Dragon Stones (45 page)

"What's going on?" Ponn said.

"I would guess the alchemist has been summoned to the castle.  Perhaps one of Dunshandrin's whelps has need of an aphrodisiac, or a tonic to loosen his bowels."

Qalor mounted a spare horse and the four men rode off in a great clatter of hoof-beats; the remaining soldier's horse stamped its feet and snorted, unhappy at being left alone.

"One guard stayed behind," Ponn said.

"He's probably interrogating T'Sian," Diasa said.

"Oh," Ponn said.  Then:  "
That
isn't going to end well.  Should we go in and
—
"

"No.  Let's see how she handles herself."

"She'll most likely get angry and do something ostentatious and violent," Ponn said.

"You think so?  Like what?"

Suddenly the guard came flying out through the tavern window, smashing through the shutters and rolling some distance into the square.  Diasa immediately broke cover and raced for the fallen man.  "L
ike that," Ponn muttered, hurrying
after her.  C
rashing noises had begun to emanate from within the building, as if T'Sian were tearing the place to pieces.

Passers-by eyed the guard, but none went to his aid or acknowledged the ruckus from within the building; they kept their heads down and hurried on their way, willfully ignorant.  Only two dirty, unshod urchins stopped at his side.  For a moment Ponn thought they might try to help the man, but by the time Diasa arrived, one of them had stolen his purse while the other kicked him repeatedly in the head.  She shooed them away, then grasped him under the shoulders began dragging him back to the tavern door.  Ponn lifted his ankles and they carried him into the building.

The dragon had indeed wrecked the place.  The remains of smashed tables and chairs littered the room; she had ripped sections of the bar out of the floor and dashed them to pieces.  She was not in sight, but sounds of destruction continued to echo from the kitchen.

"T'Sian!" Ponn cried as they dropped the guard.  "Stop!"

The sounds halted momentarily, and then she barreled through the kitchen door, knocking it off its hinges and sending it clattering to the floor.  "I weary of these games," she said.  "I am so, so tired of passing among you men!"

"What happened?"

She gave the unconscious soldier a look that could have set him on fire.  "He put his hands on me, so I threw him."  She started toward the tavern door.  "I will pull their castle apart stone by stone," she said.  "I will roast them in their own fat and feast on their charred remains!"

"You'll do nothing of the sort without your fire," Diasa said, getting in front of her.  "Without your fire, you are nothing but a very large, talking, winged lizard."

T'Sian looked at Diasa with narrowed eyes; Ponn put a hand on Diasa's shoulder.  "Have a care," he whispered.

"I could kill you with one claw," T'Sian hissed.  "I could flatten this building with a flick of my tail."

"Perhaps," Diasa said.  "But your stones are in the castle.  Would you demolish it and bury them forever?"

"I could fly to the north," she said.  "Where the blue crystals grow among the icy wastes.  I do not have to get them from the castle."

"But you said it would take a long time," Ponn said.  "You said sometimes dragons froze to death on the journey.  Without any fire to keep you warm, what would happen to you?"

She grunted, saying nothing.

"I have another idea," Diasa said.

"What would
you
suggest, Pyodor Ponn?"

Astonished, Ponn said:  "Are you asking me for advice?"

"Yes."

"What about seeking aid from other dragons?" he said.  "Have you reconsidered that?"

"They would not help me."

"Not even the one who fathered your hatchlings?"

"He is dead."

"Are you certain?"

She gave him a look that froze his marrow.  "Quite."

"I'm sure Ponn has been a brave and loyal friend, but we cannot afford to let Dunshandrin's pups run rampant while you journey as a supplicant to some other dragon who may or may not be willing to help you or travel hundreds of miles in search of fuel for your fire.  Even now they will be consolidating their hold on Barbareth.  No, we must look to the castle."

T'Sian said, "What is
your
idea, then?"

The guard groaned.  Diasa glanced down at him, then kicked him in the head, hard.  He fell silent again.  "I have always been of the opinion that you can tell much about a ruler by observing how the people treat those who wear his colors," she murmured.  Then, to Ponn:  "Help me get his clothes off."

"What?"

"We're going to undress him," she said.

"His clothes won't fit me," Ponn said.

"Of course they won't.  
I'm
going to wear them."

They quickly removed the man's uniform, leaving him in his noisome undergarments; Ponn found himself wishing for a basin to wash his hands.  When Diasa began to disrobe, Ponn went and stood by the door.  He only stole a few glances at Diasa as she donned the man's garb, although he could see that T'Sian stared at her quite openly.

At length, Diasa said:  "How do I look?"

Ponn inspected her subterfuge.  She had rolled up the sleeves of the uniform, which were too long, while the breeches ended in the middle of her calves.  Because she lacked the guard's rather large belly, she'd had to gather the tunic in around her stomach; oddly enough, it fit perfectly around her chest.  She had tucked her black curls under a leather helmet that seemed more artifice than protection, and had declined to take the man's sword, cinching her own scabbard around her waist instead.

"You look like a woman dressed up as a man," T'Sian said.  "Even I can see that."

"She's right," Ponn said.  "You won't pass."

Diasa pulled on the guard's heavy black cloak, which helped to disguise the ill fit of the clothing.  "Better?"

"No."

"Well, it will have to do," Diasa said.  Then, to T'Sian:  "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"To be escorted into the castle."

"What?" Ponn cried.  "That's madness!  They'll know you're not a guard.  They'll arrest you at the gates."

"If they try to stop us, they'll regret it."  She hefted the soldier's sword, swung it a few times, ran her thumb along the edge.  "Especially if they're all armed with blunt knives like this."

