Moth and Spark (39 page)

“Not long, barely more than an hour. But someone’s coming.”

She did not bother to ask him how he knew. “Who?”

“Soldiers, I think. They’re doing a sweep.”

A flash of vision, white-painted faces reflecting the green of war-lights. They carried unsheathed swords with edges glinting in the light. One carried a garrotte loosely in his hand. They were close.

“There’s nowhere to hide,” she said, trying to be calm.

“No. We need to run again.”

“Are they looking for us?”

“I don’t know,” he said, standing and offering her a hand to rise. He had the water flask slung over his shoulder and his sword out. “It may be routine, but it doesn’t matter, they’ll take us either way.”

They went out the side door to the unpaved alleyway. Joce locked the door behind them. The sky was clear and starry. The moon was not up yet. The air was cooler than it had been but still full of summer warmth.

“Run,” said Joce.

She did, her boots coming down hard on the packed dirt. Her body was full of sudden strength. Fences and walls on either side of her, stable doors, startled cats. Her blood pulsed. Her legs burned. Sweat ran into her eyes and down her body. Strands of hair flew into her face. Joce was behind her, running smoothly and quietly.

She ran until she could barely breathe. She stopped and leaned against a wall, gasping. Her sides ached. Her shirt and pants were clinging uncomfortably to her. She was afraid, but it was a thing she knew rather than felt. Her throat was sore and her lungs hurt. She bent over and put her hands on her knees. She tried to speak and was racked with coughs.

Joce put a hand on her back and the pressure in her lungs eased. She straightened, wiped her face with a sweaty forearm. Her hair was sticking to her neck.

A dog barked somewhere distant. Joce dropped to the ground, laid his ear against the earth, then leaped to his feet. His eyes flickered silver. “Hounds,” he said. She knew what they were: the Mycenean bloodhounds used by thief trackers and slave catchers. He cupped his hands. “Over this wall.”

She put her foot in his hands. He pushed her up with astonishing speed and grace. She pulled herself on top of the wall, twisted, and lowered down feet first. He was beside her in seconds.

They were in a garden. They slunk along the wall, around the stable, crushing soft grass underfoot. Honeysuckle bloomed somewhere, tossing her in memory back to the night of the ball. They went over the wall at the front of the house, across the street, past unclimbable pointed iron fences, came to another wall.

He boosted her up again but said, “Don’t go over.” It was about a foot wide. He took her hand and led her along it. Tam stared at the back of his head. She was walking too quickly for comfort with darkness and a fall on either side of her, but she knew it was not fast enough for him. There were too many things to be afraid of now. She was exhausted. Corin, she thought.

Joce led her along a maze of walls and a few times over the roofs of small outbuildings. They had to scramble down and back up to cross the alleys. The walls ended and they returned to the streets. The houses became smaller and closer, the streets narrower. Trees and lawns vanished. There should have been noises on a fine night like this, people talking, cats hissing, a baby crying through an open window. Everything was still and silent. There were no gas lamps lit along the streets, and the houses were dark and lifeless.

Joce stopped. The houses here were built right next to one another and against the street, there was no getting between or around them. No trees to climb. Cellar doors, if there were any, would all be in the back.

Tam started to speak, but Joce hushed her fiercely. He seemed to be listening to something. Then she felt dragonpain in her mind.

She looked up and saw it descending. Huge, blocking out the stars, the wings vast. She smelled sulfur. Her heart raced. Foolishly, desperately, she drew her knife. The dragon’s talons were probably longer than the blade.

It landed and the rider dismounted. The wings folded partly but not completely and were all angles and lines against the sky. She could not tell what color the dragon was, although she could see a different shade of darkness at its neck. The mouth was closed.

She tried to find the stillness. If she could only speak to the creature.

Joce stepped in front of her, his sword unsheathed. She knew she should run, try to hide from the rider at least, but it seemed so futile to run from a dragon. The panic had dropped away and her mind was clear now, fear-sharpened.

The men advanced toward each other. The rider had not drawn a blade. Joce and the rider spoke simultaneously, the words blurring so she could not hear them, each with a questioning tone. Joce sheathed his sword. They knew each other. For a faithless frightened instant she thought she had been betrayed.

Then Joce said, “It’s all right, my lady, we’re safe.”
Safe
was not a word she would have used near a dragon. Tentatively she approached him. Her body was still ready to flee.

