The Outworlder (25 page)

“What’s the matter with you?” Rafe asked.
“This isn’t a ghost story!”

“Yes, it is,” Brytnoth said in a shaking
voice. “Askalon was my homeworld.”

Jared and Rafe stared at him, and finally
Rafe gave a low whistle.

“I thought you couldn’t remember your
homeworld,” Jared said after a moment. “You’re sure your memory
isn’t just playing tricks on you?”

“I’m sure. It’s been coming back to me. Some
details are still hazy, but I remember that much.”

“This can’t be coincidence,” Rafe said. “I
bet those weapons were smuggled off your homeworld before the
Dragon-Lords forced all your people onto that transport.”

“I was young at the time,” Brytnoth said.
“And I didn’t hear anything about any blessed weapons...or any
attempt to get them off our world before it was desolated. But that
doesn’t mean you’re not right about that, Rafe.”

“I wonder if Arnauld knows something about
them,” Jared said.

“Would anyone else know?” Brytnoth asked.
“Could anyone else have heard these stories and know them to be
true?”

The three men looked at one another, and then
Jared breathed, “Childir would!”

“We haven’t got a moment to lose,” said Rafe
briskly. “It’s two days’ journey down the Alba to the Great City.
And we’ll have to travel at night to avoid being seen by the spies
and scouts of the Dragon-Lords. We’ve got to go right now, or we
won’t make it back in time.”

“I’ll pack the food,” Brytnoth offered. “As
an outworlder, there’s not much else I can do.”

“Fine,” said Jared. “Rafe and I will collect
the rest of the equipment. And it would be nice if we had a boat.
There hasn’t been travel down the river in years…the paths are sure
to be overgrown, and hiking on foot is going to slow us down.”

“Of course we need a boat,” Rafe said. “We’ll
use Arnauld’s.”

Jared made a face. “I’m not sure I’m in the
mood to ask him if we can borrow it.”

“But shouldn’t he know the danger that faces
the city?” Brytnoth asked. “Aren’t there preparations to be made?
In case…I mean, in case something happens to us and our mission?
They’ll need to be ready.”

Jared leaned on the mantle and stared into
the flames with a sigh. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Yes, I
suppose he should know.”

“I really hope you’re right about all this,
Jared,” Rafe said.

“Well,” replied Jared, “if I’m wrong, then I
guess we’ll all get the chance to die nobly for our city.”

“That’s very comforting,” said Brytnoth.

“My lord Arnauld, might I have a word with
you about your boat?”

Arnauld raised his head slowly, and Jared
folded his hands behind his back, scarcely daring to breathe.
Arnauld’s brow creased, and he gestured at Jared’s black battle
dress, sword, and the crossbow slung at his back.

“What are you doing dressed up like that?
Going somewhere?” Then his frown deepened. “Did you say you wanted
to speak to me about my boat?”

“Yes, sir. To all three questions.”

Arnauld crisply replaced the stack of papers
he was reviewing and folded his hands together under his chin. “Who
told you I had a boat, Jared?”

“Rafe Margolis. My lord.”

“Is that so.” Arnauld leaned back in his
chair and tapped his fingertips together. “And what, may I ask, do
you intend to do with my boat?”

“Well, sir, if you could answer the following
questions about it, I can tell you for certain.”

Arnauld’s brows arched in surprise. “What
sort of questions?”

“Does she leak, sir?”

“No.”

“Has she been properly maintained?”

“Yes, of course she—”

“Would she be ready to sail in three hours’
time?”

“What the devil are you up to now, Jared?”
Arnauld demanded. “Your plans to date have not been overwhelmingly
successful.”

Jared hesitated. “This is different, my lord.
This venture will be successful…provided the boat doesn’t leak, has
been properly maintained, and will be ready to sail in three hours’
time.”

“And if I said she would be ready, what
then?”

“Then I would tell you what the mission is,
sir.”

Arnauld studied him for a long time, but
Jared never flinched. Arnauld hadn’t thrown him out of his office
yet, and Jared counted that as a success.

With a little sigh and a shake of his head,
Arnauld gave in. “So? Tell me what you’re up to now.”

“Rafe, Brytnoth, and I are going to take the
boat down the river to the Great City. We plan to secure the cache
of blessed weapons hidden in the crypt of the Temple and bring them
back here. Sir.”

