Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

by Richard A. Knaak

  “What is it?” the Gryphon asked from beside him. His probe, too, had located the trace, but he did not recognize its origins.

  “It feels as if . . . as if . . .” Cabe did not want to complete the sentence, as if that would make it not true.

  “It tastes of Toma, does it not?” the enchantress demanded, arms folded tight. Like her husband, she also wished to deny it.

  “Toma?” The former mercenary’s voice went cold. “Toma? In the Manor?”

  Hearing the hatred, Cabe quickly added, “Not now, but sometime in the past.”

  “But how?” demanded the Gryphon. “How could that murderous lizard have gained access to your domain?”

  “We have no idea, Gryphon,” the Lady Bedlam replied. She explained how they had come to know the startling truth. The lionbird listened in awe, and even Cabe felt chills as he relived seeing the renegade duke standing in the doorway of his study. Gwen went on to describe the careful search they had made of the Manor grounds, a search which had yielded nothing for all their hard work.

  “But then how do you explain this?”

  “The trace is very faint. I cannot explain why I noticed it, but I can see how it might have been missed before, especially since Aurim practices his spells in his room. You can feel his overwhelming presence here, can you not?”

  The Gryphon nodded. The room was very much the young Bedlam’s domain.

  “What worries me is that this might not be the only evidence that we have missed.”

  Cabe had not thought of that. True, it was unlikely that he and Gwen had missed any such trace, but what about the areas that Valea and Aurim had been searching? He recalled where he had interrupted Kyl and his daughter. “We should probe the stables again . . . just in case.”

  “If I may be permitted, Cabe, perhaps I could do a search of my own.”

  “There’s no need for you to-”

  “Please. We have been through that before, haven’t we?” The Gryphon turned to Gwendolyn. “What say you, my lady? Will you permit me to attempt a spell of my own? It promises a very thorough scrutiny of this place.”

  There was no hesitation on her part. “Do it. I want to be able to rest easy. I want to know.”

  The lionbird nodded. Without another word, he closed his eyes. Cabe could feel the stirring of power.

  It was as if the Gryphon were everywhere at once. A force radiated from him, a force that spread throughout Aurim’s chambers and continued on, unimpeded by any physical presence. It moved beyond the outer halls and the balcony, out beyond the very Manor itself.

  The inhuman mage grunted. Next to him, the warlock sensed a renewed push that expanded the Gryphon’s spell farther and farther beyond the Manor walls. The terrace was engulfed. The stables. The outer buildings, where most of those who served the Bedlams lived. Even the gardens were enveloped. The lionbird’s claws unsheathed and sheathed as he worked to maintain his concentration. The spell did not require that much power, but it did require concentration if it was to be effective, especially since they were searching for what were likely very thin traces of the duke’s former presence.

  “The spell’s reached the barriers,” the Gryphon finally announced. “It can go no further without your permission.”

  “Let it go just beyond, if you will.”

  “A wise thought, Lady Gwendolyn.” The inhuman sorcerer did just that. “My spell now covers the surrounding forest for almost fifty yards in every direction.”

  “Do you sense anything?” Cabe asked, fascinated.

  “A moment.” The Gryphon’s voice grew distant. “This is a spell that works slowly, and by doing so more thoroughly searches. Let me . . .” He nodded to himself. “Yes, that does it. There are ancient traces of sorcery in this chamber, but they’re so old that we need not worry about them. Curious! Did you two know that an aura surrounds this edifice? A very strange aura.”

  Both Bedlams knew of the aura of the Manor. It was, as the Gryphon had exclaimed, a very curious aura. Even Gwen, whose knowledge of such was far more complete than Cabe’s own, had never experienced anything like it. However, they had long ago come to realize that whatever surrounded the Manor meant them no harm and had left it at that.

  “I don’t think Toma was in this room,” the lionbird continued. “He reached in with his power. The trace comes from beyond, somewhere in that direction.” He raised a taloned hand and pointed.

  Following the Gryphon’s direction, the warlock went to the balcony and peered outside. His eyes narrowed as he found himself looking down at the stables.

