Steal the Dragon

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Steal the Dragon Page 12

by Patricia Briggs


  Laeth looked at the dead creature and said, "I don't suppose that we have to worry about any more guards."

  Tris shook his head. "Not unless we've made enough noise to wake the men in the guardhouse. We'd better get moving." Laeth nodded in agreement and followed, walking only a little stiffly.

  On the first floor they found the bodies of the other two guards lying near the entrance. Tris stepped around them and into the darkness, with Laeth behind him.

  The healer led Laeth to the outer wall of the keep, near the place where he and Rialla had entered. Laeth climbed the wall slowly, but without incident. Tris waited until the Darranian had reached the top before securing his staff and following him up and over.

  They had reached the protective cover of the forest when the alarm bells began to sound. Laeth hesitated, and Tris grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the forest. Laeth waited for explanations until they were immersed in the heart of the woods. Then he stopped and leaned against a convenient tree to rest.

  "My thanks for your timely intervention, healer," he said, with a wary look. "You'll have to excuse me for wondering why you did it."

  Tris shrugged and made himself at home on a fallen log. "Do you believe in prophecy?"

  "What?" Laeth asked.

  "I was given a riddle… a path to follow that might lead to something necessary to me."

  "This riddle requires that you risk your life for someone that you have shown every sign of disliking? A man, moreover, who is being held for killing the Lord of the Hold?" questioned Laeth incredulously.

  Tris smiled slyly. "Well, now, Laeth of Sianim," the healer said, "my actions tonight might reflect the fact that your associate is the only person I've ever met who can beat me at Steal the Dragon."

  "Rialla?" Laeth's voice was suddenly intent. "Where is she? Is she safe?"

  Tris nodded. "She's fine." He hesitated, and honesty compelled him to add, "I hope. She should meet us at my cottage with your horses. Your lady is there as well."

  "Marri?" There was relief and surprise in the lord's voice.

  "She came to let Rialla know that they intended to draw and quarter you in the morning," said Tris.

  "Did she tell you that Lord Jarroh intends to prosecute her for conspiracy to commit murder? That she is supposed to be locked in her room? The stupid chit came to warn me of something that any idiot would have noticed and someone saw her—as you've probably already heard. Then she compounded the crime by insisting on seeing me in the tower." Laeth shook his head in exasperation, but there was admiration in his tone as well.

  Tris smiled and shook his head, saying solemnly, "That's too bad then. You'll have to take her with you to Sianim."

  Laeth looked at the healer for a minute before donning a return smile. "Isn't that too bad? Poor girl." Straightening, Laeth sent an inquiring look at Tris. "Shouldn't we be going, in case someone institutes a door-to-door search of the village? I seem to recall that is the first procedure the hold follows after a felon has escaped."

  "They'll wait until dawn; it's too easy to miss someone hiding in the night," said Tris, getting to his feet anyway. "I imagine she's worrying herself into a frenzy, though. Shall we go and relieve her anxiety?"

  When the two men reached Tris's cottage, there was no sign of life, except the healer's gelding dozing quietly in its pen.

  Cautiously Tris opened the door and slipped in, followed by Laeth. The dim light of the waning moon caught Laeth's bruised face.

  A gasp was the only warning Laeth had before a shape launched itself over the counter and hit him with enough force to make him stagger back. Some part of him must have recognized the voice because he grabbed her and spun sideways, deflecting Tris's staff with his shoulder.

  "Ouch, plague it! I thought that wizards were supposed to be able to see in the dark. It's only Marri."

  When Laeth was sure that no additional blows were forthcoming, he turned on the lady. "By the Lord of Death and all his minions, Marri! Don't you know better than to throw yourself on someone without identifying yourself first? If the healer's staff had fallen where it was aimed, it would have knocked the few brains that you have out on the floor; as it is, I think that he broke my shoulder blade."

