Dragon Stones Read online

  "I don't like them."

  "It is not necessary to like our guests; it suffices to serve them, and keep our judgments to ourselves."

  He handed Plenn another bowl; she held it up, studying the interior, as if trying to read the future in the grain of the wood. "I think they are up to unsavory business."

  "So are half our other patrons," Ponn said.

  She put the bowl in the rack. "They asked about a boat."

  He turned to face her. "A boat?"

  "Yes."

  "They want to go to the islands?"

  "Yes."

  "Don't they know about the dragons?"

  "I told them, but they insisted."

  Ponn studied his wife's face. "Perhaps you misunderstood which islands interest them?"

  "No, Ponn. They want the islands with the volcanoes. They were very specific. Go out and ask them, if you doubt me."

  "I don't doubt you," Ponn said, "but perhaps they don't properly comprehend the danger. I'll go and speak to them."

  "Yes," Plenn said, taking his place at the wash basin. "Do that. And find out when they will be leaving. There is some trade that we are better off without."

  He nodded, then went into the common room. Three of the strangers sat together at a table on the other side of the round dining area. One of their number was missing; perhaps he had gone with the eagles, or was up to some other sort of mischief.

  The leader of the group had been eyeing the door to the kitchen; he waved his hand as Ponn entered, summoning him to their table. These guests had made no formal introductions, but Ponn had heard the others refer to their leader as Gelt in his absence; when he was present they called him sir.

  When he reached their table, Gelt said: "Innkeeper, your wife is uncooperative."

  "I'm sorry you feel that way," Ponn said. "Allow me to make amends. She said you gentlemen were interested in a boat?"

  "Yes, that's right."

  "If you would tell me your purpose, perhaps I can recommend a vessel and captain who will meet your need."

  "Our need is for a swift and sturdy boat, with a shallow draft, that can carry a goodly cargo."

  "What sort of cargo?"

  "Furthermore, we need a guide," Gelt said. "Someone who knows the coastal waters and can chart a course through the shoals." The man cocked his head, looking at Ponn like a chameleon observing an insect that had nearly wandered within range of its tongue. "You're an islander, aren't you, innkeeper?"

  "I am," Ponn said, liking neither the man's tone nor the direction of the conversation. "But I do not offer my services as a guide, and I do not charter boats."

  "You've got one, though, don't you?" Gelt said. "You make a good living running wood and spices from this accursed jungle up to Barbareth, cheating your lords out of their rightful tariffs. Don't you, innkeeper?"

  How could these men know that? As he glanced around, wondering if anyone had heard Gelt's statement, Ponn's well-practiced smile felt like a frozen rictus on his face. "I'm afraid you are mistaken," he said. "I'm a simple innkeeper, and my money comes from the steady patronage of good travelers such as yourselves. As I said, I am neither a seaman nor a renter of vessels, so I must suggest you look elsewhere."

  "You must?" Gelt said. "Pity."

  "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more service. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." Ponn gave the men a shaky bow, turned, and started back toward the kitchen; but then Gelt rapped his wooden cup several times on the table, the sounds sharp and hollow. Ponn stopped short; the inn fell silent, all the patrons turning to look at the table in the corner.

  Gelt said: "Have you seen your youngest lately, innkeeper?"

  Ponn steadied himself with one hand on the shoulder of a nearby guest, a regular patron; he did not turn around. "I saw her this morning," he said.

  Gelt said: "We saw her this morning as well."

  Ponn whirled, was back at their table in a single step. "If you have harmed her, I will—"

  "You will give us the use of your boat," Gelt said. "You will go with us to the volcanic islands as our guide. And when we have safely returned and our mounts are ready to leave, you will have your small, pretty daughter back unharmed. If you refuse to serve us, if you work to thwart us, or if you set your friends against us, you will not have her back. Am I clear?"

  "Don't be a fool," Ponn said. "You cannot go to the islands. The dragons will not tolerate—"

  The man raised his hand, palm out, forestalling Ponn's protestations. "Am I clear, innkeeper?"

  They stared at each other.

  "Yes," Ponn said. "You are clear."

