The Fire Dragon (49 page)

“Think he'll hold true?” Rhodry spoke in Elvish. “I can't help but wonder if he's in league with her somehow, laying a trap for us.”

“I doubt it. Just now, when I scryed Raena out, I found her wallowing in the blankets with that mazrak, the dirty one. I didn't realize how much dweomer Verrarc has. He saw it, too.”

Rhodry laughed his high-pitched berserker's chortle.

“Oh, he'll hold true,” Rhodry said, grinning. “I think me we can count on our Verro, truly I do.”

“Well, I feel sorry for the poor man.”

“So do I.” Rhodry suddenly held up a hand for silence. “There she is. Hear that?”

“No. What do you mean? Wait! That drumming sound?”

“That's Arzosah flying.”

Sure enough, in but a few moments the thwack of her wings against the air sounded loud and clear over the town. Dallandra set the candle lantern down and walked a few steps away from the pool of light. When she looked to the west, she could see the dragon-shape against the stars.

“I'd best get back to Citadel,” Rhodry said. “It wouldn't be prudent, somehow, to have her land right here.”

Rhodry trotted off, heading round the lake—to find a coracle, Dallandra supposed. Now if only we could persuade Arzosah to guard the Northlands, Dalla thought. Mayhap for a tax of cows? She giggled aloud, then decided she must be going daft with the strain.

For a long while that night Dallandra sat by the fire and fed it twigs while she scried in the embers. The vision rose of the Horsekin camp and another fire, where Kral, Raena, and the mazrak sat talking quietly among themselves. It seemed that talk was all they did, but Dallandra's blood ran cold with the dweomer warning. They were planning some danger to the town, whether violence or
dweomer she could not know. Finally, when they retired to their tents, she let the fire die and went to her own blankets.

“So,” Arzosah said, “the stinking bitch has fled, has she? Why don't we fly over the Horsekin camp and scatter their horses? All the men will have to chase after them, and then I can just swoop down and seize Raena.”

“Naught would please me more,” Rhodry said, “but we can't. There's the small matter of their tribes back at home to consider.”

“The only way I choose to consider them is for meals.”

“I know, but there are far too many of them in the Northlands for you to eat, not all at once at least. If we harm these Horsekin, their kin will send an army after us.”

Arzosah heaved a massive sigh. They were sitting on the roof of the ruined temple, and in the starlight Rhodry could see her examining her claws.

“That beastly stag struggled,” she remarked. “I may have chipped a claw on him. But I ate him for his pains.”

“The entire Horsekin army will struggle a fair bit harder than one stag.”

“Well, true enough. And I won't be able to panic their horses forever. Sooner or later the stupid creatures will recognize my smell and decide their masters can drive me off.” She lowered her massive paw. “Pity. It would have been grand to bring Raena back all bloody and dripping.”

“Grand till Cerr Cawnen had to pay the price,” Rhodry said. “Now look, on the morrow, I want you to fly off again. Hunt or not as you please, but don't come back to the town till well after sunset.”

“Gladly, but do we really have to let her escape?”

“Who said anything about letting her run free? I'm thinking up a plan. But if you're here, Raena will be too frightened to walk into the trap.”

“Very well then.” Arzosah yawned with a shake of her head. “You do the thinking. I'm going to get a good night's sleep.”

• • •

For most of the night Verrarc lay awake, alone in the bed he'd grown used to sharing. His mind raced this way and that like a panicked animal, first cursing him for losing Raena, next exulting that she was gone, then worrying about the Horsekin, wondering why he would trust Dallandra and this Rhodry from Aberwyn, and then once again giving in to his grief at losing the only woman he'd ever loved. Finally he did sleep, only to wake when Korla came rushing into a bedchamber bright with sun.

“The Chief Speaker be here, master. It be a good while past dawn.”

“Ye gods! Do him tell that I wake and will join him presently. Oh, and tender him my apology for being so lax.”

On every day of Deciding, the town council went up to the plaza early to set up the wood booths that would each enclose a set of colored jugs. Near the well stood the big plank table for the stone markers. For this particular election, those citizens who wanted an alliance with Prince Daralanteriel and the Gel da'Thae would put black markers into a black pot. Those who wished to ally with the Horsekin would put red in red, and those who wished no alliance at all, white in white.

