Through the wood-mullioned windows lay a vista of fretwork and fruit trees—an ornate wooden prome-nade, and her lower garden beyond.
"Still," Arlian said, "there are the city walls and the Duke's guards ..."
Rime snorted derisively.
"Better here than any other habitation," Arlian insisted. "And more importantly, Lady Rime, sooner or later I feel certain that the dragons will come here, while they may well pass Lorigol and Sarkan-Mendoth by. If I went to the coast, how could I find them? How could I fight them? They could flee into the air if I posed any threat, as if I were a dog set on pigeons. Here they may find themselves confined by the walls and towers, encircled by men with obsidian spears. Here, at least, there is a chance we might slay one or two of them!"
"Yet you sent Black to the coast.. "
'To gather news, and to see to any survivors he might find, not to fight dragons."
Rime considered this carefully. Then she said, "You said encircled by men with spears—what men did you have in mind? The Duke's guards?"
"Actually, I had hoped to rally the Dragon Society to the cause—at least, those who have not given themselves over to Pulzera's theories or Hardior's stupidities. We have seen dragons before, and lived; none of the Duke's guards can claim as much." He did not mention that the Duke had said that he would not help until after a dragon had been slain.
"Ha!" Rime said.
"My lady?"
"Ari, most of the Dragon Society hates you." Despite her harsh words, Arlian was relieved to hear her use the familiar nickname for the first time that day.
"Even Voriam has begun to doubt you. Pulzera and Opal and Hardior have spread their poison well, and you have played into their hands with your recent actions—meekly leaving the city with your weapons at the Duke's order, sneaking back in unattended..."
"Sneaking? I rode in openly!"
"Without entourage."
"I need no entourage!"
She shrugged. "You let Belly live."
"Lord Toribor has surprised me with his courage and honor," Arlian protested. "And in truth, he let me live."
"You had sworn to kill him. We thought you meant to kill the entire Society, or die in the attempt."
"I am seeking alternatives; would you prefer I kill you here and now?"
"No. Although I will not yield to the dragons or Pulzera's treason, I yet want to live—as, I think, we all do."
"It is the dragons who are my enemies, my lady," Arlian said. "I have no ill intent toward the Society, save to make certain that no dragons are born therefrom."
"And how can you do that? And what of the survivors you say Black seeks? If they exist, you may no longer be the youngest dragonheart in the Lands of Man—what will that do to your plans?"
"I don't know," Arlian said. '1 am still awaiting developments."
"That hardly seems your style."
"Matters are in motion, my lady, and I must see where that motion leads before I act further."
"I hope you have the chance," Rime said. "You do have human enemies, you know."
"And I will cope with them as the need arises." Arlian lifted his cup. "I thank you for your explanation, my lady, and I hope we are Mends once more."
"So do I," Rime said, putting down the bone and picking up her fork. "So do I."
Three days after Arlian's supper with Rime word reached Manfort of the destruction of a fishing village a few leagues south of Benthin, a place known as Kirial's Rocks. Witnesses—and to everyone's surprise, there were living witnesses, from surrounding cottages—reported that three dragons had dropped down out of the clouds and swept the town's fishing fleet from the seas with their flaming venom, then set the docks and houses ablaze.
Two fishermen, father and son, had been washed ashore on die rocks, badly burned but alive.
That was the full extent of the actual news, but rumors were rife, as Arlian heard from Stammer. Some of the rumors accused him of complicity in the dragons' reappearance, though the exact connection seemed vague.
Vague or not, it was presumably the impetus for a fresh round of rock-throwing and vandalism; two more windows were broken, and the glyph of a sorcerous curse was painted on one gatepost in what appeared to be blood. Arlian decided that venturing out or inviting guests would be unwise, and stayed indoors, going over the household accounts and otherwise taking care of his everyday business. Roughly two-thirds of die weapons had been smuggled in from Westguard; he considered sending word to delay transferring the rest, but decided to leave it up to Stabber's judgment That day's delivery was late, but arrived safely.
