The Dragon of Despair (65 page)

The wolf-woman heard Edlin give an involuntary gasp of surprise and a wondering “I say!” but she was more interested in blinking tears from her light-tortured eyes than in any array of rocks—and in getting a clearer look at their enemy. Enemy this must be, waiting for them here at a place where she knew from Peace’s descriptions to Edlin that many of the tunnels beneath Thendulla Lypella came together.

“Trausholo,” came the woman’s voice again, her tone mocking. Apparently wishing Edlin and Firekeeper to understand her words, the speaker switched back into Pellish. “Grateful Peace. So you’ve come home again. I wonder that you can show your face.”

Firekeeper actually heard Peace stagger, as if physically shocked or stunned, but she smelled no blood.

“Idalia!” he said. “Idalia! Is that you?”

“Me myself,” the woman said. “Your own sister.”

She spat.

“Kistlio’s mother. You murdered my son, Grateful Peace. Did you think I would forget that? Forgive that? Never.”

“Idalia…” Peace was pleading, a thing Firekeeper had never thought she would hear.

She thought the accusation terribly unfair. Peace had not killed his nephew. The responsibility for that rested with Blind Seer, and the wolf had not wanted to hurt the youth—his target had been Lady Melina, but Kistlio had intervened to defend the woman he worshipped.

Idalia had now switched back to New Kelvinese to better gloat over her brother—Firekeeper might only have a few dozen words of the language, but the tone was universal—and Peace continued to flinch as if her words were blows to his body. Definitely unfair.

However, the wolf-woman did not expect fairness from life. Nor did she see how defending Peace’s honor at the expense of Blind Seer would help. She knew enough of humans now to know that this Idalia would only see the wolf as the weapon with her brother as the wielder, since without Grateful Peace none of them would have been in the Granite Tower on that fateful night.

Instead Firekeeper stood poised to flee or fight, whichever was needed, trying to figure out what Idalia intended for them.

Now that Firekeeper’s eyes had adjusted to the light she could see that Idalia was not alone. Ranks of armed and armored figures stood behind her, spreading out behind their leader so that they could bring their weapons into play. A few carried short bows, compact but easily possessing enough range to span the cavern. Most bore only hand weapons—a practical consideration in tight spaces where spears and longer weapons would need to be abandoned.

To one side, Firekeeper glimpsed Edlin doing something, his hands held carefully at waist level. There was a muted crackling sound that she identified after a moment as the sound of paper being folded. Seeing he had her attention, he twisted his hand to extend something to her.

“The map,” he said softly. “Take it!”

Firekeeper frowned.

“Take it!”

The wolf-woman obeyed, slowly sliding the map inside her vest, where it rested stiff and unpleasant against her skin.

Edlin looked both relieved and unwontedly serious.

“Get ready to run,” he said in the same low tones, barely moving his lips. “I learned more of the language than you. We’ve been taken prisoner. If Peace’s sis wasn’t having such fun, we’d have been hauled off already. I’m going to give you a chance to get away.”

Firekeeper didn’t want to believe him, but a glance at the armored contingent now beginning to approach them, at the readying of bows done ever so casually, confirmed his words.

“I leave you?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Edlin said conversationally. “You and him”—he gave a faint toss of his head toward Blind Seer—“have the best chance of getting away. Don’t want them to get all of us, what? Afraid…”

Whatever he’d been about to explain, Edlin stopped in midphrase, apparently alert to some change in the New Kelvinese conversation that tone alone would not reveal.

“I say!” he called out loudly in Pellish, then more softly to Firekeeper. “Go!”

“I say,” Edlin said, striding forward. “I am Lord Kestrel and I don’t take kindly to this, what?”

Idalia sneered at him.

“The idiot,” she said. “I’ve heard about you.”

Firekeeper understood that Edlin was providing a diversion—even if she wasn’t quite certain why. She halted for a moment, reluctant to leave her friends.

Blind Seer was already belly-creeping toward the welcome darkness.

“Dear heart, come away.”

“I am no idiot!” Edlin proclaimed, looking around the cavern in wonder. “Fine place this, what? Wanted to see it for a long while, don’t you know.”

Every head, armored or otherwise, turned toward him in wonder.

And Firekeeper, feeling as if somehow she was a worse traitor than Peace had ever been, took advantage of this moment when all eyes were on Edlin and slipped back one step, two, then melted into the shadows.

XXV

AFTER FIREKEEPER
, Peace, and Edlin departed, Derian found he could not sleep. He lay on his cot in the room he shared with Doc and Edlin, trying to keep his restlessness to himself.

Finally Doc’s voice, low and holding a certain ironic resignation, spoke from the other side of the room.

“I could brew you some chamomile tea,” he said, “blended with other herbs to help you sleep. Or mint if your gut is troubling you.”

“No thanks,” Derian said. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t.”

There was a rustle of movement; then a candle flared, its light just enough for Derian to see the highlights of his friend’s face.

“I’ve been trying to tell myself,” Doc said, “that I’m worrying about that broken arm we set earlier, but that’s nonsense. I’m worried about my cousins.”

Derian was momentarily puzzled, then he realized that if Edlin was Doc’s cousin, so was Firekeeper—even if the link was made even more tenuous by adoption.

Hoping to distract them both, Derian asked, “What exactly is your relation to Edlin?”

Doc chuckled.

“Distant. Saedee Norwood had a brother. He married a Surcliffe. They had children, the eldest of whom was my father. Father inherited the Surcliffe name and holdings. So my father is Norvin’s first cousin. That makes Norvin and me second cousins, and his children my third cousins or second cousins once removed or something like that.”

Doc sighed.

