Dragon's Treasure (32 page)

"A beast out of the northern ocean. It has fins, like a fish. They hunt them in Skyeggo." He lifted it from her shoulders and spread it across the bed. "And this." He held out a necklace: chunks of roughly polished amber, strung on a gold chain. She stood naked in the middle of the cottage while he fastened it around her throat.

The fire in the amber gleamed. "It's beautiful."

"You are beautiful."

* * *

In Dragon Keep, the cavalry riders washed the body of their dead captain, wrapped it in winding cloths, and laid it in the earth. At meals a place was set for him, and a glass of wine poured, to honor him and comfort his shade.

Marek Gavrinson and Irok the northerner, the Keep's best trackers, each took a party of men and the dogs to follow on the heels of the fleeing outlaws. In the barracks, the men were unusually silent. No one was quite sure what had happened, or what would happen. Lorimir, who had seen such moods before, set the men to sword drill and repairs. The barracks' roof required patching, and Bryony needed new laundry tubs.

In the kitchen, Ruth was red-eyed, Eilon sullen, and no one was speaking to Simon. Even the dogs sulked in the kennel. Turtle hid in the stable, and snapped at Luga when the dogboy tried to coax him out, and would not eat.

The trackers returned, without success. They had followed a trail to the Great South Road, but lost it there.

The Golden Sparrows left the Keep, with a fat purse and fine new curtains on their wagon, a gift from the girls in the laundry.

"Where shall you go now?" Azil asked Angelo.

"South, to Ujo, then to Rowena and Salvati and Allegria. From there, if the border is still open, we'll cross to Chuyo. Then east, to Kameni, where my wife and children live."

"I didn't know you had children."

Angelo said, "Four sons. They live with my wife, in Colonna. Khorrem has a son and a daughter in Al-Assar. Donatello is a virgin, of course."

* * *

Four days later, the Golden Dragon came gliding across the sky at sunset, with the red sun shining on his wings. He circled once about the castle before plunging to the Dragon's Roost. Azil Aumson, sitting in his chair in the tower chamber, heard the rushing thunder of the dragon's wings. In a little while, Karadur came into the chamber.

Azil laid his harp aside. Karadur's hair was windblown, and there was a faint shade of stubble on his cheeks. His face was impossible to read.

"Tell me," Azil said.

Karadur said, "Taran did not kill Herugin. He was taken against his will. Shem Wolfson found him. He is safe."

"And?"

"Marion diSorvino is dead. I killed him and burned his house."

"And?"

Color touched his face. "The girl..." He did not say any more. He did not have to. They had both known this moment would come.

"Say something," Karadur said. Azil shook his head. The dragon-lord moved, then. He crossed the chamber in three strides. His big hands came down hard on Azil's shoulders.

"Azil. It changes nothing."

"You are wrong," Azil said. "It changes everything."

* * *

Summoning his officers to the room in the tower, Karadur told them that Hawk, Rogys, Finle, and Shem would be back soon, with Taran One-arm, and another man, named Ralf Molto.

"Let the war band know, Taran is blameless in Herugin's death. Molto took Taran from the Keep against his will. Molto killed Herugin. He was sent by Marion diSorvino."

The officers looked at one another. Lorimir Ness said, "Will there be a reckoning for that, my lord?"

"There is," Karadur said. "There was. DiSorvino is dead."

Letters went out that day from Dragon Keep, penned by the dragon-lord's own hand. Two went swiftly, by courier: one to Kalni Leminin, and one to Erin diMako, in whose cavalry Herugin had served before he came to Dragon Keep. A third was written and set aside, to be given to the next merchant or musician who came to the castle. It was addressed to Dennis Amdur.

That evening, in the hall, the dragon-lord chose to sit not at the table near the hearth with his officers, as was his custom, but with the riders, with Federico, Arnor, Raudri, and the others. They told stories of Herugin's loyalty, to his lord and to his men, of his courage, and of his skill with horses.

Arnor said, "I mind the time I fell into the river below Castria, and he pulled me out."

Karadur said, "He learned to swim in Selidor. He was a good swimmer."

Federico said, "He was a good swordsman, too. No one can say he wasn't."

Raudri said, "We should sing for him." He looked at Azil Aumson, sitting quietly at Karadur's left.

Azil said, "Juni, get your harp."

The young archer went quickly from the hall. In a little while he returned with a rosewood harp cradled in his arms.

"What would you hear?"

They looked at one another. Raudri said, "Sing 'Dorian's Ride.' It was his favorite song."

Azil sang "Dorian's Ride." Folk came from the kitchen to listen. Ruth, Raudri's sister, stood with her fists knotted into her apron and tears rolling down her face. When the music ended, the dragon-lord rose, and the cavalrymen rose with him.

Karadur said, "He died in battle. No warrior can ask for more than that." He drained his glass. Then his fingers closed firmly on the singer's wrist.

* * *

That night, the page whose task it was to sleep in the hall outside the dragon-lord's bedroom went elsewhere to sleep. Within the elegant room, neither man rested. Karadur's appetites, at least, had not changed. His hunger was as demanding, and his ardor as relentless, as it had ever been. At last he lay satisfied, eyes closed.

Beside him, Azil lay, breathing hard. There were bruises on his ribs, and on his wrists, where Karadur had held him. Blood stained the quilts. The scars on his hands had split in the passionate struggle. A cool breeze blew through the chink in a shutter. The candle flame flickered in the draft. The chamber smelled of sex and sweat.

He wondered if Maia diSorvino lay awake at this moment. In the most noble portion of his nature, he wished for her what he had: passion without stint, unwavering trust, constancy and friendship. In the basest region of his thought, he hoped that she would be content with whatever wealth or honor Karadur might choose to give her: that, and her children.