The following morning word arrived of the destruction of Tiapol.
Tiapol was a larger town, midway between Kirial's Rocks and Benthin, but the dragons destroyed it as thoroughly as any lesser community—and again, they left witnesses alive in the surrounding countryside, and allowed the survivors of shattered boats to swim safely to shore.
The stones were more numerous than ever; Arlian ordered the shutters kept closed so that any further breakage would not spread glass inside. He wondered whether Opal and Pulzera were openly provoking these attacks, or whether the stone throwers were acting spontaneously.
He thought he glimpsed Horn in the crowd, but the man disappeared before Arlian could confirm his identity.
Arlian heard further ghastly details of Tiapol's destruction from Stammer just before taking his midday meal, which left him in a somber mood. He had just finished eating when Wolt brought him a note. Curious, Arlian opened it at the table.
The vellum was adorned with Lord Toribor's crest and read, "I will wait on you at your home this afternoon. I believe there are matters we must discuss."
Arlian hurried to his study and wrote a hasty response. which read, "I regret that I cannot guarantee your safety, but you will be quite welcome should you come. If you choose not to I will think none the worse of you, and hope that further arrangements can be made." He sent Wolt out the postern with that message.
There was no reply, but around midafternoon Toribor's coach rolled up to the gate.
Arlian met him in the gallery, which had the advantage of facing the garden, rather than the forecourt or street, so that they would not be interrupted by further breakage. Neither man offered to shake hands, but they greeted one another civilly, and walked side by side as they spoke.
''While I wish it were otherwise," Arlian said, "I believe you must find it uncomfortable to be here, so let us dispense with pleasantries and proceed directly to these matters you felt we must discuss. What are they?"
Toribor seemed relieved by this direct approach. "I assume you are aware of the destruction of Kirial's Rocks and Hapol," he said.
"Of course."
"Do you have any knowledge of these attacks beyond what has been widely reported? You have the closest ties to the dragons of any of us—do you know anything more than we?"
Arlian frowned. "I know no more details of the attacks themselves than do you," he said, "but I have known for some time that at least some of the dragons had emerged from their long retreat."
Toribor frowned angrily. "And how did you know this, my lord?"
Arlian sighed. "A few weeks ago I was in Deep Delving on business, and was troubled by the weather—it was then, as it still is now, what my grandfather called
'dragon weather.' I remembered that the last time I saw such weather, die dragons came, destroyed my home, and slaughtered my family. I feared that they might arise again, and so I attempted to contact them with the bowl of blood and water."
"We have all tried that," Toribor said. "It doesn't work."
Arlian smiled crookedly. "I know," he said. "Or rattier, I know that whether it works or not is entirely at the dragons' discretion, rather than our own. I have tried and failed repeatedly since then, but there in Deep Delving it amused the dragons to reply. Their spokesman told me that yes, they had come out of their caves and destroyed a fishing village, and would destroy more; their bargain with Enziet is
ended, and they intend to make up for all the dragonhearts that he and I slew, killing hundreds of innocents in order to contaminate a handful of others with their foul venom"
"Then they let those fishermen live deliberately?"
"So it would seem."
"They burned two towns; will they burn more?'
"They did not say so explicitly, but I assume so."
Toribor stared at him for a long moment, then said,
"And this is what comes of your mad vengeance."
Arlian stared back. 'It might be. Believe me, I regret the deaths of those villagers profoundly."
"And all for the sake of a few slaves!"
Arlian did not reply immediately, but they came to the end of the gallery, and rather than turn around he beckoned. "Come this way, my lord." He led the way into an adjoining passage, and thence to the sitting room, where some of his guests were passing the time.
On the way, he said, "I was one of those slaves, my lord."
"A mistake, I grant you," Toribor said. "You are clearly no born slave. Enziet should not have taken a freeborn youth and sold him. But that had nothing to do with Drisheen, who might have been Enziet's heir and kept his secrets better than you have, nor with Iron, nor Nail, nor Kuril van."
