Dragon Ultimate (2 page)

Across the Bright Sea from the Argonath lay the Isles of Cunfshon, the spiritual home of the reborn civilization of the Nine Argonath cities. There, on a bluff overlooking the great harbor of the city of Cunfshon stood the official city of Andiquant, nerve center of the Empire of the Rose.

Within the walls of Andiquant stretched rows of brick buildings, housing the offices of the bureaucracy that ran the empire. In one of those anonymous buildings lay the Office of Insight, an organization that dealt with diplomatic matters, trade issues, and military strategy.

Buried within the Office of Insight was a hidden suite of offices for the shadowy Office of Unusual Insight, the witch-run secret service of the empire.

In a plain little room at the end of a bland corridor of equally plain little rooms, four witches met around a square, wooden table.

On the left side sat a woman of plain and unexpressive features clad in an old, well-worn, gray smock under a homespun robe. On the right sat a regal figure in black velvet, her face a mask of ancient full-lipped beauty, her eyes alight with a deadly, penetrating intelligence.

Between these two polar opposites—the Gray Lady, Lessis of Valmes, and the Queen of Mice, Ribela of Defwode—sat the minor witches Bell and Selera.

Clad in the robes of their order, the younger witches kept a humble profile while in the presence of these two greatwitches.

It could be very intimidating to be caught in the gaze of those five-hundred-year-old minds. But neither Bell's broad brown face, nor Selera's pale, narrow features betrayed their unease.

"You have worked hard, sisters," said Lessis.

Bell felt her spirits lift. At least that much had been recognized.

"Indeed, as an inquisition it was very thorough," Lessis murmured.

Bell watched for the signs of a spell. Lessis was famous for throwing the most subtle spells in ordinary conversation. She needn't have concerned herself. No spells could be cast under the eyes of the other greatwitch present.

Lessis sighed. "Still, we've learned very little."

This was the embarrassing truth.

"Relkin has no understanding of the processes involved in the magic," said Selera.

"He is an elemental, of a new type," said Bell, boldly.

Both the greatwitches turned their heads at the same moment at these words.

"An elemental? One should not make such claims lightly," said Ribela.

"I know, Lady, but consider the powers involved and the complete lack of the technique required for sorcery on such a scale. Relkin knows not what he does, but still he does it."

Lessis caught Bell's eye.

"The mark of the Sinni, you have seen it?"

Bell hesitated, looked up into Lessis's eyes, and found them peculiarly piercing. The witch peers into my very soul...she thought. But of course Lessis wanted to know if the young witches were sensitive to the mark of the Sinni…

"Yes, Lady, I think I have. He is just a child of his time and place on the surface."

"He has virtually no education, Lady," cut in Selera. Lessis ignored her.

"But underneath," continued Bell, "there I sense a difference. He is not just a youth. There are unreadable things there..."

"Yes, so we have belatedly come to understand."

Ribela drew back into herself with a slight hiss of dismay.

"They have sent one of themselves. It is an incredible thought."

"But Relkin is a mortal man, doomed to die."

"So an elemental will be lost, voluntarily accepting death." Selera spoke in awe.

"It is an extraordinary thing," said Lessis. "To so love the world that one would accept the pain of life."

Bell's eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands together with sudden excitement.

"It is bound up with the dragon, it must be. But dragons are impervious to magic, they are hard to glimpse in the patterns of the predicted future."

"Beyond this understanding, though, we know nothing." Ribela was still unhappy.

"He cannot describe the mechanics of what he has achieved. How did he project a dream across a distance of many miles and a range of hills so that it was shared by dragons and one dragonboy? He has no idea. And nor do we."

Bell thus adequately described their problem. Relkin had none of the grammar of witchcraft, the knowledge of how sorcery was done. He could not describe his elemental, spasmodic responses to danger and extreme need. And thus he could not answer their questions.

"You have questioned him before, repeatedly. What differences have you seen in him over that time?"

"Little. He is a young man, but one who has seen more than his share of the horror in the world. Then, of course, he is a dragonboy."

Selera spoke hurriedly, as if almost afraid to speak blasphemy.

"He claims to worship the Old Gods. Refuses catechism and all but refuses prayer for the Mother."

Ribela made a silent moue.

"He is particularly keen on Caymo, Lady. The Old God of Luck." Selera's close-set dark eyes sought Ribela's.

"Ah, yes, Old Caymo, the dice thrower," smiled Ribela. "A quaint and rather wonderful deity, I always thought."

"If Caymo still rolls the dice, he has rolled some difficult numbers for Relkin," said Lessis.

"There is a depth in Relkin, but he fears his destiny," said Bell. "He fears that it will strip him from the life he has imagined for himself when he completes his time in the Legions."

"He has completed it," said Lessis. "He just doesn't know it yet. Both he and Bazil are to be retired from active duty very shortly."

"But," said Bell, "he left for Marneri three days ago. He has to stand trial on charges stemming from plunder brought in from Eigo."

"Yes," sighed Lessis. "He remains a dragonboy at heart, no matter what we might suspect about his origins. He must stand trial. Those charges could not be dropped. He has admitted bringing in the gold."

"Could the trial be postponed?"

"It had already been held off for ten months. It has to go forward now."

"We shall return to Marneri ourselves then?" wondered Selera.

"Yes, I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but you have handled this case from the beginning. You know him pretty well by now, I'd say. You will have to continue, at least until the crisis is past."

"Then we shall take a berth aboard
Sorghum
, which sails on the tide."

Lessis noted that Bell had anticipated that they would be sent to Marneri.

