Dragon Stones (2 page)

Unfortunately, she was not permitted to show off her skills as an oracle to any of these visitors, because—

The door to Klem's office opened, and her sour-faced superior poked his head out into the barren waiting room.  If a raisin had been given ears, nose, and mouth and trained to speak, she thought, it would likely look and sound like Klem.

"Tolaria.  So sorry to keep you waiting.  Please come in."

She entered the man's office, finding nowhere to sit.  Klem did not trouble himself with such foolishness as chairs for visitors.  The room smelled of food; he had probably kept her waiting so that he could dawdle over his breakfast.

The senior oracle settled into the chair behind his desk and regarded her with small, sunken eyes, his raisin face inscrutable.  Was he waiting for her to say something?  Had she transgressed again in some way?  She would not speak first, she decided.  He had summoned her; let him begin the conversation.

She had not been in this room since the day of her arrival, when she had handed him her letter of introduction from the headmistress at Flaurent.  Tolaria had not been permitted to read the missive, but she had been given to understand that it named her the most gifted oracle that the headmistress had seen in a generation. Klem had perused the letter, given Tolaria an unfriendly look, and promptly assigned her to dispute mediation.

Finally she could no longer bear the silence, and said:  "Sir, may I ask what this is—"

"I've received a request from Lord Dunshandrin," he said.

"Oh?"

"He has requested the immediate dispatch of our best and most accurate oracle.  Naturally I thought of you."

"Me, sir?"

"Of course."  He pulled a parchment from his desk, unrolled it, looked it over; she recognized it as the letter she had brought from Flaurent.  Had he kept it all this time?  When she had left his office, fighting back tears, he had been holding the paper near a candle and she assumed he had burned it.  "Headmistress Damona sings your praises quite loudly in this document."

"She does?"

"
Tolaria's visions are of a clarity and quality quite extraordinary for one of her youth and inexperience
," he read, his voice a mocking singsong.  "
She exhibits a discipline that
would be remarkable in one twice her age.
"  Klem fixed his gaze on her face.  "
Tolaria has the makings of a superb head oracle.
"

As Klem rolled up the parchment and put it away, Tolaria felt herself growing flush.  Little wonder he had treated her with such hostility; h
e hadn't even found a room for her in the main temple, instead housing her in a ramshackle cottage, once the dwelling of a groundskeeper, on the periphery of the grounds.  The banishment hadn't sat well with her at first, but at least it allowed her some privacy, as well as giving her a small plot to tend; she could grow the aromatic herbs she needed for her unused trances, medicinal plants to practice her healing skills, flowers to brighten up her surroundings.  The small hut had fallen into disrepair since the groundskeeper's death by drowning, and Tolaria was expected to fix it up; but this proved an unexpected benefit, as working with her hands helped relax her after days of tense mediation.

Now she would lose even the comfort of her routine.  The Headmistress's enthusiasm had not done her any favors here, under Klem's petty tyranny.

He shut the drawer with a bang, startling her from her reverie.  "You will attend to me while you are in my office," he said severely, the raisin angered.

"My apologies.  Sir."

"You are dismissed.  Gather your things quickly; a wagon waits for you at the front gate."

"May I ask why Lord Dunshandrin requires an oracle dispatched, rather than coming here to see us, as is custom?"

"When you meet him, perhaps he will tell you."

"Very well."  Seething, she turned, started for the door.

"Oh, another thing," Klem said.

She stopped, waited.

"Your servant.  She will be needed here in your absence; I am afraid she cannot accompany you."

She pivoted, facing the other oracle again.  "So I am to be sent to Dunshandrin alone."

"Of course not.  Lord Dunshandrin's emissary will travel with you."  He smiled, showing her his teeth; then he looked away and began shuffling papers on his desk.  "Enjoy your journey."

"Thank you," she said.  "I'm sure I will."

Pyodor Ponn didn't think his newest guests had come to Enshenneah on a holiday.

They had arrived two days earlier, landing in his wife's garden, riding eagles as big as horses, trampling her vegetables with their enormous yellow claws.  Ponn had never seen such creatures before, and had no idea how to care for them.  Fortunately, the men didn't expect him to; in fact, after moving moved the birds into the stable, they had given explicit instructions that the stalls were not to be approached.

Two days after the eagle-riding strangers had arrived, Ponn's wife came into the kitchen as he was washing the wooden breakfast bowls and said:  "Pord tells me the birds are gone."

"Are they?"

"Yes.  I checked."

This suited Ponn; he didn't like the sharp looks the creatures had given his smaller children.  It reminded him of hawks eyeing prey.  "And have their riders gone as well?"

"No."

"Do they know that their mounts left without them?"

"Yes," she said.  "I asked them about it, and they just smiled."  Then, after a moment:  "Who are they, Ponn?"

"I don't know, Plenn," he said.  He handed her a bowl, which she dried and placed on the rack.  "It's better not to inquire."

"They're asking about the islands."

"They are?"

"Yes."  She folded her arms.  "They aren't merchants; they have nothing to sell.  They aren't traders; they have nothing to barter.  What are they doing here?"

"Perhaps they came to buy," he said.  "They brought an extra bird, it could be a pack animal.  Why are you so curious?"

"I don't like them."

"It is not necessary to like our guests; it suffices to serve them, and keep our judgments to ourselves."

He handed Plenn another bowl; she held it up, studying the interior, as if trying to read the future in the grain of the wood.  "I think they are up to unsavory business."

"So are half our other patrons," Ponn said.

She put the bowl in the rack.  "They asked about a boat."

He turned to face her.  "A boat?"

