Dragon Blood h-2 Read online

  "I didn't know if I was going to tell you the whole thing or not," said Tosten. "But it seems the right thing to do. None of us have seen Ward like this since then. He doesn't have casual relationships. He doesn't flirt, he doesn't light up with eagerness when other women come into the room—just you." He gave her a quick grin. "I wanted you to know that I don't just think of you as—how did you put it? Ah, yes, Ward's woman. I believe it's much more serious than that."

  5—WARDWICK

  Ciarra had a nursemaid who told stories of horrid monsters living in the Hurog sewers that ate bad children. Far from being horrified, Ciarra liked to pretend she was a monster. Once she jumped out from behind a door and terrified the nursemaid. Aunt Stala, when told of the matter, said that the monsters that scare us the most are the ones we create ourselves.

  Two guards came to take me from my haven of straw. Their eyes glittered weirdly and snake-tongues of fire rippled from the top of their heads. I couldn't understand what they said, but I understood that they grabbed my arms and sought to drag me away from safety.

  "Don't kill them," advised the quiet voice in the back of my head where a small part of me hid from the drugs and magic.

  I left the men where they lay and curled up in my nest with the cool stone reassuringly firm against my back.

  More guards came and removed their limp comrades. After a while Jade Eyes brought in a small metal brazier and set an herbal concoction burning.

  "Something in the smoke," said my voice. But it wasn't able to coax me out of my safe cubby to knock the fire out. Finally it left me alone.

  The smoke was acrid and at first it stung my nose. But after a few minutes the terrible fear seemed to dissipate. The straw became a warm blanket.

  When someone came for me, I allowed him to pull me to my feet and support me when the floor heaved and buckled.

  I was brought to a large chamber lined with shelves of pottery. In the very center of the room was an odd piece of furniture, waist high and flat like a table, but heavily padded with straps hanging from it.

  Jade Eyes was talking quietly with the king's archmage, Arten. I didn't know him personally, but anyone who'd been to court knew who he was. Truthfully, it took me a moment to recognize him without his colorful, glittery court robes, for, like Jade Eyes, he wore only plain black.

  "Be careful," said my secret voice. Even though I was no longer frightened, I was glad it had not left me.

  "Ward," said Jade Eyes, "how are you feeling?"

  I smiled and spread my hands out. "Better."

  "I'm going to help you stay that way, all right?"

  "Careful," murmured the voice, but no tinge of worry or fear could touch me while I suffered the effects of the herbs they'd burnt in my cell.

  Jade Eyes led me to the table and indicated that I was to lie on it. Something about the straps frightened my little voice, but I was anxious to please the man who would help me, so I ignored it. I lay still while a collar was affixed to my neck to hold my head. They pulled and they prodded and strapped until I couldn't move at all.

  "Ward," said Jade Eyes at last, "I'm going to help you—but first I want you to help me."

  That sounded fair. I tried to nod my head, but had to settle for talking.

  "Yes," I said. It was hard to get the word out, just as it had been after my father had hurt me very badly. Fear began to tighten my belly at the memory. But the man had said he would help. I remembered that and relaxed again—though I couldn't remember why I needed help.

  "I thought we were to break him, not conduct an inquisition," said Arten. His voice was harsh and it made my stomach tighten again.

  "The king's wizard." My silent voice supplied the identification, and I remembered that I had reason to fear the king.

  "Jakoven says we have two weeks. I want to find out how he set up the magic to guard us all night first. I've never heard of such a thing."

  "Are you certain it was he?" said Arten. "I've heard the only thing he could do was find things."

  "He destroyed an entire stone keep," said Jade Eyes, defending me from the contempt in the older mage's voice. "Pretty impressive for a finder. And, yes, I'm certain he set up the magic guardian. There was a taste to the magic—a signature, and his aura has the same feel. I'd show you what I mean if you could read auras."

  Jade Eyes stepped into my line of sight. In one hand he held a staff that glittered with gold and precious gems. On the very top of the staff, looking out of place, was a battered claw the size of my hand.

