The Adamantine Palace (15 page)

'No one who means you any harm, Your Highness.'

Jehal looked behind him again. His knights were emerging from the woods, funnelling into the cleft between the rocks.

'This is not a good place to stop, eyrie-mas--' He broke off. Emerging from the shadows between the stones, three riders approached, their horses stepping slowly in the sand. They were strange folk, dark-skinned with overly ornate clothes studded with gold and jewels and dazzling rainbows of feathers. They stopped a dozen paces short of where Lord Meteroa waited, dismounted and bowed.

Taiytakei.

The middle one, who wore the brightest clothes, came a few paces closer and then carefully knelt in the sand.

'Your Holiness,' he said. 'We pay homage on this auspicious day.'

With slow deliberate movements, like a cat stalking its prey, Jehal dismounted. He drew nearer, never taking his eyes off the man.

'Sea traders,' he whispered. He glanced at Meteroa. 'What is this?'

'We bring you a gift,' said the dark man. 'A gift for you, O mightiest of princes, to honour your wedding day.'

Jehal forced a smile. 'Forgive me, but it is said that the Taiytakei do not deal in gifts, only trade, and that what may appear at first as a gift will always turn out to have a price.'

The kneeling man beckoned one of his fellows, who brought over something under a cloth and then quickly withdrew. 'We wish nothing more than to bring to you what you desire, and take from you that for which you have no need.' Slowly, the man placed the object on the ground and then backed away, still on his knees. When he reached the others, he rose and turned. All three of them mounted and rode slowly away.

Jehal watched them go, and only when they were long gone did his eyes move slowly to what they had left behind. He took a step towards it.

Meteroa jumped off his horse.

'Let me, Your Highness.'

'Why did you bring me here?'

'Forgive me, my Prince, but I will show you. The Taiytakei wished to give this to you in person and in private. You will see why.' Meteroa tore away the cloth. Underneath was an exquisite box carved from black wood, inlaid with vermilion and gold.

'Open it.'

Meteroa lifted the lid. Inside lay three strips of plain silk, two black and one white, and two tiny golden dragons with ruby eyes.

'Pretty.' Jehal shrugged. He would have said more, but one of the golden dragons turned its head and looked at him.

Meteroa pulled out one of the silks and snapped the box shut. 'Best that others do not see,' he murmured. 'Here.' He handed Jehal a strip of black silk. 'Wear it around your eyes. You will not be disappointed.'

Jehal smiled. Meteroa seemed to be in deadly earnest, and so he wrapped the black silk across his eyes. Immediately the world seemed to shift and shimmer. Voices spoke inside his head: You are the speaker in waiting, and we are the gift of the Taiytakei.

For a moment he thought he saw himself, as if looking through another's eyes. He ripped away the silk. Meteroa was still holding the box, but now he had it slightly open again. Four glittering ruby eyes peered up at him.

'In the sunlight they can fly. Or when you will them to,' murmured Meteroa. 'Wear the silk and they will obey your thoughts. They will see and they will listen and you will have their eyes and ears. There will be no secrets you cannot unlock.' He closed the box again and smiled. 'Was I wrong, Your Highness, to bring you to the Taiytakei, so that you might receive their gift?'

'No.' Jehal shook his head in wonder. 'No, Eyrie-Master, you were not wrong.'

He looked at the box and grinned to himself. You are the speaker in waiting ...

20

Knights

Rider Semian, when he came back the next day, didn't bring only gold. Three more dragons arrived with him, and on the back of each dragon were three knights. Semian himself brought the alchemist. They landed on the same gravel flats in a flurry of wings and spray. Sollos watched while the alchemist and the riders dismounted and rearranged themselves. Most of the knights stayed on the ground, crouching cautiously behind a protective wall of shields with the alchemist in the middle, while the dragons took to the sky again.

Archers. They're afraid of archers. Which made Sollos think of the last time he'd watched a dragon-knight hand over a purse full of gold to a mysterious stranger.

He stood his ground, out in the open, waiting. Kemir was beside him. Curly Beard and his friends had scuttled off to hide among the trees and watch. Semian emerged from the midst of his men and advanced slowly, looking around, scanning the shore of the lake. Up above, the dragons circled.