  A figure stepped out of the nearest building, the one most directly in the path the Gryphon had indicated. Ssarekai. The drake seemed intent on heading toward the Manor, but then paused. After a moment’s deliberation, Ssarekai turned his gaze upward. His eyes widened just a little as he met the stare of the sorcerer.

  Cabe acknowledged him with a slight nod. Ssarekai dipped his head in what might have been an abortive bow and scurried on.

  “Did you see anything?” Gwen called.

  He turned back. “Just the stables. The stables and Ssarekai.”

  The Gryphon, meanwhile, had moved on. “I sense Aurim and another with some talent for sorcery. Not Valea; she’s elsewhere. The drakes are everywhere.” All drakes had inherent magic, although it varied greatly from one to another. “But no other telltale marks of the renegade save the trace in the study, of which we are already aware.” He paused. “Yet . . .”

  Both humans tensed.

  “Nothing. I was wrong. Too hopeful, I suppose.”

  In one respect, Cabe found himself disappointed. Yet, if the Gryphon discovered nothing else, that did mean that the Manor was clean of all but this one trace of Toma’s taint.

  “There are some other odd sensations emanating from the Manor and the grounds, but they all seem to be a part of what makes this place what it is . . .”

  A faint noise near the doorway caught the warlock’s attention. He turned quietly, so as not to disturb the lionbird’s work, and saw Benjin Traske. The massive scholar had one hand on the knife he always wore on his belt and the other on the arched doorway. He appeared startled at the presence of the Gryphon.

  Cabe put a finger to his lips. Traske, recovered from his surprise, nodded once. He did not enter, but simply remained in the doorway.

  “Some of your human servants have the natural potential for sorcery, did you know that? It’s been suppressed.”

  “I shall have to look into that when we have more time,” Gwen replied.

  “I can let you know which ones at some point in the future.” Slowly, the Gryphon turned. He did not stop turning until he had performed three-quarters of a circle. “I think . . . that’s all. I find no other vestiges of his work. They might have dissipated beyond the spell’s abilities, but at the very least that would mean you had nothing to fear from them. I can find no spells or traps anywhere.”

  The mood in the chamber lightened. Cabe noted that even Benjin Traske, who could not have understood what was being done here, relaxed.

  Without warning, the Gryphon opened his eyes. The spell dissipated with astonishing speed and simplicity. “As near as I can tell, the Manor is safe. I cannot promise that the spell was perfect in its execution . . .”

  “I am quite satisfied, Gryphon.” A very relieved Gwendolyn moved to the lionbird’s side. She put her arms around him and leaned forward to kiss him in gratitude. Cabe noticed that the former monarch managed to transform his monstrous features into the more handsome, human ones before the enchantress’ lips touched his cheek. Even knowing that the sorceress loved him and that the lionbird loved his own mate, the warlock suffered a twinge of jealousy.

  He extended his hand and gave the Gryphon his own thanks, adding, “It was fortunate that you arrived today. This will mean that we will be sleeping a lot easier again.”

  “You’ve done much for me in the past, both of you.” The Gryphon, however, did look pleased. As he shook Cabe’s hand, he f
inally noticed the figure in the doorway. “Benjin!”

  The huge figure performed one of his miraculous bows. “Lord Gryphon.”

  “Will we be seeing you in Penacles when the heir comes? I would like to show you some improvements we’ve made with the school. I would like your opinion.”

  “I cannot say, my lord.”

  The lionbird’s feathers and fur ruffled in growing annoyance at those around him. “Must I keep repeating myself? I am no longer king of Penacles! I have no title!”

  “Only in your own mind,” countered the Lady Bedlam. “You might have refused to take back the throne, but everyone, including Toos, agrees that what you did for the kingdom when you did rule there deserves respect. You are the special counsel to the regent, aren’t you? That in itself infers some sort of title. I know that Troia wouldn’t mind that.”

  He sighed. “I give in. There are those who believe that I am unusually stubborn, but Toos would still have me resume the throne even after all the time since my return to Penacles. Now there is stubbornness!” The Gryphon waved away what to him was a most distasteful subject. “You are not traveling with your former pupil to Penacles, Benjin?”