“You mean the weapons of Askalon?” Arnauld
asked in a low voice.

Jared nodded. “And it would be a great help
to us, my lord, if you could tell us anything you know about
them.”

“They were brought to the Temple just before
Askalon was overrun by the Dragon-Lords,” Arnauld said. “We’d been
in communication with the Lords of Askalon for years. They were
trading partners of ours. And we were working together to find a
precious metal, one whose properties would match those detailed in
an ancient prophecy. The evil power that animates the Dragon-Lords
is no recent arrival, Jared. It has taken many forms. The dragon is
only its most recent manifestation.”

Jared swallowed hard. “So you mean it can’t
be destroyed?”

Arnauld shrugged. “We were following the
prophecy in the hope that it could be destroyed. The Crafters’
Guild on Askalon discovered the metal deep within one of their
mines and began forging the weapons. Somehow, news of the discovery
reached the Dragon-Lord Council, and they descended upon Askalon
and overthrew it. Just before the assault, two of the craftsmen
escaped with the weapons and brought them here. The priests of the
Temple concealed them in the crypt, hushing the rumors to legend.
We don’t know if they’ll actually work…but the destruction of
Askalon suggests that they will, and that the Dragon-Lords know
it.”

Jared was silent for a long time, mulling
over Arnauld’s words.

“What will you do once you find the cache?”
Arnauld asked finally.

Jared glanced up. “We’ll return to Albadir
and then journey to the Dragon-Lords’ old fortress. We’re going to
slay the dragon before it comes to destroy us all…and we’re going
to save Sahara.”

“I see.” Arnauld’s fingertips were pressed
together so firmly that they turned white. He paused for so long
that Jared thought he was finished. “I know you want to save
Sahara, Jared,” he said. “But this is madness.”

“My lord…” Jared began to protest, but
Arnauld held up a hand.

“No, it’s madness. What if this is the wrong
time to use the weapons against the dragon? And what if you
fail…and they discover the location of the cache? If that
happens….” His voice trailed off for a moment. “Have you consulted
Childir about this?”

Jared felt his stomach lurch and he swallowed
hard. He hadn’t planned on needing to reveal his suspicions in that
quarter, but now that Arnauld brought it up, he had to speak. “We
can’t consult him, my lord,” he said quietly. “He’s one of
them.”

Arnauld lowered his hands to the desk and
gripped its edge. “What?”

“He’s one of them.”

“How do you know that?”

Jared realized that the longer this interview
went on, the crazier he sounded, but he had no choice but to
answer. “Think about it, my lord. He chose the day of the attack,
and our men were slaughtered and Sahara was captured. There’s only
one way they could have known with so much certainty that we were
coming. He picked the day, and then he informed our enemies.”

“This is extraordinary, coming from you. He
was practically a father to you, for God’s sake.”

Jared clenched his jaw. “Well, I suppose that
should make my suspicion all the more credible, then. But he has
betrayed us, and I won’t seek out or trust his counsel any
longer.”

Arnauld studied Jared long and hard, then
gave a short nod. “I’m glad you told me. I wouldn’t want to give
him any information that might jeopardize your mission.”

“Are you saying that we have leave to go, my
lord?”

“The sooner you are gone from here the
better,” Arnauld said. He smiled grimly and slapped a set of gold
keys on the desk. “Take my boat, but see that you’re secret about
it. It seems we are once more in your hands, Jared. Don’t fail us
this time.”

Jared took the chain and bowed his way out of
the chamber, mumbling his thanks. As soon as he was out in the
passage, Rafe and Brytnoth seized his arms.

“So?” Rafe asked.

“We’re a go,” Jared grinned. “Let’s get out
of here.”

“You must be a smooth talker, Jared,” Rafe
said as they headed to the oasis at a brisk trot. “Arnauld’s very
fond of his boat.”

“I’ve never seen him sail any boat,” Brytnoth
remarked.

“No, he’s too afraid something will happen to
it. And you haven’t even been here a week.” Rafe’s eyes laughed at
Brytnoth. “It’s been in the boathouse under lock and key for years.
He goes in there every week to polish it and maintain it, but he’s
never actually sailed it.” He turned suddenly to Jared. “You did
get the keys, didn’t you?”

