The Dragon's Legacy

by Deborah A. Wolf

  “Pulled guard duty tonight, did you? Shitty luck, that.” He chuckled at his own pun.

  Daru shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. Leviathus wondered whether perhaps the boy considered him a threat. He thought about the sort of threat a grown man might pose under cover of dark, especially to a vulnerable child. What had Zeina been thinking, to give the boy such a task?

  “I find myself unable to sleep tonight,” he said. “What do you say I take over your watch, and you go catch some sleep? Your mistress will not mind, I am sure.” And I will have a word with her about this in the morning.

  The boy shrugged again and seemed to draw in upon himself. Was this the same child who had laughed with him over old poetry? “Daru? Are you all—”

  One of the big baskets tipped over, spilling its contents onto the sand. Leviathus gaped to see the captive slaver cowering between them in the thin torchlight. He was young, very young, ragged and terrified.

  Ah.

  Leviathus sighed. “Daru…”

  “Sssst!” Daru jumped to his feet, holding his finger over his lips in a shushing motion. His eyes darted, pleading, between Leviathus and the young slaver.

  “Daru, you cannot let him go,” he whispered. “There are wyverns and worse out there, you know. Even if he survived the night, he would be hunted down at first light. Better he should live as a slave.”

  “No.” Daru’s voice trembled, but his chin took on a stubborn set that Leviathus knew well. “Zeeranim do not own other people. It is not right.”

  “Daru…”

  “It is not right,” Daru insisted. Tears welled in his eyes, and he scowled as fiercely as his mistress might have. “If Sulema keeps a slave, it will not just hurt him.” He waved a thin hand at the trembling slaver. “It will hurt her sa. It will hurt all of us. We are all connected.” He pointed from the captive, to Leviathus, to himself, and then to the camp. “Do you not see?”

  “I see a boy who is going to get in trouble over something that is none of his business. He is a slaver, Daru. What do you think slavers do? Why do you think he was here, in the first place? His kind steals children and sells them at market. He deserves his fate.”

  “He did not choose to be a slaver.”

  Leviathus stepped closer to the trembling captive. This one is even younger than I thought, he realized with some chagrin. Not much older than Daru. He hardened his heart.

  “There is always a choice. This boy would have taken my sister captive, had he the chance. He would have taken you. Would he have shown you the same mercy, I wonder?”

  “There is always a choice,” Daru agreed. He stood, and his shadow stretched tall in the pale torchlight. “My choice is mercy, no matter what his might have been.”

  “You are determined to do this?”

  “I am. Are you going to stop me?”

  “No. I am going to help you.” He sighed. “Of all the nights to need a piss.”

  * * *

  The sky was beginning to burn a little about the edges as Leviathus cut the slaver’s tethers and handed him the bag of provisions Daru had stashed away.

  “It is not enough,” he warned the lad, in the tongue of traders and slavers. “You would do better to stay with us.”

  The captive shook his head, clutching the bag to his chest, his eyes deep pools of fear. When he spoke, it was in a boy’s voice, high and breaking, and his speech had a rough western edge to it.

  “I have to get back. If I do not…” His voice choked off.

  “There is nowhere for you to run. Come back with me, and I will see that you are well cared for.”

  “I cannot.” The boy sobbed. “They have my sisters.” He took a long, shuddering breath, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “I cannot.” Then he opened his eyes, and bowed low. “I owe you my life. As they say, ehuani.” He turned and fled, narrow bare feet kicking up puffs of dust until he was lost to sight.

  Leviathus sighed. “I fear you owe me nothing but your death, but so be it.”

  “What do you owe me, outlander? That slave was not yours to free.”

  Leviathus spun round, drawing his sword, but it was knocked from his hand as a powerful blow sent him flying. He landed some distance away, gasping, groaning at the pain that blossomed in his chest even as the first rays of sun kissed the eastern sky.

  Stupid, he thought, stupid. Unarmored and alone. Stupid.

  “I see you are considering the error of your ways.” She spoke Atualonian with the barest hint of sand and honey.

  He looked up, up past the stomping, snorting mass of horse that had just kicked half the life out of him, past the golden robes and gleaming breastplate, and into the grinning face of a warrior ridden straight out of the old stories.

  “Huh…” He coughed, and dragged a breath in, hoping his ribs were merely bruised.

  She looked across the desert, after the fleeing slaver. A great cat roared, and was answered by another, and she smiled.

  “Your little mouse runs, but I do not think he will get far. As for you…” She drew a blade, long and wicked, from its sheath across her shoulders.

