The Ship of Tears: (The Legend of the Nine: Part One) (The Eastern Kingdom Chronicles Book 8)

by T. J. Garrett

  “How long is this going to take?” Damari asked Mayash.

  The old mage shrugged. “It will take as long as it takes. You know what the council are like; they never say one word when a hundred will do. You should count yourself lucky they agreed to see you on such short notice. Gathering them all was no easy feat. Most were on their way home for Winter Feast.”

  “Oh, great,” Damari said. “Now they’re going to be mad at me for that, too.”

  “They won’t be mad at you,” Mayash said. “It was the Primar’s order.”

  Damari raised a hand to her mouth and tried to stifle a gasp. “Is he here? I thought he was… Why is he here?”

  Mayash smiled wickedly – the evil old bugger was enjoying this, Damari realised. Chuckling softly, he said, “The Primar, the Keeper of Keys, the Keeper of the Chronicles; you have a full set. Quite the coup. In fact, I don’t remember the last time all three were in the same building, never mind the same room. A good six months, I’d say; around the time we first heard of the Re’adh boy.”

  Damari could almost feel the colour drain from her cheeks. Not that she was particularly dark in the first place, but there was a definite draining feeling, like someone had stuck a pin in her side and let the air out. The council and the Three! And they were here to see her! Gods, better she had been exiled.

  They were sitting in what some folk called the accused’s box. The high chairs were still empty – likely the Three were waiting on the rest of the council to arrive before making an appearance – but the smaller chairs, those arranged in a horseshoe around a central court area, were filling up nicely. Damari had never seen so many mages in one place. And witches; there were a good forty of them, too. All the mages and witches were dressed in their best ceremonial dress. As Damari glanced around, her gaze was met with a hundred pairs of eyes, each more serious-looking than the next. The whole experience reminded her of her first day at school – she did not need the sickly sewer smell to feel the roll of her stomach.

  “I don’t know about this. Maybe I should just go.”

  “Nonsense, child. It is good the Three are here; their presence tells of how seriously they are taking your request, and likely means they agree with your assessment. That, or they have ideas of their own they wish to share.”

  “But I haven’t made an assessment,” Damari said. “I’m just looking for the silver dragon.”

  “Just so,” Mayash said. “Therefore, your assessment of the situation is that the silver dragon can help us in our battle against the Voice of Uld.”

  “They know about that?”

  “Of course they do; they have likely known for longer than you have.”

  Damari frowned up at the old man. “But I only got the message a few weeks ago.”

  Mayash shrugged. “Your friend isn’t the only one with contacts to the north. I dare say, one of the Three has heard from Cabash, or maybe eastern Nos’fael; they have eyes all over Cathair, especially around the border of the old dragon lands.”

  Damari blinked at that. “Sounds to me like they were expecting something like this to happen.”

  The old man answered with his silence.

  “Mayash?” Damari said. “Do you know something? Were they expecting news of Uld?”

  Mayash closed his eyes. His head rolled forward until his chin was resting on his chest. He suddenly looked his age, which was saying something. Letting out a long breath, he said, “We’ve always been expecting news of Uld. For as long as I can remember, the Red Council have been keeping an ear to the ground and an eye on the horizon. For some, it is all they do.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? You let me go on for hours about the message and the Ways and all Ella and the Treefolk had told me, and now you’re saying you already knew? What is going on? And who is the Red Council?”

  Mayash swept a hand around the room. “This is the Red Council.”

  Damari gazed around at the sombre faces, she recognised a few from the school, but most were strangers. “But there are so many. Why have I never heard of this council? Why has no one I know ever heard of it?”

  “Clearly someone has,” Mayash said, gesturing toward the crowd.

  Again, Damari glanced around the hall. A secret council at the core of the Lebaran elite? What would the common folk say if they knew? And would these witches and mages care? And the Red Council? They were all here because they already knew about the Voice of Uld, about the red stone Mayash had mentioned. Gods, what other secrets were they hiding?

