Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (83 page)

The stable master had been staring down the hallway Benjin Traske, Kyl, and the drakes had used. With effort, he shifted his gaze to the sorceress. “I thank you deeply for thossse wordsss, my lady, but I have let too much time pass. There are dutiesss that I realize I must see to before it isss too late.”

“Very well. We have not given up on the spells that bind you and Aurim. I want you to know that they are still priorities with us.”

The drake shrugged. “I have had it this long; I think that if Master Aurim can wait, then so can I.”

Valea’s mother swore an oath, so upset was she. “There’s always too much happening at the same time! These spells
should
be removed as quickly as possible!”

“They don’t seem to be harming us, Mother. I can wait, too.” Aurim’s face was pale. “Besides . . . I need to hear what happened. I need to hear about Toos. How did Toma sneak assassins into Penacles? How does he find his way into everywhere?”

For some reason, this made their mother pause. At last the fire-tressed sorceress admitted, “Your father thinks it might have been someone else who plotted the assassination. He hopes to find out more. . . .” She hugged herself, obviously worried. “I pray that he doesn’t find out more than he planned.”

The others nodded, Valea making her own private wish concerning her father’s safety . . . and the rescue of Darkhorse. At least, she thought, the assassins had failed in their goal; Kyl was alive and well.

She would have to see him at first opportunity. He would certainly not turn
her
away. As selfish as she knew it was for her to think so, Valea could not help wondering if perhaps this tragic event would be what finally brought them together. She would be good for him, especially now. Kyl would not have to fear for her; Valea had the power not only to protect herself but to further augment the heir’s own magic. Between them, no assassin, however well armed, would stand the slightest chance of success.

Not even Toma
, she decided.

GRATH HAD A
great desire to slap his brother’s face again and again until the idiot calmed down and thought properly once more, but he knew that such action would only see him dismissed from Kyl’s side. That would ruin everything that had been planned.

The death of General Toos had been a tragic loss, both politically and emotionally, but Grath had long ago learned to put the worst aside, leaving his mind clear for thought. He would miss the regent, miss him much more than his mentor would, of course, but overall the human’s death had been worth the price. After all, if not for Toos, Kyl would be dead and Grath would be forced to take his place. It was much too soon for that. Perhaps later, once it was clear that the power of the Dragon Emperor was secure.

Of course, first he had to free his brother from the shock and paranoia Kyl now suffered.

“They tried to kill me, Grath! Thossse missserable humans! I should overrun them all when I am emperor! They cannot be trusssted, the furry ssscavengers . . . but . . .” Kyl’s face twisted into an expression of extreme uncertainty. “The regent gave hisss
own
life to sssave mine! I would have been
murdered
but for him!”

Faras and Ssgayn exchanged glances that Grath noted out of the edge of his eye. They were beginning to question both their emperor-to-be’s sanity and his bravery.

He put a brotherly hand on Kyl’s shoulder. “Now isss not the time to think about all of this, Kyl. The best thing to do right now is rest. You
need
rest. In only a few days, the Blue Dragon, representing the other Dragon Kings as well, will arrive in the Dagora Forest. He will want to question you. This will be your moment.”

To his astonishment, Kyl pushed him away. “I don’t care about the drake lord! If they cannot accept me asss emperor already, then I will
make
them come to me on bent knee!” A frightening glint came into the drake’s eyes. “Could it be that Blue or one of the other hesssitant onesss sssent thossse killers? They
do
all have their human agentsss, do they not, Grath?”

The last thing he wanted to encourage was a fear that the recalcitrant Dragon Kings might be trying to kill Kyl. True, it was a possibility that he had considered—only minutes before, in fact—but that was something that could be dealt with once Kyl and he gained the power of the Dragon Throne. The drake lords would be less inclined to attempt the assassination once his brother was officially their master.

Grath exhaled, trying to gather his thoughts together enough to give Kyl some sort of reassuring answer. The chaos in the arena had not been nearly so draining as trying to keep his brother in line.
And he is to be the emperor?

