[Hurog 01] - Dragon Bones (25 page)

“Only if she consented first,” he said.

“Did you know that she wasn't what she seemed?”

Oreg pulled away and looked at me finally. Even though the room was dark, his pupils were pinpricks. “I knew she was a mage as soon as she stepped onto Hurog land, stronger than she knew or at least stronger than she would admit to. Beyond that . . . once such altering as you spoke of is done, it is not an easy thing to detect, not even if you know to look for it.”

I nodded. “She fooled me, too. Kariarn called her a chameleon.” I smiled at him. “She's like me. She can be anybody she wants to be.”

“No.” Tosten interrupted abruptly. “Not what
she
wants to be. I've been thinking about that. You wanted someone to rescue, Penrod and Axiel wanted a lover with no strings. I . . . she let me talk to her, about how . . . about things. She stayed away from Ciarra because she couldn't understand what Ciarra wanted. That was how her act worked. As long as we saw what we wanted to see, we didn't look any further.”

Oreg nodded, releasing his grip on me entirely so he could look at Tosten. “Ward becomes exactly what
he
wants to become, usually to the vast irritation of the people around him. He can't get rid of the stubbornness or the honor.”

“Or the belief that he has to take care of anyone he meets.” Tosten sounded both superior and pleased.

“Tosten,” I said. “There are some things you should know—in case you get out of this and I don't. Oreg is not one of Father's by-blows. He was bound to Hurog the day
it was built. He's our family ghost—though he's more a mage than a ghost.”

Oreg turned betrayed eyes to me—though how else he expected me to explain his recent actions, I don't know. Tosten looked at me almost the same way.

“Oreg's the ghost?” Tosten said. “And you didn't tell me?”

“I didn't know until the day Father died,” I replied. “And, well, it seemed as if it were Oreg's story to tell, and he didn't choose to.” That didn't seem to soothe either of them, so I changed the subject. “Oreg, could you get us out of here?” I jangled my chains meaningfully.

“Yes, master.”

Tosten's eyes widened as Oreg echoed Bastilla's response to Kariarn's orders.

I rolled my eyes. “Don't sulk, Oreg. Tosten, quit looking so—”

A weird mewling moan filled the air, starting high, like a stallion's shrill whistle and then dropping so deep that the stone against my back vibrated.

Oreg came to alert like a hunting dog on the scent. “Basilisk. Where did they find a basilisk?”

“Basilisk?” asked Tosten.

“Shavigmen called them—” Oreg paused, looked suddenly enlightened, and gave me a wry smile. “—stone dragons. Perhaps that is what the Oranstonians call them, too.”

“Silverfells's stone dragon?” I asked.

Oreg's eyes dropped. “Basilisks smell like dragons.”

“So what's a basilisk?” I asked.

Oreg relaxed gradually. “It's a lizard about four bodylengths from nose to tail and weighs at least four times as much as your horse. It's as smart as a dog or a little better and has a bit of magic.”

“What kind?” I asked.

“It turns people to stone.” Tosten sounded breathless,
but I expect that was as much pain as excitement over Kariarn's creature. “There are a few songs about them. Remember ‘Hunt of the Basilisk,' Ward?”

He hummed a few notes that sounded vaguely familiar, so I nodded.

“Silly song.” Oreg sounded smug. “What predator would turn its food into stone? What it can do is catch your eye and hold you still so it can enjoy a leisurely meal.”

“You think Silverfells's stone dragon became this basilisk? I didn't think the stone carving was supposed to be as big.”

“When you turn something into stone, you take out the moisture that makes most of the bulk of flesh. A really good mage could turn you into a pebble,” said the really good mage before me. He looked better, though it was difficult to tell since the cell was dimly lit. His left hand still maintained contact with my leg.

“Oreg,” I said after a moment's thought, “would you take Tosten back to where you were? I think I ought to stay here. Kariarn's planning something. But I need to get Tosten out so Kariarn doesn't have a lever on me.”

Oreg shook his head. “I can't. I could take him out of the castle. But I can't get any farther from you than that.”

