Silver Dragon Codex (12 page)

Jace would have stopped her, kept his hand on her shoulder, but Cerisse gently pushed him back. “Let her go,” the half-elf whispered. “She’ll be all right.” Whether it was some instinct that made Cerisse hold him back or whether she read something on Belen’s face in the shadowy arch of the doorway, Jace didn’t know. But her tone of voice was so serious, the earnest look in her brown eyes so rare and unexpected that he stopped dead in his tracks.

Ebano stepped close to Jace in the doorway, carrying an ornate candelabrum with three half-melted candles in its twisted brackets. He’d lit them, and now he held up the light so that the soft glow illuminated the room beyond the ruined door. The room inside was smaller than any of the others at the top of the tower. It was barren—no
furniture, bookshelves, or any sign that someone might live within. Instead, the walls were slick stone covered in frost, and there were no carpets at all.

The only thing in the room was a flat piece of thick ice, square around the edges but curved in the center, like the old worry stone Jace used to rub while he watched his father walk the high wire. Soft furs, now old and crusted with ice, had been piled around the strange slab of ice. They were scattered on the ground around it, stiff and frozen in discarded lumps. Belen walked toward the stone stiff legged and knelt on the cold ground by the side of the slab. She reached out with one trembling hand and touched the furs, and they crackled beneath the pressure of her fingers.

“Was this another bedroom?” Cerisse inched forward through the door, marveling at the icicles that decorated the ceiling beams. “Did you sleep there sometimes, on the stone? No, it’s too cold for a human, and too small for a dragon, that can’t be right.”

Belen didn’t answer. Jace followed Cerisse, heading deeper in while Ebano stood in the doorway with the candles in his hand. Ice crunched under Jace’s feet. When he reached Belen’s side, he saw that she looked as if she’d been struck by a physical blow. Belen ran her hands along the inner curve of the ice and choked back a sob.

“Belen, what’s wrong?” he asked her without thinking.
Then his eye caught the shape of the indentation, and the evidence fell together into a single blinding insight. “By all the gods,” he said, his voice breaking as he stared in mingled horror and surprise.

Cerisse was the one who said it out loud. “The crevice in the ice. It’s shaped … like an egg.”

“They took it.” Belen’s voice was flat. Her eyes sparked like bright chips of cold ice, and her hand drifted to the center of the depression in the stone. “They took my egg. My child! Stolen!” Her body shook, and her mouth snarled into so fearsome a grimace that Jace could have sworn she’d grown fangs.

“Belen remember?” Ebano murmured, a deep sympathy in his tone.

Belen surged to her feet, hands clenched into tight fists. “I do remember! I was asleep. I’d slept for almost a year, waiting for it to hatch. Something woke me, and when I checked on the egg, it was gone. Stolen! Betrayed!” Jace was shoved back, struck by her shoulder as she rose, and her strength was enough to knock him over. He landed on one hand, frost crunching beneath his fingers as she lost herself to the rage.

“Someone came in while I was sleeping and stole it. Only one village knows where I live. They must have taken it!” Belen was lost in the resurfacing memory, speaking to
people who weren’t really there. “You have my gratitude for awakening me, and telling me where to find my egg. When I return, you will be … well … compensated.” Belen’s knees gave out beneath her, her voice falling faint. Her eyes closed, tears brushing her eyelashes in small, frozen crystals.

“I remember now,” she whispered, slowly coming back to reality. “That’s when I left—for the village.”

Cerisse rushed forward to grasp Belen’s wrists, keeping the silver-haired woman from collapsing. “Belen!”

“I wasn’t alone when I awoke. Someone was here,” Belen said softly, rage turning to sorrow. “They woke me, told me that the village stole my egg. That’s why I went there—to get it back. That’s why I attacked Angvale.”

“And while you were fighting them, someone stole the stone.” Jace picked up one of the castaway furs and wrapped it around Belen’s slender shoulders. “We were right. You were set up. They say that the good dragons’ eggs were stolen by the evil dragons to make their horrible draconians for the War of the Lance. That village didn’t do anything—Takhisis’s servants did. Someone took advantage of that.”

