The Order of the Scales (23 page)

Not that any of us would notice any more.
Vale was soaked almost to the skin by the time he walked through the once-molten stone arches into the tomb-like gloom of the cathedral. The priests hardly bothered with torches or candles any more. The light and fire had gone out of the church long ago as it had gone out of its priest. Others found the torpor of the place alluring, but to Vale it was simply annoying. The Great Flame that was supposed to burn here was little more than a fading ember.

He found Aruch exactly where he thought he would, squatting by his altar, eyes closed. To anyone else, the priest would have seemed asleep, but Vale knew better.

‘I’m here for your advice, old priest. The Lesser Council has a decision to make. Speaker Zafir might be alive. Rogue dragons might be afoot. You know what I’d like to do? I’d put Zafir and Jehal in cages next to each other. I’d kill every dragon I can get my hands on. I’d be done with kings and queens and I’d put the Syuss on the Adamantine Throne. What say you, old priest? Do I have your blessing?’

The priest started shaking. It took Vale a second or two to realise that he was laughing. Very slowly, Aruch lifted his head. He peered up at Vale. ‘You can do whatever takes your fancy, Night Watchman. I have seen into Jeiros’ dreams. He sees what is coming. He knows, in his heart, that there is nothing he can do. But you? You are what you are. Don’t let me stop you from trying.’ He rocked forward again, suddenly oblivious to Vale’s presence.

Another madman. So it’s down to me. Strange, how he knows my mind.
Vale shook that away. He was a soldier.
Maybe it’s simply obvious what must be done.

Jehal then. Finding the Viper wasn’t too hard. He was where they’d left him hours ago, in the Chamber of Audience, staring at his uncle’s finger. Some days the great arched windows let in the sun and lit up the room like a jewel; today they merely let in the rain and the wind. The Viper didn’t look up as Vale stalked in, dripping across the marbled floor. Apart from the two of them, the chamber was empty.

‘Have you come to kill me?’ asked Jehal as Vale drew closer. He didn’t look up.

Dispense with all manner of unpleasantness and cut to the chase? A fine thought.
‘Valmeyan has your queen.’ He saw Jehal wince as though Vale had hit him.

‘Perhaps she escaped. I suppose there’s always hope, although in this case not very much of it.’

‘I’m surprised you care.’ Jehal’s head snapped up. His eyes blazed and he glared at Vale.
If looks could cut, I’d be slashed to pieces. But I’ve stared down dragons, Viper. Don’t even try.
‘He has your son too,’ he said mildly.
At last I get to watch you really suffer.

‘Have you come to gloat, Night Watchman, or is there something else? Because if gloating is what you had in mind, you’re not doing a very good job. I take comfort from knowing they are still alive. Better that than dead or lost.’

Vale tossed the Mountain King’s message at Jehal’s feet. Jehal made no move to pick it up. ‘Valmeyan says that Zafir is still alive.’

Jehal shrugged. ‘I know. Go away, little man.’

Vale slapped him. As Jehal recoiled from that, the Night Watchman took his legs out from under him. The next thing he knew, the Viper was lying on his back, and Vale was standing over him.
Just like on Narammed’s Bridge, except this time it is my own sword pointed at your throat.

‘I defended your life because of the title you wear,’ he hissed. ‘However little you may deserve it. Now it seems it should not be yours at all. You and Zafir, you are stains on the honour of Vishmir and his kin. You disgust me, both of you, yet I serve whichever one of you the law demands. It seems it is no longer you.’

Jehal brushed Vale’s sword aside. ‘When the time comes, Tassan, there will be no death slow enough or painful enough for you.’

Vale Tassan met his eyes. It was like trying to stare down a lizard, trying to out-glare a Night Watchman. ‘Nor is there one that I fear, Your Holiness.’

Come on Vale, just kill him.

No. I have not seen Zafir. For the moment, he is still the speaker. Still the creature I am sworn to defend.

Just kill him anyway.

No.

With a deep breath, he stepped away. He was making a terrible mistake. A part of him was certain of that.
But then I would be a murderer. Common vermin. I would be no better than any of the rest of them.
He shook his head. ‘Just go, Viper, before Zafir returns. Be gone and never come back.’

Slowly, painfully, Jehal dragged himself back to his feet. ‘Oh I’ll be gone, Night Watchman. I’ll be gone in the morning to the north. Let Hyrkallan have this throne. Or Sirion, Or anyone who wants it. My dragons I give to Queen Jaslyn. We will set my Lystra free. After that, you can all do with me whatever you want.’

