Dragon's Treasure (28 page)

"What promise?"

"Swear by the Hunter's name that once you hear what I have to say, if you decide it's not for you, you'll forget about it, forget we talked, forget I was even here.... Otherwise I can't say more."

"So it's not an honest offer?" He meant it in jest. But Edric shut his lips together. "I swear by the Hunter's name that I'll forget we talked."

Edric looked relieved. "Good." He rubbed his hands together. "So. Here it is. Some mates of mine and I, we were talking, and they said, 'Why not go into the hills?' These are good men, you understand, but not ones to be overfond of laws and rules, if you take my meaning. Some of them have tried farming, or clerking, and found it wanting. Some of them prefer the dark in which to do their business. You know the sort of men I mean."

Taran said irritably, "I know the sort of men you mean. I used to be one of them. Do I know them—these mates of yours?"

"Na. Those you knew, those that knew you, they're scattered, or dead. Leo's in Issho, so I hear. Gund's dead. These are other men. But they'd heard of you: Treion the Bastard, the man who burned Castella. They'd heard of Niello Savarini, too, but he's dead for certain sure, and you're alive.... Anyway, these men I'm speaking of had heard of you, and heard too, that I'd rode with you. They'd talk about your sword-skill, and your temper, and about how you planned the raid on Castella and got away with the loot. When we first started talking, they thought you were dead. I thought so, too, like I said before. But then we all heard that no, you were alive, in Dragon Keep, and not in no dungeon, neither, but walking around in daylight, and working in the kitchen... !"

Had Edric always been so full of words? He couldn't remember.

"Who did they hear this from?"

Edric shrugged. "Don't know. Anyway, they asked me to bring you an offer."

"Go on."

"They're going—we're going—to Issho. Most of them are from Nakase, but Nakase's got too many soldiers in it, too much law. The Lemininkai's strong, and getting stronger, and Lukas Ridenar's men are everywhere in the south, and it's that"—he drew a hand across his throat—"if they catch you doing something they don't like. But Issho's not crowded, and there are not so many lords with strong war bands there: the Talvelai, yes, and the Niroi, but not many others. Not so many fat merchants coming along the roads, of course, but we're not greedy, and there are not so many of us.... We'd like you to join us."

Someone was offering him the Bastard's Company, reborn. Taran did not know whether to laugh or weep.

"Why?"

Edric said, "You were always full of plans. We need a man who can think. But there's another reason. My mates think you're lucky."

"Lucky?" The word seemed insane. Taran touched his stump. "You think
this
is lucky?"

Edric said seriously, "It is, in a way. You're not dead, and the gods know you should be. That's the kind of luck every outlaw in Ryoka wants to have." Lowering his voice, he said in a rush, "Listen; I can get you out of here. There's a horse waiting for you, right now. If you want it."

The owl called again.

He was beyond the wall. All he had to do was walk away. No one would know.

For a moment, Taran let his imagination soar free. He rode at the head of a great company. The grassy plains of Issho spread before them. The western lords in their mansions despised and feared him, but, strong as they were, none of them could stand before him. He rode where he pleased, took what he desired, gold, silver, jewels, and left—what?

A tortured child. Ashes on a hillside. The body of a woman, stabbed through the throat.

Though treachery waits Strong hearts remain steadfast;

Dishonor disdaining; Ragnar's pride.

"No," he said. "Sorry."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

He did not know how to say it. "I promised Dragon a year."

Edric gaped at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ah, well. The lads will be disappointed." A stranger sauntered into the tumbled-down building. He was bearded, big-bellied, broad-shouldered as a bullock, and he wore a black cap on his round head. There was a sword in his hand.

"Who the hell are you?" Taran asked.

"My question exactly," said another voice.

It was Herugin. He strolled out from the shadow of a mound.

He, too, was holding a sword.

"
You
I remember," he said savagely, to Taran's companion. "Edric, isn't it? So this is what your word is good for.

How long have you been planning this?" That, unfairly, was to Taran. He opened his mouth to protest.

Then he saw the others running across the grass. Starlight gleamed on a knife blade. Suddenly he was down, with someone on top of him. A forearm stopped his mouth. He bit it. He thrust an elbow into someone's soft parts, clawed someone's privates. There was a knife in his boot if only he could reach it. A boot thudded twice into his ribs. He doubled over. A hand thrust a cloth between his teeth. There were two, no, three men on top of him. He squirmed uselessly. They wound him with ropes. He could not move, not even a finger.

He was lifted at shoulders and ankles and heaved through the air. He landed belly down on the back of a horse. He yelled through the gag.

"Strap him down," a voice said. He thought it was the man in the cap. He felt hands on him. He arched his back, and kicked out. Someone swore quietly.

"Shut him up, now. Hit him," the voice said.

He yelled again.

"Do it!"

Then there was a bright light, and pain, and darkness.

* * *

They found the body in the buttery at dawn.

Periel, who had been in Dragon Keep a month and scarcely knew how to hold a sword, was first to see it. He promptly turned aside and was sick.

Hurin, who had been to war and knew a dead man when he saw one, turned the corpse over on its back, and sighed in pity and relief. "Not one of ours." He slapped Periel's shoulder. "Pull yourself together, lad. Go find Orm." Orm was watch commander. "Tell him what we've stumbled on and bring him here. He'll want to see it for himself. Move!"

Periel went as though Imarru the Hunter were on his heels. Hurin watched him run. There was no shame to being sick, as long as you could still follow orders.

When the trumpet sounded, the men asleep in the barracks tumbled from their beds, grabbing for their boots and swords.

"Out, out! Move, you slugs!"

In the courtyard, the merchants' armsmen sat nervously upright in their bedrolls. A few fingered knives they were not supposed to have.

