Dragon Stones (15 page)

She felt a stinging wind blow through the room, tasted salt dust on her lips; she saw a small settlement, high walls that helped to block the clouds of dust, deep deep wells to draw water from far below the cracked, parched, barren land.  This place she knew well.  "In the Salt Flats," she said, "near to Flaurent."

"Flaurent?" Torrant said.  "How did he make it that far?"

"Perhaps he stole one of the eagles you entrusted to Dosen," Orioke said.  "He
is
an accomplished thief, after all.
"

"Ask her, ask her," Tomari said.

"Tolaria, how did Adaran reach Flaurent?"

"He has not reached it yet."

"Tolaria, how did he get near to Flaurent?"

"He rode a giant bird."

"Where did he get the bird, Tolaria?"

"He slew the well-fed man and took his mount."

"Well-fed man?  That can only be Dosen," Torrant said.  "The fool got himself killed and let the thief escape."

"I told you we should have sent Gelt to the mountains."

"That would have been difficult, as Gelt was busy in Enshenneah at the time, and has not returned even yet."

"Are my lieges done bickering?" Orioke said.  "If so, I would break Tolaria's trance.  Maintaining it is a bit … draining, for both of us."

"You will maintain her trance as long as necessary," Tomari snapped.  "You arrogated this power over her, and we expect you to use it as we see fit."

"Of course, my lord," Orioke said.  "But do you not have all the information you need?  You know Adaran's location; you may send a delegation to Flaurent and negotiate for him to be remanded to your custody."

Tomari snorted.  "A delegation?  Negotiate?  Why not just send a few armed men to take him?"

"I doubt you would want to spare the necessary force."

"It is a school, not a fortress."

"Wrong," Torrant said.  "It
is
a fortress, guarded by creatures of the Salt Flats, strong and tireless, able to travel like dust along the wind."

"You speak of the withered ones," Orioke said.  "But there is another guardian, a powerful spirit named Deliban, which dwells beneath and has power over the earth."

"I have no knowledge of such an entity," Torrant said.

"I would not expect you to.  It is bound to the service of the college and spends all its time underground, digging ever deeper wells, shoring up the ramparts, bringing salt to the surface for shipment to Achengate.  The headmistress would only bring Deliban to bear in a time of dire threat."

After a moment, Tomari said: "We must have this creature!"

"It is bound to Flaurent, as I mentioned."

"What is bound may be broken," Tomari said.  "You are a wizard.  Can your magic not claim power over Deliban?"

"I can try, my lord, but the binding to Flaurent is very old."  Then:  "Actually, that may work in our favor, if the spell has been allowed to weaken; and we do have access to a crucial piece of information.  Tolaria, what is Deliban's one, true name, the name that was used to bind it to Flaurent?"

And, because she could not stop herself, she told him.

Some time later, Tolaria opened her eyes to find Tomari and Torrant sitting silently at the foot of her bed, watching her.  The wizard was no longer present, as far as she could tell.

"Look, Torrant," Tomari said.  "She is awake."

She sat up, her head throbbing painfully, the way it used to when she was a novice, new to Flaurent and unaccustomed to the effects of the vapors.

"Yes, I'm awake," she said.  "I wish I weren't."

"Do you still think Orioke mad?" Torrant said.

"I don't know if he's mad or not.  He was not lying about his power."  She leaned forward, massaging her temples with her fingertips.

"You seem to be in some pain.  Did the wizard hurt you?"

"I have a headache, probably as a side effect of the way he evoked my trance.  It will pass."

"Perhaps we can make you feel better."  Torrant moved around behind her, began to massage her shoulders.  She loathed him, but he knew what he was doing; his clever fingers expertly kneaded her muscles.  She closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy it, just a little.  "I think we should move you out of the tower," he said, one of his hands moving to the base of her neck, the other to the small of her back.  "You should be closer to us.  All this climbing up and down the stairs has grown tiresome."

"Yes," Tomari said, as he removed her slippers and began rubbing her feet.  He took less care than his brother did.  "Most tiresome."

"We are not so odious as you think."  Torrant's hand ventured lower.  "You may come to enjoy our company."

It was time to end this.  She pulled her feet out of Tomari's grip, stood and moved away from the bed.  Torrant had somehow managed to work her shirt loose; she hastily rearranged it, covering herself.

Tomari stood as well, his face flushed, his hands formed into fists.  Through his tunic, she could see his arousal, fading as she watched.  "You are a fool.  Any woman should be pleased to receive our attentions."  He whirled and stormed out of the room.

Torrant merely looked at her, his expression amused.  "You have left him frustrated again.  No doubt I will find some hetaera in his chambers tomorrow morning."

"The ladies of your court may let you and your brother take such liberties, but I am not one them."

"You will be," he said.

The storm lashed the island for hours, lasting until morning before moving off to the west, leaving behind clear skies and the impending dawn.  Through the gaping hole in the mountain, Ponn could see the first streaks of the rising sun seeping through the purplish remnants of night.  The storm would likely be departing his village soon; it would have begun lashing the shore long before the rain had stopped here.  He hoped the roof of his inn had held against the wind, that his family had stayed warm and safe and dry.

"
Man.
"

He looked across the cavern as T'Sian slipped off the bulging dome of rock that she had used as bedding for the night.  Wisps of steam rose from tiny cracks in the stone; if he were to cross the cavern and touch it with his bare hand, his flesh would no doubt burn and blister.  "
It is time to go.
"

"I told you," he said.  "My name is Pyodor Ponn, or simply Ponn.  My name is not
man
."