  "Dragon," I said. It came out easily and that took away from the sick feeling in my stomach that tried to insist there was something wrong.

  Jade Eyes smiled. "Yes, it's a dragon claw. I'm told that Seleg himself gave it to his king as my king gave it to me."

  "Seleg had no right!" The voice was so loud, I expected Jade Eyes to hear. "His duty was to guard dragonkind. Betrayer."

  "Hurogmeten," I said, the strength of the voice leading my speech. But I forgot what I needed to say, and so fell silent.

  "Yes, he was Hurogmeten. Just like you." Jade Eyes bent his head closer to me. "Seleg was a mage, Ward. Are you a mage?"

  I frowned at him. Everyone knew that story. "I used to be, but my father broke me."

  "Can you work magic now?"

  I couldn't remember, so I tried.

  "Oh, yes," said my voice, eagerly. "Fire is easy, almost as easy as finding. I can do fire even without Hurog's magic to help, remember?"

  As soon as the voice said that, I knew it was easy. There was so much here that would burn. I could feel the oils in the clay pots. They went first, bursting into flame in violent explosions that shattered pottery on all four sides of me. It was fun.

  I heard vague shouts echoed by the sharp pops of the pots, but for the most part I was lost in the joy of working magic. Candles melted to stubs, oil-soaked wood sought my magic more than my magic sought it. Power began to loosen the hold of smoke and drugs, almost I could begin to plan.

  Cold hands touched my forehead with white-hot fury. There was no warning, no period of going from bad to worse; just shivery bands of pain that wracked my body and caused me to twist helplessly, caught between it and the leather collar that would not let me move away.

  But I knew all about pain.

  I knew that when it stopped, you closed your eyes and played dead, because sometimes my father would stop if I quit moving.

  So I lay limply while Jade Eyes vented his anger at the damage I'd done to his lab, the precious items it had taken years to collect burnt to ashes in an instant.

  When he saw what I'd done to his dragon's claw, he hurt me again. He hurt me until Arten dragged him off. "He's unconscious. Damn you, man, leave off."

  I was willing to let them think me senseless. It had saved me before. But the pain had been worth it. The dragon claw was destroyed, its magic scattered unused (though I could have brought down the building with its power) and no one would get any more benefit from Seleg's betrayal. Without the magic pouring through me, I couldn't remember why that was important, just that it was. Sweat dripped into my eyes and I thought at first it was blood.

  Jade Eyes snarled at the other mage, 'Tell the king he'll have what he wants. Tell him I can do it in a se'night." Then he hurt me again.

  Men came to put me into the cell at last. They brought in food and water and set it near me. When they were gone and wouldn't see I was awake, I grabbed the carafe and drank until I noticed that the world was beginning to grow eyes in the shadows. I set the water down, though I still thirsted. The food was easier to ignore. I wondered for a minute that my skin was unmarked and not split from the all-consuming pain, but then the shadow-things began to creep out of the corners and I hid in the hole in the straw.

  "You are a difficult man to find, Wardwick of Hurog."

  I huddled away from the voice because it wasn't my voice. My head hurt and my lips were cracked and dry. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was the strange color of Jade Eye's irise
s.

  "Hurogmeten."

  The voice called me back from memories. It belonged to a woman, but it had a bass rumble no female tone should ever carry. I opened my eyes fearfully and saw brightly mottled fur of orange and yellow, bright eyes above finger-long fangs. Somehow the fur seemed to give a little of its light to the room and drive the shadows back to the corners where they belonged.

  "Hurogmeten? How long since you've eaten?"

  The Tamerlain, guardian of Aethervon's temple, sat in front of me. Another hallucination, I thought, so I didn't answer her. She lived on the hill of Menogue in the ruins of Aethervon's temples outside the city of Estian. She could not be in the Asylum.

  Closing my eyes, I waited for her to go away. After a moment I heard the bowl they'd given me skitter across the floor as she inspected it.