"And what should Tolaria and I do while you two are playing the spies?"

"Stay out of sight.  If a hue and cry goes up, flee."

"If a hue and cry goes up, go to the window and watch, because I will be pulling the castle apart," T'Sian said.

"Yes, of course," Diasa said.  "But just in case that's
not
what is happening, it would be prudent for Ponn and Tolaria to assume the worst."

"What about him?" Ponn said, pointing at the guard.  "He's going to wake up eventually."

Diasa glanced down at the unconscious man, then stabbed him through the heart with his own dull sword.  Ponn gave a little cry and turned away.

"No he isn't," Diasa said.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tolaria looked up as her door opened, but it was only Ponn.  He looked shaken, and was carrying what appeared to be Diasa's cloak, wadded up in his hands.  "What happened?"

Ponn didn't answer; he only cast the cloak aside.  It settled onto Diasa's bed like a dark stain.

Tolaria sat up.  "What's happened?  Where's Diasa?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you," Ponn said.  "Diasa said that the less you know, the safer we'll be."

"Pyodor Ponn, you cannot come in here with that expression on your face, alone, carrying Diasa's cloak, and then say you will not tell me what's going on!"

Ponn sighed and sat on the edge of Diasa's narrow, straw-stuffed bed.  "Things did not go as planned."  He put his hand on Prehn's head; she lay curled up under the blanket, still sleeping.  The child whimpered at his touch, as if her dreams distressed her.  "Some of Dunshandrin's men came and took Qalor away while T'Sian was talking to him.  One stayed behind to find out what she was doing.  T'Sian threw him out the window, and then Diasa killed him and dressed in his clothes.  She and the dragon are on their way to the castle right now."

"Diasa is trying to masquerade as a guard?"

"Yes, but you needn't worry.  She is only obviously a woman if you look at her."

"The disguise is poor?"

"It's hardly a disguise at all; I'll be astonished if it gets them through the front gate.  Even if they do gain admittance, they'll still need to find Qalor's laboratory.  Diasa assumes that is where the crystals will be kept."

"And they plan to roam the castle looking for it?"

"Evidently."

"Aren't they afraid they'll be caught?"

Ponn snorted.  "They seem to welcome the prospect.  Diasa is eager for a fight, and T'Sian would rather knock the castle down than infiltrate it."

"What are we to do while this is going on?"

"Diasa said to listen for a hue and cry.  If we hear one, we flee the village."

"
Flee
?
 To where?  The only reason I escaped was because I stumbled across a boat that was ready to leave, and Talbrett took pity on me."  Tolaria put her head in her hands.  "I dislike this plan immensely."

"Calling it a plan is overly generous."

"Did you try to talk them out of it?"

"Of course, but all it earned me was a pat on the head and instructions to run along back to the inn."

She shook her head.  "They're both reckless and hotheaded, and they encourage each other."

"You're right."  Ponn fussed with a strand of his daughter's hair, tucking it behind her ear, where it refused to stay.  "I would like to have met the man who rescued you," he said to the sleeping girl.  Then:  "Tolaria, do you know what they did with Adaran?"

As he finished his question, she felt sharp pain in her hands and feet, more pain throughout her body, some dull and throbbing, others jagged like toothed knives.  It felt like she had been beaten with sticks and fists.  Shackles chafed at her wrists, her ankles.  She swooned, slumping back against the wall, knowing even as she did that this was not a vision but another strange contact like the one where she'd first stitched all their minds together.

"Adaran," she murmured, sensing his awareness as it turned toward her.

A shrill cry startled her out of the shallow trance; she sat up, looking around, unsure for a moment where she was.  Then she saw Ponn, comforting Prehn.  "I'm sorry," he said as he tried to soothe her.  "She had a nightmare and started to scream."

"It's all right."  Tolaria rubbed her temples, feeling groggy, like she had been awakened after only a few hours of sleep.

"It seemed like you swooned.  You said Adaran's name."

"I saw him, shackled in Dunshandrin's dungeon.  I think they've been torturing him, but I did not have time to communicate with him, though."

The hand caressing Prehn stopped.  "Adaran is alive?"

"So it seems."

Ponn's brow furrowed.  "We must find a way to rescue him."

"How?  He's in the dungeon, and we are out here."

"We
must
," Ponn said.  "He saved my daughter."

"I know, Ponn, but—"

"I am a man who pays his debts," Ponn said.  He stood, Prehn clinging to him, little arms around his neck.  Ponn disentangled himself and put the girl on the bed beside Tolaria, then picked up Diasa's cloak.  "I will go.  You stay here and watch over Prehn."

"But, Ponn—"

"I may be able to catch T'Sian and Diasa before they reach the castle.  If I can, I will tell them about Adaran and then return here."

"And if you can't?"

"Then I will find my own way in," Ponn said, and left.

As she and T'Sian trudged up the cobbled road that led to the castle, Diasa kept glancing at the town below.  It stretched along the eastern edge of the small lake, a grey blot on the plains and forests of northern Dunshandrin.  It existed mainly to serve and support the castle, she thought, and the castle existed because its location—a promontory surrounded on three sides by a broad, swift river—was easily defended.  The way up was steep, all of it within view of the towers; just before reaching the castle, the track narrowed and crossed a stone bridge over the river.  Iron gates at either end of the bridge could be closed in an emergency, but they looked rusted and little-used.  Even without them, a small number of men could hold the bridge against an army for quite some time; others, stationed on the ledge around the outer wall, could rain down stones and arrows upon enemies who tried to scale the cliffs.  Whoever had built the castle had designed it well.  A pity his descendants didn't share his wisdom.