“May I help you, my lord?” Seek asked, resting his palms on the counter.
“I hope so,” Arlian said.
“If what you desire can be found, my lord, rest assured, we can find it for you,” Seek said. “It may take a significant amount of time and money, of course.”
“I don’t think much time or money will be needed in my case,” Arlian said. “It may be that all I want will be certain information I suspect you may already possess.”
“Oh? May be?”
“That’s right; I haven’t yet decided whether there might be more I want of you.” He looked Seek in the eye, seeking some sign of recognition, some indication of what sort of man this was, that it was indeed the same Hide he had come looking for.
Seek stared back, unperturbed. “And what would this information be?” he asked.
Arlian hesitated for a second; Seek waited patiently. Finally, Arlian asked, “Nine years ago, when you were still called Hide, why did you go to the village of Obsidian, on the Smoking Mountain?”
Seek’s eyes widened, but he showed no other sign of surprise or distress. “I was paid to go,” he replied calmly. “Five ducats, all expenses, and my share of the loot. At the time that was more than sufficient to entice me.” He leaned forward across the counter. “I take it that you are Lord Obsidian? The one who disposed of Sahasin, Lord Kuruvan, and Lord Iron?”
“I am known by that name, yes,” Arlian admitted.
“And have you come here to kill me, too, to avenge the looting of that village?”
“Should I?” Arlian challenged him.
Seek smiled for the first time since he had come through the curtain, a crooked, sardonic smile. “I am, of course, biased,” he said. “But no, I think killing me would be disproportionately harsh. After all, who was harmed by the looting of ruins? Any heirs those villagers might have had would probably be no more than distant cousins, and stealing property they had not earned and might never have thought to claim at all simply doesn’t strike me as an offense deserving death.” He turned his palms up and shrugged. “Of course, your own view may differ, since you seem to have appointed yourself the gods’ avatar of vengeance for various wrongs. As I said, I am biased in my favor.”
“And what of selling into slavery a free-born boy who had just been orphaned?”
The smile vanished.
“That was unfortunate, at the very least,” Seek agreed. “If you wish to make the punishment fit the crime, though, I would still not consider it deserving of death. Death is so very final. Wouldn’t enslavement be more fitting?” Before Arlian could respond, he added, “I compliment you on your sources of information.”
“No compliments are called for,” Arlian replied. “Then you believe yourself deserving of enslavement?”
Seek frowned.
“That depends,” he said. “I concede that on the most basic level of an eye for an eye, a life for a life, and so on, it would seem just that I serve a term of years as a slave in the mines of Deep Delving. I take it, though, that the boy did eventually regain his freedom, and that you know him? He’s alive and well?”
Arlian nodded.
“Then you see that death would be inappropriate—and enslavement would never quite match up properly, since he must have emerged from the mines still a young man with his life ahead of him, while I could not count on anything of the sort. And furthermore, am I really the foolish young man who helped loot that village? I’ve changed since then, my lord—not merely in appearance, but in any number of ways. I would not stand idly by now, as I did then; I would at the very least speak a few words of protest. Is it just to punish the man you see before you, the honest businessman, trusted by his clients and, I flatter myself, respected by his fellows, for crimes committed by a man desperate to find a place for himself, willing to do almost anything to make enough money to ensure he would not find himself in a slaver’s net? Had you apprehended me back then, why yes, enslavement would have been a fitting penalty for my crimes—but now? I am not so certain. Consider also what that boy might have become had we not allowed Lord Dragon to sell him—his family was dead, his home destroyed. We did not know whether he had kinsmen living elsewhere, or whether any such would take him in. Had we left him as we found him, might he not have starved to death? Or might he not have found himself in the clutches of other slavers?”
“He might,” Arlian conceded, “but had he—had I no right to take that risk, if I chose?”
“A child’s fate is never his own,” Seek said with a sweeping gesture. “He is always at the mercy of those around him, whether his parents or other adults, as we are all at the mercy of gods, dragons, and Fate.”
“We will never know what might have become of me had you not found me,” Arlian said. “I don’t think, therefore, that that should be weighed in the balance. Airy suppositions cannot be made to support anything.”
“True enough.” Seek tipped his head and eyed Arlian. “So you were that boy? I’d never have recognized you.”
“Oh? Cover did,” Arlian said.
“Did he? Well, his memory must be better than mine. What’s become of Cover?”
“Dead of a fever. He was dying when I found him.”
“He saved you the trouble of punishing him, then.”
“Maybe,” Arlian admitted.
Seek studied him. “And you’re still considering killing me?”
“Maybe,” Arlian repeated.
Seek smiled his crooked, humorless smile again. “As I said, we are all at the mercy of Fate, and clearly Fate has brought you here, out of Deep Delving. Yet we are free to act or not, as we please; we can refuse the opportunities Fate thrusts upon us.”
“You’re suggesting I should let you go unpunished?”
