When Dragons Rage

by Michael A. Stackpole

  “Magister, no disrespect intended, but I’ve been at Svoin and Port Gold and Fortress Draconis. I’ve lived with Panqui. I’ve fought pirates. I’ve fought bandits in Yslin and gibberers in the woodlands of the Black Marches. There are events unfolding that are more important than the orders you’ve been given. If I have to choose between obeying you and defeating Chytrine, well, my choice is clear. As should yours be.”

  Kar nodded slowly; then walked to the half-buried Tetther. With the help of the other Adept, he dragged her clear. Kar sent the two Adepts off, then turned and bowed in Kerrigan’s direction. “I would like to say I shall see you shortly, but I do not feel I will. My school, by the way, is Clairvoyance—this is how we knew where to find you.”

  “Clairvoyance is one of the most difficult schools to master.” Kerrigan glanced at the pile of snow. “You said you had no idea that she could not handle me. Your visions stopped with meeting me here?”

  “One did. Others, well . . .” The man sighed out a cloud of steam. “Your path, Adept, moves through more darkness than light. Be wary, but of stout heart.”

  Kerrigan nodded, then bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Magister. If our paths do cross again, I hope it will be in the light.”

  “As do I, Adept Reese, as do I.”

  The grey-robed mage departed and a heartbeat after he turned a corner and disappeared from sight, Lombo leaped from the roof and landed in the snowpile that had buried Tetther. His claws raked through the snow, then he smiled up at Kerrigan. “Good no kill.”

  “Sorry for robbing you of your fun, my friend. She didn’t deserve to die.”

  “More smart live longer.”

  “True enough.” Kerrigan smiled. “Had you not been up there, I’d not have thought of bringing the snow down on her.”

  “Kerrigan no kill.” Lombo shrugged. “No kill hard.”

  “No. It’s just that killing is a lot easier for some. I just can’t . . .”

  “No need.” Lombo ambled over to him and draped a long arm over his shoulders. “Kerrigan make Will-talk. But less.”

  The magicker laughed. “Yes, Will can talk a lot but sometimes, what he says is useful. It was here. It saved a lot of trouble. That’s good, I guess.”

  Lombo nodded. “Much trouble coming.”

  “So Magister Kar said.” Kerrigan sighed out a misty cloud. “Let’s just hope it’s not so much trouble that Will-talk and no kill can’t get us out of it.”

  CHAPTER 13

  W ill did his best not to gawk as Count Marsham led him into the palace throne room. While the building had the external architecture of a fortress, with narrowed windows and thick walls, parts of the interior had clearly undergone extensive renovation. For while the throne room did still feature thick columns that supported a vaulted ceiling, the walls had been covered with wooden panels framed in gilt. Wonderful murals covered the panels, and while a quick glance suggested a few hid secret doors, they were obviously there for decoration more than utility.

  A thick green carpet led from the doorway to the throne. On either side of it a marble mosaic floor with grand patterns in white, black, and red spread out. It looked fairly new based on the lack of wear. The throne itself sat on a small dais and consisted of a high-backed chair and canopy, with two extensions on either side for Scrainwood’s sons. The fact that their seats were little more than a green velvet cushion over a slab of wood would do nothing at all to encourage them to attend court.

  Marsham stopped just inside the door. “Highness, I present Lord Norrington.”

  Scrainwood looked up from the small book he had been perusing. Though Will himself couldn’t read and hadn’t much studied the habits of readers, he knew Scrainwood had affected the pose to make himself seem smarter. The light slanting in from the windows didn’t fall close enough to the throne actually to let the king read. This realization put Will further on his guard as he composed a smile for the king.

  Scrainwood snapped the book closed and smiled, then rose. “Of course, Marsham, I know my friend Lord Norrington by sight. Who does not? He’s quite taken our city by storm. Our people love him as I do, as the world does.”

  “Of course, Highness. As I love him as well.”

  “As well you should, Marsham.” The king nodded once, then shooed Marsham off with a flick of his hand. The gesture seemed small at so long a range, but it shook Marsham. The man clearly did not like being dismissed, especially in so casual a manner.

