The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2)

by Robert Don Hughes

“May I see him?” the wizard asked.

  “Certainly!” she said, smiling brightly once again. “I believe he’s in the azure room. No, no, not there!” she shouted suddenly, thoroughly confusing him until she rushed by him and he saw she was talking to a group of servants who were lugging in a large ceramic pot. “Over there!” she pointed, and he watched as they changed course, wrestling it toward the new location. He recognized their expression — they were expecting her to change her mind again as soon as they got it into place.

  He waited for her to finish; but as soon as she did, she bolted across the courtyard and into a corridor through a pair of ornate double doors. He was evidently on his own. He caught the eye of one of the servants and asked, “The azure room?”

  “Which one? She’s got four …

  Nebalath nodded. “Perhaps you could just show me each?”

  The house of Paumer in Pleclypsa was not really the house of Paumer at all: This was Kerily’s place, reflecting in every way her personality. The Grand Council had met here three times, and on each occasion the walls had been a different color, the floors covered with a different tile, and whole rooms altered to fit some new aesthetic function. Paumer had once joked that, if the arts in Pleclypsa continued to expand, he would be pushed right out of his house. Since their last meeting here that had indeed happened; all business functions of the House of Paumer in this region had been shifted to another building on the south end of the city, closer to the Telimas Corridor. And Paumer himself had moved out — he made no secret of the fact that he preferred to dwell at what he called his hovel — a mountain mansion far removed from Pleclypsa and his wife’s hobbies.

  Nebalath noticed that most of the rooms they passed through had been turned over to wedding preparations — one appeared to be overgrown entirely with a jungle of lace, another was crammed with long tables where scribes labored busily over stacks of cards. This place would drive him mad, Nebalath decided, and he wondered how Dark could endure it. Then again, perhaps the boy wasn’t enduring it …

  “Here’s one of them,” the servant mumbled, motioning with his arm as Nebalath looked inside. A score of seamstresses looked up at him wearily from billows of yellow and blue fish-satin.

  The wizard frowned. “Is there an azure room with a bed in it?”

  “Upstairs.” The servant sighed; but as they turned to go, Nebalath came face-to-face with Uda.

  “Good morning,” she said with subdued appreciation. “I knew you’d come.”

  Nebalath stiffened with discomfort. He recognized that tone of voice — people used it with healers all the time. But he was no physician! “Something’s wrong with Dark?”

  “You knew!” she gushed, and Nebalath’s discomfort grew. “Come on,” Uda said. “I’ll show you.”

  Only the central tower of the house had been razed. There were several others, and Dark’s chamber appeared to be at the top of one of these. Nebalath had to puff to keep up with the girl; she was young, and she moved with that protective purposefulness of a woman in her mothering mode.

  This was quite a contrast to the girl he’d first met on Paumer’s portico at the hovel palace. She looked the same — slight build, straight black hair hanging almost to her waist, and intense eyes. But evidently she’d learned some things since then — odd how quickly children grow up, he thought to himself as they reached the last landing and she led him into the room.

  Dark lay on the bed without cover, his knees tucked under his chin and his arms clasped tightly around them. He faced the wall — which was, indeed, a rich azure color. “He’s been this way for days,” Uda whispered.

  “Asleep?”

  “I guess so. His eyes are closed — he moans aloud, as if in a dream, but I can’t seem to wake him. And he clutches his stomach and rolls back and forth as if he’s hurting somewhere.” She looked at him, eyes filling with tears. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “In time for the wedding?” Kerily added from the doorway behind them.

  Immediately angry, Uda whirled around to face her. “Mother! I told you to stay out of here!”

  Kerily floated on in, totally oblivious to her daughter’s command. “Is he? We’ve had healers in to look at him, but they can’t do much good, of course — his being different and all …”

  “Mother!”

  “Relax, darling, I’m just talking to Nebalath. I’m certain he understands the uniqueness of our situation — ”

  “Far more than you ever will!” Uda shouted, but she was addressing Kerily’s back now, for her mother had moved in right beside Nebalath and turned her pretty face up to smile into his.

