Servant of the Dragon (15 page)

Besimon gave Garric a bleak grin. "That shouldn't be hard," he said. "Not when people—"

He lifted his chin toward the spectators. Hawkers carrying doughnuts on short sticks, baskets of fruit, and a tray of amulets of the Lady and the Shepherd—"Genuine silver, or the Sister drag my soul to Hell!"—were working the spectators. The event was quickly turning into a street fair.

"—figure out that it's wizardry going on here."

The Blood Eagles fell in across the west and northern arc of the enclosure. Their faces were toward the crowd and they held their spears crosswise at waist height to form a continuous bar. There wasn't any serious jostling. Garric was pleased to note that the troops were doing their job in a good-humored fashion.

He joined Tenoctris and the others in the center of the enclosure. The altar top and the four slabs of its sides had collapsed over the years. The taverner or some similar entrepreneur of time past had stacked the marble on the altar pedestal to form a support pillar.

Across the uppermost slab walked men, women and children, wearing peaked hats and chained together with garlands of roses. Some played slender horns with out-turned bells, others shook tambourines. The children's mouths were open in song.

Someday we'll have harmony again,
Garric thought. The king in his mind grinned wryly; Garric grinned in response.
Well, we'll have as much harmony as they
really
had when they were building the altar.

Tenoctris took a bamboo sliver from the packet Cashel handed her. He always carried the wizard's paraphernalia when they were together. Garric noticed when Cashel opened the flap of his wallet that there was nothing else inside but a round of hard bread and a wedge of cheese wrapped in a dock leaf.

Somebody else setting out as Cashel was doing might try to figure all the dangers he'd face and prepare against them. Cashel wasn't reckless; anybody who'd seen him with sheep remarked on the way he guessed any fool thing the beasts might do, because he'd seen them do it before.

But there was a lot of life you couldn't plan for, you just had to deal with it as it came up. Cashel had a slow grin, a quarterstaff, and strength that nobody else in the borough could match. Cashel was very good at dealing with the unexpected.

"This place is a focus of power," Tenoctris explained. "That makes it easier for me to send Cashel to where I hope he'll find more accomplished help. This place—"

She glanced at the blackened marble walls, then up the bluff to the ancient Citadel. Grasses and vines swathed the coarse limestone; here and there the roots of a gnarled tree had found lodging.

Apologetically Tenoctris returned her attention to her friends. "I was daydreaming," she said. "About the past, about the future. I suppose I'm trying to delay executing the spell. Difficult jobs don't get easier for being put off, as you all have taught me."

She patted Cashel's arm. He smiled, but his eyes were focused on the horizon and the immediate future.

"I was going to say," Tenoctris resumed, "that this place has a connection to Landure. That's why we're here."

Tenoctris looked judiciously at the wand she held. "Cashel," she said, "would you cut me a fresh twig instead? Something you've made yourself will make my task easier."

She gave her quick grin. "And I need all the help I can get."

Cashel snipped off a sprig of lamb's tongue growing at the corner of the wall and trimmed it with the simple iron knife he wore through his sash. It was the all-purpose tool of every peasant, used to cut his bread, clear grass from a clogged plow coulter, or trim leather for a harness strap.

He handed the wand to Tenoctris. The woody stem was thin but stiff enough for her purposes. She knelt again to scribe a circle and words in the Old Script in the hollow of the altar. The supple withy didn't leave marks on the stone that Garric could see, but they were presumably enough for Tenoctris herself.
Sometimes the symbol is the thing....

Garric stepped over to Cashel and hugged him. "I wish I was going with you," Garric said as they separated. The huskiness in his voice surprised him.

Cashel smiled. "Well, I'd like the company, but you've got things to do here," he said. He didn't sound worried, but then he never did.

If you didn't know Cashel well you could believe he wasn't aware of danger. Garric knew better than that. Cashel understood exactly what he was letting himself into; he just didn't let it affect what he was doing.

Ilna murmured goodbyes to her brother. She stood as stiffly upright as Cashel's staff and looked as hard. Which she was, of course. Quite a woman, Ilna.

Garric looked at Cashel and thought of the number of times he'd sent other people into danger. The king in his mind stirred, reminding Garric of how often King Carus had done the same in his longer life. It was so much easier to go yourself than to send a friend. And it was so much easier to be a peasant than it was to be a king.