"Yes, that would be a good idea." She rubbed her hands together. "You are both to be commended for this work. A difficult task, to be sure."

The younger witches rose with palms pressed together and made deep bows to the greatwitches, the very Queens of Birds and Mice.

When they were gone, Ribela turned back to Lessis.

"I begin to feel that we have achieved the optimum position on this swing of our long struggle. The strategic situation has improved enormously. We might press on to Padmasa itself."

Lessis had to agree. "The gates of Padmasa are open. With both Axoxo and Tummuz Orgmeen in our hands, we can breach the mountains and move onto the inner Hazog. Plus, our alliance with Czardha has borne fruit. The Czardhan alliance is gathering a fresh army to assault Padmasa from the west. And, we have succeeded in tempting the Kassimi back into the ring."

"Ah?" Ribela had not yet heard of this development on the diplomatic front. Lessis continued. "Their defeats had kept them subdued, but now the Great King has heard of the Czardhan successes, and most recently of the fall of Axoxo. He dares to raise his standard once more. Whether he will have the stomach to take an army north to Padmasa is another matter."

"But just having Kassim reenter the fight will increase the pressure on Padmasa."

"And the hidden enemy, the Dominator, what of him?" This was the purview of the Queen of Mice.

"He lies yet in Haddish. Deep within a recuperation chamber."

"And the being that I told you of, the gestalt that arose at the fall of Mirchaz?"

"Can it truly have been gestalt? That chimera they have searched for for so long?"

Lessis shrugged. "I do not claim to understand such things."

"And I do?"

"You understand them, sister. You more than anyone alive."

There was a silence.

"Well, possibly that is true. Anyway, that boy knows more than he has revealed."

"I sense no malice in Relkin. The Sinni have marked him."

"Waakzaam the Great has marked him, too. He sees more deeply in these ways than any mortal. He will have seen their mark. He will know that the Sinni are interfering here, in contravention of their oaths. The malice and hate that seethes within Waakzaam's breast will not let him forgive such wounds.

"The boy can never return to a normal life. I have sent instructions that he is to be housed by the Office and kept under close watch and guard. His dragon, likewise must be protected. The Deceiver will come after them."

"Ah," said Ribela. "Poor lad, his dreams will never come true."

The tradeship
Lily
plowed her way across the long rolling waves under hurrying clouds. Three days out from the Isles, she was making good time on steady winds out of the south. A square-rigged three-master of three hundred tons,
Lily
carried a cargo of textiles and refined sugar. There were a dozen passengers as well, including a young dragoneer first class, Relkin of Quosh.

As the sun sank in the uttermost west, Relkin leaned against the windward rail and drank in the ocean air. He watched the big seas come toward them, lifting the ship's bow and then running along below the rail before disappearing behind.

He was going home. Back to the dragonhouse in Marneri and his dragon. How he missed that great beast. The dragon was all the family he'd ever known. A constant presence, with that deep, rusty voice that he knew so well. He prayed that Curf hadn't done anything too harebrained or dangerous for the wyvern's health. Of all replacement dragonboys to have it had to be Curf! Curf, the daydreaming musician.

But, he consoled himself, he'd be home soon. Back in the city of white stone overlooking the long sound, with the great Tower of Guard looming above on the hill. Back to the familiar sights and sounds and smells of the dragonhouse. He was longing for it, he had to admit. He really wanted to get his life back.

And yet… Another part of him wanted to move on. He was a man now, and he could see clearly to the life that could be his once he was out of the Legions.

In that life there was so much waiting for him.

First, there was Eilsa, long-legged lady of the fells. The heir to the chieftainship of her clan, yet she had held off all the other suitors who had been thrust at her. All for him. He was a very lucky man, he understood. Between them there was a love so strong that he was sure nothing would break it.

Then there was good land waiting in the Bur valley. Land and much hard work until they'd cleared enough land to begin farming. And then more work.

But they'd have that gold, no matter what happened in this trial he faced. Even if they stripped him of the gold he'd banked in Kadein, there was still a cache he'd buried out along the road. There was enough there to buy mules and horses, and to hire a dozen men to help in clearing the land.

Put that together with Bazil, who would happily wield an ax or even a shovel just for the exercise, and after a few years the farm would be a going concern.

And while the farm grew, Eilsa and he would raise a family. And Bazil, too, would fertilize eggs, probably many times, since as the famous Broketail dragon, he would be in high demand among the female dragons.

A glorious future seemed assured. They'd served the Argonath Legions for a full term, and now they would move on to the rest of their lives.

But this dream of the future faced obstacles, any of which might destroy it.

Eilsa was still at the retreat in Widarf. The last letter from her had come the week before he took ship at Cunfshon. She felt stronger. But her experiences under the hand of the Dominator had shaken her, he knew. Waakzaam had assaulted her with his sorcery and tried to break her mind and make her his creature.

He had failed, but she had taken deep hurt. For a long time she was afraid to sleep, so terrible were her dreams. The witches sent her to Widarf, a rustic temple that was renowned for its healing powers, especially for those with troubles of the mind and spirit.

There she had received the best in care. Her days were spent in prayer and working in the weave shop that helped support the sanctuary. Her letters had shown a gradual but steady recovery of her confidence, but it was still not certain that she would ever heal completely. Possibly she would have to remain in Widarf for the rest of her life.

Relkin was devastated by this. He couldn't imagine the future without her beautiful presence, without those piercing blue eyes and corn-colored hair, without that keen mind and ardent spirit. To live without her would be impossible.

Then there was this trial, this stupid trial. They, the mysterious "they" in the High Command of the Legion, wanted to strip his gold and maybe imprison him.