  “My daughter doesn’t give me credit for knowing anything, but then, I felt the same about my own mother.” She glanced away as if in thought, then back up at him. “Of course — I was right about mine …” she purred, and Nebalath couldn’t prevent a smile from appearing on his face. Suddenly serious, Kerily continued. “You do understand, don’t you, Wizard?”

  “Understand what, exactly?” He glanced over Kerily’s head at Uda.

  The girl obviously felt outmaneuvered by her mother — and who wouldn’t, Nebalath wondered in dismay — but she wasn’t giving up. “If he has any sense he understands that all you’re concerned about is getting the wedding off on schedule. ‘Flawlessly, of course,’ ” she added, in perfect imitation of her mother’s voice.

  Kerily’s gaze never left Nebalath. “She’s a delightful child, isn’t she? But legitimately concerned — the boy does appear to be sick, but not with anything we understand. It was a wonderful idea for her to call you —”

  “You told me not to,” Uda corrected.

  “ — and we are deeply appreciative of your coming, of course,” Kerily continued. “But do you think you can help us? I had wondered, myself, if we didn’t need to call that Ranoth fellow — the religious one? From up in Lamath?”

  “He’s the Ruling Elder of a nation, Mother.” Uda said. “I doubt if he makes pastoral visits of this distance at a moment’s notice, even upon the summons of the House of Paumer.”

  “We don’t know until we try …”

  “Besides,” Uda continued, turning to Nebalath, “we already know Ranoth is scheduled to attend a meeting of the Grand Council someplace in the Marwand in the next few days.”

  “Call it the Conspiracy, dear.” Kerily smiled. “Everyone else does.”

  “Father hates for people to call it that.”

  “Just one more reason to do it! Right, Wizard?” Kerily winked at Nebalath.

  “I’ve called it a conspiracy for years,” the powershaper muttered, “so you’ll get no argument from me.” He peered at Uda. “In fact, didn’t I recommend to your father that he replace me on the Council by making you a member of it?” The young woman nodded. “And didn’t I hear that he did so?”

  “He did.” She shrugged.

  “Indeed he did,” Kerily chortled bitterly. “We’ve had more than one family discussion about that act of lunacy, haven’t we, darling!”

  “It caused a lot of problems,” Uda admitted. “My brother Ognadzu broke with my father over it and left the family.”

  Ognadzu, Nebalath thought to himself, trying to remember the brother’s face. He did recall a son of Paumers being seated on the Conspiracy just before he’d left it. He’d been furious about it at the time. But he couldn’t remember what the young man looked like. “People have always underestimated Ognadzu.” Kerily said quietly — almost as if she was warning him …

  “What about Dark?” Uda asked him flatly. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  Nebalath turned his head to look back at the prophet. Dark tossed and turned upon the low bed, as if seized by a nightmare from which he couldn’t wake. Nebalath wanted to help him but didn’t know how. “I don’t know if Ranoth could aid us or not. I don’t have much patience with the people of faith —” Turning to look again at Uda, Nebalath said, “If I remember from the Conspiracy’s discussions, neither Ranoth nor Talarath cared
much for the boy …” Uda nodded. “So I doubt they would give you much help. If you think a believer in the Power is needed, I suggest we contact Seagryn.”

  “Seagryn!” Kerily said, her pretty eyes widening, “The dragonmaker? Why, there’s not a more hated man on the face of this earth than Seagryn! He certainly didn’t make the guest list.” She smiled and started to let her laughter trill out again before interrupting herself to add reassuringly, “You did, of course …”

  “Dragonmaker?” Nebalath frowned. “I thought Sheth had made the dragon?”

  “He did.” Uda nodded. “But I can’t convince her of that. I was there, but she won’t believe me.”

  “Your father was there, and he says Seagryn made the monster. You want me to call your father a liar?”

  “Father knows the truth as well as I do,” Uda said wearily. “He only says that because the Conspiracy wants Seagryn to bear the blame.” She shook her head at Nebalath. “We’ve had this discussion before, too.”