  "Good lad, you didn't eat tonight," she said. "Garranon said he thought you were drugged rather than magicked, and that's harder to combat."

  It was the water that was dangerous; I felt very clever for knowing that much. I had sweated a great deal earlier and now my thirst was great—but I knew the water had held as much danger for me as the wizard. I held a straw in my mouth and that had helped keep my mouth moist, but it wasn't working well anymore.

  "Wardwick," she coaxed (I could tell by the change in her voice that she was coming closer), "look at me, lad. You know me."

  I pulled my eyes reluctantly away from the wall, and stared into the face of the beast. She was as large as a small northern bear, and her head looked ursine, except for the large golden eyes that were more suited to a tiger. Her thick fur covered a body that was not as bulky as a bear's nor as lithe as one of the big cats'. Her tail curled around her front paws and she purred when my eyes met hers. I thought the sound might have been meant to be reassuring.

  The air suddenly felt clearer, like my thoughts, but I knew it was a continuation of my delusions, because the guardian of the ruins of Menogue had no business in my cell.

  I sat up straighter and brushed straw off my shoulders, to give myself time to think. The movement exacerbated the remnant pain that lingered after Jade Eye's rage.

  "Leave me," I said. The last time I'd met her, her god, Aethervon, had taken over my sister's body and tormented Oreg. No one hurt my people if I could help it.

  "Hold your anger," she said. "I come as a favor for a friend. Garranon was worried about you. He asked me to see you if I could. So I took his request to Aethervon. My master has been interested in you since he awoke to your presence when you visited His temple at Menogue."

  "Go away," I said again. Aethervon could hang for all I cared. He had used my sister without her consent and hurt my friend. Granted, the Tamerlain had little part in either—but I despised her master.

  "I can help you," she said.

  I gave a short laugh and tried to hide how much even such a slight movement hurt.

  "You tell me Garranon is your friend," I said.

  "Garranon is my friend," she agreed.

  I stared at her and she met my gaze steadily. I hadn't really considered the Tamerlain as anything except a servant of a weakened, treacherous god. That Garranon was a friend of the Tamerlain was beyond belief. Had he had such a powerful ally, surely she would have shown herself sooner—saving his brother, destroying his enemies. Something. If my life had been hard at the hands of my father, Garranon's had been worse.

  "How long have you been friends?" I asked.

  My disbelief stung and she jerked her chin up, a low growl in her throat. "He has been mine since he came here to Estian, a child, alone and afraid. He saw me—as no one from that place has ever seen me—and he feared me not. Since that night when he slept curled against me, a child even by your short-lived reckoning, he has been my friend."

  I believed her suddenly, but it didn't improve my opinion of her. "A friend who watched as the king raped a child."

  "It was never rape, that happened before he was here. The king used herbs … magic." Even in her inhuman face I could read anguish. She'd known that herbs and magic don't mean it wasn't rape.

  While we'd talked, the last of Jade Eye's drugs had left me. Without their aid, my terror of the Asylum, my claustrophobic anger at my inability to fight back effectively against Jade Eyes had been growing in my belly. The addition of bone-deep anger at the pain of a child—for all that he was now an adult well able to take care of himself loosed the ties on my spiteful tongue.

  "And now I'm supposed to allow you to help me?" I asked.

  She shot to her feet as if I'd hit her, and for an instant the rage in her eyes made me think my worries about my current situation would be over even sooner than I'd believed possible—though I'd been hoping for Oreg rather than death.

  She snarled soundlessly, then stalked away from me. Facing the wall she said, "You know nothing about it. I was constrained, as was my master. I had to watch and do nothing." The tension left her in a rush and when she turned back to me, there was only sorrow in her eyes.

  "So much damage had been done to the fabric of this world, it was all my master could do to hold it together. Do you think He wanted to let His temple fall to foreign armies He could have destroyed with a touch? But even so much might have been enough to burst the dam built to keep humankind alive. He … I couldn't even save one child."

  I had been ashamed of my words almost as I'd said them. "I'm sorry," I said.