  His anger would have been more believable if it hadn't been for the fact that he held her close throughout the tirade, his hands gently smoothing the sobbing woman's hair. His voice softened remarkably. "It's all right, my heart. Don't carry on so. I'm safe now and so are you." He looked up to say something to the healer, but Tris had tactfully and silently withdrawn to the back room.

  With the alarm ringing in her ears, Rialla took the horses to the high road, where the guards would be sure to see their tracks. Riding Stoutheart and leading the mare, she kept them to a brisk trot they were capable of maintaining for several hours.

  When the side road to Tallonwood appeared she trotted on past it, waiting for a dirt road in the opposite direction that would show her tracks well. She wanted no suspicion to fall on the heads of the hapless villagers or their healer.

  She also didn't know what shape Laeth was in. It was possible that he was unable to travel on his own. By misleading the guards, she might be able to steal some time for Tris to get Laeth to the cottage.

  Just as she turned off the road, she heard the thunder of a mounted party that was rapidly decreasing the distance she had won. Rialla tied the mare's reins so there was no chance that they would cause the horse to fall and left her to follow without being led.

  When Rialla leaned forward and asked for a faster pace, the dun gelding responded by stretching its neck flat and breaking into a hard gallop that the more heavily laden and lesser quality beasts of the guardsmen would not be able to match for long. Though she wasn't as well bred as Stoutheart, without lead line or rider to hamper her, Rialla's mare had no trouble following.

  When a hunting horn was sounded behind her, Rialla knew that the guards had seen her. She made sure that she stayed just within their eyesight, wanting them to chase her, rather than wandering through the countryside, where they might chance upon Tris and Laeth.

  As the guards' mounts tired, Rialla slowed Stoutheart, giving her horses a well-deserved breather. She guided the gelding onto a narrow game trail through the woods. Relaxing slightly, she settled deeper into the saddle, resting her back and legs. She glanced behind her occasionally to make sure that the guards didn't fall too far back.

  The trail took a sharp turn through some bushes and over a narrow creek. Rialla looked back to see how far behind her pursuit was, just as her mount pushed through the brush and into a meadow. On the other side of the meadow was another party of guards.

  With a series of startled shouts the fresh group broke into a hard gallop and Rialla turned the dun sharply to the left. She rose in her stirrups and leaned forward as her horse charged through the meadow and crashed headlong into the bushes on the other side, followed by the loyal little mare.

  She decided that she'd given Tris enough time and concentrated on losing her followers—if she could. The new party was mounted on fresh horses and hers had already had quite a run. Stoutheart's shoulders were wet with sweat, but both he and the mare were still moving easily.

  She could hear the men cursing as they fought through the brush. They were losing most of the advantage of following where her horses had already broken the branches, because there were too many of them; they tried to follow her as a pack instead of one at a time.

  Most of the second party were falling behind, but there were a few who were more determined. At least one of them was mounted as well as Rialla—probably a nobleman who had decided to relieve his boredom by chasing criminals.

  Stoutheart stumbled to his knees in the rough footing, but recovered quickly. Rialla couldn't see any sign of lameness, so she stayed on him. Time enough to switch mounts when the gelding showed signs of weariness.

  They broke through the last of the undergrowth to find themselves on a well-traveled road. Rialla pulled her m
ount to a trot and looked back to see if there was anyone still behind them.

  The nobleman was still in pursuit, but she didn't see anyone else. Turning the gelding in a circle, she aimed him at the stone wall that ran the length of the road, and hoped that there was enough light from the sliver of moon that the horse could see to jump.

  Rialla had carefully chosen the horses that she and Laeth took from Sianim. They were grain-fed and in fighting shape, lean and tough as only rigorous daily riding could make them. Rialla blessed that toughness as the gelding cleared the wall with a snort and the mare followed closely on his heels.

  She looked back and swore silently. Despite their mad run across the salted field and the leap over the fence on the opposite side, the noble was still gaining ground.

  She turned back into the forest, where skill played a greater role and minimized the advantage his fresher horse had. In the rough going, he quit gaining on her, but he didn't fall back either.