  Nebalath looked around the room. Like every other room in this palace, it had a light, airy feel, as if at any moment it might tear itself away from the house and fly back up to reassume its rightful place in the sky. Whatever one might say about Kerily, she certainly had a flair for decoration. But when it came to Dark’s welfare, he thought, allowing his gaze to drift back down to the restless boy, her daughter Uda was the one he trusted. “We need Seagryn to look at him. He may be a believer, but at least he’s got some sense about him, and he knows more than a little about shaping the powers.” He looked back at them. “That’s my suggestion.”

  He’d taken sides, obviously. While Uda appeared grateful, Kerily now looked as if she’d suddenly whiffed the taint of some unpleasant odor. “Well!” she said, summoning with effort her brightest smile. “Perhaps the two of you can somehow work that out.” She took notice at last of a servant who stood waiting patiently in the doorway, and seemed grateful for the interruption. “Yes, what is it?”

  “Your cat, milady. I think perhaps you might want to come … ?”

  “Oh all right,” she grumbled graciously. “Always some new crisis.” Kerily smiled at Nebalath as she started out of the room but stopped in the doorway to look back at him. “I do hope that you can have him up and around by the wedding date — and that this Seagryn fellow will be gone by then.” A moment later they heard her heels clacking down the stairs.

  Now that they were allies, Uda moved closer to him. “He looks so sick …”

  “Do you know where Seagryn is these days?” Nebalath asked.

  “The last Dark saw of him he was heading toward his father-in-law’s palace — he married Talarath’s daughter, you know.”

  “Did he?” The wizard nodded, raising his eyebrows. Perhaps he remembered hearing that before, but the information hadn’t stayed with him. “A wizard in the House of Talarath. That should be interesting.”

  “I’d have sent for Seagryn before now if my mother had let me,” Uda murmured. “I’ll dispatch a messenger to Lamath immediately.”

  “Don’t bother,” Nebalath said, flipping a speck of dust from his robe. “Talarath lives in the Rivers Region, and it would take a messenger five days to get to him. I’ll go there myself this afternoon — after I drop by the Imperial House for a snack.”

  “Thank you,” Uda said, gushing again. That attitude gave him the powerful urge to disappear. Suddenly she frowned. “How do you know so much about Lamath?”

  Nebalath chuckled, and a far-off look came into his old eyes. “Have you never noticed the similarity between my name and the names of the Lamathian leaders you know? You see, I was born in —”

  A heart-stopping scream suddenly rocked through the Paumer palace, having roughly the same impact as a peal of thunder from directly overhead. The two stared at each other, then bolted out the door and down the steps. They both knew without speaking that it had come from Kerily, out in the new courtyard.

  “My cat!” she shrieked when they arrived at her side. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she pointed upward to the trellis upon which Nebalath had made his arrival. There was a cat up there, all right — a cat such as Nebalath had never seen before. He was used to cats being brown, gray, or yellow striped. This cat was striped, but with bands of brilliant jungle green on a lime background. It was also twice the size of a normal cat — and the trellis was cracking under its weight. Nebalath could sympathize …

  When he looked back at Kerily, he immediately wished he hadn’t. Her eyes pleaded with him. “Go get it,” she begged. He was stunned.

  “What?”

  “Please go get it for me! You can pop right up there, grab it, and pop right back down here, just like you did this morning!”

  He stared at her. This woman believed the entire world was in her employ! “Milady, I am a wizard, not a —”

  “Please! It’s going to break, and he’ll be crushed — hurry!”

  Nebalath looked up, sighed, and disappeared.

  He was hanging in midair, regarding a rather large cat who looked back at him balefully with violet eyes. “Violet eyes?” he said. Then he grabbed it, disappeared, and returned to Kerily’s side.

  “Here is your cat, milady,” he growled, pushing the furry beast into Kerily’s arms quickly lest it scratch him. As she took it gratefully, he noticed that, despite its size, it appeared to be more of a kitten than an adult. As Kerily nuzzled the cat against her cheek, it turned again to gaze at him, and once more he was startled by those violet eyes. They seemed to — recognize him. “I’ve never seen such an animal,” he marveled. “Where did you get it?”