  "So am I," she whispered, but I don't think she was talking about the past few minutes.

  She sighed and shook herself like a wet dog. " 'Tis done now. Know you this, though: I was not the only one chafed by the little we could do. Aethervon was constricted to giving visions and hoping that they allowed the humans to whom He gave them to make better choices. Then you came to Menogue."

  "He gave me back my magic," I said.

  "He saw in you the chance to mend one of the greatest rifts—so He did what He could to help you," she replied. "When you cleansed the land of the great evil done at Hurog, you released some of the constraints He has to work through. There are monks now at Menogue for the first time in centuries. Through me he can do a little more to help you."

  "I thought Aethervon vowed to support the Tallven kings," I said. "It was a Tallven king who put me in here."

  "He has sworn to serve the Tallvens, in so much as a god serves man," she agreed. "It is only that He chooses which Tallven to serve."

  I let one eyebrow creep up. "Aethervon supports Alizon?"

  She veiled her eyes with pleasure and purred. "It pleases me, this turn of events. Oh, not you here like this—but that Aethervon stirs Himself against that one, that one who hurts my Garranon. Oh, yes, that pleases me. If it were allowed I would tear the flesh from his bones and leave him to rot …"

  Her tail twitched like a hunting cat's. Deliberately she stilled it and wrapped it around her front feet. "But that may come in time. The gods still must leave it to humans to determine their own fate. You might bear it in mind that Aethervon will be inclined to grant favors if He is properly petitioned." She purred. "Garranon, my friend, asked me to see you, and I will tell him how I find you. But it pleases Aethervon for me to help you as well.

  "The king is waiting for your relatives to come so he can present you and them to his court," she said. "Word has come from Iftahar that your uncle is at Hurog. It will take them time to travel here. When you stand before them, I will take their poison from your flesh—so much I can do. It is for you to keep them from destroying you until then."

  She left. Just vanished, and I thought I might have imagined her except that my thoughts remained clear.

  So, I thought. The Tamerlain means to help me.

  The king would see me broken. He wanted a madman to present to his court. This was more than just a power game between the king and my uncle, more than a simple attack upon me. But my abused mind couldn't work through the convolutions other than to know that Jakoven was working against my whole family.

  The Tamerlain promised a way
to save myself. I just had to keep sane until my uncle came. Or until Oreg found me and rescued me.

  The thought of Oreg brought me relief so strong, I shook. He knew where they were taking me—he'd get me out. Taking a deep breath, I decided I had to act as if he weren't coming. Prepare for the worst, my aunt said.

  So I thought of how to let Jade Eyes think he'd broken me.

  Over the past few years, Oreg had managed to teach me a little about the magic that was still coming back to me, like drops from a bucket. I lit a dim magelight, just enough so I could see clearly, and I looked at my body. It hurt to move. It was worse than when Stala set out to teach me a lesson and beat me into the ground in an all-out while training. But there wasn't a bruise anywhere, as if Jakoven had ordered his mages not to leave a mark on me.

  So if Jade Eyes continued in the way he had begun, all I had to worry about was pain. That was fine, pain and I were old friends—my father had seen to that. I could take anything they could give me as long as I knew there was no real damage taking place.

  But they could find another way to break me, unless I let them believe their methods were working. A small, arrogant part of me wanted to object, but Stala had taught me better than that. Anyone could be broken. All I could do was convince them that it had already happened before it really did.

  The pitcher of tainted water sat upright on the floor—I could reach out and knock it over; but then I'd have to pretend to be overcome by the drugs. I could do that, but I didn't know if I could do that while I was in enough pain that even the memory of it made me sweat. And who was to say that they would give me the same herbs every time? What happened if they switched them?

  The first nineteen years of my life had been a contest between my father and myself. I won it because I'd learned control at the hands of a master. Control, Stala said, was the thing that kept you alive. Control your emotions, control your body, and you were more likely to survive a battle than a man who could not. Control had become something of a religion for me—a means of survival and a way to differentiate myself from my father.