“But Norvin has always been very good to me. My father is younger than Saedee, but had children sooner, so my siblings and I are older than Norvin’s children. I suppose Norvin’s interest could have originated in keeping a close eye on those he could adopt to follow him should he fail to have children, but I think it is genuine family feeling.”

“You’ve known Edlin a long time, then?” Derian asked.

Even idle chatter was better than imagining Firekeeper and the others stalking through sewer tunnels, being assaulted by who knew what horrors.

“Since we were both children. I’m only a few years older and we played together.”

“Edlin seems much younger than you,” Derian said, realizing only after the words were out of his mouth that they could be taken as an insult.

“That’s Norvin’s fault, I think,” Doc replied, overlooking the flub. “He wanted a son who was just like him in every way. Edlin isn’t at all. He’s more like Eirene in personality—and she was so unlike a typical Norwood that gossip said she must take after her father.”

“And that was?” Derian asked, daring a question in the single-candle privacy that he never would have asked in daylight.

He could see the outline of Doc’s shrug.

“A mystery. No one, as far as I know, knows who he was except Saedee.”

“Ah.”

Derian felt himself blushing. He had overstepped that time. He could hear it in the faint note of rebuke in Doc’s tone. Such speculations would be reserved for longtime retainers or family. To cover, he spoke what was on his mind—the very thoughts he had been avoiding.

“I wonder how the others are doing.”

“So do I,” Doc answered.

Hours before dawn, the two men surrendered any pretense of sleeping and pulled out a deck of cards. When they gave up on this, Derian put on boots and outdoor clothes to tend the horses. Doc crossed over to his patients. There were always a few in the infirmary. He found Elise there before him, but Derian, hearing their voices, only made sure that any of their scouts were not among those speaking and went out to the stables.

Firekeeper did not return until after dawn and when she did push through the back gate she was far from the proud figure Derian knew so well. It wasn’t just that the wolf-woman was filthy enough to cause notice even among Dragon’s Breath’s motley population. It was that her spirit was in rags. Blind Seer leaned against her, clearly worried.

“I leave them,” Firekeeper told Derian without preamble. “Peace and Edlin. I leave them behind.”

Derian stared, then ran to get the others.

Upon seeing Firekeeper, Wendee insisted on immediate baths for both the wolf-woman and Blind Seer. Firekeeper did not protest, but she insisted that her companions join her so she could report while she washed.

“In the stables,” she suggested, “so no one overhear.”

Derian could tell that both Wendee and Elise had to fight down their social conditioning, but that both were possessed of enough common sense not to protest. After all, Derian had seen Firekeeper naked. Doc had been her physician following the terrible injuries inflicted by Prince Newell.

Citrine, hauled from her porridge, seemed to think the entire occasion quite amusing. The manic look had come back into her eyes over the last few days and she was losing ground rapidly. Derian wondered if Citrine had come to think that Peace in his Jalarios role really was her father and if she was now orphaned anew.

Derian made the situation easier for the ladies’ modesty by suggesting that he and Doc help Blind Seer with the wolf’s own bath. They found the wolf eager for a good scrubbing—even if he did have to stand in a deep trough used to water the horses and be sluiced down with buckets.

Firekeeper started talking as soon as they were alone and Bee Biter was sitting perched where he could see any who might come to spy.

“I leave them,” she said, repeating what she had said the moment she had come in through the gate. Even though it was old news, her voice was still raw with pain. “I leave Peace and Edlin behind.”

She went on to tell them about the journey through the tunnels, praising both guide and cartographer with such fervor that Derian knew she already dreaded that they were dead. When she came to the caverns, she slowed her narrative, making the excuse of dunking her already rinsed hair.

“I not trust Peace, not even then,” she said at last. “When first the woman Idalia speak, I think he has betrayed us and am wondering how to get away. Then I smell his fear and his unhappiness. Blind Seer smell it, too,” she added, as if wondering if they thought her words mere rhetoric.

“Then I am very afraid, for I think of patience waiting for us beneath the earth. Idalia’s soldiers have bows and arrows. We would be dead if we flee, and I hear such hate in her voice that I know she not stop saying to shoot. Then Edlin give me map.”

Derian nodded, seeing her sudden anxious expression.

“It’s safe, Firekeeper,” he said. “I have it right here.”

He tapped his trouser pocket. Firekeeper nodded and went on.

“And Edlin tell me something I still not understand. He say ‘Don’t want them getting all of us. Afraid…’”

Firekeeper mimicked Edlin’s intonation’s so flawlessly that Derian could imagine the young lord speaking. Resuming her own voice she went on.

“Then Edlin stop talking, seeing that guards is so close that if he not make fuss now, it not be soon enough. What he mean he afraid? He was very brave.”

Elise replied, couching her words in unwontedly gentle tones. Derian knew she was remembering Edlin not just as their recent companion but as the boy she had played with when they were both children.

“Firekeeper, I think Edlin wanted to make certain that someone escaped to tell what happened. If no one got away, then the New Kelvinese could deny any complicity in your disappearance. How could our ambassador protest if they denied all knowledge of you? Edlin is not known for his brilliance and street crime does exist. You, dear, are known for disappearing at a moment’s notice.

“This way, however, you have returned as a witness. True, if we are to ask after them through public channels, we will have to admit to lurking where we should not have been. Even so, the New Kelvinese would find it more difficult to deny that Edlin was last seen in the custody of one of their own. When Edlin sent you away, he might have been aware that his life could still be forfeit for spying, but he did not need to worry that he would simply disappear without a trace.”

Firekeeper looked puzzled by many of Elise’s words, but she did not ask for clarification. Doubtless she’d grown very good at sorting out the basic meaning.

“So Edlin not afraid,” she said, “except of dying and no one knowing.”

“That’s about it,” Elise concurred, “and he probably thought there was no reason his little sister should die, too.”