  “The spice islands,” Kerily said in the cloying little girl’s voice she apparently used with the beast. “You came from the spice islands, didn’t you, sweetheart? Yes! All the way on a boat! And Paumer gave you to me to make up for being such an idiot, didn’t he? Yes!” She was trying to get the cat to look at her, but it seemed more interested in Nebalath. The wizard cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder at Uda.

  “Your father apparently likes to give exotic pets. Didn’t he gift you with a tugolith, once?”

  Uda tossed her long black mane. “Yes.” She snorted. “A tugolith that is now part of a world-consuming dragon.”

  “Hmm,” Nebalath mused. Then he angled his head a little to the right and leaned it onto his chest — and was gone.

  *

  The dragon grew tired at last, and Seagryn breathed a quiet hallelujah. They’d been flying around all night — whether in circles or not, Seagryn couldn’t tell. It was dark, after all, and they’d not chanced across any of the larger cities that would have been lit up enough to be visible. He considered that fortunate. While he had promised the dragon a city to eat, he had no intention of actually guiding Vicia-Heinox to one. His last clear vision before the cloak of night had fallen had been of his home village in flames, and he was still in shock. Bourne had been so distant for so long that he’d almost come to regard it as more a memory than a real place. To descend out of the sky on dragon-back — head, really — and depart the same way, leaving the place in ruin … It just didn’t seem possible. The whole episode had been so dreamlike he had to struggle to convince himself it had actually happened.

  And yet it had happened. People he’d known from childhood had been swallowed by this monster. Others who could tell stories about the kind of student he’d been had seen his face clearly and identified him. He comforted himself with the thought that it could have been much worse. Hadn’t Gammel been reduced to cinders by the dragon’s visit? His presence had minimized the carnage in Bourne. But that wouldn’t alter the perception his old neighbors now had of him. He could never go home again.

  At the moment it seemed unlikely he would ever have the chance. While the dragon seemed to care for him — the Heinox head, at least — Seagryn realized that could easily change. Although he needed to steer the twi-beast away from major metropolitan areas, he knew if the dragon became too hungry, he could become a most conven
ient snack.

  There was also the problem of maintaining his perch. What if he fell off? This had been a long, wearying day, and several times he’d caught himself dozing. He couldn’t see it, but he felt it reasonable to assume that the ground was a long way down. He’d already decided that if he did fall, he would change into his alter-shape before he hit. He hoped that his tugolith body might bounce better, but he realized that might just cause him to splatter over a much larger area. Better, he told himself, just not to go to sleep.

  And if he did get down safely, what then? He knew the old woman in Gammel had spoken for hosts of others in wishing upon him the most painful kind of end. The tragedy in Bourne would certainly add to his notoriety. He was already hated — he would soon be hated with greater intensity, with more detailed vehemence, by people who had never laid eyes on him and who knew him through nothing more than his name. Someone would certainly try to kill him. He was surprised they hadn’t tried already.

  He no longer wondered why Elaryl had worked so hard to keep events from him. His summer idyll in the house of Talarath had been the dream — this was the reality of his life. But Seagryn did wonder why he no longer felt any sense of self-revulsion. Why, instead, did he feel somehow elated to be plunged once more into the midst of happenings that would shape the destiny of the old One Land? It was as if he had been taken out of the barn and harnessed once more to do useful work. If indeed he was the only person Vicia-Heinox would listen to, then here upon the dragon’s head was exactly where he belonged: Counseling, cajoling — ultimately controlling. If he could only stay awake …

  “I need to sleep,” Vicia called over, his voice rising above the sound of the wind.

  “I’ve been telling myself that for hours!” Heinox grumbled peevishly, and Seagryn felt the beast descending. He tried to peer below but could really see nothing in the inky black. Tugolith eyes were weak, he knew from experience. How could this dragon see any better?

  “Where am I?” Vicia called, just before the twi-beast crashed into the ground. Seagryn clutched at the wrinkle of dragonscale and clamped his legs around Heinox’ neck as they bounced and skidded along through some kind of vegetation.