But if Otter was an old hand at dissembling, Lleld was more experienced yet. She smiled brightly at Tyrian and laid her small, pale hand on her soultwin’s darker one. “Sometimes, my lord, even Dragonlords get tired of Dragonskeep. The truth be told, Jekkanadar and I were
bored
. Add to that Maurynna and Linden’s decision to visit Rynna’s family in Thalnia, and that Otter and his kinsman Raven—good friends to us, both—are also bound for there, and you have a good excuse to go a-wandering.” She turned to smile up at Jekkanadar a moment before continuing, “As for secrecy, why, this is no visit of state and we simply wish to avoid any unnecessary fuss. Linden, I know, had enough of that his last time here.”
Tyrian covered a cough that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.
Maurynna said, “And as for haste, my lord, well, the decision to go south to Thalnia was made late. I was a sea captain before I was a Dragonlord; I remember only too well what it’s like to be caught in a winter storm at sea. I’ve no wish to repeat the experience. I want to be off as soon as possible.”
Well done
, Linden said, letting amusement color his mindvoice.
Spoken as convincingly as Otter or Lleld could have done.
The best way to lay a false trail is to tell the truth
, Maurynna replied
. All I just said is nothing more than that. The Lady was late in letting us go. He doesn’t need to know
who
made the decision. And those storms are no joke
. She rubbed her forehead as a spasm of pain crossed her face.
I can’t … continue
… . Her mindvoice grew fainter.
Kyrissaean
…
But Linden had felt the dragonsoul’s presence buzzing like an angry horde of wasps in Maurynna’s first words. Her skull must feel as if it were splitting.
Rest easy, love
, he said in concern as the color drained from her face.
“Maurynna Kyrissaean?” Prince Rann whispered, stirring uneasily in Linden’s
lap. When no answer came the small, worried face turned up to him. “Is she well?”
“Just tired, lad,” Linden reassured him quietly. “That’s all.” To Lleld he said,
End this quickly.

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