"No?" They stepped into the sitting room; the women looked up, startled. Brook was seated by the window, where she had been staring out at the gloomy sky; Hasty and Cricket were on the floor, playing with Vanniari. Hasty seemed undisturbed by Toribor's presence, but Brook's expression went blank, and Cricket's smile turned to a hostile frown.
"You recognize these women, my lord?" Arlian asked.
'Two of them," Toribor said. "I owned them for two years, after all. The third I assume was another resident of the House of Carnal Society, though I can't place her."
"And do you think they were born slaves?"
Startled, Toribor looked at Arlian. "Weren't they?"
"Did you never think to ask, in the two years you held them?"
Toribor blinked. "No," he admitted. "It never occurred to me. Enziet and Drisheen supplied the women for the House, and I had assumed the women had been born to their role."
"Let us start with the stranger, Hasty," Arlian said.
"Who, I might add, was held and impregnated by the late Lord Kuruvan. Hasty, were you born a slave?"
"No, of course not, Triv," Hasty said. "You know that. My family died of plague when I was nine, and slavers caught me."
"Unfortunate..Toribor began, but Arlian cut him off.
"Cricket?"
Cricket looked from one man to the other, then said,
"My father died when I was ten—his heart gave out.
My mother tried to go on, but there were too many mouths to feed—I had three brothers and a sister—so she sold me for food when I was eleven. She picked me first because I brought the best price; I was older and prettier than my sister, and more obedient than my brothers. She had to sell my sister later, though. I think she and my brothers stayed free."
Toribor stared at her in surprise.
"I was fourteen," Brook said from the window, without prompting. was madly in love with a boy named Sarcheyon, who was a few years older. I wanted to marry him, but my father wouldn't hear of it, so we ran off together. Sarcheyon had always talked of running away to sea, so to fool everyone we headed inland instead."
"Inland?" Toribor asked, startled.
"I'm from Siribel, my lord, a league north of Sarkan-Mendoth."
"You didn't even know that?" Arlian asked.
Toribor shook his head. "I thought they were all from Manfort," he said. "Slaves bom and bred."
"Raising slaves is too expensive, my lord," Brook said. "Hardly anyone takes the trouble. There are always enough unfortunates to prey on."
Toribor stared silently at her, and after a pause she continued, "We made it as far as Gan Pethiin before our food and money ran out, and we stayed there for a time, begging and working at whatever jobs we could find, and I thought it was a marvelous adventure, because I was young and with the man I loved. My father was right about Sarcheyon, though; he grew tired of me, and hungry, and about four months after we ran away he sold me to a slave trader. He told the trader he was heading for Coldstream, but I don't know whether that was the truth or another lie."
Toribor stared at her, then asked, "Why haven't you gone home to Siribel?"
Brook stared back.
"Why should I?" she said. "They didn't come after me. We were in Gan Pethrin for months, and they never sent an inquiry. And what would I do there?"
She gestured at the stumps of her ankles. "You and the others made certain I could never be an ordinary man's wife, nor a fit mother for active children, and the only special skills I learned in my youth are of no use outside a brothel. Here I have friends, and Triv's staff to care for me when I cannot care for myself."
"I don't know where my mother and brothers are,"
Cricket volunteered. "They didn't stay in Lassir."
"Triv and Vanni are all the family I have," Hasty said, reaching out to tickle the baby, who gurgled ap-preciatively.
Arlian smiled, and put a hand on Toribor's arm to turn him and guide him away. When they were in the passageway, walking toward the gallery, Arlian said,
"You see, my lord, I think of them as people, not slaves—perhaps because, as you say, I was one of diem. As people, I think they deserve vengeance for the wrongs inflicted upon them."
"Perhaps they do," Toribor replied. "I'll leave that to die gods to decide, if any gods survive. Whether they deserve it or not, Obsidian, your vengeance has unleashed the dragons upon us all."