“Well, naturally, I would prefer it,” Seek said with a shrug. “I would offer to pay compensation, but from what I understand, you have become wealthy enough that any payment I could make would be insignificant. I stood by and let Lord Dragon wrong you, and I concede that you are justified in thinking ill of me, but I question whether any penalty you might impose at this late date would be appropriate. If the purpose of punishment is to ensure I never repeat my crime, why, then you need do nothing—I would never again do anything of the sort. I’m content with my lot here in Manfort, and have no intention of gallivanting about with a band of brigands, looting ruins, ever again. If the purpose is to discourage others, consider the possibility that you might merely convince the next man in my situation to kill any potential witnesses outright, lest they come back to haunt him, as you have manifested yourself here. And if the purpose is to ease your own mind and satisfy your own anger, then judge your own emotions carefully.”
“And what if I seek to please the gods by seeing that justice is done?”
Seek shook his head. “Surely whatever gods may yet survive know what justice is better than we mere mortals, and can take care of their own needs in that regard.”
Arlian smiled wryly. “You speak convincingly,” he said.
“I make my living by convincing people they need what I have to sell,” Seek said, with a wave of his hand. “Knowing that my life is at risk here impels me to do my best.”
“By your own admission, though, you wronged me—does that put you in my debt?”
“I will agree that it does,” Seek said. “Indeed, a chance to repay you would be welcome, if the payment is not exorbitant. Was there something I have that you wanted?”
“Information,” Arlian said. “As you say, I have all the wealth I need—but not all the knowledge I need.”
Seek bowed as low as he could while behind the counter. “I am at your service, my lord.”
“Then tell me,” Arlian said, “every detail you remember of your expedition to the Smoking Mountain. How did Lord Dragon recruit you? Did you know his true name? Do you know it now? Did he tell you where you were bound, and what you would find there?”
Seek took a deep breath. “Well,” he said. “Let me se
e…” He scratched his head thoughtfully.
He had been a boy when he started running errands for a man known as Parcel; the story Hide had heard was that he was called that because he was like several men bundled into a single package, and he had paid Hide a ducat to carry a message. Hide had then asked for more work, and Parcel, amused, had provided it.
It hadn’t all been as harmless as carrying messages; he had thrown a rock through a lord’s window, stolen a lady’s dagger, spilled oil on pavement where a duel was to be fought, all at Parcel’s direction. As he had grown he had been trusted with other jobs, and one day Parcel had told him, “Follow me,” and he had followed, and he had met Lord Dragon, Parcel’s master, for the first time, in a rented room on the Street of the Roses.
“An impressive man,” Seek said. “Even now, and to the lad I was then … well, I was proud just to be there.”
“I can understand that,” Arlian said, remembering how impressive Lord Dragon could be.
“I met Tooth and Shamble that first time,” Seek continued. “They were already in Lord Dragon’s employ. Dagger came later, and I recruited Stonehand myself, to replace Parcel. And I suggested Cover, but he only joined us on that one errand—he seemed a likely candidate, but did not work out.” He grimaced. “I regret that.”
He sounded sincere—but Arlian reserved judgment; as Seek himself had said, he made his living convincing people. “What happened to Parcel,” Arlian asked, “that you were called upon to replace him?”
Seek shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “One day he wasn’t there, and Lord Dragon told me he was dead. I asked how, and Dragon said it was none of my concern, and I didn’t dare press the matter further. He wasn’t the only one to disappear—Tooth vanished later, though in that case Lord Dragon never said whether she was dead or alive, merely that she was gone and I was not to worry myself about it. Nor were those I’ve named so far the only ones I worked with in Lord Dragon’s service; others came and went as the occasion arose.”
Arlian nodded. “Go on,” he said.
Lord Dragon had found plenty of work for Hide and the others, in Manfort and elsewhere. He rarely told them just what was going on, or why they were doing the tasks he had assigned them. Sometimes they were sent as a group, other times alone or in twos or threes; sometimes Lord Dragon would accompany them, and other times he would simply instruct them and leave it to them to carry out those instructions. Often months would pass in which Hide would not see Lord Dragon himself, but would only receive letters.
“Did you know who he was?” Arlian asked.
Seek shook his head. “Not then,” he said. “And he never told us. But I had my suspicions soon enough.”
“Why?”
“It wasn’t so very difficult to see who benefited politically from a particular rock through a specific window, or a note passed to a given lady. When I began working for Lord Dragon the Duke was said to be bored with Lord Enziet, and displeased with the counsel he had received of late; not long after that Enziet’s position was stronger than ever, and his rivals exiled, dead, or out of favor. And the descriptions matched—the rumor that Lord Enziet never appeared in public because his face was scarred certainly fit.”
“Tell me about the journey to the Smoking Mountain,” Arlian said.
It was one muggy afternoon late in a long, appallingly hot summer that Lord Dragon had summoned his employees and told them to be ready to travel at dawn the following day. Hide had not bothered to ask where they were going; Dagger, however, had wanted to know, saying she needed to know what provisions to pack, and Lord Dragon had told them they were bound for the Smoking Mountain, and that tools for digging would be appropriate.
“Weapons?” Stonehand had asked.
“I don’t expect to find anyone alive,” Lord Dragon had said, “but please yourself. I suppose there might be hazards on the road.”
