Embers at Galdrilene (41 page)

Anevay stopped and turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “Normally? How was this different?”

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced out over the caldera floor, finding comfort in the sight of the blue who gazed at him from his resting spot. “Lord Dobrane didn’t want her ransomed back. He wanted to hurt his opponent more than that. This girl, she was the favored child of her father. Dobrane wanted the daughter sold in Turindar as a slave on the boats.”

“You didn’t take the job did you?” Anevay asked, a pleading look in her eyes.

Kellinar searched her face. He hoped she would hear him out. “Yes, I took the job.”

She took a step back. “You took it?”

He nodded. “I had to. If I hadn’t, someone else would have.”

“Did you succeed in taking her?”

“I did. Which is how I managed to move through the ranks of thieves so quickly.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. “Wait a minute.” She held up her hand and her eyes narrowed. “You were Loki’s age and he is what? Around ten? How did you a get a girl the same age as you out of her house without anyone knowing? A house most likely heavily guarded.”

He smiled slightly. “She followed me out willingly and actually showed me a secret exit.”

Anevay’s eyes widened. “But, why?”

“When I reached her room, she was understandably scared and very resistant. I admit to restraining her, but only long enough to explain that if she didn’t come with me, someone else would come after her. Someone who wouldn’t care and would actually sell her.”

“So,” a hint of a smile crossed Anevay’s face and she cocked her head to the side, “You didn’t sell her?”

Kellinar shook his head. “Of course not. I’m a thief, not a trafficker. I kept her hidden in the Thieves’ Caves, completely against the rules by the way, until a suitable family could be located for her. She ended up becoming the daughter of a lord and lady in Las Fane. They had always wanted a daughter but never had one of their own. The last I saw of her, she was leaving Trilene in the back of a Trader’s wagon on her way to her new family.”

Anevay started walking again and he fell in beside her. “Do you know what happened to her after she arrived? Is she happy with her new family?”

He smiled. “Yes. I received five letters from her over the years. She misses her father, but her new family loves her dearly and she is happy.”

As they walked into the Great Hall, something crashed into him and knocked him backward a step.

“Kellinar!” Loki cried, standing with his arms tight around Kellinar’s waist.

Kellinar looked apologetically at Anevay and she smiled back in understanding. “Another time then.”

“Loki!” He pried the boy’s arms away and stood back to look him over. Clean, in nice clothing and with his short cropped hair neatly combed, Kellinar thought him almost unrecognizable. “It’s good to see you. Where have you been?”

He looked over the boy’s head at a tall, lanky old man with white fly away hair and bushy eyebrows of the same color. The man smiled and Kellinar smiled back before returning his attention to Loki.

“I’ve been staying at the Universarary,” Loki said.

The old man spoke, “You mean University. And you are not just staying there; you should be learning as well.”

Loki scowled at the man and Kellinar asked, “You aren’t learning?”

“He has refused to do anything until he was allowed to come see you,” the old man said.

“They wasn’t letting me come and see you. So I told them I wasn’t learning nothing until they did. And I meant it Headmaster Po. You see now that I did, don’t you?”

Po looked at the boy and nodded. “How could I not see it? Especially when you took to trying to sneak away to see him?” He raised his eyes to Kellinar’s. “Even a junior Spirit mage had difficulties keeping track of him. He’s quite adept at disappearing.”

“I was learning from Kellinar before we left Trilene. He’s the best. Ain’t nobody ever been able to catch Kellinar when he don’t want caught.”

Kellinar laid his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You should take advantage of the chance to learn.”

“Oh I learned a couple of things. That Spirit mage, she taught me to write my name.”

Po took a step closer. “I tried to tell him that you couldn’t be bothered for a while, but he would have none of it.”

Kellinar looked up and met the old man’s eyes, feeling the weight and responsibility of his new position. “Loki is never a bother to me and may come to see me if he wishes.” Loki’s chest puffed out and he turned to give the Headmaster a triumphant look, but Kellinar spoke again, taking the growing wind out of his sails, “But, only if you are applying yourself to your studies. If you wish to see me, send Headmaster Po to me to discuss your studies. If they are going well and you are working hard at them, you will be allowed to visit me.”

Loki looked down at the ground and mumbled, “Yes, Kellinar.”

At one time, Kellinar wouldn’t have cared whether Loki learned book studies or not. Kellinar had chosen to learn them on his own and would only have taught Loki if the boy asked. But Galdrilene was a very different place than Trilene and his own place within it just as different. It would not do for a Dragon Rider to discourage learning in a society where it was considered above important.

Loki looked up at him, his eyes bright in his face again. “Is it true you hatched a dragon? What did you name him?”

Kellinar dropped his hand from Loki’s shoulder and smiled. “Yes, it’s true. His name is Shryden. Would you like to meet him?”

“Oh, can I? It’s okay, ain’t it Headmaster? Can I, please?”

Po nodded. “Of course you may, young man.”