  He turned to go, but Will reached a hand out to stop him. “Count Marsham, your service to us is so dear.” Will grasped the man’s right hand in both of his and pumped it fiercely, then half turned and waved the man toward the door.

  Marsham departed, but glanced covertly at his hand, just to make certain all his rings were still there. He bowed as he exited, then closed the doors. Before they clicked shut, Will did see the man glaring at him, and the thief suppressed the desire to stick out his tongue.

  Cabot Marsham had found him at the Rampant Panther Inn where Alexia’s companions had taken rooms. The man’s speech had been flowery and unctuous—a word Will got from Kerrigan and, while he didn’t know what it meant, it just sounded right. Marsham had spoken of the honor it would be to conduct him to the king, and the hope and love he had for Will. Despite that, Will noted that the man wore far fewer rings than the lines on his fingers suggested he preferred, had chosen older clothing for his journey, and carried a purse with no serious weight of coin in it.

  If trust were measured in gold, Marsham’s couldn’t have bought sour beer and moldy bread meant for swineslop.

  But, as far as Will was concerned, swineslop would have been too good for Marsham, and probably for the king as well. In spite of that belief, Will adjusted his mask, then bowed deeply.

  “Will, no need for formality between such as us. While you may be only a lord, you and I are cut of the same cloth. Great times demand great efforts from the great, and we are great.” Scrainwood beckoned him forward as casually as he had dismissed Marsham, though it struck Will that dismissal came far more naturally to him than summoning. “Come here, Will. There are things we must discuss.”

  The thief marched straight down the carpet, glancing at the panels and the windows. Wearing his mask did not bother him, save where it trimmed a little off his peripheral vision. Still he did spot many things that would be of great value, were they not far too large to be carried off easily.

  A flashed vision of fire and of gibberers hauling things away shook him. The only way any of this will leave here is if the palace is looted. At first that struck him as a good thing, since it would punish Scrainwood. That thought, however, died as Will realized that the sacking of the palace would mean the city had fallen. The smiling faces of those who had greeted him, of those who had seen him as a savior, melted into tortured reflections in bloody pools.

  Will focused on the king as he stopped a dozen feet from the dais. “What would you have of me, Highness?”

  “First, my hearty greeting and best wishes. I apologize for taking so long to bring you here. I simply insist that you move from your current lodgings and stay here in the palace.”

  The thief nodded. “Your invitation is most kind, Highness, but I shall remain where I am. The people like having me there. We sing and tell stories. It makes them happy and less afraid.”

  Scrainwood hesitated for a moment, as if weighing Will’s argument. “But your safety is in question.”

  “You’ve never taken a good look at Resolute, have you?”

  “He is your Vorquelf?”

  The thief winced. “He and Crow found me and have kept me safe. He’s killed a sullanciri. They both have. I’m safe with him.”

  The king nodded in acquiescence, but Will thought his surrender was a bit too quick. “I shall abide by your wishes in that matter, though I should point out that, as a Lord of the Realm, you do have certain incomes that mean you can afford better lodgings.”

  Will’s expression did brighten at the mention
of money, but the quick flash in the king’s eyes cautioned him. “I didn’t know that, Highness.”

  “Indeed. You are not the richest of nobles, but Valsina does produce rents and incomes. The merchantman Playfair has been administering the holdings ever since your father . . . went away. He keeps a good accounting, steals little, and delivers the taxes on time. It would not be an exaggeration to say you could buy the tavern where you dwell now without a significant diminution of your wealth.”

  The thief frowned with concentration and slowly divined the meaning of the king’s words. “That much, huh? That’s a lot, because they’re charging us a blind a night.”

  Scrainwood stiffened as Will used the slang term for the realm’s gold coin. Officially known as a crown, it had Scrainwood in profile on the face. Almost without exception, the coins in circulation had that single eye punched, gouged, scraped, or scratched out. Some said it was because Scrainwood used magick to watch them through the coins, but Will had the feeling that most folks just wanted the king to turn a blind eye on them and their dealings.

