The Last Dragonlord (33 page)

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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: The Last Dragonlord
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Approving nods and whispers greeted his words. The Cassorins had the ending they wanted.
He drank.
The wine was rich and strong. As was traditional with a farewell cup, it was spiced with overtones of both sweet and bitter, this one more bitter than most. Or was that only because he’d no wish to be drinking this one in the first place?
Blast the girl for doing this to him.
Licking his lips as he finished, Linden reflected he had never tasted quite that combination of herbs before, but then he’d never partaken of a farewell cup in Cassori, either. There was a faint metallic aftertaste to this one that sat harshly on his tongue.
I daresay they have their own traditional herbs, though I prefer the Yerrin or Kelnethi brews.
He returned the goblet to Sherrine. She raised it and turned the goblet over in the traditional ending. The few drops of wine left spattered across the white tile floor. They looked like blood, he thought, remembering Maurynna’s wounds.
Sherrine made him a courtesy; a servant came up with her cloak. “Farewell, Linden. May the gods watch over you.”
And with those words, Sherrine swirled the cloak over her shoulders and drew the hood up, shielding her face from the eager stares of those around her. Head bowed, she left the room.
Well done, Linden, Kief said in his mind. I know how hard that was for you.
Do you really, Kief? And now I am leaving.
He’d give Sherrine enough time to get well away and bid their host good-bye. And no one and nothing was stopping him this time.
 
Turning off the road into a thicket, Sherrine reined her horse in just inside the shelter of the trees. She fumbled desperately at her belt pouch for a moment before her nervous fingers found the vials they sought. With frantic haste she selected one, broke the brown wax seal, and gulped down the contents. Tossing the vial away, she dismounted and, after looping the palfrey’s reins around a low branch, walked a short distance into the woods. She waited tensely.
But Althume was as good as his word. Her stomach roiled.
Sherrine fell to her knees and vomited forth the wine she had just shared with Linden. Spasm after spasm of nausea shook her, and the heavy supper the mage had warned her to eat followed the wine. Even as the tears streamed down her face she welcomed the sickness—else she would have fared far worse.
Linden would have no such reprieve. And it was no more than he deserved.
After what seemed an eternity of retching, Sherrine returned to her horse, one hand pressed to her aching stomach. The little mare snorted at the scents clinging to her mistress, but stood steady. With shaking hands, Sherrine untied the waterskin from behind the saddle and washed her face. Then she rinsed her mouth again and again, seeking to rid herself of the taste of wine and herbs that lingered on her tongue. Then she broke the white seal on the other vial and drank that one down.
She rested her head against the saddle for a few moments, then wearily pulled herself onto the palfrey’s back. She could rest well this night. She had her revenge. Sherrine wondered how Linden was faring. And, turning her face up to the rain just beginning, smiled.
 
Linden grumbled as he swung into the saddle. First this ill-timed feast; now a blasted storm was brewing. He’d be lucky to get to the other side of the river before the rain began.
The gelding’s hooves clattered on the cobblestones as Linden wheeled it around. A ball of coldfire burst out of the darkness at his eye level, momentarily blinding him. He spat out a curse and threw up a hand to shield his eyes.
Kief said, “Apologies, Linden; I didn’t mean to blind you. Perhaps you should delay returning. You don’t have a cloak with you; you’ll be soaked if it starts—”
Mindful of the watching grooms, Linden switched to mindspeech and exploded,
Damn it all, Kief! A little wetting won’t hurt me—I’ve fared far worse than that over the years. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I know bloody well how pleased you are at our estrangement. But I was
invited to this feast before that happened and I have every intention of going tonight. You and Tarlna have been delaying me ever since Sherrine left. You will not change my mind—understand that. And now I’m leaving whether you like it or not.
Fat, cold drops of rain began to fall, first a hesitant spattering, then a steady downpour. Kief stood oblivious to it, looking up at Linden.
“Were we truly that transparent?” Kief asked ruefully.
