No one he had spoken to had specifically described these ape-
creatures, so he did not know whether steel would be effective against them. If they were, as seemed likely, the same apes that had been part of the force that had swept into the city a year ago and left the water steps awash in blood, then metal blades would not touch them.
"Did you want something of me?" he asked.
To his surprise, one of the apes replied, in a growling but clear voice.
"Our mistress wishes you to accompany us."
"Did she say why? I was about to eat my lunch . . . "
"Our mistress wishes you to accompany us now"
Arlian decided against further argument. "Lead the way," he said.
The apes did not appear to be armed, and he might have been able to cut his way out, but why should he? He had come here to learn from the magicians and creatures of the south, and the Blue Mage was among the most powerful of those; he had come to Pon Ashti to speak with her.
Here, then, was just the opportunity he needed.
Furthermore, there was no real reason for hostility between the two of them. Yes, she had conquered Pon Ashti, killed dozens or hundreds of people, and oppressed the survivors, but what was that to the Duke of Manfort or his loyal warlord? Pon Ashti had always defied the Duke, refused his demands for taxes and tariffs and tribute. If it had fallen to another, less tolerant master, what was that to Arlian?
In truth, it was a great deal—he did not care to see anyone slaughtering innocents, whether the killer was dragon, human, wizard, or something else entirely. He did not think much of overlords who set down arbitrary rules whose breach was punishable by death. It offended his sense of justice to see Pon Ashti as it was—but the Blue Mage presumably did not know that Arlian felt this way. Unless she could read his thoughts, how would she have any hint?
And he did very much want to question her.
Accordingly, he strode unhesitatingly along as the ape-things led the way to the Mage's palace, and kept his weapons in their sheaths. He marched through the streets, eating his sausage roll—after all, he could not be sure when he might receive his next meal. It was drier and spicier than was customary in Manfort, but not unpleasant; he had grown to like the local fare since his arrival.
The apes kept up a good pace, walking along in an odd loping gait that used both hands and feet; he would not have thought they could maintain their speed so easily. It was scarcely ten minutes later when they guided him through a fantastical crystal gate—one that he was quite sure was of magical origin, and which he suspected had only recendy replaced one of wrought iron—into the palace forecourt.
There, however, the ape-things abruptly stopped, forming a circle around him, forcing him to stop, as well, if he did not wish to collide with their furry backs. He hastily swallowed the final bite of sausage and brushed the last flakes of pastry from his beard, then stood straight and waited.
Something red and gray and black, with horns and golden eyes but with a shape Arlian could not focus on, emerged from the palace and loomed over him; the sunlight seemed to fade as it approached, the sky to darken and the hum of wind and water, the sounds of the city, to fade. Arlian was a tall man, and could easily see over the heads of the crouching apes, but this creature towered above him as if he were a child. It spoke—though Arlian was unsure of the exact words, or the sound of its voice. He simply knew that it had spoken, and the meaning it had conveyed.
He was to remove his iron weapons before proceeding further.
"Of course," he said with a bow. That was the protocol among the lords of Manfort, as well—one did not wear a sword into someone's home when making a friendly call, if only because it might scrape the furniture. He unbuckled his sword belt, then took his common knife from its sheath, and proffered them.
One of the ape-creatures turned and accepted the weapons, then carried them out of sight—Arlian could not see whither. Its movements were somewhat awkward, as it was forced to walk entirely on its hind legs while carrying the blades and would plainly have been more comfortable using all four limbs.
When the ape was gone the towering being loomed forward again, and the sky dimmed so that Arlian, without thinking, glanced up to see whether a cloud had passed over the sun.
The sky was clear, but its color was wrong, a sort of dull indigo streaked with reddish brown. The sun itself was the color of new-cut copper.
Arlian had seen magic discoloring the sky several times before, but never quite so close as this, so near overhead. He swallowed uneasily.
The creature spoke. Arlian was to remove any silver from his person, and give it into the servants' keeping.
This was not the custom in Manfort, but Arlian had been expecting it. Reluctantly, he took the silver chain from around his neck and tucked it into the purse on his belt, then untied that purse and offered it to the nearest ape.
The creature accepted it, and waddled clumsily away, holding the purse up at arm's length as if it were a loathsome and dangerous burden.
Arlian watched it go with unease. It was not the loss of his silver that concerned him, but the loss of the amethyst on that chain; he had not had any way to remove the stone from its silver mounting. He did still have a smaller amethyst tucked away in his pocket, but if he slept here he was not sure it would be enough to guard his dreams.
The redness-and-darkness spoke again, and the remaining ape-
things parted—to either side this time, rather than front and rear; Arlian was to enter the palace.
He took a deep breath, and marched up the three yellow marble steps and through the brass-trimmed door.
Neither the apes nor the yellow-eyed creature followed, but his way was clear enough—a single passage led deeper into the palace. He strode forward.
The corridor was unlit and window-less, and the doors closed behind him, but light came from somewhere ahead—blue light that made it impossible to judge the natural colors of anything he saw. He headed toward it, ignoring the faint whisperings and rustlings around him. The passage smelled of damp stone, but he saw no sign of moisture, and the air felt dry.