“Takhisis?” Cerisse asked, confused.

“The Dark Queen.” Belen lowered her head in sorrow. “I learned about that during the time I was a dancer—the
War of the Lance was going on while I hid in Worver’s circus. Takhisis and her evil dragons were breaking the peace between us all, stealing the eggs of the good dragons and using them—” her voice broke. Jace wanted to take her hand, but was afraid she wouldn’t finish the story. After a moment, she continued. “Using them, twisted by magic, to make an army of draconians.”

“I heard about that,” Cerisse said. “They destroyed the good dragons’ eggs. Is that what happened to your child? Oh, Belen, I’m so sorry.”

Child? Jace hadn’t reached that part of his thought process. The egg was Belen’s child. He looked at her again, her long silver hair flowing down past her shoulders, beautiful, even features blurred with tears and grief. Belen was a mother?

“Belen … how old are you?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“If the dates on my letters are any indication,” Belen answered quietly, “several hundreds of years.”

That, Jace thought, was going to put a serious damper on any sort of dating.

“The person who convinced me to attack that village found out that my egg was missing—they may even have seen it stolen—and lied to me about who took it. I believed them.” She let Ebano help her from the room. He half carried
her to the wooden chair by the desk. She sat heavily, pulling the makeshift cloak tight around her shoulders. “They used me. They used my anger.”

“Do you think the evil dragons did it?” Cerisse asked.

“I don’t think so.” Belen shook her head. “I would have recognized an evil dragon for what it truly was, no matter what spells hid its form. It was someone else.”

“Can you remember anything at all? Who they were? What they said to you?”

Belen shook her head and met Jace’s eyes frankly. “Only my anger. I remember that very well. There are memories, but they’re very fragmented. I remember rushing down the stairs, into the courtyard, and then out over the forest with nothing on my mind except finding my egg. But I didn’t find it.” Her eyes teared up again, sparkling against frosted eyelashes. “It wasn’t at the village.”

She brushed back the tears, struggling to remember more of her past. “I don’t know how I ended up wandering in the woods or how I found Worver’s circus wagons instead of coming back to the tower.”

“The stone’s curse,” Cerisse reminded her. “That’s why you lost your memory.”

With a sigh, Belen shook her head. “Dragons are difficult to enchant. Even if that stone was god-touched, I
doubt it could have affected me if I didn’t want it to. The stone may have taken my memory—but to do so, I must have given it up.”

“You lost your egg, Belen, your child,” Cerisse said evenly. “You had every right to be angry.”

“But to attack an innocent village?” she protested. “How could I?” She stood up from the chair, the fur cloak falling askew around her. “I should have known.”

Cerisse bristled. “You were asleep!” She shook her finger matter-of-factly in front of Belen’s face. “I know that when I wake up, it takes me at least five minutes to figure out where I am, much less what I’m supposed to be doing that day. If someone ran into my wagon and woke me up yelling ‘fire,’ I’d be outside carrying buckets before I even asked where.” She squared her jaw, fists on her hips. “You wrecked the village, but you didn’t kill anyone. Mysos will have to recognize that.”

“Why would he?” Jace groused. “He wasn’t willing to give her the benefit of the doubt before, and even if we know what happened, we don’t have any way to prove it.”

“I deserve anything they do to me.” Belen snatched up the fur again, her fingers sinking tightly into the white shag. “I attacked a village of innocents. I distracted them so that someone could steal the artifact they’d protected for generations. I’m as guilty as the person who took it.
I’ll go back to Mysos and turn myself in. Whatever he and the White Robes of Palanthas want to do to me, I deserve it. I give up. I failed as a mother, and I failed to keep that village safe.

“I’m a
dragon
. I’m supposed to be better than that.”

Before Jace had time to acknowledge how quickly Belen had grown accustomed to the idea of her true nature, Ebano stepped in. “Belen.” The word was sharp, tinged with an unexpected anger. Everyone stopped what they were doing: Jace in his attempts to soothe her, Cerisse’s indignant stomping. Even Belen paused, stopped by the hypnotist’s pointed tone. “Foolish.”