Jared dangled the ornately worked keys in
front of Rafe’s eyes. “Of course.”

“Good,” said Rafe.

A moment later, they were among the bustling
cooks and bakers in the manor kitchen. The full rush for the
evening meal was on, and their unwanted presence in the midst of
the chaos was clearly unappreciated by the staff.

“Out of the way, master Jared!” hollered the
head cook, a fat man with silvered hair and a wizened face. “To the
dining hall with you! No scraps for you tonight, you young
rascal!”

Jared, his face all seriousness, answered, “I
wouldn’t dream of it, sir!”

He propelled Brytnoth and Rafe, who was
choking on suppressed laughter, toward the scullery.

“Shut up, Rafe!” Jared hissed. “He still
thinks I’m ten years old, for God’s sake!”

Once safely in the scullery, Brytnoth took
over. “I stashed everything in this barrel,” he said. He tipped it
on its edge and tossed each of them a duffel bag. The last he slung
over his own shoulder. “All our gear is already inside. Let’s
go.”

They slipped out the rear door and made their
way along the path through the orchard. The night was coming on
quickly and they could already hear the grim crescendo of wind and
sand outside the city walls.

The boathouse lay on the northern bank of the
river, some distance beyond the bridge leading to the library.
Pleasure gardens full of sweet-smelling flowers and herbs,
delicately manicured shrubbery, and smooth lawns had once
surrounded the magnificent structure of the Great House, but these
had long been untended and now grew in a mazy tangle. A stone bench
hulked under an arbor dripping with flowers and vines, and a gate
hanging half off its hinges led from the barest semblance of
horticultural order into sheer chaos.

The men quickened their pace and soon stood
crowded around the wrought metal door of the boathouse, breathing
hard. Jared slipped one of the keys into the lock and let them
inside.

“A light, Rafe?” he asked.

At the sound of his voice, a light sliced
through the shadows in front of them, hard and cold and a little
above their heads.

“No need, Jared.”

The three men watched in horror as the light
grew steadily brighter. It came from a lantern holding an
oddly-shaped crystal, and the lantern hung from a hook on top of a
staff. Childir held the staff in his left hand.

“How did you get in here?” demanded Jared,
his hand traveling slowly to the smooth and cool metal hilt of his
sword.

“I might ask you the same question, my
son.”

“Don’t bother addressing me as though you had
fond feelings for me,” Jared spat. “We both know it doesn’t mean
anything.”

“I see you have discovered some secrets about
me, Jared,” the seer responded, taking a step nearer to them.
“Prying into affairs that aren’t of your concern is a dangerous
matter.” His eyes flickered over them, taking in their dark battle
dress and duffel bags. “What brings you here tonight?”

“That’s our business, not yours,” Brytnoth
answered sharply.

“The door was locked,” Rafe added. “How did
you get in here?”

Childir chuckled quietly, but it no longer
sounded wise and indulgent. “Really, Rafe, the question is a bit
ridiculous. Why should locks have anything to do with me?”

“So what are you doing here?” Jared lowered
his duffel bag to the ground. “Out for an evening stroll?”

Again, that terrible chuckle. “I came here to
speak with you. To warn you.”

“How did you know we’d be here?”

“Again, such simple questions! As if there
could be any secrets in this place! Surely you must know that
already.”

“Yes, I had suspected as much,” replied Jared
dryly. “Say what you came here to say.”

“You are on a fool’s errand. Sahara will be
sacrificed as is our due right, and Albadir will be destroyed. You
will never leave this place without their knowing. Indeed, you
shall not leave it at all.”

Jared’s sword flashed out of its scabbard,
the edges cruel in the pale light of the lantern. “You won’t betray
us again,” he ground out. “Don’t make me kill you, Childir.”

As if on cue, Rafe and Brytnoth drew their
swords and the three of them fell on Childir. The sage reeled back
for a moment, then gathered himself and began murmuring something
under his breath.

Jared!

Jared staggered, caught himself. His head
reeled as a vision of Sahara’s frantic face swirled with the
boathouse around him.

Jared! Kill him now! He’s calling the others!
Kill him! Now, now!

As Sahara’s voice rose to a shrill scream in
his mind, Jared leaped forward. His sword flared in the ghastly
light of the lantern. A horrible cry tore from Jared’s chest as the
sword grated through flesh and bone.