The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2)

by Robert Don Hughes

  “My snuff!” Kerily cried, and a pair of servants scrambled away to fetch whatever it was she was calling for. Seagryn had no idea what a snuff was, and he walked over to the circle of servants to investigate.

  “So. That was the mouse-dragon.” Nebalath breathed quietly when Seagryn stepped up beside him. The old man seemed shaken.

  “What a lovely visit!” Fylynn said, perfectly imitating Kerily’s false smile. “I’m so glad we came, aren’t you?”

  Seagryn looked at her soberly. “Your beloved Sheth made that creature,” he murmured. “What do you think of that?”

  She met his gaze evenly, her own expression turning as serious as his. “I think he’s enormously talented.” She then glanced past his head and muttered, “What are they giving her?”

  One of the servants raced to Kerily with a vial of something in his hand. She jerked it from his grasp, opened it, and sprinkled some powdery green substance into her palm. As she carefully closed the vial and handed it back to the servant, Seagryn leaned forward to take a better look at this mysterious substance. Its color matched precisely the darker stripes of the dead kitten’s furry coat. Kerily buried her nose in the powder and once again passed out. This time, however, a peaceful smile spread across her face, and she didn’t wake up.

  The servant who held the vial cupped it protectively in his hands and stepped away as others scooped up Kerily’s utterly relaxed body and carried her past Dark and on up the stairs. Seagryn reached out and plucked at the servant’s sleeve. “What is that substance?” he asked the man, who looked frightened by the question.

  “What? What substance?”

  “That snuff you hold in your hand,” Nebalath said as he approached the servant from the other side.

  Nervousness gripped the servant’s features, and he cringed away from both of them as he sought to answer without revealing anything. “It’s — she calls it — her — snuff, That’s all I know, honestly! Just that!”

  “But what does it do?”

  “It kills dreams,” Dark announced loudly from above them. His words silenced animated conversations all over the courtyard and drew all eyes to himself. He looked meaningfully first at Seagryn, then at Nebalath. Then he turned and began climbing the stairs back to his room.

  Chapter Ten: SEASICK GREEN

  IT fell to Seagryn to bury the green kitten. He didn’t have to, certainly. He could have left the mess for the servants to clean up. But when he overheard them discussing how best to skin the carcass in order to sell the beautifully striped pelt, Seagryn grew violently nauseated and decided Kerily’s house staff ought to be just as sickened by the idea as he was. At his magical prompting, they all suddenly became so, their faces turning as green as the creature they’d planned to skin. They all fled the courtyard, clutching their stomachs and retching violently. Thus abandoned, Seagryn tenderly lifted the already stiffening remains and carried them out to the palace garden.

  He didn’t know why he cared, exactly — although he had noticed that he just seemed to care more about all living things these days. At least he felt no guilt this time. He’d had nothing to do with the making of the mouse-dragon. Yet he wondered — could it be he was trying, in this small way, to atone for all the unburied host of the Remnant he’d left back in the Central Gate? He found a spade and dug a hole near a grape arbor. Then, after he quietly pronounced over it the ritual words a Lamathian priest always spoke at graveside, Seagryn buried the little kitten.

  By the time he returned to the house, Fylynn was coming down the stairway from Kerily’s apartments. “Is she still asleep?” he asked.

  “Like a baby. You should see her — sleep makes Kerily look almost innocent.” Fylynn smiled. “Think that green powder could do something for me?”

  “I think it possibly could do something for Dark,” Seagryn answered seriously.

  “Hmm.” Fylynn nodded. “That’s just what Nebalath said before he disappeared.”

  “He’s gone again?” Seagryn blurted out.

  “He said he’d be back by nightfall.” Fylynn shrugged and added, “Do you think we could get something to eat around here?”

  True to his word, the old wizard reappeared in the courtyard before sundown, holding a few grains of the green powder in his hand. He plunged into his explanation without preamble. “This substance is so rare that not even the Imperial House seemed to know much about it. That’s almost unheard of, you realize — that castle hears everything. It was able to tell me that the powder is extraordinarily expensive. The House of Paumer controls the existing supply, but his people contend there is simply no more available anywhere. What does exist has been parceled out in tiny packets like the one Kerily had. Each pack provides only enough of the substance for three or four good sleeps.”