Orm hammered on Karadur's door. The dragon-lord emerged fully clothed, sword in his hand. Azil Aumson stood behind him.

Orm said, "My lord, sorry to disturb you. There's a corpse in the old buttery."

"Close the gates," Karadur said.

"We have, my lord. The men are searching the grounds."

In the courtyard, the dogs were barking furiously. The dragon-lord went down the stairs. The dead man lay on a plank in front of the armory. His face was contorted in a pained grimace. His clothes were dark with blood. Flies crawled over them, and over the two great holes in his body.

"Who is he?" Karadur asked.

"We don't know. He's got no badge," Orm said. "We think he must have come with one of the merchants. He's not a soldier. Perhaps a groom, or a driver."

Karadur said, "Wake the armsmen and the wagon drivers. See if any of them recognize him. If not, wake the merchants." Crouching, he lifted the man's arm and put it down again. "I want to talk to the gate guards, all of them, anyone on the gate since sunset. See if we are missing any horses, either our own, or the visitors'." Orm saluted and left. The horns had stopped. The men of the archers' wing stood on the walls, bows drawn, facing outward.

The gate guards trooped into the yard. Dragon pointed to the dead man. "Do you know him?" They looked. All of them shook their heads. "Dismissed." They melted away from him.

Marek Gavrinson appeared at Dragon's elbow.

"My lord, we've found the marks of shod horses in the grass near the buttery. They came from the south, and go off in different directions. It's an old outlaw tactic."

"How many horses?"

"Three."

A man standing over the body said, "I know that man. That's Edric Edricson."

Dragon turned. "How do you know him?"

"He drives for Egidio diPrima, and so do I. He wasn't with us when we started; he came on at Secca, I think, or maybe it was Sorvino. DiPrima will know."

"Wake diPrima," Karadur said. "Bring him here."

In a very short time, Egidio diPrima, barefoot, with only a robe covering his pink, hairless chest, arrived in the courtyard. He gazed with distaste at the dead man.

"My lord, his name's Edric. He joined us at Sorvino. One of my drivers was wounded in a brawl—he claimed he was set upon—and this man asked for the place. He told me he had worked in the diSorvino stables, and I saw no reason to doubt that. He was excellent with horses, and a very competent driver. I asked why he was leaving his position, and he said frankly that he mistrusted his lord's temper, which I could well understand. So I took him on. Other than that, I know naught of him, for good or ill."

Karadur said, "I understand. Thank you."

The merchant said tentatively, "My lord, about the body..."

"We will bury it," Karadur said. That satisfied diPrima. Twitching his robe around him, he pushed through the watching crowd in the direction of his chamber.

It was starting to be light; in the east the blackness had turned grey, and the torches in the courtyard and on the walls seemed less bright. The kitchen folk had awakened; smoke was rising from the chimneys. Orm came once more into the courtyard.

Grimly he said, "My lord, none of our horses is missing, nor are any of the merchants'. But Taran One-arm is gone, and no one knows where Herugin is. Captain Lorimir has ordered the men to form search parties."

"Yes," Dragon said. He walked through the courtyard to the eating hall. Pale light fell through the narrow windows. The hall was cold. Dragon looked at the hearth logs; they flared into life. The dragon-lord sat at his table. Azil sat opposite him. A girl from the kitchen brought soup and buttered bread.

In a little while, Lorimir Ness came to Karadur's side. He looked very tired.

He said, "My lord, I am sorry, I have bad news. Herugin Dol is dead. We found his body in a ditch beside the Great South Road. He had been stabbed, many times. Men are bringing the body."

The dragon-lord walked to the courtyard. Rogys stood in the middle of it, holding his long spear in both hands. His face was white. They brought Herugin's body into the yard on a plank, and laid him at Karadur's feet. He was grievously torn; huge wounds marked his chest and belly. They had wrapped his cloak around him to keep his insides from falling out. Kneeling, Karadur laid a hand on the dead man's shoulder.

"O my friend," he said. "We should have gone to Selidor together, you and I." Tears of flame glittered on his cheeks. Fire moved beneath his skin. The merchants and their armsmen backed from him, their faces distorted with fear. But Azil did not move. Neither did Lorimir, or Hawk, or the rest of Karadur's officers.

Finally he rose. "Have you found any trace of Taran One-arm?"

Lorimir shook his head. "My lord, we have not."

"Hawk, my hunter, can you find him?"

The one-eyed archer ran her hands through her short dark hair. She said, "I don't know, my lord. I will try."

Finle said, "My lord, Taran spoke of going to Sorvino. You remember."

"I do," Karadur said. He frowned. "Go to the kitchen. Get Boris."

The cook came from the kitchen. "My lord, you wanted to see me?"

Karadur said, "Has Taran said aught to you about Marion diSorvino?"

The cook shook his head. "No, my lord."

A small voice said, "I can find Taran One-arm."

They all looked down. Shem Wolfson stood beside Herugin's torn body.

Hawk knelt and put her arm around him.

"Wolf's cub," she said gently, "what are you doing here? You should be in bed."

He did not look at her. "The trumpet woke me. I can find Taran One-arm," he repeated. His hair was going every which way.

Marek Gavrinson said, "My lord, he's fey."

Karadur laid a hand on the boy's head. Shem looked up at him. The dragon-lord said, "How can you find him, cub?"

Shem said, "I feel him."

Karadur knelt. "Shem, do you feel him now?"

Shem nodded. "He is there," he said. He pointed south.

The dragon-lord glanced questioningly at Terrill Chernico. "Hunter, how can this be so?"

Hawk closed her single eye. Then she opened it. "I don't know, my lord. But it
is
so. I cannot reach Taran, but I can feel the link between them."