“Yes,” Linden snapped. “Now get out of my way. And get that damned coldfire out of my eyes.”
The coldfire retreated to hover by Kief’s shoulder. “Will you take some of our escort with you?”
Linden touched the greatsword slung across his back; ever since that scare in the woods, he’d taken it with him whenever he left the city proper. “Kief, I do know how to use this—remember? And you don’t really think any footpad with even half his wits will be out in this rain to waylay travelers, do you?”
And that mage has made no move against any of us. “Let your guards stay dry
.”
For a moment he thought the older Dragonlord would argue further, but Kief stepped back, bowing his head in acceptance.
Linden urged the gelding past Kief. He wondered if he’d be able to find the site of the
tisrahn
by himself; Maurynna had no doubt left for it long ago. He’d have to go soaking wet, as well. There was no time to spare to return home for dry clothes and a cloak. He’d not give her more excuse to be angry with him than she already had.
It was a long ride to the ferry and Linden didn’t dare ask the gelding to gallop in the sloppy footing and poor light. As it was, the horse shied and snorted at the heavy rain and wind gusting through the tree branches. Linden thought he heard thunder far off in the distance. He pressed the gelding as much as he thought safe, but the trip was taking far longer than he’d hoped.
At last he was on the straight stretch of road that led through the little meadow to the ferry landing. He could make
out the ribbon of darkness that was the Uildodd in the distance.
Damn! Looks like the ferry’s on the other side,
he thought. Since the way was clear, he urged his mount to a canter.
A short time later the gelding’s hooves thudded on the wooden landing. Sure enough, the boat was gone. Linden set the ball of coldfire to hover high over his head; a distant “Hallooo!” told him the ferrymen knew they had a fare waiting. He wrapped his arms around himself, hunching his shoulders against the rain, and called up a heat spell. Once again he heard thunder rumble in the distance as he settled himself for the wait.
Linden licked his lips and grimaced. The taste of those herbs still lingered. Ah, well; the sooner he got to the
tisrahn,
the sooner he could get a cup of wine to clear that wretched taste from his mouth.
He smiled. And the sooner he got there, the sooner he’d see Maurynna again.
He hoped the ferry returned quickly.
The hot, humid air, thick
with perfumes and incense, clung stickily to Maurynna. The rich aromas of roasting goat and pig wove through the more exotic scents, drawing them together in the tapestry of smells that Maurynna associated with her voyages to Assantik. All around her the crowd surged through the noisy darkness, laughing, chattering, and singing. Now and again ululations rose above the steady beat of the drums. She was suddenly homesick for the feel of the
Sea Mist
rolling beneath her feet, the sharp tang of the salt breezes blowing in her face, crisp and clean.
She wiped the sweat from her brow. Maylin appeared at her side; she said something that Maurynna couldn’t hear over the clamor. Bending, Maurynna heard: “Let’s get closer to the dancers! I can’t see over all these people.”
Though the last thing she wanted to do was wade deeper into the crowd, Maurynna hadn’t the spirit to say no. She still couldn’t quite believe that Linden had played her for a fool. So, with Maylin following on her heels like a dinghy behind its mother ship, Maurynna elbowed a way through the tightly packed celebrants to the center of the courtyard where the dancers performed around a bonfire.
If only I could have asked Otter to mindspeak Linden when he was first late. Though I don’t think I would have dared.
She just hoped Linden wasn’t with Lady Sherrine.
As they drew closer, Maurynna could hear the clashing of the tiny brass cymbals the dancers wore on their fingers. All around her people swayed and stamped their feet, mesmerized by the music.
The rhythm of the drums pounded in her bones now. Almost against her will, the deep boom, double-boom of the
daggas
set her feet moving. Weaving in and out of the
daggas’
heavy pulse were the sharper-toned
zamlas,
little brass drums with dyed goat hide stretched across them. Above the beat of the drums swirled the melody of the shrill pipes.
“Look at them! They’re so graceful!” Maylin yelled up at her.