  She might have asked, but at that moment, the big door behind the three chairs opened and the Primar entered.

  He was followed by the Keeper of Keys and the Keeper of the Chronicles. With a scrape of chairs on damp stone, everyone in the hall stood until the Primar was seated.

  A woman in a long white robe clanged the bottom of her staff against the stone floor of the great hall. “Come to order,” she shouted. “All those with business here on this fourteenth day of Crosh will now stand and make yourselves known.”

  Mayash nudged Damari with an elbow. “That would be you,” he said.

  Damari stood. She grabbed the back of the chair in front and, after clearing her throat, she said, “Damari Lews, ma’am. I… err… I have business with the council.”

  “Speak up, girl. I can’t hear you.” This from the Primar.

  The Primar was an old man, almost as old as Mayash was, but, for some reason, he looked much older. His skin was covered in brown spots, his hair was thin and lank, and his hands – the only other part of his body, other than his face, not covered by his dark blue robe – were skeletal. He looked fit to drop, Damari thought. Another year or two, and Mersius’s father would become Primar.

  “Damari Lews,” Damari said, voice loud.

  The Primar nodded, and the woman in white said, “State your business, Sister Lews.”

  So, Damari did. She told the Red Council what she wanted to do, and why she thought it so important that she should be the one to do it. Listening to herself, it all sounded a little ridiculous – going off in search of legends when she was supposed to be teaching – but the council listened without interruption.

  At the end, the woman in white banged her staff again.

  There was a brief silence, where the Three seemed to converse by glancing at one another, then a young woman, sat between the Primar and the Keeper of Keys, said, “You are aware of your duty, Sister Lew? Why is it so important you go now?”

  “The message,” Damari said. “Ella said… I mean, the Treefolk said time was short. I have to go now.”

  “What is this message?” the Keeper of the Chronicles said. He was the only one of the Three who looked to be under a hundred years old. “And who sent it? I don’t recall hearing anything of a message from the Wayist.”

  “The Wayist? Who is he talking about?” Damari whispered.

  She must have spoken more loudly than she had thought, because the woman in white said, “Ella Brook,” and pointed to a small scroll on the table in front of the Keeper of the Chronicles.

  There was a long silence while the Three read the message.

  Damari did not have to read it; she could likely recite the whole things: about coming to the Welling, and travelling to the place where it all began – wherever that was – and about the so-called witch’s prophecy. She wondered what the mages would make of that.

  Not much, Damari guessed; the mages rarely paid attention to witch’s business.

  Still, they were certainly taking their time reading the message.

  Which brought up another question; how did they get hold of a copy of the message?

  Elucia, of course, Damari told herself. She’s like sent a copy not five minutes after you gave her the original.

  The Keeper of Keys raised his eyes from the parchment and fixed her with a questioning look. “This does not say anything about the silver dragon, Sister. Why do you think the two are connected?”

  “Yes,” the Primar sa
id, “good question, Ludin.” The old man turned to Damari. “The silver dragon,” he gestured down at the parchment, “why do you think Aregolas would know anything of this?”

  The Keeper started, and there was a low gasp from the audience. Apparently, the old man was not supposed to have said that.”

  Damari frowned. “Aregolas is the…?” She could not finish the question.

  The Primar nodded.

  Damari felt every hair on her body stand on end. If she were not holding on to the chair, she would likely have fallen over.

  Gods, Aregolas is the silver dragon?

  Damari found she had to swallow hard. Her heart started to thump. For a brief moment, the hall began to spin.

  Aregolas is the silver dragon?

  That could not be right; Aregolas was a god. And a good many folk believed in. Hells, was not the Blue Tower in Bhail called the Tower of Aregolas? And the Primar was saying she was a dragon?