  Will continued, letting his words flow quickly and his voice betray a lack of sophistication. “So that would make ten blinds for a week and in a month thirty, so for a year that would be, um, well, that is more money than I’ve ever had before. Are you sure it is mine?”

  “Yes, Will, it is. It belongs to you as right of your blood and”—the king injected gravity into his voice—“because of the responsibilities you acquit to the crown. You do wish to observe and maintain the responsibilities of a noble, do you not, Will Norrington?”

  The thief nodded because that was the response the king wanted.

  “Very good.” Scrainwood stepped down from the dais and wandered off toward the windows. Snow still came down. In the last four days there had been one day of sunshine, but all it did was melt a crust onto the snow and coat roadways with ice, then two more days of snow had fluttered white over the city. Just getting Will to the palace had been a chore for Marsham’s cursing coachman and in another couple of days, the city would be immobilized.

  “As you know, Will, the trial of Hawkins for treason against your nation and against your family soon will begin. King Augustus and Queen Carus will be arriving late today or early tomorrow and the trial will begin a half-week from now. Your participation in that trial will be vital. Hawkins, being from Valsina, is one of your vassals. He owes a duty to you and your family that he failed to acquit.”

  The king turned and the light from the window lanced down to outline him in silver fire, darkening his face. “You have spoken affectionately of Crow. I know the songs you sing in the tavern, songs of your own making, praise him. I’ve heard ‘The Lay of Ganagrei,’ and found it quite stirring though clearly fanciful. Your attachment to Hawkins is understandable, but you are young and even now growing into adult responsibilities. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  Will nodded. “I think I do, Highness.”

  “Then let us make certain there is no mistaking it. You were given a man’s mask years ahead of your time. Destiny has chosen you, Will, and destiny will require that you do many things that you might otherwise wish to avoid. Hawkins, years before you were born—years before you met him—betrayed this nation. He betrayed me. He betrayed your father and grandfather and barely avoided bringing ruin upon the world. All that you fight now is his fault, and his efforts on your behalf spring from remorse, nothing more.

  “As a noble of this realm, it is your sworn duty to protect your nation from treason. For this reason, you have a duty to preserve lawful order. Hawkins was convicted of treason before, but because of maneuvering by Princess Alexia, we need to try him again. Your word, as a noble and his lord, will carry much weight in court. If you denounce him, he will be condemned. If you do not, your nation will crumble, for all order and discipline will collapse.”

  The thief scratched at the back of his head. “So you are telling me that unless I help condemn a man who hasn’t done anything wrong, I’ll destroy Oriosa?”

  “Exactly, Will.” Scrainwood came forward enough that Will could see his face. “There are forces that are balanced around Oriosa. Only by maintaining that balance do we survive. It is the life of one man—a man far from innocent—for the lives of all Oriosans. Once Hawkins would have offered himself gladly for this trade, but now, like the coward he is, he fights the inevitable.”

  “So you want me to do my duty as a noble of the realm?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want me to denounce Crow?”

  “Yes.” Scrainwood smiled. “You have it, my boy.”

  “No, Highness, I don’t think I will do it.”

  The king canted his head and returned to his throne. “What do you mean?”

  Will shifted his shoulders, then brought his head up. “Well, Highness, while I’ve been here I’ve been studying this duty thing, and my duty is to the nation.”

  “That’s what I have said.”

  “Yes, but you’re confusing yourself with Oriosa. They’re not the same.”

  The king barked a laugh. “Civics lessons from a whoreget street-child? You will do what I tell you.”

  “I will do my duty as a noble of the realm, and that means speaking the truth about my vassal. I don’t know what he did so long ago, but I know what he’s done now and killing a sullanciri ain’t the half of it. I’m not lying about Crow for you or anybody.”

  Scrainwood’s eyes blazed angrily. “Do you not understand? I made you; I can unmake you!”