He was still trying to decide what to do when there came a heavy knock upon the door. Faras stalked toward the door, weapon at the ready. Kyl, Grath was ashamed to see, actually drew back into his chair.

The guards tensed. Faras opened the door.

Relief washed over Grath as he saw who it was who had dared to join them.

Kyl looked up at the newcomer, still wary. “Ssscholar Trassske. You desssire something of me? I am rather busssy at the moment.”

“So I see,” remarked the tutor with obvious sarcasm. Grath knew that his brother had never heard the figure before him speak with such impudence. “Busy falling prey to your fears when you should be using them to strengthen you. A ruler must learn to control his weaknesses and make them work for him.”

“I don’t have time for your sss—”

Grath allowed himself a brief smile as Kyl broke off at the look on the massive figure’s face. At last there was someone who could make his brother see sense . . . and who else was better suited?

Benjin Traske ceased glaring at the heir to the dragon throne just long enough to deal with Kyl’s bodyguards. “Leave us.”

To Kyl’s astonishment—but not to Grath’s—Faras and Ssgayn bowed and hastily retreated from the chamber.

The dragon heir rose, intending to command the two to return, but Traske stepped directly in front of him. Kyl, trying to back away, fell into the chair.

“Things are moving much too swiftly now, but we can compensate. The death of the regent, while unexpected, does nothing to change the fact that you
will
be emperor in only a very short time. You survived the assassination, and now it will be almost impossible for whoever was responsible to attempt something else. I will see to assuring that.”

“You will see to that?”

“In whatever way is open to me, of course,” Traske corrected. “What is more important is to consider the next step you must take on the road to the throne. If I may suggest—”

This made Kyl laugh harshly. “Teacher, you are a human I admire, I freely admit that. Your advice I would generally find good, but you could not possssibly underssstand what I am going through. You do not underssstand the
challenges
, the myriad
pitfalls
, that I face in asssuming the throne of my kind.”

“Perhaps I understand more than you imagine. . . .”

“You would have to live through it yourssself. There isss no other way to underssstand it ssso well.”

Benjin Traske started to speak, then paused in consideration. At last, he simply said, “I can see that for now I am wasting my time here.”

He was leaving. Grath could not believe that. Here was the one being able to drag Kyl back to his feet and he was leaving without having even tried. “Teacher—”

Benjin Traske shook his head. “No, Grath. I will waste no time here. I can see that Kyl needs time to let his thoughts cool.” The huge figure loomed over the heir. “Then, Kyl, you and I will talk again. Much longer, this time.”

The heir had already slipped deeper into his chair. “I have no desire to do so.”

“You will.” Traske’s tone was such that Kyl could not help but straighten. It was the voice that had kept both drakes highly attentive throughout their lessons. It was a voice that brooked no disagreement, one that Grath knew his brother had not yet learned to control completely and probably never would.

Benjin Traske turned to leave, the issue of Kyl’s permission negligible under the circumstances, but then paused. He glanced first at Grath, then at Kyl, to whom he added, “You will be emperor. You will be strong. We will see to that.”

The dragon heir glanced up. His gaze did not leave the figure of the scholar until Traske had closed the door behind him. Then, Kyl simply turned to stare at one of the walls. Grath remained where he was, silent as the night. When Faras and Ssgayn returned, he indicated silence, then pointed where he wanted them positioned. They obeyed him without a sound.

Kyl continued to stare at the wall, but from where Grath stood, it was possible for the younger drake to see the look on his elder brother’s visage. Still brooding, but now Kyl was at least thinking. It was the first stage to recovery.

“Grath? What do you think of our esssteemed tutor?”

How to phrase it best? Grath hesitated, then responded, “He came here to see you made emperor, brother. He is not the kind to let years of work go for naught. When he says that you will be emperor, he means it.”

“Ssso I felt.” The dragon heir hissed. “I sssometimesss wish that Toma had sssucceeded our sssire after all.
He
would have brooked no threat from asssasssin or king, human or drake.”