Vale pursed his lips. He nodded. ‘I’ll hold you to that, Viper.’ He turned his back on the man who called himself speaker and walked back out into the rain.

Isentine watched the dragons land. B’thannan he recognised at once, blotting out half the sky. Some of the others too, some of Queen Jaslyn’s more notable riders. Then half a dozen more that Isentine hadn’t seen before. They came from the south, skimming across the endless dunes of the Sea of Sand. Over the lake that sat at the bottom of the cliff, up past the sweeping curves of ancient Outwatch to the landing fields. The thunder of their wings rattled the air. Isentine’s eyes followed them. He’d been living at Outwatch long enough to see every single dragon that Queen Jaslyn owned be hatched and raised and he knew them all. These belonged to someone else.

Not Sirion either – he knew those dragons too. Someone else. He turned out the guard in case it was someone important, then went back to watching. Even in his tower, he felt the ground quiver when B’thannan crashed to the earth. Out in the cattle paddocks the herd masters would already be rounding up the cattle they wanted to spare. Closer by, he saw his Scales run towards the dragons. He knew them all by name too, every one. They came to Outwatch as apprentices, alchemists in the making. They were the ones who failed, who weren’t quite clever enough or sharp enough or wise enough. Sometimes they were they ones who fell in love with their dragons all on their own, but usually not. Usually they needed a little help to become the devoted servant that was a Scales.
Here, drink this. It will help with the Hatchling Disease.
And it did. It helped with a lot of other things too. Lately he’d been wondering if he should feed it to his own queen. Treason for the greater good. With luck it wouldn’t come to that.

Hyrkallan was approaching. Some who had come with him were taking their time, but Hyrkallan was almost at a run, striding across the fields, his loyal riders at his heels. Isentine levered himself out of his seat high on the balcony of Outwatch tower and tottered down the hundred and twenty steps to the cavernous entrance hall. Its huge emptiness echoed around him. Almost everyone was gone, flown to the eyries in the south of the realm, waiting for war. He emerged from the tower as Hyrkallan reached the doors. Isentine bowed, exactly the right bow for a lord who was an equal. Not a lord who was a king, not yet. Queen Jaslyn had still to consummate her offer.

‘Where is she?’ snapped Hyrkallan. He didn’t bow back. Isentine blinked.

‘Brusque even for you, My Lord,’ Isentine bristled. ‘Yes, all is well. Indeed, my back does continue to trouble me. Etcetera, etcetera. You have a lot of dragons with you, My Lord, and not all of them of our realm. I hope they will not be staying long. We don’t have potions to spare for them. Might I ask who are our guests?’

‘The Speaker of the Realms, or what passes for one, has come to your eyrie to see our queen. The dragons are his and they will be gone soon enough. There’s a company of Adamantine Men come to keep you company too. They will be staying after I am gone, or are you short of food too?’

‘Food we have in abundance.’ Isentine frowned. Someone else’s soldiers in his eyrie was never welcome, whoever sent them. Too many chances for a spot of murder or an outbreak of poisonings. He sighed. ‘They’re not wanted.’

‘Just keep them away from the dragons, old man. So. Where is she?’

Isentine shook his head, a sour taste in his mouth. ‘The Hatchling Disease has taken hold despite the medicines. Her mind wanders. The dragon has her enthralled.’

‘Today we will be wed. Tomorrow we will fly once more to war. She will come with us.’

‘I’ll not let you take her by force.’

Hyrkallan rolled his eyes. ‘Ancestors! You want her away and yet you won’t let me take her? Make your choice, man! Perhaps the bleakness of the news I bring will tear her thoughts away to where they belong. Zafir lives. She flies with the King of the Crags. They have taken Furymouth and reclaimed the Pinnacles. She has Jehal’s queen. The one sister might not have been enough to drag our queen from her folly, but I fancy the other will.’

Isentine’s jaw gaped open. ‘Lystra?’

‘Yes, little Lystra. The pretty one with the big wide eyes who never could see the harm in anyone.’ Hyrkallan’s lip curled. ‘Mere weeks since we flew to war against the Viper and now we fight side by side.’ Now it was Hyrkallan’s turn to taste something sour. ‘Don’t tell me that will not get our queen’s attention. Now go and get her!’

Isentine shook his head. ‘I will bow to you when you are a king, Hyrkallan. For now I must show your guest hospitality. Go and get her yourself. I’ll send a Scales with you to remind you of the way.’

Hyrkallan’s face clouded, but after a second he nodded. ‘If I must.’ He tore a small pouch from his belt and placed it into Isentine’s hand. ‘Maiden’s Regret and plenty of it. You said I should bring some. You know what to do with it.’

