Dagger's Point (Shadow series) (21 page)

“Someone else must know,” Tanis said sullenly, “or how would you have found out?”

“As best I know,” Rhadaman said gently, “I am the only mage in Zaravelle capable of casting a farspeaking spell for the purpose of communicating with mages in other far cities, such as Allanmere. News has already reached Zaravelle by way of trade ships down the Brightwater that Allanmere’s Heir vanished from the city a few weeks ago, forcing the High Lord and Lady to choose a new heir. I hope for your sakes that no one else in the city has the knowledge to connect the disappearance of—your pardon, lady—Jaellyn the Cursed from Allanmere with the explosion of numerous light globes in the market. And certainly no one but myself would know that the calibrating spell on my scales failed when a very unusual-looking lass brushed against them two days ago. There have been rumors about you among the mages of Allanmere, Lady Jaellyn, for many years, and I’ve had the opportunity to hear many of those rumors.”

Jael and Tanis exchanged glances, but Jael stubbornly said nothing. Tanis squeezed her fingers reassuringly, but she could feel his hand trembling.

“I’m not surprised you came to Zaravelle,” Rhadaman continued, “only that it took you so long to come here. A ship down the Brightwater and across the coast would have had you here weeks ago. But it’s really none of my concern.”

He was interrupted by a gentle tap at the door. Rhadaman accepted a tray laden with tea, wine, and pastries and laid it on the table between them.

“Please, refresh yourselves,” Rhadaman encouraged them. “No drugs or potions, I assure you.” He frowned slightly when neither of them reached for the tray, then shrugged and poured himself a goblet of wine and nibbled at a pastry.

“I haven’t yet notified the High Lord and Lady of Allanmere that their daughter was here in Zaravelle,” Rhadaman said after a moment’s silence. “I did speak with a mage I know in Allanmere, and she informed me that a new Heir had been chosen a surprisingly short time after you’d disappeared, and the High Lord and Lady had seemingly made no serious effort to find you. That makes me wonder if your ‘disappearance’ wasn’t permitted, or even encouraged.”

“I chose to go,” Jael said boldly. “Nobody shipped me out of Allanmere to get me out of the way for Markus. But that’s none of your concern, either. If what you’re wondering is whether my parents would pay you a ransom for my safe return, yes, they will. So you may as well tell us what you want.”

Rhadaman stared at her blankly for a moment, then smiled slowly, shaking his head.

“My dear child—”

“I’m not a child!” Jael snapped.

Rhadaman inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“Of course, you’re not,” he said. “Forgive me. Lady Jaellyn, I have no intention of holding you against your will, nor of harming you in any way. But you came to my shop for a reason, and I very much doubt that reason was this potion your friend brought—although it is an unusual mixture, I admit—or you’d have simply brought it yourself when you first entered my shop. Since a goodly number of thefts coincided with the explosion of the light globes in the market, and since your friend is wearing a token of the Guild of Thieves—”

Tanis glanced down at his hand and flushed, belatedly covering the token with his other hand.

“—I assume there’s something else you want,” Rhadaman finished smoothly. “Something you weren’t prepared to buy or ask for openly, and something the two of you must have realized you were taking a very great risk to steal. Perhaps if you are willing to speak honestly with me, some arrangement can be reached.”

Jael glanced at Tanis. Almost imperceptibly, Tanis shook his head, and Jael said nothing.

“No? Very well.” Rhadaman sighed and pulled a scroll from his pocket, holding it out. “Your formula, then. I regret I don’t have all of the necessary ingredients to prepare this mixture for you. You needn’t pay me the two Suns we agreed upon, young Caden, or whatever your name is; I’m pleased to be of service. My servant will conduct you to the door, and you can be about your business, whatever it is. I’ll warn you, though, that my belongings—both in my shop and in my home—will be very thoroughly protected. I’ll keep my peace about your presence in the city so long as you make no attempt to violate those protections. Here, take your formula.” He dropped it on the table.

The scroll vanished almost instantly into Tanis’s sleeve, and Jael was halfway to the door before she realized Tanis had yanked her up from her seat. She caught at the doorframe, however, bringing Tanis to an abrupt halt.

“Wait,” she said.

Rhadaman glanced at her, politely curious. Tanis scowled and pulled at her wrist.