"Perhaps it has," Arlian said, "but perhaps that would have happened anyway. You surely know that Enziet did not have long to live, in any case, and who would have taken up his bargain? Might we not be facing just the same fate we do now?"
"Not quite," Toribor said. "Drisheen might have been Enziet's heir. And the Dragon Society would be united in opposing the monsters, instead of fractured as it is."
"Would it? And would that matter?"
"Oh, I don't know," he said unhappily. "Damn you, Obsidian!"
They emerged into the gallery and continued walking. "My lord," Arlian said, "you think me die cause of all your miseries, but it may be that Fate sent me to end than, not to cause them. You would prefer to see the dragons destroyed, would you not?"
"Of course I would! I'm no traitor like Pulzera."
"And is anyone but me working toward that goal?"
"We're trying, blast it, but what can we do? Voriam and his little group expect you to appear in a blaze of glory and lead them to victory, and most of the others have been swayed by Pulzera, to one degree or another. She and Hardior and that odious Lady Opal have all been exchanging schemes not to defeat the dragons, not to destroy or confine them, but only to ensure that they do not attack Manfort itself. They would sacrifice all the Lands of Man to protect themselves—and Opal would give her entire fortune for a few drops of venom; she's been flattering and cajoling Pulzera and Hardior in hopes of learning from them just how she might obtain some." He snorted. "At least, that's what she does when they allow it. When they can stomach no more of her, she devotes her time to spreading lies about you."
"Does she?" Arlian found this oddly amusing.
"Lies and truth, mixed together," Toribor said. "She knows altogether too many of the Society's secrets, and I'm not sure how much she learned from Wither and how much from Pulzera." He glanced sideways at Arlian. "She says you've turned your coat, and intend to rule Manfort as the dragons' viceroy. At least, so she says when she isn't saying you've sunk into utter de-spair and abandoned yourself to debauchery, here with your six whores."
Arlian frowned. "They are no longer whores, and I do not trouble them."
"You know, Obsidian, I believe you." He glanced back at the passage toward the sitting room.
They walked in silence for a moment. Then Arlian said, "Belly, I wish I could tell you
that there is a way to drive the dragons back into their caves, and save us all from their flame, but I can't. I know very little more than you about what to expect I do have plans—I have hopes for a magical solution to at least some of our problems, and I do have weapons that can, in theory, slay dragons. If the dragons do come to Manfort, come to me and I will give you a spear, "so at least you can die fighting them."
"That would be something, at any rate," Toribor replied. He glanced at Arlian again. "You say you have plans?"
"Hopes, really. I have asked the Aritheians to see what they can provide to help us. After all, the dragons have never dared cross the Dreaming Mountains; perhaps something can be found there to defeat them."
"Perhaps." Toribor considered that, then said, "You know, Obsidian, I'm glad now that I didn't kill you. As you say, the dragons would be free anyway."
The corner of Arlian's mouth quirked upward.
"I'm pleased you let me live, as well. And furthermore, I'm pleased I let you live, in Cork Tree last year."
'It would seem we've found grounds for agreement after all."
And on that note, Toribor took his leave.
Stones and mud and dung were flung at the Old Palace with depressing regularity for the next few days, breaking several more windows, but the assaults began to taper off eventually.
Then word came of the destruction of Cork Tree, and the barrage was renewed, heavier than ever.
On the second day of this assault Arlian sat in the small salon, staring at the shuttered window and listening to the shouted insults beyond the broken glass. He had glimpsed outside earlier, and seen the angry faces of the mob, and wondered who these people were, and why they had the time and energy and anger to come and harass him. He thought he might have seen faces he recognized in the crowd—Post and Horn.
He was not certain of it, however, and he retreated back out of sight before his appearance could provoke a new barrage.
He wondered whether the dragons had chosen Cork Tree deliberately, to taunt him—or to intercept the caravan to Arithei. Did they know what the magicians were after? Had they read the information from his thoughts? Had someone who knew of Arlian's plans somehow sent them a message?
The Dragon Society (Obsidian Chronicles Book 2) Page 34