  Seagryn frowned. “So we don’t know where it comes from …”

  Nebalath smiled victoriously. “Oh, yes, we do! I found references to both the powder and to its source in one of the most arcane works in my library!”

  “You call those junky piles of books you’re always sitting on a library?” Fylynn scoffed. “I thought you were just too lazy to send for furniture!”

  “And what did it say?” Seagryn demanded.

  “The powder originates on the most westerly of the spice islands!” Nebalath crowed with excitement. “Tomorrow we’ll go down to Telimas and find a ship to take us there!”

  “Tomorrow?” Fylynn said. “But I just got here! I’d like to spend a few days with my family.”

  Nebalath frowned. “You weren’t invited, my dear. Seagryn and I are powershapers. We’ll go alone.”

  “The spice islands,” Seagryn muttered doubtfully. He’d been prepared to travel anywhere in the One Land to find help for Dark’s problem, but to cross the sea? “Nebalath — I understand it takes weeks to sail to the spice islands. Months sometimes! And what with storms, and pirates, and sea monsters —”

  “Why are people from Lamath always so negative?” Nebalath asked Fylynn.

  “But Dark hasn’t even told us he needs this powder!” Seagryn argued.

  “He doesn’t need to tell us,” Nebalath said with certainty. “We already know.”

  “Oh?” Seagryn asked. “Are we prophets now, too?”

  “No,” the old wizard said, shaking his head. “But we wizards are excellent students of human nature. Think about it, Seagryn. Anything we believe can help us, we immediately begin to want. Whether the substance will do him any good or not, Dark thinks he needs it, and doubtless has thought so ever since he’s known of its powerful properties. Who knows how long that’s been? My guess is that this is what put the lad to bed: his foreknowledge of what the powder can do combined with his own imaginings of how much better it might help him feel. He’s just a boy, remember, and he’s not going to be of any use to us until we find him some of this green powder and let him get a few good nights of dreamless sleep.”

  “But why can’t he use some of Kerily’s?” Seagryn asked.

  Nebalath raised a gray eyebrow. “You’ve met the woman. Do you think she’d willingly part with anything she possesses for the possible good of someone else? Especially her soon-to-be son-in-law, whom she views with such obvious scorn? Seagryn, we’re right here at the coast. We’re wizards, for goodness sake! What do we have to fear from a few’ pirates? True, we do have to sail over there because we don’t know where exactly we’re going. But once we’ve got it, if we get into any trouble we can just cast ourselves back to this courtyard!”

  “You can, you mean.”

  Nebalath sighed. “If you must insist on your powerlessness, very well. I still contend you can do it, too. And when you need to, Seagryn, you will.”

  Despite the opulence of the room Kerily had provided, Seagryn slept poorly. Thoughts of perils on the sea kept him tossing and turning, and he eventually began wishing for a dose of the green powder himself.

  Nebalath shook him awake far too early. “I’ve booked us passage on a ship out of Telimas that le
aves at noon,” the older wizard murmured. “We must be on our way.”

  Too sleepy to debate the issue, Seagryn rose and packed. Before he fully awoke, they were mounted again and riding south through the predawn gloom. They’d been on the road for several minutes before he realized that Fylynn rode beside him. “I thought you weren’t going with us.”

  “I just couldn’t stand to send you two off to a strange land alone,” she explained. “Someone needs to take care of you. Besides, the more I thought about it — the sea air, the sunshine, a nice tan …”

  “She thinks she’s going on holiday,” Nebalath growled.