  "Good. Make your preparations quickly." Gelt drained his cup, put it back on the table with a bang. "We will leave at first light, two days hence."

  Adaran clung to the great bird's neck, buried his face in its feathers, and tried to pretend that he was on the ground. The rushing wind and ceaseless beat of its wings continually reminded him that he wasn't; in fact, he and the others were thousands of feet in the air, their lives depending on the ability of these enormous, stupid avians to get them well away from the mountain before the dragon returned.

  His mount flew near the end of a train of seven overgrown eagles, all of them yoked together with drooping leather thongs, keeping them in rough formation behind the leader. That bird carried their guide, one of Lord Dunshandrin's men, a grimy, reckless maniac who, Adaran believed, deliberately performed erratic aerial maneuvers to make the rest of them sick.

  The bird's feathers were beginning to smell like his own stale sweat. He risked a glance behind him, at the last eagle in the line. It carried the crystals they had taken from the dragon's lair. He didn't know what Dunshandrin wanted them for; people who sat upon thrones rarely shared much information with those they retained to do their dirty work, and hirelings who asked too many questions tended to have bad accidents. He did know that Dunshandrin had dispatched another group on a similar mission to Enshenneah, and another to the icy wastes of northern Yttribia; he and Redshen had tried to finagle an assignment to that expedition, thinking to visit their homeland of Madroval along the way, but Dunshandrin had insisted that their skills were needed here.

  Looking back didn't seem to make him need to vomit, so he ventured a look downward and discovered that they were nearer to the ground than he'd expected; in fact, they seemed to be descending toward a mountainside meadow, where a few small campfires burned among a knot of tents. Relieved, he relaxed his grip, only to be thrown when the eagle made a rough landing. He tumbled to the ground at its feet and was trampled by the avian bringing up the rear; fortunately it was still flapping its wings and he didn't receive its full weight, although its talons gave him a painful jab in the side.

  As he picked himself out of the dirt, one of Dunshandrin's men approached and helped him to his feet. "Are you all right?" the man said, not trying to conceal his amusement.

  "I'm fine," Adaran said.

  "Are you sure? You look a bit … downtrodden."

  Adaran eyed the birds. They fluttered and preened a short distance away as the other riders dismounted in a more or less orderly fashion. "That is no way for a man to travel. Give me a fine horse, and leave the skies to the dragons."

  The soldier, evidently disappointed with this response, shrugged and drifted back toward the camp. Adaran noticed that he had lost a dagger in his tumble; it lay on the ground at his feet. He picked it up, hefted it, and aimed it at the soldier's back, then spun it around and sheathed it in his belt.

  He turned away, looking to the north, toward the dragon's lair. He could not see her mountain, of course; it was lost in mist and distance, hidden behind other summits. The ridge on which they had landed did not rise above the snow line, but the surrounding peaks did, the dark pines and barren rocks like flies on sugar. The wind from the south felt stiff and chill, and smelled of winter.

  Redshen ran up to meet him, flushed and exhilarated, as if she were ready to cut her mount free and fly off into the night with it. "Was
n't that marvelous?" she cried. "I may buy one of those creatures from Lord Dunshandrin! I saw you fall, are you all right?"

  "Yes." Then, with a wink: "Just a bit downtrodden." She laughed, the sound like glass bells. Adaran gave silent thanks to the clever soldier who had mocked him. "You enjoyed the flying, then?"

  "Oh, yes! Didn't you?"

  "I hated every moment of it."

  "Well, when I obtain one of those creatures, you can stay on the ground and watch me do tricks in the air," Redshen said. She glanced past him, looking up the slope. "Here comes Dosen."

  The two of them rejoined the others as the nominal leader of their expedition—a pudgy, blustery steward from Dunshandrin's castle—approached, his short legs pumping rapidly, his breath forming white clouds around his head. He stopped in front of the pilot. "You were successful?" he said.

  "We have the stones."

  Dosen's small, red-rimmed eyes scanned the horizon in the direction from which they had approached. "You were not detected?"

