Dragon Stones (14 page)

"I don't know."

The slender tip of her tail curled around the shaft and deftly plucked it free of the formation.  She lowered it down in front of him; after a moment he realized that she wanted him to take it, and so he did.  
"
Look at the tool, man
," she said.  "
Does it bear any symbols that you recognize?
"

"No," he said, examining it in the ruddy glow.  "There's no craftsman's mark, if that's what you mean."  Then, impetuously:  "You asked my name, before, and I gave it to you.  Why do you not use it?"

"
Because I do not remember it.
"

"My name is Pyodor Ponn.  It's not difficult."

"
T
he names of men are of little importance to me
," the dragon said, "e
xcept for this Gelt, who has earned my revenge.
"  Her massive head retreated into the steam, sending whorls of vapor swirling around in front of Ponn.  Her voice echoed from the mist.  
"
You may stay here, and shelter from the storm.  Be thankful I am the only dragon present at this time; others would not be so merciful
."

His knees suddenly turned to water and he collapsed where he had stood, shivering despite the warmth of the chamber.

Outside, the storm howled like a pack of lost wolves.

CHAPTER SIX

As they spiraled up and away from the mountainside, Adaran breathed through his clenched teeth and managed to keep his gorge down.  The eagle kept climbing, climbing, climbing, leaving the earth far below; Adaran finally realized that he was still squeezing with his knees and, remembering now what Redshen had told him, eased up on the pressure.  The bird leveled off, its broad wings stroking through the air, circling above the ridge.

He took a moment to get his bearings.  Below and to the west, he could see Dosen's camp; details were difficult to make out from this distance, but it appeared that they were dismantling the tents, packing up supplies, getting ready to depart.  They would most likely mount their eagles and head due east for the flight back to Dunshandrin.

The wise thing, then, would be for him to take his own mount in a different direction; but to the west and south, massive summits towered over the lower peaks where Dosen had set up his base.  Given Dosen's apparently involuntary landing in the clearing, it seemed unlikely that the beast would take them safely over the mountains to Enshenneah.  He could head southeast, though, skirting the peaks, then turn north at the central arm of the Oronj Mountains, making for the lakeside city of Achengate.  He had contacts there; they could help him get rid of the eagle without attracting too much attention.  Then he would find an orphanage or cloister to take the child, and make his way across Lake Achenar, to Madroval, and lie low until Dunshandrin forgot about him.

He tugged the left side of the reins and guided the eagle toward the Salt Flats.  As it wheeled in the icy air, he glanced down at the saddlebag, making sure the girl had not fallen out.  The flap was closed, but the bulge showed him she was still inside.  She had probably withdrawn to escape the chill.  Shivering, Adaran wished he could do the same, just crawl into a nice, warm pocket and sleep for a few days.

Ha.  No chance of that.  He spotted dark shapes skimming the treetops, heading this way, two from the direction of the camp and another from the southeast, the direction he had intended to flee.  The missing avians.  He had to assume they had spotted him and were coming to intercept him.

Adaran pulled on the reins and his mount stopped; they hung motionless, hovering, the only sound the whistle of the wind and the occasional beat of the creature's wings.  He hastily patted himself down, trying to remember what weaponry remained at his disposal.  A throwing knife and two stabbing daggers, not balanced for hurling.  The eagle carried a crossbow and a score of quarrels, but he had never used one and didn't know if he could even load the thing, let alone hit a moving target; and Dosen's putative hurling blades were about as aerodynamic as tent stakes, and nearly as sharp.  Certainly he wouldn't be able to take down all three enemy riders before being shot himself.

The only option was to run and, if possible, hide.  On the ground he would have melted into the shadows; but where could he find concealment here, in mid-air?  He looked left, looked right.  He supposed he could make for the mountains, try to duck into a valley, but then he would effectively be trapped.  They would see where he had gone, and patrol the area until they found him.

Then he looked up.

A layer of thick, low clouds roiled overhead.  They would not be able to see him in there; he would be as blind as they, of course, but given the circumstances theirs would be the greater handicap.  He squeezed with his legs and the eagle began to beat its powerful wings, climbing toward the leaden underbelly of the sky.  It looked sturdy as any ceiling made of lath and plaster, stretching in every direction like a lid over the world.  Far to the southeast, the clouds thickened into an ominous dark sludge; Adaran realized that he was entering the leading edge of what looked like a powerful storm.  He would have to keep that in mind, and get them on the ground and under shelter before the bad weather struck.

They entered the lower layer of clouds; chill vapor closed around them, leaching the warmth from his body like a dense winter fog.  He reduced the pressure from his legs and the eagle stopped climbing, leaving them momentarily motionless, hanging in the frigid mist.

Now what?

Well, they couldn't stay here; the other riders must have seen where they went into the clouds, and they would be heading for that spot.  He gave the beast a little kick and it began flying.  Moisture accumulated in the pockets of the saddle, in the great bird's feathers, in the creases of Adaran's cloak; it dripped from his hair, tracing wet tracks down his face.  They passed through bands of fine, icy rain that seemed to be falling up instead of down.  The frigid air stung Adaran's exposed hands.  He looked down at the saddlebag again; the girl remained tucked inside, protected from the worst of the cold.

Eventually, Adaran decided they had gone far enough; his teeth had begun to chatter, his entire body shook from the cold and the damp.  He tried to figure out how to tell the eagle to descend.  Squeezing with his knees had made it climb, so he tried applying pressure from his ankles instead.  It worked; the creature was only too happy to head for the ground, folding its wings and plunging headlong toward the earth like a hawk diving for a rabbit.  Adaran frantically jerked up on the reins and the thing slowed its heart-stopping descent.