Sollos bowed. 'Riders,' he acknowledged. He knew some of the other dragon-knights only by their faces. Despite two weeks of sharing a camp together, they'd never asked his name, never called him anything except sell-sword. Not one had spoken to him other than to order him around.

Semian gave him a disdainful look. 'Where are your outlaw friends, sell-sword?'

'Hiding and waiting to see what you do. Did you bring the gold, Rider?'

'One hundred coins. They may have the other half when we have found the dragon.'

Sollos silently clenched his fists. 'That's not going to work, Rider. They know perfectly well that you'll simply burn their village if they try to steal from you. They expect you to burn it anyway, before you leave.'

'I will honour our bargain if they do the same.'

'I don't doubt it, Rider, but these people are used to King Valmeyan's men, and the King of the Crags is hated here. They expect nothing but treachery and betrayal, and they're not wise enough in the ways of the world to know the different between one knight and another. They probably haven't even heard of Queen Shezira.' Sollos sighed. 'I suppose we'll have to wait until tomorrow for the dragons to come back, and then another day for the rest of the gold.'

'Sell-sword, they will either take us to the dragon today or they will burn. That's the only offer I will make. A hundred gold is a fortune for most men.'

Sollos gritted his teeth. Yes, it would have been. He shook his head and held out his hand. 'Then give me the gold and I'll see what I can do.'

'No, sell-sword, I will give it to them myself, when they have taken us back to their settlement.'

'With all respect, Rider, that isn't the arrangement.'

'Then change it.'

Sollos shrugged. 'If that's what you wish, but I certainly won't be coming with you. I say again, Rider: these people fully expect your dragons to burn their village whether they honour our bargain or not. Once they've got your gold, I can't see why they shouldn't simply murder us all in our sleep. Either way, your dragons will burn their homes.'

Semian seemed to consider this. 'Then what arrangement do you suggest?'

'These men and women have not seen your white dragon, Rider, but they have heard of others who have and they will take us there. We have to go to another settlement, a smaller one, about ten miles from here. We go directly there. They'll come with us to show us the way. Tomorrow morning, when we're somewhere between here and there, you give them the gold. One or two of them will stay to take us to the man who's seen the white.' It had taken almost an entire day of arguing with Curly Beard to find an arrangement they could agree on.

Rider Semian narrowed his eyes. 'And this other man, will he too demand a hundred gold dragons?'

He will if I have anything to do with it, thought Sollos. 'I'm sure you'll find a way to convince him, Rider.' Yes. With the point of your swords, no doubt.

With a curt nod, the dragon-knight turned away. 'Tell them we agree. But I will give them the gold, not you, and it will be one hundred dragons, not two. And sell-sword?'

'Rider?'

'We travel in the open, where we can be seen from the skies. Make sure they understand that. Make sure they understand that every step we take will be watched from above.'

'They're not stupid, Rider.'

As Sollos and Kemir walked away towards the woods where Curly Beard was hiding, the knights retreated as far from the woods as they could. Sollos looked up. The dragons were still there, distant specks high in the sky. Which was a pity, because even five minutes of Rider Semian's company was already making him wonder if there was some deal he could cut with Curly Beard that would result in six dead knights and his pockets full of gold.

Probably not, though. Curly Beard would kill him and Kemir as happily as he'd murder a dragon-knight. You were either an Outsider or you weren't, and that was that.

'Well that went well,' muttered Kemir. 'I thought you said he was an idiot. Are you going to tell Curly Beard he can only have fifty?'

'He won't take it. No, he'll get his hundred.'

'Nothing for us then. Hurrah. You should definitely have asked for a thousand.'

Sollos shrugged. 'There's still the dragonscale too. Let's not lorget that.'

'Give up. We're never going to get our hands on that.'

'And a reward for finding the white.'

'If we find it,' grumbled Kemir. 'If they pay it.' He snorted. 'Why did they bring the alchemist?'

Sollos shrugged. 'Don't know, don't care. All we have to do is make sure that Curly Beard and Rider Rod-Up-My-Arse stick to the agreement and don't start trying to kill each other. Should keep us busy enough, don't you think?'

'Let them kill each other. I'll help if you like. When they're done, we can have the gold. Suits me.'