  Rialla wasn't familiar with the area, and it seemed that the other rider was. Several times he took advantage of shorter, easier routes through the terrain that was rapidly becoming rougher as they raced away from the cultivated areas. The thought that he might be herding her occurred to Rialla just as the gully they were running down deepened and narrowed.

  Rialla was afraid that the trap had already closed. The sides of the gorge weren't much taller than the trees that grew here and there along its length, but they were sheer and soft. Rialla searched frantically in the dark for an exit, certain that the canyon would end in another precipitous embankment.

  Finally, she found a section of the ravine wall marred by a recent rock slide which had carved a path of skree and detritus that was marginally less steep than the rest of the wall. The trail was not inviting, but Rialla was desperate.

  She sent the riderless horse up first, urging it with a swat and an empathic demand. The little mare leapt up like a deer and made it to the top.

  Her scrambling hooves kicked loose the rocks, and slowly the whole slope began to move again. When the mare was safely up, Rialla turned Stoutheart at the tide of moving rocks that was their only way out.

  True to his name, the gelding dug into the tumbling rock, his breath labored and clearly audible. A lesser horse would have failed, but wild-eyed and sweating, Stoutheart plunged to the top of the rubble and made a tremendous leap upward to solid ground. Dust rose as the slide rumbled to the bottom, leaving behind silence and a sheer wall that no horse could negotiate.

  Rialla let the horses catch their breath. She wanted to get a clear look at the man who was so intent on catching her. It was only a moment later that the pursuing horse thundered down the ravine. His rider pulled him up when he saw the silhouette of his intended prey on the top edge of the bank.

  She heard him swear. The only way that he was going to get his big horse to where she sat quietly watching was by backtracking to the entrance, and by that time she would be long gone and lost in the darkness.

  She recognized his voice, but even if he hadn't spoken a word, she would have known him. Lord Jarroh had a way of carrying his muscular body that was unmistakable at this distance.

  His fury caused his horse to half-rear, before it was ruthlessly controlled.

  Lord Jarroh raged at her, his voice rough with grief, "Why did you do it? He loved you, damn you. He was proud of the way that you defied the family to train in Sianim. He used to talk about how much he missed his clever brother. But he wasn't as clever, was he? He trusted those he loved too far. He didn't know that the bitch he married wanted his brother's bed. He didn't know that his brother wanted the wealth and power that he possessed."

  Rialla had forgotten Lord Jarroh's tendency to make speeches. He obviously thought that she was Laeth. If he knew that Laeth had escaped tonight, then it made sense.

  She and Laeth were about the same height, her newly darkened hair was a similar color and length, and she was riding Laeth's horse. A Darranian would never believe that a woman could elude two parties of guards and a Darranian lord—much less that a slave could.

  Rialla looked down at the man who had beaten the little slave to death that long ago day in Kentar. Stoutheart shifted restlessly under her and she forced herself to loosen the reins. She was glad that she wasn't carrying a knife or bow, because if she had been, he would be dead—and she had a use for him.

  With Karsten dead and Laeth discredited. Lord Jarroh was the only one who would stand a chance of securing the alliance between Reth and Darran: the alliance that would mean an end to slavery in Darran—if Winterseine didn't gain the power of Karsten's estates.

  She kept her voice low and husky when she spoke. If Lord Jarroh knew that it was a woman who spoke, he would simply dismiss her words.

  "I am not Lord Laeth, merely a compatriot of his from Sianim. My task was to divert pursuit from him, and by now he is safely spirited away. Still, I have a few thoughts to share with you.

  "First, why should Lord Laeth choose to murder his own brother in a manner that was sure to put suspicion on him? If he can work magic, why not stage an accident? A misspent arrow or a slip down the stairs should have been easy enough for a man who can control a thing like the creature at the ball.

  "Think about the man who is pushing so very hard to accuse Laeth. Who benefits if Laeth and Karsten are both dead? Who depends on income from the slave trade that would cease if the marriage between the princess and King Myr takes place?