  Will snarled. “That won’t happen. You made me a noble, but Crow made me the Norrington. I’ve spent the last week letting everyone know I am the Norrington. They’ve seen me. They’ve heard my stories. They like me, which is more than can be said of you. If I walked out of here today and started saying that you were Chytrine’s body-slave, the people would believe me. And they’d believe it on up to and past the time they hung you with your own guts.”

  “You go too far!” Scrainwood sprang from the dais and aimed a backhanded slap at Will. The blow caught the thief over his ear and spun him toward the window. He’d not expected Scrainwood to actually attack him, but he’d known forever that a coward was one step removed from a bully.

  And it hadn’t taken Resolute to train him how to deal with bullies.

  With rage purpling his face, the king rushed forward and aimed a kick at Will’s body. The youth twisted aside, then grabbed the king’s leg and did a quick half turn before releasing. Scrainwood, off-balance and flailing, smashed back against the wall, then slid to the floor. His simple coronet spun off, flashing and whirling in the sunlight, then rang as it ran down and clattered on the cold stone.

  Will danced back, rubbing his ear, then peered down at the Oriosan leader. Scrainwood rubbed one hand at the back of his head. Will didn’t see any blood on the wall or the man’s hand and that disappointed him. For a moment he consoled himself by listening to the painful groans coming from the king.

  Then the full realization of what he’d done slammed into him. I’ve assaulted the king. Whatever he had in mind to do to Crow, that will be nothing compared to what he does to me. Oh, and if he doesn’t kill me, Resolute will!

  Scrainwood snarled. “There can be a treason trial for you, too, whoreget. I shall have you torn apart before Crow, since that will hurt him more.”

  “Um, aren’t you forgetting something? I’m the Norrington. You can’t kill me.”

  “This is my realm, there is nothing I cannot do.”

  “I can think of one. You can’t give your people hope.” Will drew hair down to cover his red ear. “Without hope, without a belief in the prophecy that will save them, your nation will die. Like it or not, I am that hope.”

  “Little boy, I have given my people more than hope. I have kept them safe.”

  “By betraying Oriosa. Everyone knows it, but is afraid to act because you balance Chytrine off against everyone else. Once that slips, you are dead.”

  “Was that a thr
eat?” The king snorted. “How dare you threaten me?”

  “Hey, who started the hitting here? Who’s talking about having me torn apart? I’m giving as good as I get, so, yes, I’m a threat to you.” Will folded his arms over his chest to keep his pounding heart inside his ribs. “And if you don’t think I’m a credible threat, just be thinking on the last time a Norrington paid a visit to this room. I’m not my grandfather, but I’m just as dedicated to my duty as he was.”

  The thief stepped toward the king, then stooped and picked up the coronet. He turned it over in his hands, then rolled it back to Scrainwood. “I will do my duty to Oriosa, to my friends, and to the world. So leave me alone to do it.”

  Without looking back, Will stalked from the room, slamming a fist against his hip so it hurt. It had been stupid to let anger get the better of him. Scrainwood had viewed him as a pawn to be manipulated, and now saw him as an enemy. Not like I need another one.

  He shrugged. Let him get in line. If Chytrine leaves anything of me behind, he’s welcome to it.

  CHAPTER 14

  A lexia had a commander’s dislike for surprises. She guarded against them as much as possible, but the political maelstrom that was Meredo gave her a difficult battlefield. King Augustus had arrived from Alcida and was ensconced in Scrainwood’s palace. Queen Carus had taken up residence in the home of a noble, and Alexia had spoken with representatives of both leaders. Since they were going to serve on the tribunal along with Prince Linchmere, it would have been untoward for her to speak with them directly, but she was able to let their people know how vital Crow was to the war against Chytrine.

  Wave after wave of blizzards had delayed the start of the trial, since snow-clogged streets made movement through Meredo almost impossible. Alexia had appreciated Kerrigan’s apparent delight with the snow—and Will’s hatred of it, since it made tracking a thief easy and the rooftops a treacherous route. The snow made the city pretty by hiding garbage middens and making things more quiet, which Alexia enjoyed. Still she resented the storms since they meant Perrine could not fly.