Verrarc arrived just as Sergeant Gart came puffing up the path with the militia marching behind him. Ten men would stand behind the table to ensure that the voting proceeded honestly. Other squads would dispose themselves around the plaza, just in case there was trouble, as Sergeant Gart remarked.

“A good thought, Sergeant,” Verrarc said. “The whole town's on edge.”

Admi himself stood off to one side talking with Zatcheka, who had come to witness the Deciding. She was wearing her long deerskin dress and a tall headdress made of cloth-of-gold, wrapped round itself and piled high. Jewelled stickpins flashed here and there in the folds. Two of her men, armed with solid quarterstaves, stood guard behind her. Verrarc was about to join Admi when he saw the prince of the Westfolk coming with an escort of his own. Against the
folds of his grey tunic the sapphire pendant gleamed. Behind his men walked Niffa, Dallandra, and the princess, carrying her baby. Bringing up the rear as a last guard was Rhodry from Aberwyn. Verrarc hurried over and bowed to the prince.

“Good morrow,” he said. “I see Niffa told you of our custom.”

“So she did,” Daralanteriel said. “So I've come to witness, as she suggested. I hope you don't mind my wife coming along. She wanted to see the workings of your Deciding.”

“Of course, of course, you're all welcome,” Verrarc said. “No doubt Niffa did tell you, though, that you mayn't speak to the citizens as they make their choices.”

“She did, and we'll abide by that.” Dar paused, glancing around. “Carra, will you be all right? The day's turning out hot, clouds or no.”

“The Council House does stand over yonder,” Verrarc put in. “Do avail yourself of it should you wish.”

“We could take the baby inside for a bit,” Carra said to Niffa. “Not much is happening yet.”

“We've yet to send out the criers,” Verrarc said. “Here be the customs which do rule a Deciding. The Council of Five does prepare all that you see before you. Then do we send out four criers to the town below, to remind all that on a day such as this no one may lift a hand to do any other citizen harm. It be needful for a Deciding to be free of all strife, for who would choose cleanly if he did think himself in danger for it?”

“True spoken.” Dar nodded in agreement. “That strikes me as a fine custom.”

Talking together, Niffa and Carra took the baby and strolled away in the general direction of the Council House. Verrarc glanced at Rhodry, who had been listening with his thumbs hooked into his sword belt.

“Tell me, Councilman,” Rhodry said. “Does Rakzan Kral have the right to witness?”

“I fear me he does.” Verrarc felt suddenly sick. “There be a need on us to send a fifth crier to his camp, methinks.”

“I'll be glad to take that duty upon myself.” Rhodry suddenly smiled, and Verrarc had never seen anyone smile
so brightly and yet look so cold. “To spare one of your townsfolk the danger, like.”

“Rori!” Dallandra stepped forward. “And what are you planning?”

“To do the council's bidding and naught more.” Rhodry's smile turned innocent.

“Will you swear that to me?” Dallandra set her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“I will, on my silver dagger.”

“Oh very well, then, if the council wants to take your offer, I shan't stand in your way. But you need to warn Arzosah off, too. She's someone else who needs to hear the customs of this country.”

“We discussed it last night. She knows she's not to eat any Horsekin or their mounts.” Rhodry turned to Verrarc. “Shall I be a herald or no?”

“I'll take your offer and gladly,” Verrarc said. “There were a great trouble on my heart, thinking of who might be willing to go to that camp.”

Rhodry started to answer, but suddenly Verrarc heard a sound like thunder, rising behind him. He spun around and saw the black dragon, flying from her perch. With a few wing strokes she gained height, turned, and flew steadily off to the east.

“Good,” Rhodry said. “She remembered what I told her. I thought it might ease your citizens' hearts, Councilman, not to have her so close to the Deciding.”

“My thanks.” Verrarc watched the dark shape dwindling and shuddered. “I think me it be for the best.”

In Cerr Cawnen a crier wore long strips of white linen tied round his head and fluttering behind him; he carried a staff bound with more of the same. Since the other men carried no weapons, Rhodry left his sword with Dallandra, but he kept the silver dagger at his belt. Admi repeated the ritual words several times over for Rhodry's sake.

“And do you remember,” Admi finished up, “that the town gates will be shut, lest some traveller disturb the proceedings.
The witnesses must call up to the guards and state their errand within.”