She moved across the whorled obsidian floor toward him; her scales on the stone sounded like a group of soldiers dragging their fallen comrades on their shields.  "
Very well, Pyodor Ponn.  But it is still time to go.
"

He eyed her serpentine form.  "Should I climb on your back?"

"
I will carry you.  I am not a horse to be ridden.
"

She reached out with an iron-shod forelimb; her talon closed around his body, each finger as thick as his arm
.  Now he knew how the mouse felt when the hawk snatched it.  She gripped him so tightly that he cried out, feeling the breath being crushed out of his body.  "Too hard!" he gasped.

The dragon loosened her grip.  "
You creatures are so fragile
," she said.  "
Is that better?
"

"Yes.  Thank you."

Moving easily on her three free legs, the dragon walked to the hole in the mountainside, climbed to the edge, and then leapt outward.  For a dizzying moment they hung in the air; then they plunged toward the jumbled lava plain far below.  T'Sian's wings snapped open as the black rock rushed to meet them.  The thin, tough membranes caught the wind, billowing like the canvas of a great ship.  She leveled off and they streaked across the island, scant yards above the rock; then she banked to the right, following the curve of the mountain, bringing them over the sea.  In a tight, dizzying circle, they were over land again, rising on the warm air of the volcano, climbing into the lightening sky.

Ponn could see the lagoon far below, clogged by a mass of splintered wood and ghost-white canvas, rising and falling with the swells.  T'Sian had destroyed his ship, and claimed to have have found none alive on board; if Pord had stowed away on the vessel, his body would be down there among the boards, bobbing lifeless and battered.

Then the cove vanished from his sight as they turned to the north.  The sea receded beneath his dangling feet, waves becoming foamy streaks, then disappearing into a rippled sheet of grey-green water.  He found himself clutching at the warm, pebbly scales of the dragon's fingers, fear of falling leading the rodent to grip the raptor.  The wind pilfered the warmth from his body though his still-damp clothing; soon he was shivering with the chill.  He drew up his legs, trying to make himself smaller, to increase contact with the dragon's body.

They stopped climbing once they reached the lower level of clouds, turning toward the northeast.  He felt a surge of momentum, like a strong gust of wind in the sails, with every beat of the dragon's great wings.  In the distance, moving over the low mountains that separated eastern Enshenneah from Barbareth, he saw the dark, swirling edge of the storm that had buffeted the island.  The dragon kept well clear of it, staying parallel to the coast.  Ponn could see high surf pummeling the black sand beaches near his home, the waves little more than soft white lines of foam from this height; and then the beaches gradually gave way to rocky shores, which grew into the craggy toes of the mist-shrouded Oronj Mountains, the high peaks lost in haze and storm and distance.

Suddenly their forward motion stopped, as abruptly as if they'd smashed into a wall.  He felt the downdraft from her wings; each thrust felt sufficient to knock over a row of small, poorly-built houses.  She extended her long neck, lifted her claw, the two motions bringing her head down to within a few feet of Ponn's.  "
Man!
" she said.  "
I see one of your cities along the coast ahead.  What is it called?
"

He peered into the distance, but couldn't perceive the city; as far as he could tell the coastline went on forever, miles and miles of cliffs and rockfalls gradually blurring into the green plains of Barbareth.  "It must be Dyvversant," he answered, shouting to be heard over the wind.  "That's the only large city in this region.  Do you see a harbor?"

She turned to look; the glowing orbs of her eyes narrowed.  "
Yes.  A large one.  Would the men who brought you to the island have stopped there?
"

"Very likely.  Outside Enshenneah, it would be the nearest town of any size where they could rest and resupply."

"
Then we will stop there as well.
"

She lowered him again, pulled in her wings, and fell into a terrifying dive; as before, she leveled out, converting the downward momentum into forward speed.  Before long, Ponn could make out the city she had seen, little more than a brown smear on the verdant coastal plain of southern Barbareth.  It was certainly Dyvversant; he had never seen it from above before, but he recognized the contours of the bay, the shape of the tor that loomed over it to the west.

As they approached, the dragon began descending toward the
winding canyons south of the city, where runoff from the mountains had carved a labyrinth of channels great and small.  Ponn could see the entire network of gullies and ravines; many were dry this late in the season, but some still contained ribbons of cold, grey water.  They landed in one of the dry ones, a broad, shallow ravine with a sandy floor overgrown by clumps of tall grass and grey weeds.  T'Sian beat her wings rapidly as they touched down, kicking up an enormous cloud of dust.  She released Ponn roughly, as if she were casting dice; he stumbled away, trying to avoid being stepped on.

T'Sian said:  "
Wait here.
"  She moved up the canyon, around a bend, out of sight.  Ponn, relieved to be back on the ground and having no intention of disobeying another of the dragon's orders, found a large, smooth rock and sat.  Before long, she returned, walking upon human legs.  Her scales, reduced to the form of a clinging garment, glittered in the sunlight; her mane of tawny hair spilled over her shoulders and reached well down
her back.  She looked like a striking, voluptuous woman, for the most part, but she was hardly
inconspicuous.  
She came up to him him and said, "We will walk from here."

He nodded, open-mouthed, trying to formulate a question.

"Do you mean to speak, or merely to stare?"

"I apologize," he said.  "The change in your appearance confounds me."

"It is meant to."

"Tell me, what are your plans once we reach Dyvversant?"

"Plans?"

"I mean, what are we to do?  Do you intend to walk into the nearest building and demand information?"

"Yes."

"Oh."  Of course the dragon would prefer a direct approach.  "The thing is, quite a bit of black market shipping comes and goes through this town.  If you start asking questions in the wrong places, you are likely to end up with your throat cut."