Though... a peasant makes life and death decisions also. In a prosperous community, which Barca's Hamlet was by its own lights, folks would help a neighbor who suffered a disaster; but there were limits. Even in Barca's Hamlet there were stories about the way babies born during an especially hard winter sometimes disappeared.

"There," Tenoctris said as she straightened. "Cashel, if you'll stand in the center of the circle—" The words of power were barely a shadow on the stone, but the altar itself framed the spot accurately. "—when you're ready, I'll begin."

"I'm ready," Cashel said without emphasis. Liane hugged him in turn. She backed away and the tension went out of his expression. He stepped carefully over the markings and stood with his staff close to his body that it didn't reach over the scribed boundary.

"Cashel, one final warning," Tenoctris said. "Landure is a powerful wizard, but by reputation he's also a very hard, haughty man. He may refuse to help you."

Cashel shrugged. "If Master Landure doesn't want to help, then there'll be someone else who does," he said. "Or I'll find my own way to Sharina. But I
will
find her."

The wizard gave a quick, birdlike nod. "Garric," she said, "I'll have to speak this spell myself. But if you could kneel with me and hold my arm so that I don't fall over, it might be a help. Perhaps I'm being unduly pessimistic."

She smiled. Garric understood the attempt to treat the matter lightly, but it wasn't very successful. He put his big hand on Tenoctris' shoulder, noticing as he always did when he touched her that the wizard had no more meat on her bones than a quail does.

Tenoctris seated herself crosslegged. She closed her eyes briefly to recruit her strength, then bobbed the wand in time with the syllables as she said, "
Chai aphono apaphono
...."

There was a murmur through the crowd as they understood what was going on. Garric's back was to the spectators, but he'd seen the way wizardry made ordinary people draw away. Sane people didn't like wizardry. There were infinite mistakes for a wizard to make, and any one of them could cost the lives or souls of those nearby.

"
Echaipen panaitos epaipen
...," Tenoctris said, her voice as measured as drips from a water clock. A faint blue haze spread about Cashel's stolid figure.

"Semon seknet thallassosemon...,"
Tenoctris said. Liane was at Garric's other side, standing with her fingertips on the point of his shoulder. The touch strengthened him the way touching the stirrup leather makes it possible for a footsoldier to run alongside a cavalryman.

Cashel looked as steady as before, but a sphere of blue fire wrapped him. His body hung in the air at right angles to the way it had stood a moment before. He gave no sign of realizing there had been a change.

"Agra bazagra oreobazagra!"
Tenoctris said, her voice cracking. The wand split in her hand, its tough fibers frayed apart by friction not of this world. She started to topple. Garric reached around her and scooped her up in his arms.

Cashel's body rotated sunwise in a ball of light that cast no shadow on the stone. His body shrank as though he were falling away; his expression unconcerned, his staff straight in his hands.

Tenoctris sighed in exhaustion. The light turned in on itself and vanished. Garric's mind held an afterimage of his friend spinning and growing ever smaller, like a doll dropped into deep, clear waters.

* * *

The great bird broke out of limbo and banked in a sunwise curve. Below Sharina, a harbor nestled into a wooded shoreline. It was late afternoon.

Initially Sharina saw no sign of human activity, but as the bird continued to wheel she spotted several boats drawn up on one of several stretches of sandy beach within the bay. A hilltop overlooking the sea had been cleared in a ragged yellow scar. A palisade protected the clearing; in it stood a dozen oval huts with thatched roofs on low fieldstone walls. One was slightly larger than the others and set within a fence of its own.

People wearing garments of leather and coarse grass looked up at the bird, then ran inside. Sharina heard cries of warning. Mothers snatched up children too small to flee.

The bird continued to wheel, losing altitude noticeably. The treetops were only about fifty feet below. They were hardwoods, clothed in the lush foliage of high summer.

The rudimentary settlement was on the western jaw of the land. The bird's curving flight followed the belly of the embayment. A wild tangle of vegetation spilled down to the tideline except for the patches of sand too loose to support the roots of anything more substantial than sea oats.

Abruptly the bird overflew more structures, an enormous complex of quarried stone on the peninsula opposite the human settlement. These buildings were in sweeping curves rather than square lines. The individual stones of the construction were smaller than Sharina would have expected and of irregular shapes, but they fitted together with the precision of a mosaic floor.

Trees choked the ancient city, their roots squeezing and prying into cracks that must have been too tight for a knife to enter when the stones were laid. Many of the buildings had collapsed into overgrown rubble; Sharina wouldn't have been aware of them had she not been swept just above the foliage.