The rider bowed and said, “The prince has sent me for you.”

“Which prince?” she asked, suspicious. She could not see his face.

“Prince Corin,” said the rider. “He said you might not believe it, so I am to tell you that he is sorry he could not bring any of the Illyrian red.”

That had to be him. If he were a captive he would have said something that warned her. This was the rider who had taken Corin. She dropped the knife and stumbled into Joce with relief as her legs went loose. He supported her.

The rider said, “It’s a long flight, and we’ll stop several times. You’ll need warmer clothing, my lady, let me get it for you.” He went back to the dragon.

Tam looked at Joce. “Is this the right thing?”

“Yes,” he said. “Not only the right thing, but the best thing.”

“What will you do?”

“Find my way back into the palace and kill Tyrekh.”

For a moment she was speechless. “You aren’t jesting.”

“Not a bit.”

“How will you get in?”

“Illusion. Trickery. Deceit.”

“You’ll be killed.”

“Probably. But I won’t fail.” He took her hand and kissed Mari’s ring, then picked up her knife. “Come, my lady, you need to leave.”

He kept himself between her and the dragon’s head, which she was glad of. It was so much bigger than she had expected. She avoided looking at it. The rider gave her two thick woolen shirts, which were far too large and far too hot. The sleeves of one fell past her fingertips. She started to roll them up, but the rider said, “No, my lady, it will keep your hands warm.”

Both men helped her up onto the dragon. The rider tightened straps about her. It made her nervous again. There is nothing to fear, she thought, but her hands were sweating. Joce seemed puny.

She did not know what to say to him. She settled on, “Thank you.”

He bent his head briefly, then walked backward away from the dragon. He gave the head and front legs a wide berth. There was
something strangely reassuring at seeing him wary of the dragon. It reminded her that not everything had changed.

The rider sat behind her, then gave her a helmet. “I won’t be able to hear you,” he said. “If you need something, use your arms to get my attention. I will hold on to you if it’s windy or you start to fall asleep. Don’t worry, the dragon won’t let you fall.”

Tam nodded and put the helmet on. It was too big too, but when she piled her loose hair on top of her head it fit well enough that she could secure the buckle under her chin. What am I doing? she thought. The dragon scales were black in the darkness. They were as smooth as Corin had described. Her legs were warming.

Joce was farther down the street. She waved a hand to him and saw him wave one in return. She jumped a little when the rider put his arm around her waist. The dragon’s posture changed. She felt its muscles tense. Her own body tightened in response. Then it leaped.

T
he approaching dragon intruded upon Corin’s dreams. He dressed rapidly and hurried outside. The mountains were black against a rosy sky. The dragon was high up, a small spark of red where the sun hit it above the peaks. He lost sight of it as it fell below the level of the sun. Then he saw it again, large and dark and getting closer. By the time it landed a thin crescent of gold was showing above the eastern ridgeline.

He was at the dragon’s side before Tam slipped off. For the first time he paid no attention at all to the dragon. She was thin and pale and exhausted-looking. When she unbuckled the helmet and let it fall, her hair tumbled down her back in a rat’s nest of tangles.

She said, “Never ever again,” and fell heavily against him.

He put his arms around her and said, “What happened?”

Kelvan said, “We got tossed about a bit.”

“He’s lying. It was a lot. I was sick three times,” she mumbled.

Corin had had his own share of stomach-lurching dizziness and terrifying vertigo while dragonback. He knew what she was talking about. She was still able to walk, it must have been smooth most of the time.

He led her into the hut. She pulled off several layers of clothing and washed her face. She drank a great deal of water. Then she went into his room and dropped onto the bed. “Corin,” she said hoarsely.

He took her boots off and put the blankets over her. It was still very dim in the room. He kissed her. She returned it, but without much vigor. “Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He kissed her forehead and went quietly out of the room.

It was nearly noon when Tam emerged. He was outside, making useless notes to himself in the dirt with a twig and scuffing them out with his feet. She called his name. He hurried to her.

This time the kiss was full and long and everything it should be. Corin wanted to make love to her right there in the tall sunlit grass. He
could tell she was not ready yet, so he kept his hands in the proper place. They sat under a tree and looked at each other a very long time.