‘Not until she says yes to you.’ Isentine shook his head.

Hyrkallan ground his teeth. ‘She already said yes. She promised me.’

‘She is our queen, My Lord. Speaker Jehal approaches. Best you be on your way. Be gentle with her. And beware of that dragon. Call her outside. Do not go in the room with it. Not if you value your life.’

He watched Hyrkallan go and then carefully put the pouch in his pocket. Sometimes he felt sorry for Queen Jaslyn. She was too young and the world was much too big. And then he remembered what she was doing, right under his feet, and he wasn’t so sorry any more. He wasn’t sorry for the man limping across the blasted earth of the landing field towards him either. Jehal, the bastard who’d cost his last queen her birthright and then her life. One of the nice things about being old, he thought, was that he really didn’t have much to lose any more. He could do what he liked, and if anyone wanted to hang him for it, well that was a punishment nature would serve him soon enough anyway.

The drawback of getting old was that he no longer had the strength in his hands to throttle the speaker. A knife would have done the trick, but he didn’t have one of those handy.

So until I do . . .

He fell to his knees as Jehal approached. He kissed the speaker’s feet and struggled to rise again.

‘Having trouble?’ Isentine listened for the mockery in Jehal’s voice but it wasn’t there. Instead the speaker reached out a hand and helped him up. Jehal flashed Isentine an empty grin laced with pain. ‘I know the problem all too well now, you see. Your last queen did that to me. A lesson I could have done without. The first of rather too many.’

‘Your Holiness.’ Isentine met Jehal’s gaze at last. He looked worn out, almost defeated. Broken.

‘Eyrie-Master Isentine.’ Jehal put a hand on each of his shoulders. ‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time. I imagine no one knows more about raising dragons than you. My uncle, I know, was greatly disappointed that you couldn’t come to my wedding.’ The sorrow in the speaker’s face had to be real, didn’t it?
But this is the man who ruined our realms.

The eyrie-master bowed again, a little dip from the waist. ‘I live to serve Your Holiness. If there’s anything you would like to see while you are here, I’ll be happy to show you.’ He put on his best smile. ‘Does Your Holiness desire something? We are poorly staffed with so many of our dragons away, but we are not devoid of pleasures. Baths scented with oils, a feast of delicacies from around the realms, men and women who desire nothing more than to serve Your Holiness. You must be tired after your flight . . .’

‘I want my wife back, Eyrie-Master. I want my son. That’s all. I’ve flown from the Adamantine Palace to Sand in a day, and then from Sand to here, and I barely feel it.’ His brow furrowed. ‘No, wait. Now I mention it, I do feel it. I’m tired. Yes. Baths, feasts and so forth. All of that. Whatever you have. And then I’ll take your dragons.’ Jehal gave a bleak chuckle. ‘Are the whores good here? We always had good whores near Clifftop, and the brothels around the Adamantine Palace are the best in the realms. I don’t see any here, though. Cows and fields surrounded by sand that seems to go on for ever that’s all. Where are your women, Eyrie-Master?’

Isentine bowed. ‘Where they belong, Your Holiness. Kept inside out of harm’s way, or else far far away. You’ll find Sand more to your taste, perhaps, but I can send you whatever you desire.’

‘No, you can’t.’ Jehal’s smile snapped to a sneer in the blink of an eye. ‘I desire my queen. Whatever you’ve got will just be a disappointment, but I suppose it’ll have to make do. Send a few whores later. It might amuse me to watch them frolic together. Who knows? If I manage to drink enough to numb how much it hurts, I might even enjoy myself.’

‘I will have my servants show you to your rooms right away. The women will await your pleasure.’

Jehal waved him away. ‘Master Isentine, I jest with you. I have half a dozen riders and my pot boy with me, that’s all. I don’t need your rooms or your women.’ He gestured at the huge emptiness around them. ‘We’re to have a wedding, after all. I dare say we’ll all piss in our pants and pass out where we sit. No, we’ll wait in your halls for your queen to grace us with her presence.’ They walked across the entrance hall, a gloomy cavern of ochre stone that was the lower level of Outwatch. ‘You might have a few men standing by ready to throw blankets over us while we snore, though. I imagine it grows cold here at night. You should do something about this place. Put some windows in. How do you live in such dreary gloom?’ He paced restlessly about. ‘You know, this is probably bigger than the Chamber of Audience in my palace. Perhaps I should move my throne here. I certainly don’t seem to be very welcome anywhere else any more. Actually never mind the men with the blankets. Let the Night Watchman’s soldiers do that. They might as well make themselves useful.’