  Fylynn sniffed at that comment, as if she considered it unworthy of a reply; but when she didn’t correct the old wizard, Seagryn guessed Nebalath had hit the truth. But why was he going? He didn’t want to — he hadn’t planned to — and what would he tell Elaryl? For several miles he pondered turning his horse around and riding back to Pleclypsa, but the longer he thought, the further south they rode, and turning back grew ever more difficult. Dawn was breaking, and he noted with curiosity the high-peaked houses of southern Pleclypsa. They were like none he’d ever seen, and they piqued his sense of adventure. Soon he would be seeing the South Coast and the fabled blue-green clarity of the southern sea — he could always turn back once he got there, and send Nebalath on without him. But to be this close and not even take a look? Besides — why should he want to return immediately to the burden of being Seagryn the Dragonspet?

  “I need to stop here,” Fylynn announced as she reined in her horse by a tiny shop and dropped from the saddle. “The owner is my cousin,” she explained. “I need to send word to my parents not to expect me.”

  As Fylynn ducked inside, Nebalath scowled over at Seagryn. “Why did you tell her she could come?”

  “Me?” Seagryn blurted. “I didn’t tell her anyth —”

  Seagryn stopped in midsentence, for Nebalath had suddenly shot him a look of warning and held up his hand for silence. A group of walkers passed by them, also heading southward to the sea. Seagryn would have glanced at them without really noticing anything about them had Nebalath not studied them so cautiously. They were walking too quietly …

  All at once one of the men laughed aloud and turned to pass along to those behind him the joke he’d just been told. They laughed heartily, and several of them nodded at Nebalath before the group walked on out of sight.

  Seagryn looked back at Nebalath curiously. “Did you recognize them?”

  “No,” the old wizard murmured, “but knowing how many people would like to kill you, we cannot be too careful. Where is that woman? Fylynn!”

  Seagryn sighed. The burden of being Seagryn the Dragonspet was something he wouldn’t miss for a few weeks. He finally felt fully committed to the trip.

  The two powershapers eventually had to go into the shop and drag Fylynn out in order to get back on the road. The sun was well up by the time they reached a high wall and Nebalath complained that they were behind schedule. Seagryn didn’t listen. He was gazing up at the enormous wall that rose before them. “Is that the wall around Pleclypsa?” he asked. “I hadn’t remembered the northern wall being so high.”

  “It’s not,” Fylynn answered. “This is the beginning of the Telimas Corridor.”

  “The what?”

  When she saw his puzzled look, Fylynn cocked her head and looked at him with disbelief. “Haven’t you ever heard of the famous double wall of Pleclypsa?” she asked. “Where have you been?”

  “Lamathians are notoriously provincial.” Nebalath shrugged.

  Fylynn pointed forward. “You see ahead of the break in the wall? There appears to be a gate down to the south …”

  “Yes …” Seagryn said, shielding his eyes to peer directly down the road. “But — it looks as if the walls continue on either side of the roadway …”

  “They do. Come on, I’ll show you.” Soon they passed out the city gate, and Seagryn craned his neck to look up at the walls on either side. They each stood at least forty feet tall and formed a long, slender corridor toward the south as far as his eyes could see.

  “What are they for?” Seagryn asked.

  Fylynn answered with a touch of civic pride. “When the city fathers of Pleclypsa realized that the One Land was falling apart, they agreed that something needed to be done to protect our city’s livelihood. This happened years ago, of course,” Fylynn added as an aside. “I may have wrinkles but I’m not that old. Since the city’s wealth was based on the sea trade, they knew Pleclypsa would always need to keep a route open to the ocean — but as you’ll see from the ride this morning, we’re really some distance from the port of Telimas.”

  “I’d just begun to notice that.” Seagryn nodded.

  “So, the city fathers decreed we would build walls on both sides of this road all the way to Telimas — a double wall all the way to the sea. There it is.” She gestured upward.

  Seagryn shook his head in amazement. “It’s magnificent!”

  Fylynn shrugged. “Yes — for another few miles. Then it just … stops.”

  “Stops? Why?”

  “Why else?” Fylynn laughed. “The city ran out of money!”

  Regularly spaced towers allowed access to the battlements on either side of them. From atop the walls warriors could defend the road from any attack — if there were any defenders. “I see no guards …” Seagryn said.