  "Perhaps you might turn your inquiry in other directions, since Laeth is now well beyond your reach." With a small salute she turned her winded mount into the mountain country at a slow canter.

  As soon as the trees hid her, she let Stoutheart drop into a walk. The mare followed as faithfully as any puppy, rubbing her sweaty head against Rialla's leg to relieve an itch under the leather bridle. Rialla only had to find her way back to the healer's cottage before morning, without running into anyone else, and the rescue would be complete.

  She was forced to huddle in a thick copse of brush when she ran into some of the guards resting their horses. She couldn't tell if it was one of the parties that had been chasing her or not. There were probably stragglers scattered all over the woods. Luckily the guard's horses were too tired to bother to whinny a greeting, and Rialla kept hers quiet.

  The enforced rest allowed her time to think about her speech to Lord Jarroh. Blowing at an errant strand of hair, Rialla shook her head at the idea that was presenting itself; but neither went away. The hair was an annoyance; the idea a possible solution to this disaster.

  The guardsmen left eventually, and Rialla mounted the mare and set off in the general direction of the healer's cottage. She narrowly avoided another group of riders, and heard a third before she found Tris's home.

  Cautiously, she waited to be sure that there were no guards nearby. When she was satisfied that she was the only one lurking in the nearby woods, Rialla tied the horses in a thicket of lilacs that grew on the edge of the woods. The heavy perfume of the flowers followed her as she crossed the log spanning the creek that ran behind Tris's home.

  "Laeth? Tris?" she called softly as she opened the door.

  A quiet-voiced reply led her into the back room, where she found Laeth, Tris and Marri waiting in the dark. They'd left the lamps unlit so they didn't attract the notice of the patrols.

  "Greetings," Rialla said wearily, leaning against the door. "It's good to see you in one piece, Laeth."

  "It's better to be in one piece than four," he agreed gravely. "What took you so long?"

  "I was keeping Lord Jarroh and his men off your tail, so don't take that tone with me," she told him.

  Laeth grinned at her unrepentantly, and Rialla smiled back, picking a leaf out of her hair. She took a seat on the floor next to Tris's stool, since Laeth was sitting on the bed with Marri.

  "The horses are waiting in the grove of lilacs by the edge of the forest," Rialla said, fighting the urge to close her eyes and sleep. "You'd better get going; i
t's almost dawn, and if you're found here, innocent people will suffer."

  "Aren't you coming too?" asked Laeth.

  Rialla shook her head, having come to a decision as she rode through the night. "I'm going to try to prove that Winterseine killed Lord Karsten."

  "How?" said Marri with a frown. "No one is going to listen to Laeth's slave."

  "No," agreed Rialla, "but they don't have to. I intend to get the proof of Wintersiene's involvement to Ren in Sianim. If he can persuade me to come back to Darran as a slave, he can convince the regency council to convict Winterseine."

  "Where are you going to get this proof?" The healer's voice sounded tired, softer than usual.

  "Winterseine wants his slave back. If Laeth disappears, he will have legal claim…" She noticed that there was a damp spot on the floor near Tris's chair, where she was resting her hand. She touched her ringers to her mouth and said, "Did you know that you are bleeding, Tris?"

  "No, am I?" He sounded intrigued. "That creature that we bumped into must have caught me—I didn't notice."

  A faint light appeared cupped in one of his hands. As he bent to examine his legs, Rialla noticed that his sleeve was suspiciously dark.

  "It's your arm."

  Tris pulled the knife from his boot and twisted to tuck the point of the knife under the material of his tunic.

  "Here, let me," offered Laeth, who'd crossed the room when Rialla first noticed that Tris was wounded. He took the knife and split the sleeve from shoulder to wrist.

  "Just a cut," said Tris after a quick look. "I've got some brandy and bandages out front."

  Laeth stayed where he was while the healer left the room.

  "By the gods, Ria, I wouldn't take my brother's estates if they were offered to me," he said intently. "I enjoy being a mercenary much more than I ever did being a Darranian lord. Let Winterseine have the plague-ridden land. Don't do this."

 

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