They emerged from the clouds over the vast, stinging wasteland that was the Salt Flats.  It looked like they had been heading roughly north instead of southeast.  He searched the sky for Dosen's men, but saw nothing; perhaps they had chased him into the clouds and were still up there, or maybe they had given up and returned to the camp.  How badly did they want to capture him?

While scanning the horizon, he spotted what looked like a fortified settlement to the east.  It was the only visible hint of civilization, so he turned them that way.  The eagle appeared to have a different agenda, however, taking them lower and lower despite Adaran's efforts to get it to fly higher.  It was looking for a place to land, he thought.

"No," Adaran said, pulling on the reins, squeezing with his knees.  "No, don't land!  Stupid bird!"  The eagle ignored him and they touched down roughly, kicking up a large cloud of salt dust.  The creature hopped a few paces and then stopped, settling down onto its legs like a watchful hen upon its nest.

Adaran unbuckled himself and tried to dismount, but fell off instead, landing on his back in the dirt.  He got up, brushed himself off, and fumbled the saddlebag open, finding himself facing a baleful look from his young passenger.  "Don't give me that," he said as he lifted her out.  "At least we're not in the mountains anymore."

The wind gusted suddenly, engulfing them in a whorl of stinging dust; it died down as quickly as it had started, but the thickening clouds promised more to come.  He took the bird's reins and tugged at them, but the creature resisted; he had to dig in and begin walking backwards in order to pull it to its feet.  It made an unhappy noise in its throat.  "It's your own fault," he said.  "You're the one who wanted to land."  This earned him another look from the child, this one saying that he clearly was out of his mind.

Well, maybe so.

But at least he had gotten away.

The day after Tolaria's first visit from the sorcerer, he returned, this time accompanying Torrant and Tomari.  The twins entered first, with Orioke walking behind.  He still wore the same threadbare cloak, though his scruffy beard had been trimmed, his hair groomed and coiffed.  He remained near the door, looking smug and inscrutable, as the princes approached her.

"Good evening, Tolaria," one of them said.

"You are looking lovely as always," the other added.  That would be Torrant, courtly and charming, hoping to seduce her.  She might play along, try to find an opportunity to escape, if only she had the ability to tell lies; but a compulsion to always answer questions truthfully seemed to fatally compromise one's feminine wiles.

Orioke yawned and inspected his fingernails, looking bored with such pleasantries.  Something occurred to her then and she said:  "You two
are
aware that there is someone else in the room with us?"

The twins exchanged a glance, looked toward Orioke, then turned back to her.  "Yes, of course," Torrant said.  "We brought him with us."  He took her hand, squeezed her wrist, felt her forehead with his fingers.  "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm perfectly healthy," she said, pulling away from him.

"Good," Tomari said.  "We do want you to be content."

"
Content?
 I said nothing about being content.  If that is your desire, release me.  Then I will be content.
"

"We cannot do that.  You are too important to our plan."

"Your mad scheming could hardly be called a plan."

Tomari stiffened; she might have gone too far this time, goading him into actually striking her, but Torrant caught his brother's shoulder and restrained him.  "Really, Tolaria, you must mind your tongue," he said.  "We are not accustomed to being spoken to by our subjects in such a manner."

"I am not your subject."

"No," Orioke said.  "You are a weapon."  He moved up between the princes, sliding between them like a bookmark between the pages.  "It is time you were used to your full potential."

"I wasn't aware that I had fallen short in that regard."

He smiled inscrutably, like a child with a secret.  "The princes are concerned with happenings in the Oronj Mountains. They would like to know if the footpad has been recaptured yet."

"Do you expect me to spout fortunes on command, like a parlor amusement?  You are asking for clairvoyance, not prophecy, and in any event I can't answer without my potions."  She jerked her thumb at the twins.  "They know that as well as you do."

"
Do
we know that?"

"Of course we do.  Without the vapors, I am no more capable of farseeing than you are."

"So the masters of Flaurent would have us believe," Orioke said.  "But what if I told you I could invoke your innate abilities without need of weeds and powders?  What would you say then?"

"I would say you were as mad as your employers."

Torrant stifled a chuckle.

"Ah.  But I am
not
mad, my sweet.  Observe."  He raised his hands over his head in a dramatic sweep, throwing his cloak up; it settled slowly over his outstretched arms, like black wings.  He began muttering, his voice low and quick, the words unintelligible.

She became aware of a buzzing noise around her, like an approaching swarm of bees; but if the others heard it they gave no sign.  It grew louder and louder until it became deafening, shutting out all other sound.  Then, suddenly, it stopped, leaving her in a zone of utter silence, surrounded by the faded shadows of events long past, the pallid outlines of things yet to be.  She felt her legs sag and she would have fallen to the floor, but Torrant caught her and lowered her onto the bed.  "You'd better not have harmed her, wizard," he said.

"Harmed her?" Orioke said.  "I am saddened that you have so little confidence in me.  Tolaria, have I harmed you?"

"No."

"There, you see?  You know she must answer truthfully.  Now, ask her what you will."

A moment passed, or a century; in her present state, it was all the same to her.  Then Tomari said:  "Tolaria, has the man Adaran been captured yet?"

She saw an image, a tall, thin, weary man carrying a small brown girl on his shoulders, dragging a large, reluctant bird by taut leather reins.  "No."

"Where is he?"

She did not answer.

"Tolaria, where is Adaran now?" Torrant asked.