  Damari bit her tongue against a sudden cackle. I wonder what Elucia would think if she knew Aregolas was actually a dragon, and she is living on Toi’ildrieg? Assuming she was a she – maybe they had gotten that wrong, too.

  Suddenly, a lot of things made sense; answers to a raft of unasked questions: Why had the Treefolk chosen Toi’ildrieg for their home? Why was the Voice all but useless around the Raekawn Valley? Why had the wild dragons never left the mountain? What was that strange humming noise she always heard around the southern forest? And most importantly, why had it always felt wrong to use the Power around Dragon Mount?

  She had heard a lot of witches mention that last point. Some visitors to the Raekawn had felt so sick after using the Power, they simply gave up trying. Even Elspeth and Olivia had mentioned a wrongness. Indeed, back at the Blue Tower, the princess had recalled Elspeth’s kidnap, telling the story of how she had used the Voice in the forest west of the gate, and how she had summoned birds and insects and set them on the Kel’mau to avoid capture. Olivia had said how wrong it felt to use the Voice in those woods. Damari was sure, if she asked around, she could find a hundred comparable stories – all within a few leagues of Dragon Mount.

  And all because Aregolas is there, she added.

  “Well?” the Keeper said. “Answer my question. Why do you think the two are connected?”

  Damari cleared her throat. “Rumours, sir. A few years ago, I travelled to Toi’ildrieg with a few of my sisters, in hopes of surveying the Drift and the area around the Raekawn. I heard the rumours of a silver dragon living on Dragon Mount, and wondered, could she be the silver dragon from the old stories? We’ve all heard the legends, of a creature with the Wisdom of Ages. Of course, at that time, I did not know anything about the Voice of Uld, I just wondered if… Whether or not… No, that doesn’t matter. A few months ago, I met a man by the name of Coln Brewen. Turned out, he was quite the dragon handler. He agreed to help me search the island. He has been there for a few weeks. Of course, he does not know anything about the Voice of Uld, or that you think the silver dragon is actually Aregolas. He thinks he’s helping me search for a rare dragon.”

  “Yes,” the Keeper said. “But what does any of that have to do with this message?”

  Damari bit her lip. This was the part she had been dreading.

  Get ready for the scowls, she thought.

  “The Wisdom of Ages, sir. I thought, if I could find the silver dragon… Well, isn’t it obvious?” She pointed at the parchment. “Don’t we need to know if she – the silver dragon, I mean – if she can really see into the…”

  The Keeper raised his hand. “Yes, and that is enough of that, I think. We need not drag up ancient legends. This council is concerned with what we can accomplish, not in chasing folklore. You will not find the silver dragon. Therefore, you will not be able to ask her your questions concerning the Red.”

  “But what if…”

  Again, the Keeper raised his hand. “Assuming she is there, she has remained hidden some three thousand years. What, by all the gods, makes you think you can find her? You could not even bring my son home.”

  Damari lowered her eyes. Not from shame; she did not want the Keeper to see her anger. He had known where Mersius was. All that time at the Blue Tower; if he was that concerned over his son’s safety, why had he not come to Bhail to fetch him home. It was not her fault the boy insisted on staying with Gialyn. What was she supposed to do, drag him onto a ship?

  Mayash stood. A hand on Damari’s forearm, the old man said. “I don’t see how that has any bearing on the proceedings, Ludin. We are here to discuss the silver dragon, and whether or not the council will allow Sister Lews to lead an expedition into the Raekawn Valley. Allowing ourselves to get tangled in all this business with young Mersius and the Re’adh boy is a waste of the Red Council’s time. Respectfully, might I suggest we return to the matter at hand?”

  “Her inability to do the task she was set is hardly irrelevant, Mayash. If we are to send an expedition to Raekawn, we should consider carefully who should lead it.”

  “Indeed,” Mayash said. “That is the question before the council. I suggest we all take a moment to consider it.”