  “That is for my lord and lady to decide.”

  The scholar gave no indication of his feelings one way or the other, but somehow his words made Cabe feel guilty for having left the man behind on the journey to visit Talak. Glancing at his wife, he saw that she, too, was having second thoughts.

  “I think that something can be arranged, Scholar Traske,” the enchantress finally conceded. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Yes, Lady Bedlam.” Benjin Traske’s somber demeanor gave way to growing curiosity. “Lady Bedlam, what, if I may ask-”

  “We’ll talk about that later, too.”

  “As you desire.” Bowing once more, the tutor departed.

  “What was that you said about him coming with us to Penacles?” Cabe asked his wife. “I thought that he would be staying here just as he did when we journeyed to Talak.”

  “First, we really had no right to make him stay here last time. You and I both know that. Traske could have traveled with you if he so desired, but he chose not to rather than argue with us. Arguing is not his way. Second, he really should have the opportunity to see his work in Penacles . . . and I have decided that I shall stay home for all but the most essential days of the visitation.”

  The Gryphon did not take this news well. “Troia was hoping that you would come with the others. She does not feel as comfortable around the people of Penacles as she does around you, Gwendolyn.”

  Considering his mate’s feline tendencies, Cabe did not find that at all surprising. The attention that she received as the former king’s bride did not help the matter any. Troia was not used to being such a center of attention, and now that she had a small child to rear, it bothered her even more.

  The Lady Bedlam smiled, thinking of the cat-woman, but still said, “I promise that I will see her when I do arrive, Gryphon. I remained behind when Cabe traveled to Penacles because I wanted to help the children prepare for being masters of the house, but on that score I no longer have any worry. You know what still bothers me, though. I’m sorry, but even the thoroughness of your spell can’t completely shake the fear from me concerning Toma’s invasion. I need to be here, can you understand that?”

  Cabe certainly did. Had he been given any choice, he, too, would have remained behind. One of them, however, had to go to Penacles. Had his wife been the one forced to make the journey, she would have spent most of the time fearing for their home, their children, and all those whose lives depended upon them. Cabe himself would certainly worry, but knowing that the enchantress was watching over everyone would ease much of his fear.

  The Gryphon also understood her concerns. “Then I will pass on that message to Troia.”

  “When time permits, I will come for a more extended visit; I promise her that.”

  “And she will hold you to that.” The lionbird chuckled and clasped his taloned hands together. “Now, I regret to say, I must depart. There are some other tasks I must perform before I transport myself back to Penacles.” The distinctive human/avian eyes widened. “Aaah! What a fool I am! Before I forget again, will the eternal be coming to the gathering? I know he joined you on your trek to Talak, Cabe. Will he also do so when you bring to us the Gold Dragon’s heir?”

  Thinking back, the sorcerer could not recall whether or not he had ever discussed Penacles in particular with Darkhorse. They had mostly talked about the mountain kingdom. Still, Darkhorse was always more welcome in the court of Toos the Regent than he was in that of Melicard. Cabe saw no reason why the shadow steed would not make the journey. “I would think that he would be there, but no promise was made.”

  The Gryphon laughed at that. “Then I shall warn Toos to be ready for him! The shadowy one, for all he is known in Penacles, still makes most of us jump! If he could only be taught to appear in a less dramatic fashion than is his wont, things would be so much quieter.”

  “If I see him, I’ll be certain to pass on that suggestion.” Having seen the reaction of the Talakian guests to Darkhorse, even after Melicard’s warnings, Cabe had no desire to witness a repetition.

  “Good! Then if the two of you might be willing to lead me to the edge of the barrier spells . . .”

  “I could simply transport us there,” reminded the warlock.

  “I think that I can spare the two of you the extra few minutes . . . unless you fear my close proximity to your lady?”

  “Not as much as you should fear the claws of your lady if she learns about that close proximity,” Cabe countered.

  “Yes, there is that.”