  “It’s not defended anymore.” Fylynn shrugged.

  “Never was,” Nebalath corrected.

  “But then why —”

  By this time they had caught up with that band of travelers that had seemed too quiet, but they were all so lost in the conversation about the corridor that neither Seagryn nor Nebalath had noticed. Following the unspoken rules of the road, the footmen parted to let the riders pass. Seagryn thanked them without thinking — that was simply good manners. But at the sound of his voice one of the hooded walkers still before them whirled around and threw off his cloak. Seagryn looked back — and gasped. “Yammerlid? Is that you?”

  “Thought you’d burned me up, didn’t you, Seagryn Dragonspet? Thought you were rid of old Yammerlid! Here’s news, magic user! You’ll never be rid of Yammerlid Not until the day you die!” As Yammerlid pulled a sword from behind his back and charged, the other walkers threw aside their disguises. A trap! They had ridden into an ambush, here between these walls!

  Seagryn was too stunned to take any action. Fortunately he wasn’t the only powershaper in the party. “Oh, dear,” Nebalath mumbled, instantly cloaking the three of them from the attackers’ view. It was the simplest of defenses and far too overused, he realized. Yet it was effective. Nebalath rubbed his invisible chin and pondered what to do next.

  Yammerlid’s cohorts reacted to the cloaking in differing ways. Some had never been in a magic battle, and this sudden disappearance so frightened them that they ran from the vanished wizards. Since there were really only two ways to run within this narrow corridor, the roadway quickly became very congested. The more daring comrades thus had time to rally their fellows before they ran away by shouting, “He’s trapped! We have the wizard trapped!”

  That quickly became obvious. The empty space in the middle of the mêlée was difficult to miss. Their courage returned, most of the attackers began flailing their weapons before them. They could hear the terrified snorting of the three riders’ horses and clearly heard Fylynn shriek, “You two are supposed to be powershapers! Do something!” The assassins cheered with excitement and closed the circle tighter. Suddenly they heard the unseen horses whinny in surprise and wheel around. Startled anew, the band of assassins fell back, retreating still further as the cloaked animals bolted back toward Pleclypsa. A dozen attackers went down beneath invisible hooves as the horses broke through their ring and charged northward. The horses abruptly became visible, and those assassins still standing immediately gave chase. They all could see that the mounts now appeared to be riderless, but that only meant the riders continued to
use their magic to hide themselves as they rode back toward the city. “Back to Pleclypsa!” someone shouted.

  “After them!” Yammerlid called. None of the assassins who’d been ridden down appeared to be seriously hurt, but as the band of zealots chased a trio of horses up the Telimas Corridor, some were obviously moving much more slowly than others.

  Nebalath paused halfway up the ladder inside the nearest tower to watch their flight through an arrow slit and murmured a heartfelt, “Good riddance!” He then snorted downward at Seagryn. “You might have used your abilities, too! Am I going to have to do all the work on this journey?”

  “Would you move your bony little body?” Fylynn grumbled. She was between the two of them on the ladder and could neither go up nor down unless one of them budged. Since Seagryn was obviously too bemused to think straight, she’d directed her comment upward.

  Seagryn was shaking his head in self-deprecation. “I don’t know why I didn’t! It’s just, I … I don’t think …”

  “No, you certainly don’t,” Nebalath agreed as he pulled himself over the top rung and stepped out onto the battlements. He was relieved to see that the road below them was now clear. “It would help my feelings enormously if you would start.”

  Seagryn still stammered his explanation. “It was just — the shock of seeing Yammerlid …”

  “Shocked me, too,” Nebalath murmured, squinting his eyes against the morning sun as he watched the dust cloud churned up by their attackers rise further off toward the north. “He’s the one I watched swear an oath to kill you. You remember me telling you about that?” he asked as Fylynn and Seagryn both joined him. “He’s certainly come a long way in a short space of time,” Nebalath mused. “It’s as if he knew you were coming here.” He looked at Seagryn meaningfully. “Makes me wonder who told him.”