Dragon Blood h-2 Read online

  The king waved his hand in dismissal and called to his chamberlain for his next case as if he'd forgotten about me. But I saw the white-knuckled grip he had on his throne as I walked past him toward my family. I put a casual arm about Tosten's shoulders and whispered "Out, now" around my wide smile.

  Tosten slid his arm under my cloak and unobtrusively half carried me out of the court. Beckram and Duraugh fended off well-wishers, so when Tosten dragged me into the corridor, we were alone.

  "Someplace out of sight. Quickly," I said, feeling the weakness increasing in my knees.

  Tosten leaned me against a wall and jerked open several doors. He hauled me through the last one, shutting the door behind us. Light came through the open windows from the garden and I could smell the faint scent of autumn roses. I sat abruptly and concentrated on breathing.

  "You've lost weight," observed Tosten, crouching next to me where I'd collapsed on the floor. "But you're still too heavy for me to carry."

  I nodded, but instead of speaking I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to quit shaking. He said something more, but I couldn't hear it because the sound of my heartbeat drowned it out. After a few minutes the shaking eased and I rested my head against the wall in relief.

  "We can't stay here forever," said Tosten. "Someone's bound to notice."

  "How far are we from your rooms?" I asked.

  "We're not staying here. Duraugh rented a house—I gave him the money from the strongbox in your study to help pay for your rescue. I hope that was right."

  I didn't want to sleep under Jakoven's roof, but I didn't see how I was going to get from here to a rented house without causing a scene.

  "How do I look?" I asked.

  "Like you've been poisoned and are waiting to die," said Tosten. "But in the dim light in the corridors of the palace, I don't think that anyone who didn't know you would notice. It's getting dark outside as well. I think we can get you out without attracting attention."

  I slid myself up the wall with Tosten's help. When my legs didn't immediately collapse under me, I walked slowly to the door. "Did you bring horses, or am I going to have to crawl all the way there?"

  "Horses," said Tosten, wedging a shoulder under my arm. "Uncle Duraugh, in a fit of optimism or a show for the audience—I'm never sure with him—even brought an extra for you."

  When we stepped back out of the room, Duraugh and Beckram were in the hall waiting. Neither of them spoke, but I had learned to recognized the slight tightness in Duraugh's cheek that denoted white-hot rage, and Beckram was shaking with it.

  "I'm all right," I said, though it was patently untrue. Beckram slid under my free shoulder and helped with the task of getting my unwilling body out of the castle.

  There were things I needed to know, things I needed to tell them all, but I contented myself with staggering to the stables. The grooms tactfully didn't notice that I had to lean against the wall while my brother pointed out the horses to be saddled. They'd put it down to too much drink, unless someone questioned them, and forget about it before the day was over.

  When Tosten appeared with Feather, I buried my head against her neck and let the clean smell of horse wash away the stink of the Asylum. I tried twice to mount on my own, and if Feather had been any lighter, I'd probably have pulled her over. Beckram, with a shoulder in my rump, made my third attempt successful.

  I don't remember riding through the gates or arriving at the house. I do remember being met at the door by Oreg, who picked me up and carried me up the stairs as if I didn't weigh half again what he did.

  They fussed over me for a while, my brother, cousin, and uncle, while I scrubbed in an oaken tub, then sat while Oreg went through my hair with a comb to rid me of lice and nits—which the king's men hadn't bothered to do.

  "Ciarra and I have a daughter," said Beckram, leaning back on his stool to keep out of Oreg's way. "Three days ago. I just found out today."

  I looked out from under the clean wet hair Oreg had thrown over my eyes. For a minute we grinned at each other.

  "Does she have a name yet?" I asked, stammering a bit.

  "Leehan," he answered. "After the spirit of the woods."

  "There are a lot of your men here. Is she at Hurog?" Surely they wouldn't have brought her all the way to Hurog when she was so near to delivering.

  "No. We left half the guard there—she said she was fine. The king's men left as soon as Mother convinced them that Father and I were on our way to Hurog."

  I rubbed my face tiredly. It was so hard to gather my thoughts, harder still to order my tongue.