Kellinar led them across the wide stone terrace and down to the floor of the crater, sending a call to Shryden as they walked. The large blue draclet lumbered across the crater floor. Light from the setting sun rippled across his scales like blue fire.

The draclet came to halt in front of them and Po offered a graceful bow. “I am honored to meet you, Shryden.”

Shryden lowered his head to the boy, peering at him with ice blue eyes. Loki backed up a little. “He’s got some big teeth.”

Shryden asked Kellinar,
“This is the boy from your memories. The one you took under your wing and brought with you here, is he not?”

“Yes, this is Loki. Although I would have to say he brought himself here.”

“Then he is friend to me and I will help you watch over him.”

Loki gasped, grabbing both sides of his head with his hands as he sank to his knees. Kellinar and Po were both reaching for him when he looked up at the dragon. “It’s nice to meet you too, but your voice is really loud. You shook my whole head on the inside.”

Po’s eyebrows rose. Kellinar looked at Shryden in surprise, “You spoke directly to him?”

“He means a great deal to you and so he means the same to me. I did not realize it would be so loud in his mind. Please apologize for me.”

Kellinar looked back at Loki, who climbed to his feet with the help of Po. “Shryden wants me to pass along an apology to you. He says he didn’t know it would be so loud to you.”

Po patted the boy on the shoulder. “It is a great honor to be spoken to directly by a dragon, although not a comfortable one. For those not called by the Dragon Song, the voice of a dragon is overwhelming so they usually talk through their riders.”

Loki approached Shryden. “I’ll do just like Kellinar says and work really hard at the Uninversinty so I can come back and see you. Do you mind if I come to see you?”

Kellinar smiled down at the boy. “He says he would very much like to see you again.”

Po laid a hand on Loki’s shoulder and firmly steered him toward the Great Hall. “It’s time to go back to the University now Loki, so tomorrow you can rise early and put your words into action.”

Kellinar stood with his arm looped over Shryden’s neck and watched them walk away.

S
adira stood next to the large, four poster bed and glared at the dress the servant laid out for her. A deep green silk with skirts that fell in smooth layers, a beaded bodice and sleeves suitably full at the shoulders and narrowing down to the wrists. It was beautiful.

She hated it. Made for one of her half-sisters, like all of her dresses, it was another reminder she wasn’t worth spending coin on.

She grabbed the dress, stepped into it, pulled it up and stood still so the maid servant could button the dual rows of tiny seed buttons that ran up the back. When the maid left, she turned and looked at herself in the full-length stand mirror. Her hair, so deep a brown it was almost black, glistened in the light of the setting sun that poured through the tall windows of her chambers. Her equally dark eyes were framed by thick lashes. She smiled, admiring her features in the mirror.

Her beauty far surpassed that of her half-sisters. All but one bore too much resemblance to their sow-like mother.

Her smiled disappeared and she glared at her reflection. She should’ve been the one with suitors falling all over themselves. Not hoping some glorified squire would come save her from spinsterhood. She should’ve been the one planning a massive wedding to a powerful man with an equally large holding and a grand estate within the city of Markene itself. But her weak mother had died giving birth to her, leaving Sadira relegated to something less than royalty. Only the children of the king’s current wife could be heirs.

Her stepmother, upon marrying her father, became immediately pregnant and birthed a baby every year for nine years like a brood mare. The first one, a girl, was born a mere ten months after Sadira. A wretched thing, so convinced of her own beauty and her own superiority until last year…when Sadira put an end to the taunts of her oldest half-sister.

Oh, the panic that ran through Markene. Where was the oldest of the king’s daughters? They meant of course, the oldest daughter that counted. Her stepmother wept while her father tore apart Markene in his search for her. They never found her. Sadira smiled at her reflection in the mirror, relishing the memory.

In the five centuries since the castle of Markene was built, it had been added on to many times with hidden passages built beneath the skirts of its stone walls. Even Sadira found a few ways out. Long, dark tunnels that led beyond the walls of the city itself, their crumbling exits to the world hidden by overgrown weeds and bushes. At one time, they were probably built as escape routes. Now they lay forgotten and discovered by none, save the young Sadira, who stumbled upon them in her lonely wanderings.

Sadira had lacked enough status to play with her half-sisters, yet possessed too much to play with the servant children, so she’d spent her childhood alone. She didn’t regret this. For if not alone, had Sadira been off with playmates, she would never have found those tunnels. They’d served her so well the night she killed her eldest half-sister. No one heard the muffled pleading and screams. None would find her rotting corpse.

Sadira remembered it clearly.

Deep in the tunnels beneath the palace her sister, Neria, lay in a crumpled heap, her sobs muffled by the gag in her mouth. Sadira watched dispassionately as tears coursed down Neria’s cheeks and the sobs turned to garbled pleading. Sadira ignored her and held the knife up, trying to decide the best way to begin. She’d never killed anyone before and she wanted the experience to last as long as possible.