"You didn't recognize them?"
The footman hesitated. "I thought one might be Lord Hardior, perhaps."
"Hardior?" That was interesting. The Duke's adviser had said, at Nail's bedside, that he and Arlian should have a long talk, but as yet they had not spoken since then; perhaps he intended to pursue that now.
But if he wanted a long conversation, why not come inside and be comfortable? Meeting at the front door implied either that a quick exchange of some sort was desired, or that they wanted Arlian to accompany them elsewhere—did Hardior want to take Arlian to the Duke, perhaps?
And who were the other visitors?
"How many guests do 1 have, then?"
"Three gentlemen, my lord."
All male—that meant, at least, that Lady Opal was not among them.
"I'll come at once," Arlian said.
A moment later he stepped out the front door into the bright sun of early summer, and immediately recognized his three callers.
"Lord Door," he said. "Lord Hardior, Lord Zaner. I had not expected to see you today."
In fact, he had never really expected to see Door outside the hall of the Dragon Society at all; Door seemed to always be there, watching everyone who went in or out and making sure that only members were admitted.
Door cleared his throat as the other two looked at him expectantly. "Arlian of the Smoking Mountain, known as Lord Obsidian, sometimes called Lord Lanair or Triv of Westguard, you are summoned, under oaths you swore, to explain your actions to your peers," he announced.
Arlian stood silentiy for a moment, absorbing this.
He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised; he knew that the Dragon Society could summon a member to a hearing if there was some suspicion that that member had broken some portion of the Society's oath.
He had himself tried to summon Lord Enziet on a charge of conspiring with the dragons, but Enziet had already left the city at the time.
He had never expected to be on this end of such a summons, though.
"Who accuses me7' he asked at last. "And in what manner am I alleged to have broken the Society's rules?"
"Lord Toribor has accused you of concealing information about the dragons, and of plotting the death of another member within Manfort's walls," Hardior replied. "I agreed to oversee a hearing on this matter."
Well, Arlian thought, so much for his attempt to mend fences with Toribor.
And concealing information—he could not really truthfully deny that. This hearing should prove interesting, to say the least.
He had some idea how it would work, from Enziet's never-held hearing. Rime had been the overseer for that, and Arlian had been the accuser, required to wait at the Society's meeting hall. Door had been the Society's herald in both matters—he had, Arlian had once been told, been the Society's herald in everything of the sort for at least the past hundred years.
There was a great deal he did not know, however.
"Forgive me, my lords, but might I ask how long this hearing is likely to take, and what preparation I am allowed, if any?"
"It will take as long as necessary to determine the facts of the case, and the appropriate response to them," Hardior said. "Minutes, hours, or days, I cannot say. As for preparation, you may have a moment to fetch any evidence you feel necessary, but no more than that. We do not care to risk your escape."
"I cannot think of any relevant evidence, my lords, but I pray you allow me to inform my staff that I will be absent for an indeterminate time."
" 'Indeterminate,' he says," Lord Zaner said. "That's one way of putting it."
Hardior hesitated. "Obsidian, you do realize that the penalties for breaking the Society's oath may include death?"
"Oh, certainly," Arlian said. "I understand that. I have faith in the common sense of my fellows, though, and do not expect any such verdict."
Zaner and Hardior exchanged glances. Arlian smiled.
Toribor wanted him dead, and presumably some of the other dragonhearts did as well, but Arlian thought, despite the obvious misgivings of his escort, that he would be able to convince a solid majority not to do anything so foolish as imposing a death sentence.
And he already knew much of what he would say.
This hearing settled the question that had troubled him ever since he spoke to the dragon's image in the bowl.
If the Dragon Society was going to demand the truth of him, they would have it—he would not be forsworn of the oath he had made upon joining.
That might bring the dragons down on Manfort—
but at this point, Arlian thought that anything he could do might bring such an attack. It might well be on its way even now. Better to go ahead and have it all out.