  "I think it's dangerous," I said. "You need to get her to Hurog."

  "Ward," Duraugh said, "she's just given birth. She's not up to the ride to Hurog. What makes you think she's in danger?"

  "Jakoven," I said. "Get all of our blood out of Iftahar—it's not a fortress. Hurog is better defended even now."

  "I would think Jakoven more likely to lick his wounds and try again," said my uncle.

  "No," I said, rubbing my forehead. "It's important to him now. He'll act immediately. We need to get Ciarra and the baby to Hurog."

  "I'll go," said Beckram, hearing the urgency in my voice. He stood up as his father started to argue. "If Ward says they're in danger, I'll move them to safety."

  Duraugh shook his head at both of us, but said only, "Sleep the night, then, and leave at first light. It won't help her if you break your neck galloping off in the darkness."

  Oreg helped me stand and poured warm water over my head as Duraugh and Beckram worked out the details. Shivering even in the warm room, I huddled in the toweling Oreg brought me and wished I felt clean. Tosten handed me fresh clothes and I struggled into them.

  They managed me into another room, complete with fire and bed, and Oreg bullied everyone else out. He stayed, a silent sentinel. But even his presence couldn't make me feel safe.

  I didn't sleep. Didn't want to sleep. There were too many things running about in my head. I just lay still with my eyes closed.

  Jakoven wanted power and he thought my blood might be the key to using Farsonsbane. My blood, or the blood of someone in my family—descended from dragons as we were. Oreg had said as much to me.

  Jakoven wasn't going to let us retreat in peace for long. Gods forbid he find out what Oreg was.

  Alone, Hurog could not stand against the king, but if I threw Hurog behind Alizon, some of the Shavigmen would follow me. And if the rebellion took fire before Jakoven managed to get me or another Hurog-blood in his hands again to activate the Bane, we might be able to hold the king off for a few months.

  But my objections to the rebellion were still valid. Essentially, there were too many nobles who would stand behind the king. In the end we would lose.

  While I tried to chart a course with a possibility of survival, I was dimly aware of the door opening quietly and a murmured argument. The door shut and I was left once more in silence with my fears, but not left alone.

  Every plan I came up with led to disaster sooner or later. I was in the middle of trying to see how we could lure the Seaforders to Alizon's cause (something I wouldn't have dreamed of without the Warder of the Sea's little speech), when I experienced another of the debilitating bouts of miserable shaking. This time I itched as well.

  A cool damp cloth wiped my face and then the rest of my body as armies of imaginary bugs trooped over my skin, driven away by the clean water and Tisala's soft crooning.

  She waited until the fit left me before she spoke. "Ward? Are you all right?"

  "What are you doing here?" I asked. She was supposed to be safe at Hurog. Jakoven had taken her once already.

  She lit a small candle from the banked fire and set it in a holder on a table near my bed. The flickering candle lit her dark hair with red tones. The darkness of the window coverings told me I'd lain with my eyes closed longer than I'd thought—or I'd fallen asleep.

  "As if I would sit in safety when I could help," she said crisply. "I came to help g
et you out of the Asylum—though you got yourself out in the end."

  The Asylum. The drugs had left me with a pitiful handful of clear memories amidst the nightmare images. I closed my eyes in embarrassment. "You came while I was there. I thought I had made it up." I thought of what a fool I must have looked like, hiding under the straw, and laughed.

  "What?" she asked.

  "I was just wishing I had some straw to cover my head," I said with more bitterness than humor.

  Her hand, as callused as mine, touched my temple and trailed down my sweat-streaked cheek. "Oreg says that you should feel better in a few days."

  "He told me," I said.

  "After I found where they had you, Oreg tried to get you out." She took her hand away suddenly, as if she had just noticed she was touching me.

  Though the king's men had scrubbed and soaped, and I'd done it again here, maybe the smell of the Asylum still clung to me. "I know he did." I remembered the call of Hurog magic as I tried to drown myself—had it been this morning or last night? "The Tamerlain couldn't get me out, either. The part of the Asylum I was in was designed to hold mages."

  "The Tamerlain?" she said.

