The Dragon Society (Obsidian Chronicles Book 2) (56 page)

His enthusiasm was somewhat overwhelming, but Arlian smiled happily all the same. After a lifetime of being told he was mad, that his vengeance was impossible, Arlian had finally convinced someone that the dragons
could
be destroyed.

And it was someone who could
do
something about it. "If we can find their caves," he said, "we might be able to get at them in the winter, and kill them while they're asleep."

"Excellent
suggestion! Magnificent!"

Arlian looked around the audience chamber, and noticed that once again, he was the only dragonheart present. "Has Lord Hardior..." he began.

The Duke's smile vanished, and his expression turned harder than Arlian would have thought possible.

"Lord Hardior has been informed that his services will no longer be needed," the Duke said coldly. "Do you know, he and some of his friends were trying to
talk
to the dragons, by sorcery, to negotiate terms?

They were ready to
surrender.
He told me about it when we first received word of the monster's approach—he was ready to give the beast whatever it wanted, if it would but spare the Citadel."

"Oh," Arlian said.

"But
you
were ready for it! A spear in the heart!"

The grin was back.

"In the heart," Arlian agreed. That reminded him of another concern. "Might I ask, Your Grace, where Lady Rime was taken?"

"To her own home. It seemed best."

"And did she seem well?"

"I'm afraid I didn't see for myself, my lord—those two foreigners of yours kept everyone away."

"I'll want to visit her."

"I can have her brought here, if you like ..."

"No." Arlian shook his head. "She needs to recover—she was the subject of strong magic. All I did was ..." He blinked, as he realized what he was about to say; then he grimaced and completed his sentence with a wry smile.

"All I did was fight a dragon," he said.

Black and Brook and Hasty and Vanniari and Lily and Musk and Kitten and Cricket were all safe at the Grey House; Qulu and Stammer and Venlin and Ferrezin and Wolt and Chiril and the rest were there, as well.

Miraculously, no one had died in the Old Palace, and only Toribor had died outside it.

Isein and Oeshir had gone with Rime, though, rather than joining the rest of Arlian's household.

It was upon his first return to the Grey House that Black took him aside.

"Ari," he said, "there are words that need to be said between us."

Arlian blinked at him. "Are there?" he asked mildly.

"I think so."

"Then say yours, dear Beron, and I will do my best to say mine."

Black hesitated at the sound of his true name, then said, "I may owe you an apology. You have relied on my loyalty, and counted me as your friend, and I do not feel as if I have been true to those expectations."

Arlian stared at him in astonishment, too startled to speak at first. Finally, he said, "In what way? You have done everything I asked of you, and more!"

"But my heart has not been in it. When first we met I aided you because you were young and charming and clearly needed a friend, because you had the heart of the dragon and an amazing determination, and because you paid me well. I thought you had the potential for great things, and your obsession with revenge fascinated me, so I guided you, taught you the sword, and accepted the job as your steward. I thought I might rise with you in the world."

"Indeed," Arlian said.

"That lasted until Enziet's death. On the journey home to Manfort I began to wonder whether I had made the right choice. You had satisfied as much of your need for vengeance as could reasonably be satisfied, and yet you wanted more. You wanted to slay dragons."

"As I always have."

"And I have always said you were mad. Well, I began to
believe
it."

"I probably
am
mad, Black."

"But the shape of your madness seemed more forbidding, more unhealthy, after Enziet's death. You spoke of your own damnation, and I realized that you meant it—but if you were damned, what was I? You had power and wealth and a lifespan of centuries stretching before you, all of which you seemed determined to throw away, and what did I have? The life of a servant."

"A steward," Arlian corrected. "And a lord yourself, if I died."

"Still, a life in your shadow, in the shadow of a madman."

Arlian spread his hands. "What could I say?"

"You could have said, when we spoke of your plans, that you had come to your senses. You could have said that defeating the dragons was too much to ask. You could have said to me that you wanted to keep my services for longer than a mortal lifetime, and would I mind drinking a mixture of blood and venom? You could have spoken of hope for the future, rather than a centuries-long campaign against the dragons, a campaign that must certainly last well past my own death.

You could have considered the possibilities of
life,
rather than death."

For a moment Arlian gazed silently at his friend.

"Would you have accepted it if I had?" he asked at last. "Would you have drunk the elixir?"

"Yes," Black said miserably. "I would even now.
Especially
now, when you have found a way to reverse the transformation!"

'1 think I would consider that a betrayal," Arlian said slowly.

"I know," Black said.

"Why did you stay with me?" Arlian asked. "If you did not believe in me, why did you stay?"

"I still
like
you, Ari. And you still pay well. And you mean well. And most of all, Brook lives in your house."

"Ah." A great deal became clear.

"We expect a child in a few months."

"She is as free to leave as you are," Arlian suggested tentatively.

"But her friends live with you, and the other reasons all apply. We could not live so well anywhere else."

"So you stayed."

"We'll leave if you wish it."

"No, I don't wish it!" Arlian frowned. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because now you have done the impossible. You have killed a black dragon. You have proven that I was wrong. You don't need me anymore—you have all the Duke's men at your bidding. And you have only this house now, instead of that vast rambling palace, so you might want to reduce the size of your household. The time has come to admit my error and clear the air, and for you to decide whether Brook and I should go or stay."

"It is not for me to decide," Arlian said. "It is your choice, Beron. I would be happy to have you stay on as my steward, and for you to remain my heir. I would be delighted to see Brook bear her child under my roof.

But you do understand that my life is still dedicated to destroying the dragons."

"Of course," Black said. "And you do understand that I would still be tempted if offered the elixir, and might well accept it."

"I think men can have a few disagreements, yet remain friends," Arlian said. He clapped Black on the shoulder. "Come on, then, and let's be about the business of putting this place to rights."