Hide had had that in mind later that evening, when he spoke with Cover in a tavern on Gate Street. He hadn’t thought Cover would be much use in a fight, or for anything tricky or dangerous, but he seemed fit for digging—not that Hide had any idea what they would be digging for, or where. Cover had been complaining about his inability to find work, and Hide had suggested he join them at dawn, and see if Lord Dragon would take him on.
Lord Dragon had, and the party had set out for the Smoking Mountain.
The weather had been utterly miserable for most of that summer, and Dagger had complained about it on the road. Seek remembered hearing Lord Dragon’s reply.
“Dragon weather,” he had said. And he had smiled as he spoke, a smile Hide hadn’t liked at all.
Arlian shivered at the words, at the memories they evoked of his grandfather standing on the mountainside and staring at the sky.
When they were within sight of the Smoking Mountain, Seek remembered, they had actually seen dragons in the sky, far in the distance, and then, not long after, they had seen pillars of smoke pouring up from flames on the mountain. Dagger and Cover had wanted to turn back—Dagger had thought the mountain was erupting. “We can’t dig through hot lava!” she had protested.
“You won’t need to,” Lord Dragon had told her.
“I don’t remember his exact words after that,” Seek said, “but he made it clear that we were seeing a burning village, not the mountain’s own flame, and that we would be looting the ruins. ‘And it will be cooler then,’ he said, ‘so the digging won’t be too arduous.’”
Arlian stared. “He knew that?”
“Yes,” Seek said. “He knew.”
For a moment neither man spoke; then Arlian said “Go on.”
The remainder of the tale held no surprises; the weather had broken that night, and in the morning Lord Dragon had led his crew up the mountain, where they had systematically looted the smoldering wreckage of the village, gathering up the meager valuables the townspeople had owned, the cache of obsidian, the sorcerer’s talismans and devices—his papers had burned, which had irked Lord Dragon greatly.
And they had found Arlian, of course, and carried him away.
“He knew,” Arlian said. “He knew the dragons were coming. And he knew about the weather—but how could he?”
Seek shrugged. “Sorcery, I would assume. Lord Enziet is known to dabble in the hermetic arts.”
Arlian started to reply, then stopped. “Of course,” he said.
“And have I earned my life and freedom, my lord?” Seek asked.
“Conditionally,” Arlian said. “I may require that you repeat this tale, under oath, to certain acquaintances of mine.”
“I would have no difficulty in accommodating such a requirement,” Seek said.
“Are you aware that in telling me this, you may have endangered your life anew?” Arlian asked.
Seek cocked his had. “How is that?”
“I suspect you have just told me certain things that Lord Dragon very much wished to remain unrevealed.”
“I have said nothing I undertook to keep secret,” Seek protested. “I swore no oaths, made no promises.”
“I would suppose that Lord Dragon did not feel such artificial restraints to be necessary. Surely, it was understood that certain things were not to be spoken of?”
“Of course! But…” Seek frowned. “I had not thought any of this to be of great significance to Lord Enziet, but perhaps you know more than I of his concerns.”
“Perhaps I do,” Arlian said. “Indeed, I think so.”
“Then I may have forfeited to him what I gained from you?”
“I hope not,” Arlian said. “I sincerely hope not.”
“Fate is fond of these little jokes.”
“Indeed.”
And with that, Arlian took his leave and set out for the hall of the Dragon Society.
45
The Truth in Flames
Arlian found Rime and Wither in conversation in one corner of the Society’s candlelit main hall and joined them there, taking a seat at the table beside Rime, across
from Wither, under the gaze of a small stuffed crocodile.
It was a moment before they deigned to notice his presence; Arlian did not rush matters. He did not want to be seen as an overeager youngster, hurrying his elders, so he restrained his impatience.
Eventually Rime turned and greeted him, and he was included in the conversation. Then it took only a few minutes to bring the discussion around to Arlian’s investigations, and after some prefatory comments Arlian said, “I have now learned, beyond doubt, that Lord Enziet knew beforehand that dragons would destroy my village.”
Wither stared at him, frowning. “How could he have known?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Arlian said, “but I have a witness who is willing to swear to the truth of it—one of the people who aided Lord Dragon in looting the ruins.”
Rime and Wither exchanged glances.
“It’s not possible to predict the future,” Wither said.
“Not reliably,” Rime agreed. “Knowledge of the future gives one the power to change it. That puts it outside the realm of sorcery.”
“I’ve heard of prophetic dreams,” Arlian objected. “In Arithei they seemed to be fairly common.”
“But that’s wild magic,” Rime said. “The Aritheians don’t control these dreams, do they?”
“No,” Arlian said. “They just happen, when the winds carry magic down from the Dreaming Mountains.”
“Sorcery’s different,” Wither said.
“Besides, are these dreams always accurate?” Rime asked.
“No,” Arlian admitted. “They’re … well, they’re unpredictable. Sometimes they’re true, sometimes they’re not, and even when they are, they’re sometimes too vague or obscure to be of any use.”
“So even if Enziet had somehow had such a dream, which is scarcely possible in Manfort to begin with, could he rely on it sufficiently to launch his expedition to the Smoking Mountain?” Rime asked.
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