  “We would be delighted to walk with you, Gryphon.” The scarlet-tressed sorceress took hold of the lionbird’s arm.

  With Cabe leading, they departed Aurim’s chambers. More at ease, the trio’s conversation turned to more pleasant things, such as the activities of the Gryphon’s second child or the school of magic. Cabe had hopes for the future of the school; while its initial students seemed destined to be minor spellcasters at best, the openness in which the school operated was making the people of Penacles more comfortable with the concept. None who showed any promise was refused a testing, and none who took the test could claim that they had not been treated fairly, whatever their place in society. That was another reason both Bedlams desired the chance to return more often to the City of Knowledge. It behooved them to do whatever was in their power to keep the school a place that folk everywhere would admire, not fear. It was not merely for their own sake; it was for the sake of their children and other mages to come.

  The Gryphon was describing the practice sessions of a student whose impatience rivaled that of Aurim when the young warlock himself appeared in the hall. With him was Ursa, who seemed to be supporting the Bedlams’ son.

  The brief interlude of peace was immediately shattered as parental concern seized control. Stepping toward his son, Cabe asked, “Aurim, are you well?”

  The younger Bedlam glanced up. Embarrassment colored his cheeks. “I slipped and struck my head, Father. It’s nothing, really.”

  “Merely a large lump and a maddening headache,” Ursa added with a wry smile. “I still don’t know how he did it.”

  “I wish I knew, so that I wouldn’t do it again!”

  “Where did it happen?” Perhaps it was because of the discovery that they had made in Aurim’s room, a discovery that Cabe was still debating about mentioning to his son, but the warlock needed to know.

  “At the beginning of the maze. It was such a good day that I’d been practicing in there instead of here. I supposed I was still thinking about the spellcasting and just misstepped.” The young warlock shook his head. “Everything pounds now!”

  Cabe was disappointed. For reasons that were not yet clear even to him, he had almost expected that his son’s accident had taken place in or around the stables.

  “Then, there’s no sense i
n you standing here,” admonished Gwendolyn. “Ursa, if you would see him to his room, I will be back in a few minutes.”

  “Certainly, my lady. I will stay with him until you return.”

  Aurim did not like being treated so. “All I need to do is lie down, Mother. There’s no reason to worry.”

  “I will be the judge of that. If you please, Ursa?”

  The beauteous drake led the feebly protesting Aurim away, his mother’s gaze remaining on the pair until they were well on their way.

  “A fine boy,” remarked the Gryphon, but his tone hinted that his thoughts were, in part, on another boy long dead.

  “But very stubborn,” insisted the Lady Bedlam.

  “I, for one, am not surprised.”

  She took the comment for the compliment it was supposed to be. As they moved on, the enchantress added, “It is not the worst trait he could have.”

  “Not by far. Will you be bringing Aurim and Valea to Penacles when you make your extended visit?”

  Cabe’s wife considered that. “It might be a good idea. With Kyl, Grath, and Ursa gone, the Manor will certainly seem empty for the two of them.”

  “The Manor will seem empty to you, too, won’t it? After all, many of those who live here will be leaving with them, won’t they?”

  “Many of the drakes will be leaving, and some of the humans, too, but some of those are returning to the domain of the Green Dragon, who originally brought them to the Manor. Actually, anyone, either human or drake, who desires to remain behind is welcome to do so. I have hopes that most will.”

  They had reached the staircase. The Gryphon glanced at Cabe, who had been silent for the past several moments. The warlock had been listening, but he had also been brooding over his earlier notion concerning the stables. He could not say why; after all, the Gryphon’s search had yielded nothing, and if there was anyone other than Darkhorse whose power Cabe respected, it was the lionbird.

  “I hope you and your entire family will dare to take some time to visit us after Kyl is ensconced on the throne of the Dragon Emperor, Cabe. Things should be much more peaceful by that time, and I think that Troia may not desire to travel much out of the city. Not, at least, for several months.” There was a twinkle in the lionbird’s arresting eyes as he saw comprehension slowly creep into his hosts’ countenances. “I would say that Troia will be showing very soon.”