His state being what it had been when he'd answered my call, I believed what he said. “Can you take him to Hurog?”

“No—nor get myself back there any way that you could not.”

I stared at him a moment. “I thought you were Hurog?”

He nodded. “I can find out what's going on there, but I can't affect it from here. This body can't leave you—as you have seen—unless it is in Hurog. And Hurog is too far for my powers to take me.”

Tosten shifted uncomfortably, but moving didn't seem to help. I frowned at him but asked Oreg, “Could you take us all out of here—to where Axiel and Ciarra are?”

Oreg shook his head. “Ring magic brought me, but it couldn't send me away. I could take you out of the keep, though.”

“Are you sure we're at Buril?” I asked Tosten.

He nodded his head. “Apparently, Kariarn has had people stationed here for a long while.”

“Garranon is hosting the Vorsag?” I muttered to myself. It still didn't sound right. Beckram had told me that Garranon had been one of the “hundred,” but Garranon had no reason to betray Oranstone.

“Someone is coming,” said Oreg.

“Hide yourself,” I whispered.

Tosten collapsed back onto the floor just as the door opened and three men came into the room. They unchained and escorted me out of the cell without noticing Oreg as he stood beside them. Oreg had hidden that way all the time at Hurog, but I hadn't been sure he could do it here.

Conditioned by Hurog, where the prison cells were under the guard's tower, I was surprised to be led down three sets of stairs and into what could only be the great hall. The room was much larger than Hurog's great hall and smelled woodsy and damp. Kariarn and a full ten of his men awaited me near the large fireplace on one side of the room. Bastilla was conspicuously absent. I wondered where she was.

“My lord,” Kariarn greeted me with a smile, as if I'd come visiting rather than from a holding cell. “How kind of you to join us. You know Garranon, of course, but his lady doesn't attend court, so you won't have met Lady Allysaian.”

His men parted until I could see that Garranon was indeed there, but he didn't look happy about it. There was a bruise covering half of his face, and his hands were chained behind his back—unlike mine. The Oranstonian's feet were chained tightly to his arms and each other so that if he walked, he'd only manage a stumbling shuffle. It was
Stala's recommended method of moving dangerous prisoners. Garranon must not approve of the use Kariarn was making of his keep. It made me feel curiously relieved that the man who'd taken Hurog from me was not a traitor to his country.

At Garranon's side stood a girl a little younger than I and only a bit taller than Ciarra. She was no beauty, clad as she was in a dirty, ripped court dress, but she held herself with such pride that it didn't matter. She stood next to her husband without touching him, leaving no one in doubt of her allegiance, though she wore no chains herself.

“Garranon,” chided Kariarn lightly, interrupting my thoughts, “don't you have a greeting for our guest?”

Garranon took in my chainless state in a glance and then he turned his eyes away, doubtless thinking me a traitor.

“You'll have to forgive him, Lord Wardwick,” said Kariarn. “He feels that his brother betrayed him, and it has made him somewhat bitter.”

“Losing your lands can do that to you,” I replied pointedly after a moment's hesitation. It seemed prudent to distance myself from someone Kariarn was treating like a dangerous enemy. Trading Jakoven for Kariarn might be like the chicken who exchanged the farmer's dogs for a den of foxes, but it wouldn't hurt for him to believe I was considering it.

Kariarn smiled. “Just so. You are probably wondering why I've brought you here.” He addressed his remarks to Garranon as well as me.

I inclined my head politely. The guardsmen who'd brought me watched closely, but I would never attack Kariarn until I knew Tosten was safe. Thinking about Tosten made me suddenly nervous about Bastilla's absence.

“Doubtless you intend to feed one of us to your monster and impress the Northlander,” stated Garranon's wife in cool tones. She obviously liked Northlanders no more than she liked the Vorsag.

Kariarn inclined his head to her. “Lady, I'm certain you'll enjoy the show just as much.” He nodded to one of his men, who hurried out of the room. “You see, Garranon, your brother was of the mistaken opinion I was going to set him up as king of Oranstone. I
had
considered it, but he doesn't have the ability to lead men. He had months here without you, while you played catamite with Jakoven, when he could have won the hearts of your people and your wife. Instead, he alienates everyone. If I put him in your place, your people would kill him as soon as I left.”