Even so the masonry resisted. The trees growing from the stone were stunted, shorter and wizened compared to their kin on the surrounding hills from which they were seeded. A wave of starlings swept from one treetop to another, moving like a single amorphous creature. There was no sign of human life.

The great bird reversed direction with a grace as ponderously amazing as that of a whale broaching in the open sea. The left wingtip rose, the right wing dipped to point directly at the ground. Sharina, immobile in the creature's talons, swung in a sickening arc.

A strong breeze blew down the throat of the harbor and onto the land. The bird's wings opened to it like the sails of a vessel immeasurably larger than humans could build even in dreams. It hung for a moment like a seagull hovering for thrown scraps, then settled over the trees at the harbor's edge. The powerful legs, drawn up to hold Sharina against the scaly breast, extended.

The bird lurched in the air; the talons opened to deposit Sharina on the beach. The operation was as gentle as that of a mother cat transferring one of her kittens.

Sharina's limbs were numb from tight constraint. She rolled away. Her legs wouldn't hold her when she first got them under her, but she raised the Pewle knife to hack at the beak if it stabbed down to finish her.

The bird's body, nearly vertical as its feet touched, arched again into the wind and the open sea beyond the harbor. The wings stroked with the slow grinding strength of a glacier.

The bird, a shadow on the sky, slid forward in the air. It flew just above the harbor's surface, trapping the evening breeze between the water and its wings. White-capped compression waves shivered across the mild surf.

Before the first slow beat of the wings was complete, the bird vanished like a sand castle when the tide rises. Sharina was alone on the sea-lapped edge of a forest.

In the near distance, a horn was winding.

* * *

Ilna frowned as she viewed the woven figure of Sharina. She'd pictured her friend writhing free of a sculptured beastman, using the finest silk thread for her blond hair. The result still didn't do Sharina justice.

Ilna wondered where Sharina was now; and wished, as she sometimes wished, to believe enough in the Gods that she could offer a prayer for her friend without hypocrisy. Ilna knew of no other help she could offer.

"There's the people come to see you about the weaving, mistress," a Blood Eagle called across the garden from the arch to the atrium. "Shall we send them through?"

"Yes, do that," Ilna said. She winced to hear herself and added, "Please."

She needn't have bothered; the guard was already shouting the answer to his partner at the front door. One benefit of dealing with soldiers was that they didn't resent getting brusk orders. It was a benefit if you were thoughtlessly discourteous as a matter of course, that is.

Sharina would be all right. She was clever as well as capable, and she had a knack for finding friends who could do things that she could not. Friends like Cashel, for example.

Ilna smiled. The delegation from the Temple of the Protecting Shepherd took the expression as directed at them. Master Velio relaxed noticeably, which made Ilna smile more broadly.

She honestly didn't mean to frighten people. Most of the time.

The Blood Eagle leading the delegation stepped aside to let by Velio and a stranger, with Casses and Ermand following on the graveled path and behind
them
Lord Tadai and a girl of nine or so whose features bore a family resemblance. His daughter, perhaps? Ilna recognized the—former—royal treasurer from public events where he'd accompanied Garric. Ilna could have attended council meetings, she supposed, but she couldn't imagine why she would have wanted to.

"Mistress Ilna os-Kenset...," Velio said. He didn't let his eyes meet Ilna's, but his voice didn't break. "May I introduce Lord Jalo bor-Jarial of the Board of Religious Affairs—"

Jalo was the stranger; a sour-looking, narrow-faced man of about thirty. His layered tunics were new and of decent quality—the embroidery was more expensive than it was good, but it wasn't
bad
. His shoulder-cape, however, had been turned and relined to hide the wear on the other side. The cost of dressing up to his title was breaking Lord Jalo, and the snap when he broke would probably please most of the people who had to deal with the nasty little fellow.

He didn't bow to acknowledge Ilna; she was a commoner, after all. Ilna didn't know Jalo well enough yet to wish him ill. She expected that by the end of this meeting she would, however.

"And Lord Tadai bor-Tediman, Councillor of the Prince, Ambassador Plenipotentiary—"

Tadai stepped forward, waving a hand before Velio to silence him. Tadai's fingernails were trimmed to perfect almond shapes.

"Mistress Ilna knows as much of me as she needs to, Velio," he said. "And I know Mistress Ilna by reputation, so I don't want to play the fool by trying to impress her with empty titles."