Come on," Zaner said. "Let's get on with it."
"A moment, please." Arlian turned and leaned back into the Old Palace, where Wolt was waiting. He took his second-best hat from the hook there.
'Tell my steward I have been summoned to a hearing," he said.
"A hearing, my lord? Before the Duke?"
"No. Before a far more dangerous court than that."
Then, before the man could respond, he stepped back out onto the path, closing the door behind him.
"I am at your service, my lords," he said.
Arlian did not remember ever seeing the Dragon Society's hall so full before. He could not think of a single member who was not present. Of course, with fewer than two score surviving members, and the room as large as it was, it was still far from actually being crowded.
Toribor had taken a seat near the center of the room, facing the door, ready to confront his foe; his head was turned slightly, so that his good eye was forward and the patch over the one he had lost to a dragon's attack so very long ago was slightly back. A small group was gathered about him.
Rime sat close by Toribor's right elbow, her legbone in her hand, tapping quietly on the tabletop. Flute stood just behind Rime, her hands clutching die back of Rime's chair. Lord Shatter sat to Toribor's left, and Lord Spider just beyond, with his wife, Lady Shard, beside him. Lord Ticker, whom Arlian had seen but never spoken to, was standing by Shard's shoulder.
The other members were scattered about, all watching intently as Arlian confronted his accuser.
Once Arlian and his three escorts were inside. Door resumed his accustomed place by the entrance, while Hardior and Zaner remained at Arlian's sides, but pulled up chairs and seated themselves facing Toribor's party. Arlian had no idea what the proper procedure was, but he suspected this affair might take a considerable length of time, so he grabbed a chair as well, tossing his hat onto a small table nearby.
He could not see any particular pattern in the seat-ing arrangements; Toribor was his chief accuser, certainly, but Zaner was Toribor's friend, while Arlian thought Rime preferred his own company to Belly's.
Shatter had never taken a side, so far as Arlian could recall, while Spider, Shard, and Ticker were almost strangers.
"I am here, as summoned," Arlian said.
"And I must ask you, my lord, to speak when addressed, and not to interrupt," Lord Hardior said.
"I did not interrupt," Arlian said mildly. "No one was speaking."
"Yes, but in the future," Hardior said, slightly discomfited. "Now, Belly, you are the accuser. State your charges."
Toribor rose from his chair and looked over the assembled Society with his one good eye.
"Friends and comrades," he said, "you all know the terms of the oath that each of us swore upon joining this organization. We are united in our support for one another, and in our efforts to ensure that the dragons never again ravage the Lands of Man. We are sworn to share our knowledge of the dragons, to keep no secrets from the other members of the Society. Yet two nights ago, Lord Obsidian arrived at our late friend Nail's bedside armed with obsidian-tipped spears, clearly aware of what fate awaited him.
"I assume all of you have heard what happened.
Something burst from Nail's chest, formed of his heart
's blood, something that took the form of a dragon, and Obsidian and his steward slew it with their spears.
"Whether this was truly a dragon I do not know—
but I do know that Obsidian expected this apparition to appear, and came prepared to deal with it.
"I think it plain that he has kept secrets about dragons from this Society, in violation of his oath. Furthermore, while I do not know exactly what happened, believe we need to consider the possibility that Obsidian somehow planned Nail's death, in further contra-vention of his oath.
"And as if this were not sufficient, last night Obsidian took more stone weapons to Wither's home, and today Wither is dead, as well.
"I think we are entitled to a full explanation, and that at the very least Obsidian must pay some penalty for failing to reveal his knowledge."
Upon completing this speech Toribor looked around the room again, and then sat down.
Hardior nodded. "Does anyone else have further accusations to make?"
To Arlian's surprise, Lord Ticker stood up. He pointed at an ornate cabinet against one wall where a row of skulls filled one shelf.
Arlian had seen the skulls before, of course, but now, for the first time, he noticed that more had been added.