“There isss much to admire in Toma,” Grath ventured. “He was loyal to our sire.”

“Ssso I was thinking.”

The young drake smiled at such a response, but only because his brother could not clearly see his face. Faras and Ssgayn could, but they were of no consequence; they knew their places.

“Perhaps, when you are emperor, you will be able to arrange to talk with him.”

The notion made Kyl blink. “I could do that, couldn’t I?”

“As emperor, who would stop you?”

“Who, indeed?”

Behind the emperor-to-be, Grath allowed himself another smile.

XVI

CABE FROWNED AS
the night aged. The evidence he had hoped to find had failed to turn up, but still the warlock could not abandon his suspicions. He
wanted
to, very dearly in fact, but some part of him forced the mage to push on.

Twice already he had contacted his wife and the Gryphon. There had not been much to report from either side. Thanks to a private conversation between Benjin Traske and Kyl, the heir had at least calmed down. He remained secluded in his chambers, however. Gwendolyn reported some lingering signs of his earlier nervousness, but it appeared that Kyl had his fear under control. There was nothing else to report from the Manor. Aurim and Ssarekai were still afflicted by the mysterious spell Toma had cast upon them, but so far it had not affected anything but their memories concerning the renegade.

The news from Penacles was little better. Order had been restored and most in the kingdom seemed perfectly satisfied with the return of their former monarch, but the lionbird had been forced to admit that the spells of searching that he had cast upon the remnants of the two assassins had revealed nothing new. He had, however, promised the warlock that he would keep the garments under guard until Cabe or Gwen had the opportunity to study them thoroughly.

In a wooded area near the northern edge of the Dagora Forest, Cabe sat on a high rock contemplating the lack of success on everyone’s part. Even he had not had anything to report. It had been his decision to continue the search through the entire night if necessary, for, in his mind, each second he delayed meant more danger to Darkhorse. Fortunately, he could revitalize himself for a time through the simple use of sorcery. Cabe did not like substituting magical energy in the place of normal rest—it was a danger in the long run for
many
reasons—but he did it rarely enough that now would not cause him trouble. What
did
bother him was the possibility of finding his last clues as useless as the others. Then, the only choices left to him would be to confront the source of his suspicions, or forget the matter—and Darkhorse—forever.

He could never do the latter, but the former unnerved him almost as much.

Exhaling, the warlock floated off the rock and slowly descended to the ground, where he landed in a standing position. Cabe surveyed the area, seeing it well despite the darkness. For once, he had dared to adjust his eyes to better see at night. As much as Cabe disliked altering any portion of his form, especially something as sensitive as the eyes, the missing Darkhorse deserved at least
that
much effort. The warlock was willing to give his life, if that was what it took to save the ebony stallion.

I should’ve sensed something! What am I missing?
What, indeed? Cabe had tried to follow Darkhorse’s trace, but so far it had led him nowhere. It was as if his last few days had been erased from—

Then it at last came to him. He cursed himself for a fool.
I should’ve seen that before! And people think of me as a master sorcerer! I’m a
novice,
that’s what I am! A wet-behind-the-ears, all-knowing, first-day novice!

The traps set for Darkhorse had been designed in a variety of manners, but one consistent trait had been the creator’s use of one bit of sorcery masking another. What better way, then, to cover the trail of the shadow steed by use of the same, or rather,
similar
technique?

Tensing, the spellcaster reached out and looked at the world anew. There were different levels of vision, and while Cabe made use of both the mundane and magical, he did not usually utilize all of the latter. He could not remember a time when he had been forced to reach beyond the most common of the magical dimensions. Cabe
had
viewed the world from every level, but only for practice. He had never had to truly make use of them until now.

In the first shifting, the land around him became fluid, but everything still held its basic shape. Trees and rocks wiggled like overfilled water sacks, yet did not burst when he touched them. The night sky was blue. Lines of force, the same forces that Cabe’s body drew upon when he utilized sorcery, crisscrossed everywhere. Colors were askew, with green things now red and brown things now yellow.