She broke the silence by saying, “I must look ghastly.”

“You do. But you’re still beautiful.”

“Flatterer.”

“I’m allowed to flatter you. I’m your husband.” How very odd the word sounded in his mouth.

“I defy you to praise my tresses.”

“I will help you work the snarls out, will that do instead?”

She said, “Yes. But be careful.”

“I will. Turn around. Sit close so I don’t pull.”

It was maddening to be so close to her and touching only her hair. But the knots came out more easily than he expected. He worked steadily, kissing her neck when he had the opportunity.

Her first question surprised him. “Are we really married?” she asked. “Legally?”

“Yes. There are formalities to go through—you should have been titled first, for one thing, and the council of lords should have approved—but the king can make a marriage. There were certainly sufficient witnesses. There’s no law against me marrying a commoner. It’s just not ever done.”

“So it’s a valid marriage, but do I have rank?”

“Not technically. But my love, if we win the war the formalities will be observed. We’ll probably have to get married again. If we lose it won’t matter.”

“Why did he do it?”

Corin had thought that one through more than a few times. When he was feeling bitter he supposed that Aram was trying to legitimate any child that had been conceived so the line would continue; when he could be logical, he knew that there was no good political reason for it. Much better to have stayed unwed so that there was a chance he could be used as a bargaining chip if necessary. There were no opportunities left now for a marital alliance with some other Mycenean state.

“I don’t know,” he said. “He likes you, but he doesn’t do things out of sentimentality. Especially not under those circumstances.”

“He didn’t seem surprised,” she said.

He had been too caught up in the chaos of fleeing to pay attention to anyone but her. “No,” he admitted, remembering other things that had
been done for her. The necklace, Joce, the room near his, the permission to tell her everything. “When you see him next, you can ask him.”

“Joce was certain he was still alive,” she said. “He told me so yesterday. He said he had heard it reliably.”

“Then we can rely on it,” he said, feeling a weight lift. He had not been privy to his father’s plans for hiding, but he knew how intricate the web of spies was. If he had not been sent to the dragons, he would have been in a large city somewhere, giving his own orders to his father’s agents. But here he was instead, with the dragons and the wizards.

“Tam,” he asked, “did Joce tell you who he was?”

She turned her head to look at him. Her face had more color in it. Her eyes were bright. “He said he used wizardry. That was all. I didn’t ask him anything else.”

“I need to tell you then,” he said. “There are only a few more tangles, let me get them first.”

He worked them out, then she faced him again. Her body was swallowed up in the large shapeless shirt. He ran his finger down the outside of it from her breastbone to her waist and was pleased to see it define her figure better. She made a little noise of satisfaction and moved closer to him. He slipped his hand under her shirt but kept it on her back.

“This is very secret,” he said. “If we were anywhere else, I wouldn’t tell you at all without my father’s permission. Joce is not the only wizard. So is Kelvan. As are the people of this village.”

“Ah,” she said softly. “Of course. That’s why he could be trusted not to go over to Hadon.”

He had somehow forgotten how quick her mind was. He stood up and helped her to her feet. He gestured to the huts farther up the hill. “There is no place you could be safer,” he said. “Nowhere. There is no getting into this valley without a wizard. But that’s all it is. A shelter. They can’t end the war or free the dragons. The dragons are still my task.”

“Yes,” she murmured. He was not sure it was in response to what he had said. He watched her take in the valley, the river, the sea. Her face was still. The power in the valley might be visible to her in some way.

She ran her fingers through her hair, winced. “You missed one,” she said, sweeping a lock over her shoulder and beginning to disentangle it. “Corin, you didn’t bring me here just to keep me safe. You changed your mind, and it wasn’t just because we got married. What do you need of me?”

There was no reason to deny it. “I don’t know yet. Advice, mostly, I think. The afternoon before the ball, you said to me that we hadn’t really talked about what had happened, and then more things happened. God, I don’t even know where you’ve been the past week, what you’ve been through. We need a very long talk before we decide anything.” It had been an endless three days after Kelvan left to look for her. All Corin knew from the rider was that he had found her with Joce on a street in Caithenor.

“I haven’t breakfasted,” she said. “Can we eat while we talk? And then can I have a bath, if such a thing is possible here?”