Sollos twitched his lips. 'Don't tempt me.'

'You know, we did make an oath, a long time ago. We could always--'

'No!' Sollos stopped and took a deep breath. 'No, Kemir. These riders serve Queen Shezira, not the King of the Crags.'

Kemir shrugged. 'A knight's a knight. They all think they're little gods. We could--'

'I said no!' Sollos stamped his foot.

'Look, I'm not saying we should try and overthrow Valmeyan; I'm just saying that sticking a knife into a few dragon-knights would give me a sense of fulfilment, that's all.'

'Those days are gone, Kemir. That oath ...' He shrugged. 'It was a stupid oath. Besides, there are six of them and two of us, and their dragons are watching us.'

He saw Kemir look up at the sky and wince. 'They have to sleep, you know.'

They do. Yes, they do. Sollos shook his head. However much a part of him agreed with Kemir, murdering one dragon-knight or even ten wouldn't change the world at all. As long as there were dragons, there would be men and women who rode them.

As long as there are dragons.

21

The Wedding

Meteroa, of course, timed it perfectly. When Jehal returned to the palace, everyone was waiting for him. He walked briskly into the feasting hall with Princess Lystra at his side and a spring in his step. You are the speaker in waiting...

'Drink!' he cried before he'd even reached the throne at his lolling father's side. 'Drink! A toast! Not to us, but to everyone! To each other! To life!' Then he spun Princess Lystra to face him, kissed her, and then shot a glance along the tables and made sure he caught Zafir's eye. 'Drink!' he shouted again, into the shocked quiet. 'Drink to the pounding of hearts! To the thunder of wings and the wash of fire! To the clash of swords, to the moment of the kill, to the drunken passion of lovers! Drink and shout for joy or shout with rage, I care not which, but do not fill my feasting hall with silence!'

He sat down and thumped his goblet on the table. Everyone was looking at him. This wasn't how a wedding feast was supposed to start, but he simply didn't have the stomach for hours of tedious politeness. Far better that everyone got roaring drunk.

He peered past Princess Lystra at her mother. 'Isn't this more what you're used to, Your Holiness?' He grinned.

Queen Shezira's face remained carefully blank. 'Your exuberance would, perhaps, be more appreciated in my halls than in your own.'

'I mean to make your daughter feel welcome here.'

Shezira said nothing.

'Am I a monster?' he asked her, much later, when the food was almost gone and he'd drunk too much wine. 'Is that what you think of me?'

She met his eyes. 'In another few hours you will be my son,' she said coolly. And that was all.

After everyone had gorged themselves, a troupe of musicians struck up and the dancing started. Princess Lystra came first of course, with her big wide eyes and drooping lashes and that startled look she'd worn since the day had started. Then her mother, which was like dancing with a iron statue, cumbersome and awkward and with nothing to recommend it. And then, out of nowhere, Zafir slid into his arms, sinuous and sensual, pressing herself close and filling his nose with her perfume. Jehal felt himself stir. Her hand slid up his back to the skin of his neck, and he felt a slight pricking sting. He jerked.

'What are you doing?'

Zafir looked at her hand. On one of the rings she wore was a tiny spike, and on that spike the slightest drop of blood. She touched it to her tongue and then wrapped her arm around him again. 'Reminding you that you're not immortal,' she whispered.

'I feel immortal.' He pulled her even closer, but this time she resisted.

'I am a dragon-queen, Prince Jehal, not some courtesan, and eyes are watching us.'

'Is that a poison ring you're wearing?'

'Of course.'

'Am I about to die?'

Zafir smiled. This time, when he tried to pull her closer, she didn't resist. 'Not today, my love.' She leaned into him for a second and he felt her breath on his ear. 'I saw the way you looked at her today, your little starling-bride,' she murmured. 'Enjoy the novelty, but remember that it's me who can give you what you want. If you plan to toss me aside for her, you may as well take your dagger and run me through and let us both die here and now.'

Jealous? She was jealous? For a second he thought about it. 'If you want to see which of you I want, then let us slip away and I will show you,' he said huskily.

She pushed him sharply away with a brittle smile. 'Your starling can have you today. Afterwards ... we shall see.' She waved her fingers at him, letting him see the ring again, still wet with a drop of his blood.