  "If we had been, would we be here now?" The pilot clapped Dosen on the shoulder. "Don't worry, there will be no dragon coming out of the clouds. It wouldn't eat you, anyway. You're nothing but fat and gristle."

  Redshen pinched Adaran's arm and whispered, "Gristle."

  "Dragons will eat anything," Jenune said. A warrior from Barbareth, he hadn't impressed Adaran at first; the man wore little armor and used a metal-shod wooden pole as a weapon. Then Adaran had watched him defeat a dozen guards during a practice session at Dunshandrin's castle, and had revised his opinion upward. "Filthy, voracious beasts."

  "There's no need to worry." The magician, Orioke, spoke softly, but his voice carried the weight of utter confidence. "The dragon is well south of here, and traveling away from our location. She is unaware of our presence."

  "You are sure?"

  Orioke fixed his glittering gaze on Dosen. "Of course," he said. "I have no more desire to be eaten or incinerated than you do. I spoke Words throughout our flight to conceal us from her senses, as well as to track her movements. She went southeast. We went west." His eyes narrowed. "I wonder, though, why we stopped here. This is closer to her lair than I would like."

  "Yes, yes," Dosen said, running stubby ringed fingers through his thinning hair. "Plans change. All is well, all is well." He signaled a group of henchmen over to relieve the eagles of their burdens.

  The five of them moved aside as the grooms worked, separating the eagles from each other, unloading supplies. The wizard watched them, his face pinched and inscrutable. Clearly something troubled him; Adaran wondered what thoughts moved through the man's head.

  "A shame that our flight was cut short," Redshen said. "I could have stayed up there for hours!"

  "I'm quite happy to be back on the ground," Adaran said.

  "I second Adaran," Jenune said. "A man's place is with his two feet on the earth."

  "That may be," Redshen said, "but a woman's place is in the sky, where she can look down upon you plodding earthbound men!"

  Adaran chuckled, then glanced to the right, where he had noticed furtive movement among the rocks. For a moment he thought Dosen had arranged some sort of ambush, but it was only a group of three young soldiers. They had evidently managed to corner a ground squirrel and were now throwing rocks at the frightened animal. He wasn't sure if they were merely being malicious, or if they hoped to cook it for their supper; if the latter, they would likely go hungry, as their aim appeared quite poor.

  "I understood that we would proceed directly back to Dunshandrin's castle," Orioke said. "Dosen, explain why we stopped here instead."

  "I told you already," Dosen said, sounding peevish.

  "No," Orioke said. "You didn't."

  Dosen sighed, as if he were a father tired of repeatedly explaining the same thing. "Rather than overtax the eagles with a long flight back to Lord Dunshandrin's castle, you will rest here and continue your journey in the morning."

  "They're birds," Redshen said. "Birds are meant to fly."

  "Perhaps you failed to notice, but these are hardly ordinary birds. You would not ride a horse across the continent without stopping to rest, would you?"

  "If I had material I urgently needed to transport, I would arrange to have relief horses along the way," Orioke said.

  "And so we have," Dosen said. "The crystals will continue on their way with another rider on a fresh eagle."

  Adaran said: "And our payment?"

  "You will receive your money tomorrow."

  "Why not now?"

  Dosen folded his arms. "You will have your coin once the crystals are safely underway, and not before."

  "What does he want them for, anyway?" Jenune asked.

  Dosen looked at the warrior; so did Adaran, surprised that the man had asked that question so directly. He and Redshen had wondered about this too, of course, and had speculated wildly in private, but they knew enough not to voice their curiosity to those who had hired them.

  The steward said: "I'm sorry … What?"

  "I asked why Dunshandrin wants the crystals. What use are they to him?"

  "I'm sure that if Lord Dunshandrin had cared for you to know his business, he would have shared it with you," Dosen said. "Now, if there are no more questions, let us show you to your tents." He looked at each of them in turn; when no one spoke, he snapped his fingers several times, the sound like small branches cracking. The men who had been tormenting the squirrel gave up their pastime and approached, allowing the creature to escape into a nearby bolt-hole. One of the young guards—the same one who had helped Adaran up after the eagle had stepped on him—winked at Redshen, who burst into laughter and turned her face against Adaran's shoulder. Dosen shook his head, turned, and walked away, moving up the ridge toward the large pavilion.