Maurynna grinned back, remembering her first sight of Assantikkan dancers. “Aren’t they, though!”
She set her worries adrift on the music and enjoyed the dancers circling the bonfire. They twisted and turned, men and women, bodies impossibly serpentine, their arms echoing with movement the intricate melodies of the pipes, hips and feet following the drumbeats. Like everyone around her, Maurynna swayed to the music, stamping her feet in time with the dancers’.
One moment she was lost in the music. The next, the realization that Linden still wasn’t there shattered her contentment. She went cold inside and looked around.
No, no bright blond head towered above the crowd. She tugged nervously on a lock of her hair. Where on earth was Linden? He should have been here long ago; Aunt Elenna would have given him directions. Surely he wouldn’t dishonor Almered this way.
It’s not like it’s very far away from Aunt Elenna’s. Or hard to find, either.
A sudden thought made her feel very small.
Could he have forgotten? Just let him not be with Lady Sherrine.
She wrapped both hands in her hair now, pulling until it hurt. She was desperate to leave, to go look for Linden. Which was stupid; she hadn’t the faintest idea where to start.
Something cold stung her face. She looked up, wondering. A second fat, cold raindrop slapped her cheek. “Ouch!” she cried, and the scattered drops became a downpour.
At once the courtyard became a madhouse of activity. People rushed for the arcades lining the courtyard, servants ran everywhere at once, dragging tables laden with food and drink under shelter. The music ended with a discordant squawk as the performers joined the laughing rout.
Moments later Maurynna stood alone in the courtyard, staring up at the sky, oblivious to the soaking rain. The sense of urgency overwhelmed her.
Maybe he left word at the house.
She spun on her heel, mind made up. She joined the throng crowding the arcade, calling for her cousin.
“Here! Over here!”
Maurynna craned to see over the crowd; many of the As-santikkans were as tall as she. At last she caught a glimpse of a pale hand waving at her. She elbowed her way through the crowd.
Maylin—as Maurynna should have guessed—had managed to find a spot by one of the tables of food. She stood, smiling smugly between bites of a pasty filled with honey and dried fruit. “Want some?” she offered as Maurynna squeezed in next to her.
The sight of the sticky sweet turned Maurynna’s stomach. “No! Maylin, I … I must leave. I can’t—” Someone jostled between them; Maurynna pushed back to her cousin’s side.
Maylin finished the pasty in three quick bites. “It’s because of Linden, isn’t it? Rynna, he may have been delayed at that feast. Maybe he had to talk to the other Dragonlords. Won’t Almered be offended if you leave now?”
“Very likely, yes,” Maurynna admitted. An elbow dug into her back; she shifted away from it. “But I’ll have to risk that. I want to go home, in case—anyway, this crowd is driving me mad. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to, you know. I’ll leave Gavren to see you home.”
Maylin sighed. “Don’t be an ass; Mother would have my head if I let you go unescorted. Please don’t tell me you’re expecting to find a message from Linden waiting for you.
“Oh, don’t glare at me like that, Rynna. You’ve been mooning about like a lovesick calf for days. We’ve been worried about you ever since the night Lady Sherrine attacked you and he said he couldn’t see you anymore—for no good reason that I can see.”
Maylin set her hands on her hips. “I know you’ve always loved the legends about him, and believe me, I can understand
how exciting it was to meet him. I’m just afraid you’re making too much of it. He didn’t ask you to dally with him, did he? But he wasn’t at all shy to ask Lady Sherrine to. Face it, Rynna—whatever his interest in you was, it wasn’t that. You’re a friend of Otter’s, no more.”
Maylin’s voice turned gentle. “And I don’t want to see you hurt over him. You’re eating yourself alive, Rynna. You’re … not like yourself,” she finished with an uncertain, frustrated gesture.
Maurynna forced back angry words and hurt tears. When she could trust her voice, she said, “Don’t think I haven’t told myself all that already, Maylin. Over and over and over. But I just”—the memory of the kiss in the garden filled her—“can’t make myself believe it.”