"My lords and ladies, I ask that you count the skulls upon that shelf," Ticker said. "There are eleven. Soon, when we have retrieved Lord Wither's skull from his paramour, there will be an even dozen. Lord Enziet's would be a thirteenth, had we been able to retrieve it. I am sure you all remember, though, that two years ago there were only eight. In seven hundred years, only eight members of this Society had died."
Arlian stared. Those added skulls had belonged to Horim and Drisheen and Nail?
Rime coughed.
Ticker raised his hands. "Yes, there are members who vanished and who may have died—fourteen in all. I believe. Even granting all those, though, that brings the total for seven centuries to twenty-two; usually we will go for decades without a single loss, yet since Obsidian's arrival we have lost no fewer than five."
Arlian frowned and glanced at Hardior, who said,
"While this unfortunate circumstance is true, I fail to see just what accusation you are directing at Obsidian."
"I am saying that he is a menace, a bringer of disaster. He killed Horim and Drisheen himself, and while he may not have laid a hand directly upon Ilruth or Stiam or Enziet, he was present at all three deaths.
Whatever the details, Obsidian is a creature of ill omen, and I think we should exile him from Manfort for our own safety. Let him return to Arithei. whence he came."
Arlian cleared his throat, and Hardior nodded. "You may speak."
"I am not from Arithei," Arlian said. "I was born and raised on the Smoking Mountain, and then spent seven years in Deep Delving before relocating to Manfort; my stay in Arithei was no more than a month."
"Then let him return to the Smoking Mountain,"
Ticker said. "I just want him out of the city." Then he sat down.
Arlian considered this rather vague position with interest. He had never before thought about how rare death was in the Dragon Society, and how disruptive his activities had been; death had been commonplace on the caravan to Arithei, and among the slaves in the mines of Deep Delving, and he had not realized just how rare it was among dragonhearts.
For those who had not been directly involved in his activities, it must indeed have seemed as if he had brought Death Incarnate with him.
And in a way, he had—but if these people thought the carnage already inflicted was bad, they were likely to see far worse soon, when the Society and the dragons fought.
He was also interested to note that Lord Ticker had referred to Wither by his true name, Ilruth—Arlian had only ever heard it spoken once before, at his own initiation into the Society.
"Anyone else?" Hardior asked.
"I want to hear his response," Lady Shard said.
"I would be happy to give it," Arlian said.
"Very well, then," Hardior said. "The accused may speak."
"Thank you, my lord," Arlian said, rising to his feet.
While he had spoken with Hardior and Door and Zaner at the door of the Old Palace, and then while walking to the Street of the Black Spire, Arlian had thought carefully about what he would say, and had decided on telling the complete truth. He was sure that none of these people were in league with the dragons, as Enziet had been. Only Toribor was his sworn enemy, and even he was not utterly blind to the possibility of making common cause with Arlian. These people were all sworn foes of dragonkind, and he had sworn an oath not to conceal knowledge of the dragons from them.
Those dragons would emerge soon enough, Arlian was certain—if he had not already antagonized them sufficiently to trigger a new war, he surely would some day not too far in the future, either deliberately or inadvertently. He was no Enziet, able to plan his every word and action and keep secrets to himself for centuries. He knew that open conflict was inevitable.
And he would not be forsworn for the dragons' benefit. If it would save innocent lives, then he might have abandoned his oath and lied, told them all a slew of comforting stories about Aritheian illusions—but he could not convince himself that lies or silence would save anyone, in the long run.
Therefore, Arlian would explain the situation, give up his legacy of secrets, and let the Society's common sense guide it. In this room were the secret rulers of the Lands of Man; if he could convince them that the Man-Dragon Wars were beginning anew, they could organize defenses, prepare Manfort for a siege, help devise some way of striking at the dragons' hearts with blades of obsidian.
These were surely the people who would aid him in destroying the dragons once and for all. He had merely to tell them all he knew, as he had sworn he would.