“You can’t trust that mage,” he scowled. “Let’s get out of here while we can.”

Jael hesitated a moment longer, then decided.

“I’ll talk to you,” she told Rhadaman. “But not here. Somewhere else. The public room of an inn, or a tavern, maybe.”

“Very well,” Rhadaman said, unperturbed. “But for your sake, I suggest you choose a location where we can at least expect to talk without half the city hearing your business. Mine, of course, is no secret.”

This made sense, and rather sullenly, Tanis suggested the Brimming Mug, a rather expensive establishment only a few moments’ walk away. Rhadaman insisted on buying supper for them all, and they were seated in a quiet corner booth that gave themsome privacy, but where Jael was reassured that the other patrons would not see anything unusual occurring.

“We weren’t intending to come here,” Jael said, choosing her words carefully. “We were actually going west from Allanmere, wanting to see the unexplored country past the Willow River. But in Willow Bend we paid some trappers to take us on their raft down to Tilwich, and they drugged and robbed us. We got away with their raft, but we drifted past Tilwich—”

“—and there’s nothing but wilderness between Tilwich and Zaravelle,” Rhadaman said, nodding. “And that explains the thefts, of course; you’d require money for horses and supplies. Or passage back to Allanmere, perhaps?”

Jael took a deep breath; she’d considered the possibility more than once in the last hour.

“No,” she said. “Horses and supplies to go north again, and then west.”

Rhadaman nodded again.

“No less than what I’d expect of the daughter of the renowned High Lord and Lady of Allanmere,” he said. “But money you already have, and the formula for your mixture, if that’s important to you, and I certainly have no horses or supplies for travelers. What brought you to my shop?”

Jael exchanged troubled glances with Tanis again, but it was too late for reticence.

“The Book of Whispering Serpents,” Tanis said at last.

Rhadaman’s brows drew down and he sat back in his chair, gazing doubtfully at Jael and Tanis.

“I can sense some magic in you, of an odd sort,” Rhadaman said slowly, pointing to Jael, “but neither of you is a mage, and that is a deadly dangerous book. What do you want with it?”

Jael nibbled on a roll while she considered her answer. She’d given her word to Blade that she’d get the book if she could, but she’d also once sworn she would never tell anyone of her dealings with the assassin.

“I owe someone very powerful a favor,” Jael said carefully, “and that person wants the book. I swore I’d get it if I could.”

“And what will this person do with the book?” Rhadaman asked pointedly.

“I don’t know,” Jael admitted. “But she swore—well, I can’t tell you what she swore. But I believe she won’t do any harm with it. And I think if I give it to her, something good might come of it.”

Rhadaman was silent for a long moment, sipping his wine consideringly.

“This person you speak of is in Allanmere?” he asked at last.

Jael nodded.

“I believe you would not aid in bringing harm to your home, even to pay a debt,” Rhadaman said, gazing into Jael’s eyes. “Very well, Lady Jaellyn, I’ll bargain with you for the Book of Whispering Serpents, trusting that you have been honest with me in what you’ve said.”

“What do you want for it?” Tanis asked warily. “We don’t have much money to spare.”

Rhadaman smiled.

“I wouldn’t want you to have to steal any more,” he said. “No, we’ll find something else. Where did you say you were bound, west of Tilwich?”

“No, Tilwich was just to get supplies,” Jael said before Tanis could stop her. “West of Willow Bend.”

“Hraram.” Rhadaman offered her a seed cake. “Have another. Do you have a map of your planned path?”

Tanis shook his head.

“Not here in my pocket,” he said warily. “Besides, we couldn’t find any maps of the land west of the Willow River.”

“There are none,” Rhadaman said. “Certainly none here in Zaravelle. But I’ve spoken to trappers who work west of Willow Bend, some of whom are willing to gather herbs and the like for me, and I’ve heard a few things you may find it profitable to know. After the Willow River is more forest for three leagues west. Here.” He pulled a roll of blank parchment, a pen, and ink from some mysterious recess in his robe. Dipping the pen neatly into the ink, he scribbled a seemingly random series of lines and curves that gradually coalesced into a sort of map.

“Here is Willow Bend, and the Willow River,” Rhadaman said, indicating the marks on the map. “The forest continues west as I’ve said, and there are a very few tiny towns, trappers’ huts and the like. The forest breaks here, and here is a small area of plains and low stone hills riddled with caves. South of those foothills is said to be another forest, called the Singing Forest. The trappers avoid that forest, say it’s cursed. But look at these hills. Dragons nest in these foothills.”