He wondered who or what he would meet. His captors had not said the Mage herself wanted to speak with him, only that she had wanted him to accompany them—but why else would she have summoned him?
And what else could be the source of that unnatural light ahead?
A Meeting with the Mage
20
A Meeting with the Mage
A moment later he emerged into what he at first took for a large room, but then recognized as a courtyard—he had been fooled by the blue light that washed over everything, shutting out the sunlight as ordinary-light would drive away the dark. The court was perhaps twenty feet square, with a single palm tree at its center and fountains in each of its four corners, the tree and the fountains all surrounded by flowerbeds; Arlian suspected that the flowers would ordinarily have been a dozen bright tropical colors, reds and golds and yellows, but now they were all various shades of blue.
Benches stood around each flowerbed, and on one of the benches around the central tree sat a woman—and it was from this woman that the blue glow came.
This, obviously, was the Blue Mage, and any question about the origin of her name was answered. She turned to look at Arlian as he approached, and smiled; her teeth glittered like sapphires, and her eyes glowed as brightly as blue flame.
The glow and the distorted colors made it difficult to discern her features clearly, but Arlian judged her to have the appearance of a young woman, certainly one no older than himself—but he knew she had been a major power in the lands beyond the border since before he was born.
Her hair flowed in rippling blue waves down across her shoulders and her back, reaching to the bench, and then not so much ending as fading away, like smoke, before reaching the courtyard pavement. She wore a dark blue gown that seemed to sparkle when she moved, but which had no perceptible jewels or ornaments anywhere upon it.
"Lord Obsidian," she said, as she rose from the bench. "Welcome to my realm." Her voice was low and musical and very, very beautiful, and she stood almost as tall as Arlian himself. He had never met a woman taller.
Arlian bowed deeply. "I am honored by your invitation, my lady—
or is it, perhaps, Your Majesty?"
"I am not concerned with titles, my lord; call me what you will."
"Thank you, my lady."
She stepped forward, then stopped perhaps two paces away as he straightened from his bow.
"You are Lord Obsidian, the Duke of Manfort's warlord, known to some as the Dragonslayer?" she asked.
"I am, my lady." If she knew this much already, he saw no point in lying. Her magic could probably detect or defeat any attempt at deception.
"So the spy told me, and I wondered at this. Why would the Dragonslayer come to Pon Ashti? There are no dragons here."
"That, my lady, is why I have come—to learn why there are no dragons here."
She tipped her head to one side. "Indeed? What a very interesting question to ask!" She gestured at a bench—not the one she had just departed, but one to Arlian's right, adjoining one of the corner flowerbeds. "Please make yourself comfortable, and we will discuss this, for so long as it amuses us both to do so."
"Thank you, my lady," Arlian said, seating himself on the indicated bench. The Blue Mage moved to an adjoining bench—not so much
walking to it as drifting—and sat down again.
This was beginning to confuse Arlian; it all seemed too easy, in a way. Was the Blue Mage really going to tell him what he wanted to know? Could it be that simple?
But at the same time, there were unforeseen complications. He had not expected her to know who he was; her reference to a spy puzzled him. Furthermore, simply looking at her, beautiful as she unquestionably was, was becoming painful. Trying to focus on her face was oddly tiring, and the glow she emitted, the only light in the courtyard despite the daytime sky overhead, was giving him a headache.
"You are sworn to destroy the dragons entirely, I am told," the Mage said.
"I have so sworn, my lady, yes—I have vowed to destroy them, or to die in the attempt."
"Why?"
"They killed my family, my lady. They burned my parents' home to the ground, burned my grandfather's flesh from his bones with their venom, killed my mother and my father and my brother Korian and all the village save myself. They kill at whim, destroying entire communities in mere moments. They prey upon my people as if we were cattle to be slaughtered. They have polluted me with one of their accursed offspring, and stolen away a part of my soul. Until they are exterminated humanity lives at their mercy, and I will not have it."
"Interesting," the Mage said, leaning back slightly as if to gain a new perspective on him. "You seem very determined."
"I am a dragonheart, my lady, polluted by the monsters' venom.
Even as that damns me, it gives me certain advantages. Perhaps determination is one of them."
"An intriguing theory. If true, the dragons have brought their own doom upon themselves."
"I most assuredly hope so."
"As do I, Lord Obsidian, as do I. Perhaps you have realized that I have no love for the dragons?"
"I suspected as much, my lady; after all, is it not their puissance that keeps you from exploring the northern lands, should it please you to do so?"
"So it is, though I had not realized this was widely known in your homeland."
"It is not widely known, my lady, but I have taken a special interest in these matters."
"Of course you have. Fascinating." She studied him silently for a moment, then asked, "Why have you come to Pon Ashti? Why are you not hunting the dragons in the northern mountains where they lair?"
"Because my master has betrayed me," Arlian said, startled by the bitterness in his own voice, and the bluntness of his own words. "The Duke of Manfort has made peace with the dragons, in order to prevent further incursions upon the Borderlands."