The five criers rode the council's big barge across the lake. By the time they reached the farther shore, dark clouds filled the sky, and the windless day had turned hot and muggy. Rhodry was glad of the chance to get away from the steaming, stinking lake to the clean air of the water meadows beyond the gates.

The Horsekin had set up their peaked tents in a rough circle around a big fire pit. As Rhodry approached, he could see their horses grazing at tether beyond the camp. The camp itself seemed deserted at first, but when he called out a hail, one of the tent flaps opened and Rakzan Kral himself came out, wearing his gold surcoat and carrying his whip. He smiled with a show of fang, yet Rhodry could tell that he meant to be pleasant. Rhodry bowed to him.

“A good morrow to you,” Rhodry said. “I understand that you're a plaintiff at Cerr Cawnen's gates?”

“I am, truly,” Kral said. “The priestess did tell me that a herald would come unto us.”

Rhodry glanced around, but he saw only a pair of human slaves, standing between two tents and watching silently.

“I am enjoined by the Council of Five to invite your witness to the Deciding this day. The public square on Citadel is open to all who would come.”

“Good,” Kral said, nodding. “I'll just be gathering a few of my men—”

“Wait! It also is my duty to tell you that on the day of a deciding all strife is forbidden. No man or woman either may carry weapons to the council square. Any who raises his hand against a citizen or a fellow plaintiff will be subject to the laws of the town.”

“Very well. I pledge that me and mine will abide by this prohibition.”

“Well and good, then. When you come to the town, you will find the gates shut. Call up to the guards, and they will admit you and an escort of two.”

“I'll do so.”

“So be it.” Rhodry thumped the ground with the end of his staff. “Be you welcome at your leisure.”

As he turned to go, Rhodry saw Raena, peering out of one of the tents. She held the tent-flap just open enough to look out while remaining mostly hidden behind the canvas.

“And will you come to witness,” Rhodry said, “priestess?”

Raena went dead-still, staring at him. Rhodry laughed, his high berserker's chortle.

“I'll wager you don't have the guts.” He bowed to her in the best courtly manner he could muster, being as he was holding a staff. “Not after our meeting upon the battle plain.”

“Curse you!” Raena flung the canvas aside and stepped out. “Kral! Kill this man! I command you!”

“What?” In two long strides Kral joined them. “I grovel before the holy one, but I'll not be killing a herald and an unarmed man. How, think you, would that please the good folk of the town?”

Raena stamped her foot and glared at him. She was wearing a long buckskin dress, painted with blue designs, and her long black hair was piled up on her head and bound with gold bands. The finery, however, seemed to leave Kral unimpressed. He shrugged and turned to Rhodry.

“Good herald, I do suggest that you return to your town.”

“My thanks, Rakzan, and I shall.”

As he strode off, Rhodry was grinning. Now he had only to wait and see if Raena took his challenge.

All day the dark clouds hung over Citadel. In the heat tempers ran short, especially among the militiamen, who dripped sweat inside their leather armor. Verrarc walked back and forth, speaking as calmly as he could and settling squabbles. He'd never seen the citizenry so edgy, either. With such an important decision at stake, every adult in town turned out to line up and wait on the only path up to the square. Here and there some impatient soul would try to force himself a few paces ahead of where he should be, or some woman would be carrying a baby that squalled and
stank, and those standing near these nuisances would turn nasty.

Burra and Frie spent most of the morning walking back and forth along the queue of townsfolk to keep order. A few at a time the citizens left the path and walked onto the public square, where Hennis handed out the three markers, then went singly into one of the booths. Mindful of the crowd, everyone moved briskly past the jugs. On their way out they dropped the unused stones into another pot. It took all of Verrarc's will to keep from peeking into the discards, just to get some vague idea of which way the vote would swing. By noontime, Verrarc estimated that half of those entitled to vote had finished.

“I think me we'd best send out the criers again,” Admi said, “to ask the citizens still at home to stay there until this press thins.”

“Just so,” Verrarc said. “It gladdens my heart to see so many folk come out.”

Admi nodded and pulled a rag out of his pocket to mop the sweat from his face.

“Rain would be welcome,” Verrarc went on. “Though I do hope it holds off till most have decided.”