Tadai bowed deeply, though he didn't make hand-flourishes as Reise—or a toady—would have done. Ilna's eyes narrowed. Tadai had carefully judged the boundary between what Ilna would take as respect and the excess she'd find insulting. He'd guessed quite accurately... which meant that he—his underlings—had studied her the way she would go over a hank of yarn, with a cold dispassion.

She supposed she should find it flattering. In her heart of hearts, though, the last thing Ilna wanted was to be known. She lived by the truth, but she was quite certain she had nothing to gain by other people knowing the truth about her.

"Mistress," Tadai resumed. His manners had the ease of a man who'd always been at least the equal of everyone around him and who therefore knew he had nothing to prove. "Allow me to present my niece and aide, Lady Merota bos-Roriman."

The child made a curtsey with some kind of complicated footwork in the middle of it. Ilna avoided a grimace, but only just. She bowed in response, because Merota was being courteous and didn't deserve a sneer for being able to make a gesture that Ilna thought was silly.

Sharina could curtsey. Lora had insisted that her daughter learn all the court nonsense that Lora had learned herself.

"Merota will accompany me when I leave for Erdin," Tadai explained, "which will be as soon as the ships are ready. That's why I'm anxious to arrange for the delivery of your arras immediately."

He smiled. The anxiety beneath the expression was unmistakable. "I'm not a good traveller," he said. "I hope the gift will be enough to gain us the protection of the Shepherd. If not, it will perhaps keep memory of me alive for a time."

Ilna stepped back so that the delegation could view the arras. She gestured them forward. "I take responsibility for the weaving," she said. "Anything else is out of my hands."

Tadai strolled to the first of the three pieces. Merota walked with him, but she turned to gaze at Ilna as she passed. The girl's eyes were large, brown and intelligent. She had a clear complexion and, like her uncle, a tendency toward softness that irritated Ilna though there was no reason that it should.

The three members of the temple council followed Tadai to the tapestry with nervous impatience. They lacked the nobleman's air of unconcern, but they were unwilling to push ahead of their social superior.

Lord Jalo, on the other hand, sneered at Ilna as he sauntered past. "I think it would be a mistake for you to get involved with this clothwork, Lord Tadai," he said. "For a man of your stature, there are much better ways to commemorate your generosity. For example—"

"We've already arranged for the hanging, Jalo," said Councillor Ermand. Ilna smiled faintly, the only emotion that she permitted to reach her face. Jalo was a slug, and squashing him would foul the sole of her foot....

"
You
have," Jalo said. "And you did it without clearing your action with the Board of Religious Affairs. You—"

"There's no requirement to bribe a gang of noblemen's byblows!" Casses snarled. If he'd had a belaying pin in his hand, Jalo would have risked a dent in the center of his thinning blond hair.

The Blood Eagle escorting the group grinned at Ilna. So long as she wasn't threatened, the others present could slaughter themselves so far as the guard was concerned. Soldiers tend to take a narrow view of orders, a necessary safety device given that their duty may require them to follow those orders through to horrific conclusions.

Tadai walked along the tapestry. His expression, a vague smile, remained unchanged. At his side his niece drew more and more into herself. At the break between the middle section of the arras and the last, she looked at Ilna. Ilna raised an eyebrow to encourage a question, but Merota instead returned her attention to the hanging.

"The new temple of The Lady of the Seas has been getting most of the profitable departure gifts recently, Lord Tadai," Jalo said. He didn't respond verbally to Casses' insult, but the splotches of color on his cheekbones showed that either the reference to bribes or—more likely—the claim that Jalo was illegitimate had gotten home. "There's always the concern that a bequest to an underfunded temple will be used to pay for wine at the council dinner instead of the purpose for which it was intended."

"Look, you!" Casses said. He lifted a hand.

Velio had been staring at the arras, though he hadn't moved from the first panel. He turned and touched Casses' arm. "We aren't involved in this," he said to his colleague.

He looked at Ilna and bowed, his face drawn. "Our concern is merely to keep the bargain we made with Mistress Ilna," Velio added, facing her though he was supposedly addressing Casses.

Ilna dipped her head in curt agreement.

Jalo wore an increasingly frustrated expression. Lord Tadai wasn't paying any attention to him, and he didn't understand what was going on between Ilna and the temple council.

Jalo hadn't, Ilna noticed with some amusement, looked even once at the arras. His concern was entirely because arrangements for the hanging had been made without the involvement of his organization, the board which synchronized the activities of Valles' religious orders so that they didn't compete too openly.

