Dragon Stones (57 page)

"Can you just disgorge them?" Diasa said.

"No.  Food, yes, but not the crystals."

"You can't use them up and you can't spit them out?"

"So it would seem," T'Sian said.

"A blue stone spreads across the land like ice," Adaran said.

They all turned to him.  Tolaria said:  "What?"

"When I was at Flaurent, the headmistress had a vision of a blue stone in a tank.  She said the stone spread across the land like ice, covering everything.  We … I thought the stone was Dunshandrin spreading his influence, but maybe it was literally a stone."

"The crystals," Ponn said.

"Qalor
was
very upset when the dragon destroyed his cooling system," Diasa said.  "The crystals had already begun to spread by the time we escaped; now T'Sian says they have grown all throughout the castle.  What's to stop them from coming down the hill and covering the town?  The entire region?  Who knows what the limit of their growth might be?  They could go all the way to the sea.  They could go across Barbareth."

"You think it's possible that the crystals will spread so far?" Tolaria said.  "What sort of madman would create such a thing?  Didn't they realize what could happen?"

"Perhaps they did," Diasa said, "but they didn't care.  They wanted the power the crystals could bring."

"Yes," T'Sian said.  "They wanted to be the dragons."

"Can we stop the stones from spreading?" Tolaria asked.

"The mass is already too large to be contained within the castle walls," T'Sian said.  "In any case, first we must tend to Pyodor Ponn.  Are your rags finished cooking yet?"

Tolaria lifted a limp piece of cloth out of the pot; a cloud of steam formed around it in the chill air.  "I think so."

"It's time, then?" Ponn said.

"Yes."  Diasa knelt beside him, examined the arrow shaft again.  She did not touch it.  "This is going to hurt."

"It already hurts."

"This is going to hurt more."

"Then do it before Prehn wakes up and has to watch."

"All right.  Tolaria, I want you to push the arrow forward until the head breaks through the skin.  Then I'll cut it off, and you can pull it out again.  Take it slowly."

Tolaria moved around behind Ponn.  There was the arrow, sticking out of his shoulder, like a feather that someone had missed while plucking a chicken.  She set the pot down on a nearby stump, then looked at Diasa and said:  "Are you sure we can't just pull it out?"

"Positive."

Ponn gave her a nervous glance over his shoulder.  "Have you ever done this before?" he asked.

"No.  I've treated fevers, infections, broken bones."  She glanced obliquely at Diasa.  "Poisonings.  I've never removed an arrow."

He turned to Diasa.  "Have you?"

"Once."

"Once?"  Ponn grimaced.  "Did the person live?"

"Yes," Diasa said, "I did.  Tolaria, start pushing.  Be.  Very.  Careful."

Tolaria applied gentle pressure to the end of the bolt, taking care not to shift it in any direction; Diasa had told her to push it straight through or risk doing more damage.  The muscles in Ponn's neck bulged as he clenched his jaws, grinding his teeth, trying not to cry out.  More sweat broke out, beaded on his coppery skin, trickled down his neck.  T'Sian wandered over, watching with interest, but Adaran had turned away.  He seemed to be keeping an eye on the sleeping Prehn, perhaps making sure she did not wake up unexpectedly and run to her father.  Tolaria was only half-aware of these things, though; most of her concentration was on the task at hand, on pushing the arrow.  When would this be over?

Diasa said:  "Stop."

Tolaria pulled her hand away.  She had pushed the bolt so far that the three small rows of fletching nearly touched Ponn's skin.

"Now what?" T'Sian said.

"I take off the head."  Diasa gripped the shaft with one hand and, with the other, worked her dagger into the binding that held the cruel tip in place.  Ponn grunted and winced at the movement, balled his hands into fists, punched the earth.  Then the barbed, bloody point came loose and fell to the ground.

"All right," Diasa said.  "I'll push, you pull.  It's almost over, Ponn."  The Enshennean, breathing raggedly, only nodded.

Tolaria gently tugged on the arrow.  It moved more easily this time, no longer being forced through intact flesh.  Diasa pushed with her finger until Ponn's skin swallowed the shaft; then she snatched up one of the hot rags and pressed it up against his shoulder, pushing hard to stanch the flow of blood.  Tolaria continued to pull on the projectile until it finally popped free.  She tossed it aside, simultaneously bringing up a piece of cloth and shoving it against the wound.  It became soaked with blood almost immediately, and she pressed another on top of it.

Ponn twisted his neck to look at her.  "Done?"

"Done."

"Good," Ponn said, and passed out.

Diasa stood watch while the others slept.  T'Sian had flown off on some unspecified business; Diasa thought she might be looking for something to eat, as there was little left to be destroyed at the castle and she had given no indication that she intended to burn the town yet.  The dragon had promised not to be gone too long; Diasa looked forward to her return, because it meant she could get some rest herself.  It had been a taxing day.

Ponn stirred.  He'd remained unconscious since they had finished extracting the arrow from his body; at first he'd fainted from the pain, but Diasa thought it had turned into ordinary sleep at some point.  He must be as exhausted as the rest of them.  She crept over and crouched down beside him.  He was awake, looking at the sky over the castle.  She checked his bandages, making sure they were still tight.  Blood had soaked through to the surface, forming large crimson splotches on the grey cloth.  The dressing should be changed, she thought, but they had nothing to change them for.

He was looking at her now, his dark eyes gleaming in the low firelight.  "I didn't properly thank you, before."

"No thanks are required," she said.  "How do you feel?"

"Sore.  Both the wound and where those men kicked me."

"Your arm still works?"

He lifted it, moved it a little, lowered it again.