He stretched luxuriously.

Traitor. I see you, traitor.

The quilts beneath his body were soft. Next to him stretched his lover, his lord, his dearest friend. Karadur was not asleep. Azil had only to turn to him, to say his name... But he could not move. He could not speak. He lay in the darkness, trembling. Deep within his mind, the hateful, never-to-be-forgotten voice whispered:
You are mine, traitor. You will never be free of me. The ice runs in your veins, in your heart.

I will make you the instrument of his destruction. His downfall will be your doing. Through you his seed will rot; through you his land will wither; through you his hope will be forever silenced. Through you his line will end\ and as he dies, in pain, he will know it, and know it was your doing.

You are mine. To death, and after, you are mine.

17

The morning after Karadur's return, Taran, with Finle and Rogys and Hawk, and Shem Wolfson perched before Rogys on the black horse Smoke, arrived at Atani Castle.

Throughout the journey north, Taran had kept from his mind all thought of what might be, or could be. Nevertheless, when the road curved suddenly, revealing the dark stones of the castle stark against the green of the hills, he felt an unanticipated eagerness. He laughed. Finle, riding beside him, shot him a curious look.

A horn blew on the wall. They went in through the little gate. Gelf and Angus and Jules came running from the stables. Barking, Turtle dashed across the courtyard, tail a blur. Shem slid from Smoke's back and fell upon him. The smells of horse and bread and laundry soap mingled in the soft summer air.

How long had he been gone—a week, a year, a day? Suddenly he wasn't sure.

A gaggle of the castle brats, led by Devin Marekson, charged from the stable and encircled Shem, pummeling him happily. Dog and children rolled in the dirt. Then Shem sat up. He wound his fingers in Turtle's collar.

"Dragon coming," he said softly.

Karadur, with Lorimir and Orm at his heels, entered the courtyard. Sunlight danced on his skin and his hair, and on the armband coiled about his forearm, and his face was fixed in the perilous stillness that his soldiers knew well.

"Ralf Molto?"

"Dead, my lord," said Finle evenly. "He never woke."

A memory of fire moved across the dragon-lord's skin. Taran held his breath. Then Karadur left the yard. The riders came from stables and field and hall, and closed around Rogys.

Taran watched them for a little while. Then he walked through the courtyard, past the armory, to the kitchen. The door was open, held so by a stone. Faces turned to him through a blur of steam.

Eilon said, "Hoy, look what's come!" He reached a hand out. "What are you standing there for? Come in!" He pulled Taran inside. As always, the big room smelled of smoke and grease and baking bread.

Jess said joyfully, "See, I told you he'd come back!" She put a hand on his sleeve. "They said some man took you. Is it true? Is that what happened?"

"It's true."

"Where were you?"

"Trussed like a turkey, in a wagon on the Great South Road. I was a prisoner."

Pico crowded close to him. "Dragon rescued you."

"Yes."

Boris said, "Let the man breathe, you hollow-headed donkeys!" They backed up precipitously. They were all smiling at him.

"I thought I'd lost my keph partner," the head cook said. "You're too tough to kill, I guess."

"Too stubborn, perhaps," Taran said. "A stubborn bastard."

"It's good to see you."

"You, too."

Ruth touched his arm. Her hands were yellow with flour. Her hair was smooth and shining as the gloss on an apple.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look thin."

"My captor didn't feed me very well," he said. They looked at him in horror. Ruth handed him a cinnamon bun. Eilon thrust a beef bone under his nose. Jess held out a goose leg, the skin still warm and dripping with juice.

Simon, surly Simon, stood in his corner, pretending that nothing unusual was happening. Taran grinned at him. Simon scowled and looked away.

Eilon poked Anssa with his wooden spoon. "That's ten pennies you owe me. Pay me!"

* * *

The next day, Hern Amdur arrived at the Keep, accompanied by two of his sturdiest grooms, and a black-haired, skinny youth bound across the back of a horse. His face and arms were marked with scratches, as if he had been crawling through brambles. Karadur was in the training ring, watching the riders with their horses. They brought the captive to him. The riders stopped their practice to listen.

Hern said, "My lord, we caught him in the stable, trying to steal a horse. We found his own wandering across the pasture, lame. He said his name was Damian, and claimed to be visiting a brother in Castria, but when we asked the brother's name it was a name none of us knew. He had this among his belongings." Hern held out the hilt of a sword. Its blade was broken off two inches above the wrist guard. The guard showed the emblem of a running horse.

The riders murmured. Rogys said, "That was Herugin's."

Karadur took the broken sword and turned it in his hands. Then he bent his blue gaze on the frightened youth.

He said, "You will not lie to me, I think. What's your true name?"

"Lorenzo."

"Where are you from, Lorenzo?"

"Faggio, my lord. It is a village near Ostia."

"Do you know a man named Ralf Molto?"

The young man froze. Rogys stepped forward and struck him across the face. "Answer!" said the rider fiercely.

"Yes! Yes, I know him."

"How do you know him?"

"He's my uncle."

Karadur said, "The man who bore that sword was sworn to me."

Lorenzo, gasping a little in terror, said, "I didn't kill him! My uncle struck the blow. I am guiltless of his death! I swear it."

"But you were there, were you not? You watched him die, and flung his body into the waste for the wolves to find, and took his sword as a memento. And you helped ambush another man, a man with one arm, who is also my servant. Didn't you?"

"Yes," Lorenzo whispered.

"For trespass in my domain, assault, and kidnapping, the punishment is death. How old are you?"