“Yes, to both,” he said. “Let me get food, and we can sit on the riverbank like a pair of merry lovers. I’m afraid I haven’t got a lute.”

“Would I want to hear you sing?”

“Probably not.”

They found a shaded spot where the ground was firm. A white heron stalked its prey in the shallows. It looked dragonlike itself when its beak darted downward into the water. High above, a pair of hawks circled lazily in the bright sky.

There was fresh bread, goat cheese, venison, and blackberries. The plate was unglazed earthenware, but when Tam picked up the cutlery she raised her eyebrows at him. “This was made to last,” she said.

“The village is not as poor as it looks,” he said. “The Crown provides.”

“How do things get over the mountains?”

“With difficulty, on mules. Mostly it comes by ship.”

“How many wizards are there?”

“Here, maybe five hundred,” he said. “In the rest of Caithen, a few dozen. They are dying out, there’s no new blood.”

“How lonely it must be.” She reached across the basket and briefly put her hand in his. It seemed as though it had been years since anybody touched him. “Well, my Corin, my prince, what are we going to do?”

He wanted to put the facts on the table first. “Tell me what happened to you.”

“Very little. We made it out of the city and then skirted it, bit by bit. We slept on the ground. We went back in yesterday.”

“Why? That was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Joce took some convincing.” She smiled. Then her expression
went as sober as he had ever seen it. “He said he was going back into the palace to kill Tyrekh. He’ll do it, won’t he?”

“Yes. And it’s better than even odds that he makes it out alive.”

“Are there other wizards in Caithenor?”

“There were a handful. But none so good with the knife. And none who know the Sarians as well as he does. He would never have left you, but I expect he had well-laid plans for assassinating Tyrekh if the chance arose. But Tam, it was foolish to go there.”

“It seemed the right thing to do,” she said. She put her plate in the basket and her chin in her hands. “They would have found me if I’d gone home. And there’s power there, I thought I should be close to power. Joce has been teaching me. It seemed a better place to learn.”

“Was it?”

“We weren’t there long enough,” she said. She hesitated. “It was bad, Corin. It’s still a city, but it’s wounded.”

“How bad?” he asked, dreading the answer. He had heard Kelvan’s reports of what he saw and what the riders saw, but that was not the same thing.

“I don’t really know what it was like before this,” she said. “There’s a lot burned, but not so much as I had expected. It can be rebuilt. That’s not the real wound. It’s occupied. Everyone is afraid. No one comes out. Joce said that no one dares to speak of your father because those who did early on disappeared. I think Joce found out a lot he didn’t tell me.”

“He should have told you everything,” Corin said, irritated. Joce had no right to keep things from her now.

“He didn’t have much time,” she said. “I don’t really want to know the details of the executions. We were running again last night. And we certainly didn’t expect someone to show up on a dragon and take me to you. How did Kelvan find us, for that matter?”

He had asked the rider the same thing. “As I understand it,” he said, “the dragon smelled you.”

“
Smelled
me? Like a dog?”

“In principle. I don’t think the dragon’s actually smelling. But you were with me before I left, so it had your trace on me, and you had my cloak, so it had mine on you. It took a while to find the track, though.”

“Where is it now?”

“Eating.”

“Eating?” Her face blanched. “Eating what?”

He grinned. “Not people. Deer, mountain goats, a wild pig. There is plenty of game. Then it will sleep like a baby that’s full of milk and wake up tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to think about the scat,” she said.

“Unspeakable. But the dragons burn it up.” If someone had told him two months ago that he would be in exile talking about dragon droppings with a commoner who was his wife, he would have had the person shut away as a lunatic. Even more so if he’d been told he would be happy.

They had eaten everything themselves. He lay back on the grass. She moved over and lifted his head into her lap. He closed his eyes. Her lips brushed his forehead.

“What shall we talk about first?” she asked.

Nothing, he thought. He sighed and ticked things off on his fingers. “The war. The dragons. Hadon. Your power. Me, I suppose. Is there anything else?”

“That’s plenty,” she said. “Corin, how did the Emperor know to target you? Really
know
?”

It stopped him. It was the other side of the unanswered question of what held the dragons. There had been a shift in the world, an event that cracked open the solid realities of centuries. It had crept its way through the years until the slippage was too great to be ignored. Something had plucked the string that held the dragons, and now the vibrations were coming back as echoes.