Jael shivered. Dragons, and they’d been traveling blindly directly toward them. Perhaps the stroke of ill fortune that had sent them so far out of their way had not been such a curse after all.

“None of the trappers who gather plants for me will go near those hills,” Rhadaman said. “Dragons are sometimes slain in the area north of the Brightwater—north of Allanmere, that is—but they don’t nest there, and they’re never seen at all here in the south. I’ve had great difficulty obtaining fresh dragon eggshells, a vital ingredient in certain powerful healing potions.”

“No surprise,” Tanis said wryly. “Nobody would be foolish enough to go near a dragon nesting ground.”

“No one who didn’t have to pass that way regardless,” Rhadaman agreed. “No one who might agree to fetch a fresh bit of eggshell in exchange for the Book of Whispering Serpents.” He fell silent.

Jael looked at the map and scowled.

“You said the Singing Forest is south of the foothills,” she said slowly. “What’s north?”

“Mountains,” Rhadaman said simply. “They’re believed to be impassable by everyone I’ve spoken to. And no one knows how far south the Singing Forest extends, because it’s avoided so completely. Those who have ventured into it have never returned.”

Jael frowned at the map. The Kresh could have passed the foothills easily. Dragons couldn’t kill what they couldn’t see or catch. There was no such advantage for herself or Tanis.

“I’ve learned enough from the trappers that I could create a Gate to take you near the foothills,” Rhadaman told them. “That would take days from your journey. Dragons have poor vision at night; perhaps you might choose to approach the nest then. There may well be no dragons there now; it’s late enough in the spring that this year’s hatchlings may have already flown, and they may have moved back to the mountains. I think it’s likely, though, that a few nests are still occupied. You might prefer to make the attempt during the day, when the mother dragons are hunting food for their young.”

Rhadaman shrugged.

“Or you may decide my price is too high and choose not to do it at all. Nevertheless, I’ll Gate you north and west as I’ve said, whether you decide to get the eggshell for me or not. I’ll give the two of you translation spells, as well, in case you should find yourself in a difficult situation such as this again. That much I’ll do as a courtesy to my mage friends in Allanmere, who would expect me to do all I could to help you.”

“What’s to stop us from saying yes, we’ll do it, and then just keeping the book?” Tanis challenged.

Jael winced. There was no chance, of course, that a mage of Rhadaman’s experience would simply give them the book and trust that they’d bring the eggshell back ... someday. But she’d hoped that the mage would secure their promise with some kind of magical spell or binding—a geas, perhaps, which Jael could then break. She had no desire to cheat the mage, but she could just as easily come back to the nests on their journey back to Allanmere, when the nests would be long abandoned, and then have the eggshell sent down the Brightwater to Rhadaman. Maybe the eggshell wouldn’t be as fresh as Rhadaman would like, but that was better than Jael and Tanis facing down an angry dragon themselves.

Rhadaman only smiled at Tanis’s angry words.

“I’ll give you a box for the eggshell,” he said. “When you place the eggshell in the box, it will be replaced by the Book of Whispering Serpents.”

“And we’re to trust
you
to give us the book?” Tanis asked derisively.

Rhadaman shrugged again.

“There’s no mage in Zaravelle who could verify the exchange spell when I cast it on the box,” he said apologetically. “But I’d be doing myself no good by cheating the daughter of the High Lord and Lady of Allanmere.”

Unless, of course, he wanted her dead, and the eggshell was only an excuse. Almost immediately, however, Jael rejected that idea. There was little enough reason for anyone to kill her now, not after Markus had been declared Heir. Besides, if Rhadaman had wanted her dead, there were certainly far less elaborate ways of doing it, and he’d certainly had the opportunity when she was inside his house.

“All right,” Tanis said suddenly, before Jael could answer. “It’s a bargain.”

Jael stared at Tanis in amazement, but Rhadaman only smiled.

“I’m glad,” he said. “When will you be ready to leave? I believe I can open the Gate as soon as sunset tomorrow.”

“We can be ready by then,” Tanis told him. “We still have to buy horses and the rest of our supplies. Where do you want to do the Gate?”