Accordingly, he began to speak.
I must immediately confess that there is some ele-ment of truth in these accusations," Arlian began,
"but I hope I can justify my actions and show you that I have not violated the spirit of my oath. I have always acted with the goal of destroying the dragons forever in mind."
"The dragons and half the Society," Toribor muttered.
"Not just half," Arlian said to Toribor before continuing his speech.
"As you all know, I came to Manfort determined to find and destroy Lord Enziet and others who had worked with him in harming me and my friends and family. Only incidentally did I learn of the Dragon Society's existence, and my qualification for membership, and I joined primarily for aid in my pursuit of justice—or vengeance, if you prefer to call it that, and I will not argue if you do. That said, I took my vow seriously. At the time I knew no secrets about dragons I did not reveal, and I felt myself bound by the precise phrasing of the oath not to attempt to kill Enziet or the others within Manfort's walls. That Horim, Drisheen, and Enziet left the city meant I could pursue them, and I did; I do not deny killing Horim and Drisheen, and pursuing Enziet intent upon his death. This was no violation of my oath, though it perhaps may have im-pinged upon the spirit of it slightly. Had any of these three remained always in Manfort, he might still live.
"However, as you may recall, in this very room I accused Lord Enziet of the very crime with which I am now charged—withholding information about the dragons. It was the threat of a hearing such as this that caused him to flee the city.
"I did not pursue him immediately, but when other matters had been settled, yes, I set out with the intent of seeking him out and killing him. I slew Drisheen along the way, and followed Enziet into the Desolation.
'1 fought my present accuser, Lord Belly, in the streets of Cork Tree, and although I defeated him I let Him live—an act of generosity I do not regret, though it allowed him to demand this hearing." Toribor stirred uncomfortably at this. "He told me that yes, Enziet knew secrets about those dragons, and that if I slew Enziet there would be dire consequences indeed. Has he, then, told you all everything that Enziet told him about the dragons, or is my accuser a
s guilty as I am?"
'1 told anyone who asked!" Toribor protested.
"No one asked me directly what I had learned," Arlian replied. "At least, no one in this Society. Lady Rime did make plain an interest, but even she did not ask me directly."
"All I knew was hints and rumors, Obsidian," Toribor protested. "You clearly knew more."
"Indeed I did, my lords and ladies—once Enziet was dead. Until that hour I knew no more than Lord Belly. I followed Enziet into the Desolation, as I said, and caught up with him as he entered a cave in the wilderness. There we fought, with swords and words; it was a more even match than you might imagine, as he was old, feeling his age, and I now realize he was beginning to sicken as Nail did. He told me some of his secrets, at first in hopes of discouraging me from trying to kill him, and later to distract me, but without success. One secret he said he possessed, the most important, he would not tell me. When at last he made a careless attack I broke his sword, and had him at my mercy."
"And did you spare him, as you did me?" Toribor demanded, sneering.
"No," Arlian said calmly. "I did not have that choice, nor would I have done so. Instead he plunged his own knife into his chest, freeing what had been growing there for so long, and showing me the secret he had withheld."
"A dragon," Rime said.
"An infant dragon, yes, formed of Enziet's heart and blood. I was almost helpless against it, until I found an obsidian knife hidden in Enziet's clothing. Enziet had told me that he had searched for six hundred years for a means of killing dragons, and had thought he was very close; he also had told me that he had looted my village to obtain obsidian. When I found that knife I realized that these facts were related, and I stabbed the dragon with the stone knife, and killed it, though I was injured in the process."
"You were badly injured," Rime said. "I'm not sure an ordinary man would have survived."
"But I, of course, am not an ordinary man," Arlian said. "None of us here are. We are dragonhearts—and that name is far more literal than we had realized."
"I don't understand," Lord Ticker said.
The Dragon Society (Obsidian Chronicles Book 2) Page 18