  They Three spoke for what felt like an age. Now and then, the Keeper of Keys would shot a glance in Damari’s direction, but for the most part, they spoke amongst themselves. Damari wondered if she was allowed to sit down. Everyone else was seated, even Mayash. The folk in the gallery were all whispering to one another. Even the white lady had her head together with one of the guards.

  Was this how they did things? Leave her waiting like some child wondering if she was going to get the slipper?

  She was about to sit down, when the Primar tapped a loose fist on the table.

  “Thank you for your report, Sister Lew. You may go.”

  “But…? What about…? The silver dragon, are you going to…?”

  Damari glanced around. Some of the mages had already started to leave. The Keeper of Keys tidied his pile of scrolls and followed the Primar out through the big door. Was that it? Was it over?

  “What just happened?” she asked Mayash.

  The old man took her arm. “Come, child, time to go.”

  “No, it isn’t. What about Coln? They did not say if I could go. What about the—?”

  “Later, child. Come now, don’t make a fuss.”

  “Don’t make a fuss? Don’t they know what’s at stake? I have to—”

  “Patience, Damari.” Mayash gave her an understanding look. Damari was not sure, but she thought he winked at her. “All in good time. Now, come away, let the council do what it is councils do. This is not for us.”

  Reluctantly, Damari followed Mayash out into the hall.

  Do what councils do? What had the old man meant by that? Were they going to let her search for the silver dragon?

  “I don’t understand. What happens now? Do I come back later?”

  They were walking back toward the lecturer’s chambers, back to the old man’s workshop. Damari had to fight the urge to turn around and go back to the great hall.

  “They did not say no,” Mayash said. “Which, if you are familiar with the way these things go, is a good sign.”

  “They didn’t say yes, either. Are they going to make me wait? Is this some sort of authoritarian thing? Because I don’t have time to play their games.”

  “What did I tell you, Damari? You should know by now; the council never do anything in a hurry; and that counts twice for the Red Council. Give it a day. If they were going to say no, I think they would have said so.”

  Damari huffed. “In other words, they are playing their games, aren’t they? They want to take over, make out this was their idea all along. That’s why they are delaying. God forbid they would just let someone get on with what needs doing.”

  Mayash laughed. “Yes, you’re beginning to learn. Just wait until you’ve had a thousand years of it.”

  A thousand years? I don’t think so. If I can’t find the silver dragon, we might not have five years.<
br />
  “They’re going to choose someone else, aren’t they? They know someone has to go, but they won’t tell me to my face because they don’t want me to make a fuss.”

  “Would that be so bad?” Mayash said. “If finding the silver dragon is so important, does it matter who goes?”

  Damari had to stop and think about that. If she were being honest, then no, it would not matter who searched for the silver dragon, but this was her idea, and to the hells if they thought they were going to steal it from her. Right then, she decided she did not care what the council said; permission or not, she was going to Toi’ildrieg.

  “Hmm,” Mayash said. “That’s what I thought.”

  “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  “You did not have to, it is written all over your face. All right, give me a few hours to pack; we will leave this evening.”

  “We? You want to come with me?”

  Mayash laughed. “Of course. You honestly think I would let you have all the fun?”

  CHAPTER 18

  Scale

  Gialyn looked down at his wrist. The Dragon’s Eye bracelet had felt oddly warm – just for a moment, but it was definitely there.

  “Something wrong?” Sek asked.

  “It’s nothing, just an itch.”

  They were back in the temple – the pyramid – up in the liar’seed room, which was almost at the top of the pointed building. Sek had flown in through the wide opening at the front, Gialyn had taken the stairs.

  “Did you speak with Elspeth?” Sek asked.

  “Barely,” Gialyn said. “They only allowed her a minute. I was just telling her about the red stone when Telandra cut us off.”

  “Hmm,” Sek said. “The Voice of Uld is something you have to see for yourself. Maybe you should bring them here, her and the princess. Brea, too. We will need the Oracles help if we are to succeed.”