"Yes."

"They want to
go
to the islands?"

"Yes."

"Don't they know about the dragons?"

"I told them, but they insisted."

Ponn studied his wife's face.  "Perhaps you misunderstood which islands interest them?"

"No, Ponn.  They want the islands with the volcanoes.  They were very specific.  Go out and ask them, if you doubt me."

"I don't doubt you," Ponn said, "but perhaps they don't properly comprehend the danger.  I'll go and speak to them."

"Yes," Plenn said, taking his place at the wash basin.  "Do that.  And find out when they will be leaving.  There is some trade that we are better off without."

He nodded, then went into the common room.  Three of the strangers sat together at a table on the other side of the round dining area.  One of their number was missing; perhaps he had gone with the eagles, or was up to some other sort of mischief.

The leader of the group had been eyeing the door to the kitchen; he waved his hand as Ponn entered, summoning him to their table.  These guests had made no formal introductions, but Ponn had heard the others refer to their leader as
Gelt
in his absence; when he was present they called him
sir
.

When he reached their table, Gelt said:  "Innkeeper, your wife is uncooperative."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Ponn said.  "Allow me to make amends.  She said you gentlemen were interested in a boat?"

"Yes, that's right."

"If you would tell me your purpose, perhaps I can recommend a vessel and captain who will meet your need."

"Our need is for a swift and sturdy boat, with a shallow draft, that can carry a goodly cargo."

"What sort of cargo?"

"Furthermore, we need a guide," Gelt said.  "Someone who knows the coastal waters and can chart a course through the shoals."  The man cocked his head, looking at Ponn like a chameleon observing an insect that had nearly wandered within range of its tongue.  "You're an islander, aren't you, innkeeper?"

"I am," Ponn said, liking neither the man's tone nor the direction of the conversation.  "But I do not offer my services as a guide, and I do not charter boats."

"You've got one, though, don't you?" Gelt said.  "You make a good living running wood and spices from this accursed jungle up to Barbareth, cheating your lords out of their rightful tariffs.  Don't you, innkeeper?"

How could these men know that?  As he glanced around, wondering if anyone had heard Gelt's statement, Ponn's well-practiced smile felt like a frozen rictus on his face.  "I'm afraid you are mistaken," he said.  "I'm a simple innkeeper, and my money comes from the steady patronage of good travelers such as yourselves.  As I said, I am neither a seaman nor a renter of vessels, so I must suggest you look elsewhere."

"You must?" Gelt said.  "Pity."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more service.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."  Ponn gave the men a shaky bow, turned, and started back toward the kitchen; but then Gelt rapped his wooden cup several times on the table, the sounds sharp and hollow.  Ponn stopped short; the inn fell silent, all the patrons turning to look at the table in the corner.

Gelt said:  "Have you seen your youngest lately, innkeeper?"

Ponn steadied himself with one hand on the shoulder of a nearby guest, a regular patron; he did not turn around.  "I saw her this morning," he said.

Gelt said:  "We saw her this morning as well."

Ponn whirled, was back at their table in a single step.  "If you have harmed her, I will—"

"You will give us the use of your boat," Gelt said.  "You will go with us to the volcanic islands as our guide.  And when we have safely returned and our mounts are ready to leave, you will have your small, pretty daughter back unharmed.  If you refuse to serve us, if you work to thwart us, or if you set your friends against us, you will
not
have her back.  Am I clear?"

"Don't be a fool," Ponn said.  "You cannot go to the islands.  The dragons will not tolerate—"

The man raised his hand, palm out, forestalling Ponn's protestations.  "Am I
clear
, innkeeper?"

They stared at each other.

"Yes," Ponn said.  "You are clear."

"Good.  Make your preparations quickly."  Gelt drained his cup, put it back on the table with a bang.  "We will leave at first light, two days hence."

Adaran clung to the great bird's neck, buried his face in its feathers, and tried to pretend that he was on the ground.  The rushing wind and ceaseless beat of its wings continually reminded him that he wasn't; in fact, he and the others were thousands of feet in the air, their lives depending on the ability of these enormous, stupid avians to get them well away from the mountain before the dragon returned.

His mount flew near the end of a train of seven overgrown eagles, all of them yoked together with drooping leather thongs, keeping them in rough formation behind the leader.  That bird carried their guide, one of Lord Dunshandrin's men, a grimy, reckless maniac who, Adaran believed, deliberately performed erratic aerial maneuvers to make the rest of them sick.

The bird's feathers were beginning to smell like his own stale sweat.  He risked a glance behind him, at the last eagle in the line.  It carried the crystals they had taken from the dragon's lair.  He didn't know what Dunshandrin wanted them for; people who sat upon thrones rarely shared much information with those they retained to do their dirty work, and hirelings who asked too many questions tended to have bad accidents.  He
did
know that Dunshandrin had dispatched another group on a similar mission to Enshenneah, and another to the icy wastes of northern Yttribia; he and Redshen had tried to finagle an assignment to that expedition, thinking to visit their homeland of Madroval along the way, but Dunshandrin had insisted that their skills were needed here.

Looking back didn't seem to make him need to vomit, so he ventured a look downward and discovered that they were nearer to the ground than he'd expected; in fact, they seemed to be descending toward a mountainside meadow, where a few small campfires burned among a knot of tents.  Relieved, he relaxed his grip, only to be thrown when the eagle made a rough landing.  He tumbled to the ground at its feet and was trampled by the avian bringing up the rear; fortunately it was still flapping its wings and he didn't receive its full weight, although its talons gave him a painful jab in the side.