  She would know what the Tamerlain was, of course, but I doubted she really believed in it. I shouldn't have said anything about the creature—not coming out of an asylum for crazy people. I glanced around the room, but the Tamerlain, having done what she could, was gone.

  "You really saw the Tamerlain?" she asked, but more in wonder than if she truly doubted me.

  "She made it possible to carry out that little farce in Jakoven's court," I said.

  "Who are you that Aethervon takes an interest in your deeds?" she asked.

  I wasn't ready for undeserved admiration. I felt fouled and small, so I snorted and told the truth. "A pawn. Don't get your hopes up, Aethervon has done all he intends to."

  Tisala crouched beside my bed and looked hard into my eyes. "Tell me again what you feel about Alizon's rebellion."

  I sat up and rubbed my face wearily. "If this is a serious conversation, would you mind lighting a few more candles so I can see you when I'm talking?" The shadows in the room reminded me of the cell in the Asylum.

  When she was through I made her drag a chair over near the bed. Between the candle lighting and the rearranging of furniture, I bought myself enough time to decide I didn't have to be entirely honest with her, but I was going to do it anyway.

  "The time is still wrong for a rebellion," I said. "The harvest was good this year, not only in Shavig, but Tallven and Oranstone as well. My father used to say that full bellies make for happy subjects, and he was right. Jakoven's tithe is fair. He hasn't overtly oppressed anyone who would incite the nobles. It's unlikely Alizon can draw any of the Avinhellish lords away from Jakoven, and the Tallvenish and Avinhellish lords can raise larger, better-trained armies than Shavig, Seaford, and Oranstone combined, even if Alizon could gather them all together—which he can't. In return for battling a superior fighting force, Alizon offers to replace one Tallvenish king with another, himself. And Alizon is base-born. I suspect that your father is not the only Oranstonian who's refused to follow Alizon."

  Her face was carefully blank while I talked. Toward the end of my speech she turned her face away.

  I shrugged. "I'll tell you what has changed, though. Jakoven has made it impossible for me to do anything except join the rebellion."

  Her eyes snapped back to me and ran over my bare chest and shoulders looking for wounds that weren't there. For all the pain I'd endured, the only blood I'd lost in the Asylum had gone to the lice—and the Bane.

  "What did he do to you?"

  I smiled at her, but she didn't look reassured, so I stopped. "He found Farsonsbane."

  She started to look puzzled before the name registered. "I thought Farson destroyed it—or the boy emperor."

  I shook my head. "Jakoven found it while he was rebuilding Estian castle. It needs dragon's blood to activate it."

  "Oreg," she whispered.

  I felt my eyebrows rise. How did she find out about Oreg? No wonder she'd accepted that I'd met the Tamerlain. From dragons to the minions of gods was a small step.

  I could have left off there. She'd have believed that I'd throw myself behind Alizon for Oreg's sake.

  "My blood did something to it," I said. "I need to keep every person who can claim Hurog blood away from him. If Alizon is ready, I'll declare for him. If not, Hurog will rebel on its own. It's that, or allow Jakoven access to the same power that brought down the Empire."

  She stared at me a moment, then said baldly, "The reason I knew how to get into the Asylum is because Alizon is not the heart of the rebellion—Kellen is."

  "Kellen?" I said, startled. The king's brother—I remembered a quiet-spoken, clever boy a few years older than I. My heart began to race with a shard of hope. Kellen was legitimate: moreover, he had been terribly wronged by Jakoven and had a just cause for rebellion. With Kellen, the rebellion Alizon was leading was much more likely to succeed.

  "He's been in there a long time, Ward," Tisala said. "Since it was first built. We left him there because it was the safest place for him—Alizon knew we'd have to wait for success, too. But it's been too long. He's not insane, but … " Her voice trailed off.

  "Not exactly healthy, either," I finished, inwardly shuddering at the thought of spending years in the Asylum. "How long has it been?" Kellen had disappeared sometime after my father beat me stupid; I couldn't remember exactly when. But I knew it had been a long time.

  "Over ten years," she said.

  What I thought must have shown on my face, because she continued, "It's not as bad as what they did to you: Mostly they leave him alone. We've been looking for a safe way to get him out. Oreg said he'd try it, with your approval."