“You’re being a fool, Rynna.”
Maurynna said sadly, “I know. But I can’t help it. I can’t explain it, either; I wonder if this is what being under a geas is like.”
Maylin threw her hands up. “Oh, wonderful,” she said, sticking her head out in the rain to glare up at the heavens as if holding the gods responsible for her cousin’s madness. “Now the girl’s talking like a bard’s tale!” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to wait for the rain to end? No, I didn’t think so. Very well, let’s be off. Besides, I forgot to set the bread dough to rise for tomorrow’s baking.”
Maurynna swallowed. “Maylin—thank you.”
 
With a grunt and a heave the gelding scrambled out of the ferry and onto the landing. It snorted at the hollow booming under its hooves and danced.
“Stupid creature,” Linden said, keeping a firm grip on the reins as he led the horse to solid ground. “You’ve done this how many times now? And has the dock opened beneath you yet?”
The gelding’s rolling eye and rapidly flicking ears said,
You never know.
Laughing, Linden tossed a coin to the ferrymen. “And let’s
hope I’m the last to drag you out on such a miserable night.”
The younger ferryman caught the coin out of the air. The older one smiled, revealing stained and missing teeth.
“Thankee, m‘lord. There’s a nice bit of fire waiting in yon hut. Would ’ee like to warm up by it?”
Linden vaulted into the saddle. “No, thank you. I’ve already kept a lady waiting for me for too long.”
The ferrymen laughed in understanding and ran for the hut. Linden urged the reluctant gelding into the mud of the road.
Once more he pushed it as fast as he dared; no sense in having it get caught in the mud and strain a hock or fall down. It was bad enough that the idiot animal shied and tried to bolt at each blaze of lightning and peal of thunder. He had to concentrate every moment on keeping it under control.
“Ah, Shan, Shan,” Linden muttered. “If only you were here.”
He kept his head lowered against the rain driving into his face, only looking up from time to time to gauge his progress.
They passed the clump of birches that marked the bend in the road, then the dead oak blasted in some earlier storm. The gelding trotted on, snorting nervously.
There was the big field stretching away to his right. That meant he was only a quarter mile or so from the city. Good; he’d be at the Vanadins’ soon. Maybe Maurynna had waited for him … .
Movement flickered in the corner of his eye. He jerked his head around, searching the darkness.
Two horsemen were riding out of the woods at the far side of the field as if they had been waiting for him. And he was a rock lizard if they meant him well. Linden reached for Tsan Rhilin.
But before Linden’s hand reached the hilt one of the men gestured. Pain exploded through the Dragonlord’s body. He screamed at the sudden agony and half-fell from the saddle. Before he could claw his way back up, the terrified gelding slewed around and jumped sideways, flinging him to the ground, and made its escape.
Linden writhed in agony in the muddy road, each wave of pain worse than the one before.
 
She’d been a fool to think that he’d have left word at the house. Damn him to every one of the nine Yerrin hells; Dragonlord or no, he had no right to treat her this way and dishonor his invitation from Almered.
And Otter had said.Linden Rathan wasn’t an ass.
A wave of panic hit Maurynna. It was gone so quickly that she thought she’d imagined it. But an uneasy feeling lingered, and without thinking she was stripping off her gown and shift in exchange for breeches, tunic, and boots. She snatched up the belt with her sailor’s dirk and made her way as quietly as she could downstairs.
Maurynna poked her head into the kitchen. Maylin was kneading dough.
“I’ll be upstairs in a bit,” Maylin said as she slapped and pummeled the floury mass.
“Ah, um—I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d go over some accounts in the office.” She cleared her throat. “Don’t wait up for me.”
Maylin blew a tendril of hair out of her face. “Oh, very well,” she said, and went back to her dough.
Maurynna crept down the hall and tossed her cloak around her shoulders. She eased the door open and slid outside into the rain. She had to find Linden, damn him. But where?

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