It was the sharpest tone Jace had ever heard from the genteel mystic. Ebano took the fur from her, folding it over his arm and laying it on the chair she’d just left. When he spoke again, his tone was back to its normal, smooth courtesy. “Your egg was you.” He considered, and tried again. “Egg was … part of you. Family. This one understands what it is to lose family.”

Pale sunlight trickled through the high window of the room, casting an unnatural pallor on the faces of the circus performers and bringing a deep mahogany glow to Ebano’s face. He sighed, placing one hand on Belen’s shoulder, and gave her a small smile. “This one’s home far away. Desert sand. Very beautiful. Very dangerous.” His smile faded.
“This one’s family died. Wife. Very young daughter. This one wishes he had no memory. This one can only remember.” He passed a hand over his pale purple eyes, closing them for a moment. When he opened them again, Jace could see great sorrow. “This one misses them, very much. Saw them everywhere, but they lived not. So this one ran.”

Belen ran a hand through her silver hair, pushing it back from her face. “I didn’t know about your family, Ebano.”

The mystic shrugged. He took in a deep breath, pursing his lips. “This one was a coward.”

“Ebano!” Cerisse broke in. “How can you say that? I saw you fight those werewolves. And if you could have reached the chimera, I know you would have fought it too. You’re not a coward.”

He brushed her words aside with a soft gesture. “Coward,” he repeated. “Running away from memories. Homeland, house, everything. Memories.” Ebano lowered his hand and fixed Belen with a somber stare. “Like you.”

“Now, wait right there!” As always, Jace leaped to Belen’s defense. He bristled at the mesmerist, his hands balling into fists. “Belen’s no coward! That White Robe is hunting her! If anything, she’s brave for wanting to turn herself in and face punishment for a crime that wasn’t her fault!”

Cerisse looked torn.

“Coward.” Ebano repeated without malice. “Running away, now run to prison. Prison still not here.” He crossed his arms, hands sinking into the long sleeves of his dark purple robe. He stared meaningfully at Belen. “No memories there either. Safe.”

“You take that back!” Jace felt heat rush into his face. Ebano was their friend! He’d come all this way, fought at their side, protected them—and now he called Belen a coward? The betrayal stung, making Jace’s stomach clench. “Take it back, or I’ll make you take it back.” Without thinking, Jace’s hand slid to his leg, dangerously near his sword hilt. Ebano didn’t flinch. He simply met Jace’s glare with a concerted smile.

Belen reached for Jace’s elbow, pushing the boy back gently. “No, Jace. He’s right.”

“What?” Jace and Cerisse said together. Jace stared agape, but Cerisse protested.

“He doesn’t know anything about you! You’re a dragon, Belen, dragons aren’t afraid of anything. How could he—”

Belen silenced Cerisse with a shake of her head. “He’s absolutely right. If I let Mysos take me to Palanthas and put me in prison, even if I’m guilty, I never have to face this forest again. I never have to fix the mess I made in
Angvale, and I never have to see”—her voice caught, and she had to push to continue—“I never have to see that empty nursery again.”

She straightened, looking up first at the sun on the frosted windowsills, then back to Jace, Cerisse, and finally Ebano. “I’d just be hiding.”

“So what do we do?” Cerisse asked, tugging nervously at her auburn braid.

“I promised Mysos I would come back, and that’s what I’m going to do. But I’m not going with him to Palanthas. I’m coming back here, whether he likes it or not, and I’m going to find out who is really responsible.” She hugged Ebano impulsively, a bit of the circus dancer she’d been leaking through her radiant smile. “It’s late. We’ll stay here tonight, and then go back tomorrow morning. Mysos gave me three days. Once he hears what we’ve found, he’ll have to give me more time. We can find whoever did this. We can put things back the way they were.”

“When we do,” Jace agreed with what he thought was an inspired flourish, “they’ll pay for what they did to the villagers, and to you.” Mother or not, Belen was still the most beautiful woman—dragon—he’d ever seen. Jace promised himself he’d never give up on trying to win her love.

Ebano, for his part, simply stared at Jace with those enigmatic purple eyes.