"Has he? The spy did not mention that!"
Arlian hesitated, then asked, "My lady, who is this spy of whom you speak?"
The Mage smiled again, and blue light glittered from her teeth and shone from her eyes. "Did you not know? Can you not guess?" She paused, but Arlian merely looked at her expectantly until she said, "He is the dragons' spy in Pon Ashti, sent here to watch their borders."
"The dragons?"
Arlian had not considered that possibility. This city was so far from any known habitation of either dragons or dragonhearts that he had simply assumed their reach did not extend here in any way. Surely, they had not had a man following him all the way from Manfort!
"Yes. This fool somehow believed he could use sorcery here, in my own stronghold, without my knowledge. I demonstrated to him the error of his belief, and convinced him to tell me his purpose here, and what he had reported to his abominable masters."
"Then he followed me across the Desolation?"
"Oh, no!" She laughed, an inhuman sound that made Arlian's skin crawl and significantly worsened his headache. "Do not think yourself so important as that! He is a native of Pon Ashti, recruited some years ago and supplied with the means to converse with the dragons regardless of the intervening distance."
"Ah," Arlian said. He supposed that the means of communication was the simple sorcery of human blood in a bowl of water—he had used that himself in the past He had thought that the blood had to be that of a dragonheart, but perhaps he had erred in that assumption.
"I suppose this is some dark northern magic," the wizard said. "Certainly, I know of no such device."
"I believe I have heard such a thing mentioned," Arlian admitted.
"It operates only at the dragons' whim."
As he spoke he was trying to think. Did this mean that the Dragon Society had agents scattered everywhere? They could not have known he would come to Pon Ashti; he had not known it himself until he reached Orange River. This spy must have been positioned here for reasons having nothing to do with him.
Well, in this case, he could see no reason not to ask. While he knew that his enemy's enemy was not necessarily his friend, there was no reason to assume that the Blue Mage was openly hostile. So far, she had treated him well enough.
"Why did the dragons want a spy in Pon Ashti?" he asked.
"He claims not to know," she replied, all trace of her smile gone; she watched Arlian intently. "He maintains this position even under very noticeable duress. Given his interest in you, I thought you might have a guess to offer."
"I might," Arlian said, "but no more than a guess. My lady, I will tell you my guess, but might I beg a favor from you in exchange?"
"And what would be the nature of this favor?"
"Nothing untoward, I assure you. I wish only to learn more of the nature of wizards."
"The better to slay them, I suppose? This is not untoward?" She did not rise from the bench, but somehow she seemed larger and more threatening; the blue glow of her eyes changed to a darker hue, almost indigo. Her hair stirred, as if in a wind, though the air in the courtyard was utterly still.
"No, no, my lady! I promise you, that is by no means my intent! On the contrary, I would learn more so that I might better aid you!"
"Aid me in what fashion?" Her form remained swollen, her eyes dark.
"In encompassing the destruction of our common foe! I do not want to harm you; I want to destroy the dragons!"
"It was my understanding that you already know methods for slaying dragons, and have in fact killed a significant number of them."
"Of course, my lady—and if you will forgive my bluntness, we both know that if I had not done so, you could not rule freely in Pon Ashti.
The dragons' magic and your own would appear to be antithetical, unable to coexist."
She st
ared at him for a moment, then seemed to shrink again.
"An oversimplification," she said mildly, "but one with some basis in truth. Then you seek to learn more of wizards to turn our power against the dragons? But why would you need to do this, when you have your own proven methods?"
"I told you I have been betrayed, my lady; the Duke of Manfort makes peace with the dragons. He does so because he fears that you and the other creatures of the south will sweep northward across the Lands of Man as the dragons perish, and he prefers the familiar, however evil, to the unfamiliar. I came here to learn whether your rule might be so clearly superior to that of the dragons that he can be convinced to reconsider."
She stared at him silently for a moment, then said, "Tell me your guess as to why the dragons placed a spy among my people."
"To observe the decline in their own power, my lady. To measure, by the effectiveness of the sorcery he uses to communicate with them, how much their losses had weakened their control over these lands, so that they would be able to anticipate the inroads made by you and the other great powers of the south and act accordingly. Their embassy to the Duke was superbly timed, and surely your spy was one of the elements making such precision possible."
"I believe you might have hit upon it," she said, her eyes now a warm turquoise.
Hoping to take advantage of her apparent pleasure, he said quickly,
"I have told you my guess, my lady; might you grant me the boon I asked in return?"
"Tell you more of the nature of wizards?" She laughed again. "You will need to be more specific than that!"
"My lady, let us begin at the very beginning, then—what is a wizard?"
She laughed again, and Arlian thought his throbbing skull would crack. "I am a wizard," she said. "A creature of magic, spawned of earth and fire through a human host."
"Then you were human once? A mortal woman?"
"No. I grew within a woman's body, and then emerged as you see me now, in a semblance of her shape, but I am not that woman; I cast her flesh aside to die, her mind and body ruined by my birth, when I sprang from her mouth."
Dragon Venom (Obsidian Chronicles Book 3) Page 18