"I don't understand," said Ermand. He'd followed along behind Tadai and Merota, peering intently at the rippling action woven into the fabric. "It's a great piece of art—I wouldn't mind buying it myself. But the
Shepherd
isn't anywhere in the design."

Tadai turned. His fingers were tented before him. That was more than a gesture. Despite the nobleman's deliberate calm, white pressure bands marked the flesh beneath his perfect nails.

"No one can look at that arras and not be moved by the power of the Great Gods," he said to Ermand. His voice had grown slightly rougher.

Tadai looked Ilna in the face. "
No
one," he repeated.

"It doesn't matter what's on the cloth," Velio said. "Everyone will want to have his actions blessed at the temple where this hangs. Do you understand? Ermand, Casses?
Our
temple will be famous!"

"Why, you
perfume
merchant!" Jalo exploded. The real cause of his anger was probably the way Tadai refused to take notice of him, but the temple councillors were a safer target. "When the Board of Religious Affairs lifts its approval from your little pile, then you'll see exactly what your backdoor deals with this weaver are really worth!"

"Lord Jalo," Tadai said. He didn't raise his voice, but it cut like an axeblade. "The Board of Religious Affairs has a public duty, but it's not overseen by any government ministry, is that correct?"

"Why, yes," Jalo said. "We're an entirely private organization, funded by the contributions of our membership."

Jalo's smile had brightened because the wealthy nobleman was addressing him. He wasn't a particularly quick-witted man, and he hadn't yet grasped the direction the conversation was about to go.

Ilna
did
understand. She too smiled.

"Given that you're obviously corrupt and a fool as well," Lord Tadai continued in a pleasant, faintly ironic tone, "that needs to be changed. If I were staying in Valles, I'd bring your board under the treasury; since I'm not, I'll suggest to Chancellor Royhas that the chancellery take charge immediately. I'm sure my friend Royhas will humor me in this."

"What?" said Jalo. "What did...?"

He stared at the faces around him. Casses looked on the verge of cheering; Ermand was as puzzled as Jalo; and Velio had no expression at all.

"What are you saying?" Jalo suddenly shouted at Tadai. "You can't do that!"

"Mistress?" Tadai said to Ilna. His niece had flinched back at Jalo's outburst. "I realize your guards won't take orders from me, but I'd appreciate it if they escorted this person—"

He indicated Jalo by wrinkling his nose.

"—out of our presence. I'm not sure who invited him to begin with. I certainly did not."

"He invited himself," Velio said. "He said we shouldn't have done anything without the board's approval, and that he'd make sure we knew our place the next time."

"Sister take me, I'll move him along!" said Casses. The stocky ex-seaman caught Jalo by a wrist and shoulder, twisting the nobleman's arm expertly behind his back. He started toward the house, ignoring Jalo's jabbers of pain.

The Blood Eagle raised an eyebrow. Ilna shrugged. The Blood Eagle grinned and bellowed to his partner, "Let Lord Jalo out, Ramis. He's overstayed his welcome."

Tadai ignored the byplay once he was sure that it was under control. "You aren't in the tapestry either, Mistress Ilna," he said softly. "But rumor says that you were the most important of all in defeating the Beast."

"If rumor says that, rumor is a fool," Ilna snapped. "And you're a fool if you believe it."

Tadai smiled. "I'm not such a fool that I completely disbelieve the rumor, mistress," he said.

"It's from her eyes," the child said unexpectedly. She watched Ilna as she spoke. "The tapestry
is
her, uncle."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Tadai agreed with a nod. He looked into Ilna's eyes. She wondered what he saw there. "Anyway," Tadai continued, "I'll underwrite the cost of the arras' immediate hanging in the Temple of the Protecting Shepherd. And the endowment for care, of course."

He nodded to Ilna. "Will you oversee the process, mistress?" he asked. "I'd like the task done quickly, because we'll be leaving as soon as possible after it's complete. But it has to be done correctly, of course."

"Of course," Ilna agreed. "If these gentlemen are willing—"

The councillors would be willing to turn cartwheels all the way to the temple, she suspected, if she told them to. Casses was returning to the garden with a pleased expression on his face.

"—then I think we can do that immediately."

"I'll send a messenger to the temple at once," Velio said quietly. "The staff will be waiting for our arrival."

"I realize you didn't do this for money," Lord Tadai said. He was speaking with the care of someone who knows he's treading dangerous ground. "But if an honorarium or simply a defrayal of your costs would be permissible, I would—"