  As they followed the guards to their own, considerably smaller, tents, Redshen pulled Adaran's head down to her mouth and whispered: "I'll wager that Dosen keeps the payroll in that big house of his."

  He raised an eyebrow and held up eight fingers, the number of guards he had seen so far; Redshen gestured toward the eagles, then fluttered her hand through the air like the wing of a bird. He shook his head slightly and pointed at the ground. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and looked away.

  Whatever plan she was cooking up, Adaran knew he hadn't heard the last of it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  During the boat trip up the river to Dunshandrin's castle, Tolaria had learned more details about the tenuous situation she would have to defuse. Lord Dunshandrin had been struck by a sudden illness, provoking a succession dispute between his twin sons. Their father, with the shortsightedness of those who thought they would live forever, had never officially designated a successor; instead, he had encouraged the boys to fight and speculate over who was firstborn and thus would become the next Lord. Perhaps he had thought this strategy would prove which child was the stronger.

  Now, with their father's death imminent, the argument had turned deadly serious; the twins threatened to take up arms against each other and split the realm with civil war. They had become so suspicious of each other that they would neither leave the castle nor accept a written statement from the Crosswaters, even one bearing the official seal of Flaurent. They insisted on hearing, from an oracle's own lips, who the rightful Lord would be.

  She learned all this, bit by bit; the emissary parceled out information in tiny morsels, like a pinched miser dispensing one coin a day to the beggars. Fortunately, the man had proven vulnerable to needling, during the hours they spent together in the tiny cabin below the deck; constant rain and a chill, blustery wind from the north ensured that they stayed indoors for nearly the entire trip.

  The rain at last abated as they entered the choppy grey waters of tiny Red Lake, so named for the color of the stony hills that surrounded it. Tolaria went to the rail, peering across the whitecaps at Dunshandrin Town. It looked low and ramshackle, hardly the sort of village where a Lord might dwell. Behind it, on a particularly rudd
y butte, she made out the lines of a sprawling castle. That would be Lord Dunshandrin's keep, looming over his subjects in an almost volcanic fashion. She looked forward to spending as little time as possible there, and then returning to her cottage at the Crosswaters. She might suffer under Klem's jealous glare, but she had every confidence that she would eventually fulfill the headmistress's expectations.

  As they neared the docks, Tolaria found a spot where she could watch without getting in the way of the sailors. She noticed a carriage with Dunshandrin's device painted on the side waiting on one of the wharfs and guessed, correctly, that the ship would tie up to that pier. Once the vessel had been secured, Dunshandrin's man appeared and directed her to the wagon, saying it would take her to the castle; then he took his leave, making an oblique statement about other business that needed his attention.

  Feeling vaguely abandoned, Tolaria retrieved her trunk from the cargo hold, struggling it up the ramp, then across the deck, then down the gangplank. As she dragged it to the wagon, the driver turned to regard her without much interest. He watched as she attempted to lift the heavy burden into the wagon, but offered neither assistance nor encouragement. Finally two of the sailors from the ship happened by and helped her.

  In a foul mood now, she settled onto the uncomfortable wooden bench in the back of the cart. The driver looked back at her and said, in a tone that implied he had been forced to wait much longer than he should have, "Ready?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  He slapped the reins and the horse began walking, jerking them forward with a lurch. Leaving the pier, the driver turned right onto the rutted, poorly-tended shoreline road. It had once been paved with cobbles, and some stretches still were; but large sections of the stone had washed away and been replaced with wooden planks, rocks, and gravel, while others consisted of nothing but mud. Lord Dunshandrin must not think very highly of the traders and merchants who came and went from his town, or he would not present them with such a poorly maintained waterfront.

  The road improved somewhat as the cart left the area of wharfs and warehouses and seedy taverns, the road climbing from the lakeside and up the bluff. Still, the shops and homes that lined the rough street conveyed a sense that their best days had long since passed, and had been nothing to impress anyway.