"A yes or no would've sufficed," Diasa said.  "You shouldn't move your arm; you might start bleeding again."

"Perhaps, but I didn't know the answer myself."  Using his other arm, Ponn pointed at the sky over the castle.  "Is that blue light coming from the dragon stones?"

The illumination from the crystals had been strengthening throughout the night, and was now clearly visible over the the glow of the fires that still burned here and there.  T'Sian hadn't left anyone alive in the keep to put the flames out, and the townsfolk certainly weren't going climb the hill to do it.

"Yes," Diasa said.  "It appears they are still growing."

"You said Qalor was using river water to cool them."

"He had constructed some sort of device that used river water and chemicals to chill the stones until they were nearly frozen.  It was colder than river water alone."

"But the river is still very cold.  If we could put the stones in the river, it would at least slow the growth, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps, but it's too late for that now.  They've spread too far.  Not only that, but they seem to attach themselves to the earth where they touch it; we cannot move them.  We may have to hope they eventually stop on their own."

"And the vision that Adaran spoke about?  What of that?"

"He's hardly qualified to interpret such things.  In any case, oracles aren't always right."

"Not even the headmistress?"

"Not even the headmistress."

"Well, I know little enough of oracles," Ponn said, "but I have come to know T'Sian well enough.  She is very worried about these crystals."

"You think so?  I can't imagine that she'd care if the entire kingdom were swallowed up."

"She doesn't.  Something else concerns her."

"What?"

"I don't know," Ponn said.  "And if I asked, she probably wouldn't tell me.  She largely keeps her own counsel."

Diasa laughed.  "You have a gift for understatement."

T'Sian perched on a hillside north of the castle, looking down on it from high above.  The blue stones had filled the ruined shell of the keep, spilling out into the courtyard, bulging from doorways and open windows, like water overflowing a basin.  She had never seen anything quite like it.

As she had told the others, the blue crystals normally grew far to the north, past the icy wastes of northern Yttribia and Madroval, deep in a network of caves that riddled the mountains along the rim of the world.  The journey to get them was long and arduous, nothing like the easy flight to the southern islands; and the bitter cold of the northern lands was inimical to her kind.

She could not permit that.

Ponn and the others worried that the crystals would spread across the land, overrunning the green plants, driving out the humans.  As far as T'Sian was concerned, the entire realm could become entombed beneath a sheet of glassy stone, and she would not mourn.  But eventually, other dragons would learn that the blue crystals had become available somewhere less hostile than Yttribia.  They would come to Dunshandrin to gather the stones, not knowing that they were tainted by Qalor's mischief.  Some would consume them and be harmed, as she was being harmed.

Perhaps they would die.

Spreading her wings, she took to the air, swooping down over the ruined keep.  She circled it a few times, looking at it from different angles.  She had thoroughly destroyed the place; there was no trace of movement, no sign of life.  The aviary, once full of monstrous, squawking eagles, now gaped like a broken rib cage.  The crystals had not yet reached this part of the castle.  She landed nearby, stuck her head inside.  It stank of its former occupants, but the creatures themselves were gone.  She had incinerated most of them, but some had escaped; maybe they would become wild and, in time, men would tell of stories about monstrous birds that descended on their villages, carrying off their livestock and their children.  The same sort of stories were, she knew, told about dragons.

She crawled away from the aviary, moving into the grounds between the outer wall and the keep.  She had passed through here earlier, wearing human flesh, plodding along the muddy ground under the leering gaze of stupid men who could not perceive the beast beneath her skin.  The courtyard had looked much bigger then, viewed through human-sized eyes; now it seemed like a minor alcove of a minor room of her distant lair.  The scent of men—their perfumes, their food, their bodily functions—lingered beneath the odor of destruction that she had brought to them.  In time their smells would fade, and all that would remain would be blackened stone and ashes, frozen forever beneath a layer of crystals, blue and translucent like glacial ice.

T'Sian sat up on her hind legs, claws digging into the castle wall.  No one was here; no one had ventured back, no one had come to loot the questionable treasures of this place.  Perhaps they had feared that she would return; perhaps they feared the vengeance of their lords.  Diasa had said the rulers had probably escaped, fled through some secret means, going to ground in an unknown redoubt.

No matter.

She would find them, wherever they had gone.

They sat in silence for a while, until Prehn started whimpering in her sleep.  Ponn asked Diasa to bring her over, which she did, setting her gently in his lap.  He stroked her hair until she settled down again, sighing, a smile on her little face.

After watching this for a little while, Diasa said:  "You took a tremendous risk, sneaking into the castle.  You came very close to not returning to your daughter."

"We talked about this already," Ponn said.  "Adaran saved her; I had to save him."

"I know you feel indebted to him, but he's no hero."

"I know what he is."

"I don't think you do.  He's a thief and a scoundrel, not to be trusted."

"He's in no condition to harm us.  We have nothing for him to steal.  He certainly won't betray us to Dunshandrin's forces, if that's what concerns you."

"It's not," Diasa said.

"Then what?"

She shook her head.  "You're better off not knowing.  How does your shoulder feel?"

"Like there's a hole in it from side to side."

"The arrow didn't harm anything vital.  The pain will pass in time, and you'll have is a nice scar to show your children."

A scar to show his children.  Such an injury would have fascinated Pord.  Ponn stroked his daughter's hair and thought about his son; he still didn't know what had happened to the boy.  Had he merely gone off in a sulk?  Had he stowed away on the boat, which now lay in wreckage at the bottom of that distant lagoon?  What must Plenn and the other children think, now that he and Prehn had been away for so many days?  Would Plenn be painting her face with the chalky white mud of mourning?

"What's the matter?" Diasa said.