It was not wise to admit he made promises he didn't keep in front of me, to whom he also expected to make promises. But he was young, and he knew, because Bastilla knew, how badly I wanted Hurog.

The grunting sounds of a struggle turned my attention to a doorway. Two of Kariarn's men dragged Landislaw, bound much as Garranon was, into the room. Instead of bringing him to us, they took him to the center of the room and held him there.

Kariarn's eyes followed Landislaw's progress, but he continued speaking. “Because of Landislaw's inability to win over the people here, I'll have to leave one of my generals in Buril now, and a good portion of a full army. Landislaw will have to pay for his bungling.”

Kariarn wasn't watching Garranon, so he didn't see the Oranstonian open his mouth to speak. Garranon's lady put a firm hand on his forearm and shook her head. Garranon closed his mouth without uttering a sound, but there was black hell in his eyes as he looked at his brother.

The hall shook with that strange, reverberating cry I'd heard earlier. I shivered, and Kariarn saw me.

He clapped a friendly hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry. My wizards have control of the beast. It takes two of them, but I have many.”

On the tail end of his words, the two large doors flew open with a bang. Briefly, I could see the bailey grounds
beyond, lit by the early-morning sun. A monumental form blocked the entire doorway briefly and then skittered into the great hall with a light motion that belied the creature's size. It stopped motionless a full body length from the door, allowing us all to look our fill.

It was as tall as Pansy in the shoulders, but most of its bulk was in length. Disregarding the size and a few other details, the basilisk looked a lot like the lizards that played in the king's gardens at Estian. Green scales the size of my palm covered it from tip to tail. Emerald eyes blinked unconcernedly at us from the front of its head like predators everywhere, but lizardlike, the eyes didn't appear to track in concert. Remembering Oreg's words, I averted my eyes hastily from the creature's and continued to study it.

A braided band wrapped twice around its middle with black-painted runes obscuring the natural brown of leather—wizard's work. Likely that was how they controlled the beast.

Black horn spikes studded the forked tip of its tail and continued up the ridge of its back until they disappeared in the improbable ruff of scarlet feathers encircling its neck. A tongue as large as my arm flicked out of its mouth momentarily.

I was so fascinated by the basilisk I almost didn't see the two wizards who had entered in its wake. Like my father's wizard, Kariarn's affected the uniform dress of wizardkind: long beard, close-fitted tunic of black broadcloth, and brilliantly dyed panel skirts that swept the floor. Armsmen walked to either side of the wizards, holding them by the elbows to support their weight. If they were able to control the basilisk, it wasn't without effort. A deep fear I'd held inside eased. These two would never be able to maintain such concentration during an actual battle, so Kariarn couldn't use the basilisk without risking losing as many men as his enemy.

“Direct its attention to its food,” commanded Kariarn.

One of the men by the nearer wizard bent down to speak into the wizard's ear. And the guards holding Landislaw turned their heads away from the beast.

The basilisk turned toward Landislaw, who had closed his eyes and continued to struggle against the grip of the men who held him. Either their grip loosened when they turned away from him, or terror granted him extra strength, because Landislaw broke from his keepers and shuffled toward us on bound feet.

“Garranon!” He cried.

His brother made an attempt to go to him, but Kariarn's guards gripped him.

The basilisk moved suddenly, so fast that my eyes almost couldn't track it. One moment it was near the door, the next it was beside Landislaw. The noise it made drew Landislaw's attention. I knew the moment its gaze captured Garranon's brother. He stopped moving as suddenly as if he were a puppet whose strings were cut.

The basilisk kept one eye on its food and allowed the other to swivel over us. Only after the cold gaze passed over me did I realize I should have looked away, but it hadn't been interested in more food. If I stood frozen, it was not from any magic of the basilisk's gaze but from the knowledge that there was nothing I could do. Without a weapon, I stood no chance against the creature, not to mention Kariarn's guards. With my brother captive, I could not throw away my life. But standing there was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life.