  There was a plea in her voice, and I realized she was worried that I would refuse. "If Oreg can get him out, we'll do it. We can take him to Hurog if no one has a better plan. I think the dwarves will agree to transporting him to a safer place."

  I swung my legs to the floor, but was taken with a fit and couldn't do anything more for a while. When I steadied enough to pay attention again, Tisala had pressed me back on the bed and was crooning to me.

  "I'm fine," I said. "Would you get Oreg and bring him here?"

  She looked at me, but I couldn't tell what she was thinking. After a moment she left

  I must have slept, because it seemed like I only blinked my eyes and Oreg was waiting. Tisala wasn't with him.

  When he saw he had my attention, he said, "Tisala has told you of the man they want me to get out of the Asylum."

  I nodded. "It needs to be done—if you can do it without risk to yourself."

  "It's the risk to you I'm thinking of," he replied frankly. "If a man disappears from the Asylum the same day you get out, the king will assume you had something to do with it."

  "I'm not exactly his favorite Shavigman anyway. It doesn't matter now. In the end, if we get Kellen out, the chances of my surviving to a ripe old age increase tremendously."

  I waited a moment, then said reluctantly, "I hate to ask it of you, but I think it's our only chance. Alizon's rebellion needs a hero—and Kellen, as I remember him, might just be the man to pull it off."

  He gave me an odd look and said, "I don't expect you to kill me again and use my bones to destroy Jakoven, Ward. Quit feeling guilty about a deed that happened centuries before you were born. You can ask anything of me without guilt. I'm old enough to refuse if I wish."

  I nodded, then said, "Jakoven's found Farsonsbane."

  Oreg's head snapped up and his eyes began to luminesce as they did when he was agitated. "Are you sure?"

  I described it briefly, then said, "I don't know what he intends to do with it—I'm not sure really what it does. But while he had me in the Asylum he used my blood to call it to life. Something happened, but it wasn't what he expected."

  Piece by piece Oreg pulled the whole story out of me. He dismissed
my belief that some of the effects I thought I felt when in the Bane's presence were from the drugs they fed me.

  "Blue," he exclaimed. "And the magic changed?"

  I squirmed but told him, "It recognized me."

  "Blue," he muttered, and rubbed his cheek absently. "I've never heard of it doing that."

  "Neither had Jakoven. That's why I'm sure he'll come after me—or some Hurog, I don't suppose it matters which one of us." I had a terrible thought. "Father and his father left by-blows all over Hurog. I'm going to have to warn them."

  "How did he anoint the stone with your blood?" asked Oreg. "Did he use a ceremony—"

  "No," I said. "He just cut my arm, dribbled blood on a cloth, and rubbed it on the stone."

  Oreg frowned and sat down beside me. "What kind of cloth? Linen, cotton, silk?"

  "I don't know," I said, but I closed my eyes and tried to remember the feeling of the cloth on my cheek. "Not silk. Linen, maybe."

  "Was there anything else on the cloth? Was it clean?"

  "Clean," I agreed, then said, "Or it was to start with. He wiped my face with it—and I was pretty filthy."

  "Sweat," murmured Oreg, then he stiffened. "Not sweat, tears. Tears, Ward. Did he have your tears on the cloth?"

  Oreg wouldn't think the less of me—he'd known too much pain in his long life—so I admitted what any son of my father wouldn't have acknowledged to anyone else. "Yes."

  "Ha," said Oreg triumphantly, rising to his feet and fisting a hand melodramatically to the ceiling. "Take that, you bastard. Ha!" He turned to me with a grin. "Bet that Jakoven forgot he'd wiped your face—or modern mages have forgotten the power of a tear."

  "So what did it do?" I asked.

  Oreg, still grinning, shook his head. "I have not a clue. But it will change the nature of the Bane—you said it recognized you."

  I nodded. "Almost the way Hurog recognizes me when I come home."

  He was quiet for a while and then said soberly, "Farson was the grandson of my half brother, did you know?"

  It's one thing to know that Oreg is ancient. It's another to understand what that means. But with a little effort I managed to keep my jaw from dropping.