It was three days after the dragon's death before Arlian was finally able to get free of the Duke and the demands of his own household and ride the Duke's carriage down the street to Rime's home.

He did not dare walk—any time he set foot out in public now he was mobbed by admirers. And although his own coach had not burned, it was covered in soot, the paint and gilding cracked from the heat.

The carriage was just pulling away from the gate when he heard a voice calling, "My lord! Lord Obsidian!"

Such cries were common now, but this voice was familiar, and Arlian leaned out the window to see who spoke. He saw that two of the Duke's guards, sent to accompany the carriage, were holding back a man who was waving a sheaf of papers over his head and calling for Arlian's attention.

Arlian recognized him—Shuffler, Lord Wither's clerk.

"Let him come," Arlian called.

The guards hesitated, but their captain repeated Arlian's command, and they stepped aside.

Shuffler ran up to the side of the carriage and reached-the papers up to the window.

"My lord," he said, "these are your inheritance from Lord Wither. Lady Opal forbade me to deliver them, at least unless I let her read them, and Lord Wither had forbidden that, and I knew I should bring them to you all the same, but I... she said ..."

"She said I was a traitor," Arlian said.

"Yes," Shuffler agreed. "She did. But when you killed the dragon, I... well, I stole these, to give to you. Wither meant you to have them."

'Thank you," Arlian said, taking the papers.

"Thank
you,
my lord—you killed the dragon!"

"My lord..." die captain said.

"Yes, Captain," Arlian said. "We should go; I mustn't tie up you and your men any longer than necessary. Thank you, Shuffler, and may the dead gods defend you." He pulled his head and arm, and the papers, back into the carriage.

As the horses started forward and the carriage began to roll, he glanced at the top page, where Wither had written clearly, "Enziet, Rehirian, and I used this long ago. As Enziet's heir, I thought you should have it."

Below that, and on the three pages following, was an explanation in ancient, faded ink of a system for enciphering and deciphering messages. Arlian stared at it for a moment, then smiled.

Now he could begin decrypting those notebooks Enziet had left him—at least, those that had survived the fire.

There were more pages, though; he flipped through them quickly, then stopped and began reading more closely.

These were notes on exactly when and where dragons had been seen over the last few centuries. They did not give the exact location of any draconic lair, but they provided some information on where to begin looking.

Arlian folded the papers carefully and tucked them inside his coat, and sat staring at the empty seat opposite him.

He was the one being honored as a hero, and he would be the one to lead the war against the dragons, at least initially, but there were others who deserved honor, as well. Lord Enziet, heartless monster though he was, had provided the weapons; Lord Toribor had made the first great victory possible at the cost of his own life; and Lord Wither had left essential information. Arlian owed them all a debt he could never repay.

And Rime, of course—Rime had perhaps sacrificed hundreds of years of life and had put herself through intense torture to destroy the dragon she bore, and in so doing had lured the elder dragon to its death. She, at least, was still alive to receive his gratitude. He looked forward to seeing her, and telling her the news; he looked out the window just as the carriage pulled up to her gate.

Rime was still in bed when Arlian was admitted to her chamber, but awake, alert, and clad in a proper dressing gown. She sat up when he entered.

She was still Rime, her grey streaked hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her eyes bright, but something seemed to have gone out of her. She seemed smaller and weaker than before.

But that was hardly surprising—her heart had been ripped from her chest. Recovering from that, even with magical assistance, would surely take more than three

"Enter the conquering hero," she said.

"It seems to me that
you 're
the hero," Arlian said as he approached the bedside. "Words cannot express my gratitude. Believe me, my lady, I had no idea what the magic involved when I asked you to attempt it."

She smiled. "Arlian, do you
ever
know what you're getting involved in?"

Arlian smiled back. "Do any of us?" he asked.

"I suppose not, but you seem to be an extreme case.

I understand you are now the Duke's chief adviser?"

Arlian shook his head. "No," he said.
"You
are—at my insistence. I don't know how to advise him on rul-ing the Lands of Man; I don't have the experience, the maturity, for that. I am merely his warlord."

"Warlord?"

Arlian nodded. "We are at war, my lady—the Duke has declared it so."

"With the dragons." Rime did not make it a question.

"Of course. In truth, we have always been at war with the dragons, though Lord Enziet forced a seven-hundred-year armistice upon us—and then gave us the knowledge we need to win someday."

"Then you think we
will
win?"

"Rime, there are millions of us, and perhaps a few hundred of them at most, and they need a millennium to gestate more. Now that we know obsidian in the heart will kill them, they have no real chance."

"They will probably kill thousands of innocents in the process, though."

"I know."

Rime saw the expression on Arlian's face and said no more on that.

"There will be a
few
more dragons, you know," she said. "Some three dozen dragonhearts still live."

"More than that, after last summer—but you, my lady, are no longer one of them, and the rest will be offered a choice, to undergo the same process you have or be killed. The Duke will insist. Over the past few days I have told him something of the nature of dragonhearts—not everything, but much of it He suspected some of it, and I filled in some gaps, and he has agreed that the dragonhearts must submit to the procedure—or die. We cannot have those among us whose loyalties are divided. We cannot allow our foes to breed."

Rime was silent for a moment, then said, "It's in-credibly painful, you know. I thought I would go mad.

Death would have been welcome."

"I know."

"And I believe I will now be as vulnerable to aging and disease as any ordinary woman."

"I assume so, yes."

"Do you really think the others will agree to it?"

"Probably not—and they'll be killed. The Duke has decreed it, and I will enforce it"

"So you'll destroy the Dragon Society completely."

"Yes."

"Enziet, Drisheen, Iron, Nail, Wither, Belly, Voriam, me—you've made a good start."

"Yes"

"And you—will you have your heart cut out as I did?"