  A horn sounded, long and low, calling the hunt, calling to battle, calling the lost ships home.

  Her smile widened, full of dark promises. “Save me a dance,” she said. “We will meet again, you and I.” She blew him a kiss, and raised her sword over her head, and rode off laughing into the dawn.

  TWENTY - FOUR

  “There, see? The blue Fairuz.” Askander First Warden pointed toward the bright water on the horizon. “We need but cross the river, and za hanu, we have reached Bayyid Eidtein.”

  Ani looked up from the path and smiled. She was stuck, as always, with a pang of attraction that never seemed to lose its edge no matter the distance or the number of gray hairs between them. “I am obligated to you once more for accompanying me, First Warden. Talieso and I would not have made such good time without your help.”

  “I did not accompany you to incur obligation… Youthmistress.” He grinned at her, the same wicked flash of teeth in a sun-loved face that had caused her heart to skip all those years ago, when he had been a handsome youth and she a round-eyed cub looking for her hayatani. He had been no easy meat, but she had been a most persistent huntress. “Ah, I see you still blush like a girl.”

  “I still kick like a girl, too, ehuani.” She stuck her tongue out at him and they shared a laugh, comfortable and warm as the autumn sun.

  She had not exaggerated when she said they had made good time, despite a rough start. It had been long and a day since she had ridden so far north. The paths had shifted and many of the oases she remembered had been swallowed up by the hungry sands. At first Ani had been forced to push Talieso harder and farther on less water than she had wanted. By the time they had stumbled across the Ja’Sajani taking census she and her stallion had both been footsore, butt-hurt, and seriously out of sorts with each other. First Warden had replenished her stores, guided her to better paths, and had offered assistance more graciously than she accepted it.

  She was glad now for his company. Askander had proven himself willing and able to lend a hand. Both hands, in fact, and on more than one occasion. Her mood had mellowed, and although she was saddle-sore and loath to rise in the mornings, it had been, all in all, the most enjoyable ride she had had in years.

  She would be glad of his presence, as well, when she delivered the knife to Hafsa Azeina. Ani had not spoken to the dreamshifter since that fateful night, and guilt chewed at her heart.

  If only I had not spoken to the dreamshifter about my suspicions, she thought, perhaps I might have gotten an explanation from Nurati. If only Zeina would have at least waited for the child to be born. If only Nurati had not meddled in the dreamshifter’s affairs…

  Inna’hael growled.

  If only you would learn to quiet your mind, he grumbled. You make more noise than a cub hunting spiders. He shimmered into being to her right, nearly invisible against the russet sands. Talieso snorted and dance
d to the left. Although he had never objected to the presence of other vash’ai, her stallion had not warmed to this wild sire and always kept one eye rolled in his direction. His ears flattened and he crowhopped, announcing his willingness to stomp the cat into mush at the first sign of a threat.

  The wild vash’ai ignored the horse completely. He ignored Askander as well, and treated Askander’s Duq’aan with such contempt that the smaller sire had scarcely been seen since they had left Riharr. Ani had attempted to chide the sire for his rudeness, but he had laughed at her with his eyes.

  Get rid of that thing, he urged, as he had done many times since she had taken up the flensing knife. Throw it aside. Bury it. Let it lie forgotten until stars dim and moons fade. It stinks of soul magic. Get rid of that snake, too. Better to kill a thing than keep it in a box.

  The lionsnake whelp screeched and thumped as if it knew they were discussing its fate, and Talieso flattened his ears, letting her know again what he thought of being forced to carry such a thing across the desert.

  “A live lionsnake whelp is worth ten salt jars in the Zeera, and twice as much to the outlanders,” she retorted. “We will be rid of it once we reach the market, and I am taking the knife to Hafsa Azeina.”

  Ah yes, the dreamshifter. Inna’hael growled again, a low rumble she felt more than heard. Kith to Khurra’an… I do so look forward to seeing him again.

  “How do you know Khurra’an?”

  Khurra’an and I are old… friends. Even as he mindspoke the word, red flashed across her vision and the taste of hot blood filled her mouth.

  “Wait, no… wait, you. I will not get involved in some kind of war between vash’ai.”

  War? War is a stupid human concept. You stalk an enemy until you have him by the throat, and then agree that he may keep his queens. Stupid humans. He lifted his tail and let his lower jaw drop, displaying massive tusks. Why would you be involved in a war, sweet one? You are no queen, you are a huntress. You bring meat for the pride and watch over the cubs. You hunt, you guard, and you do as you are told. Why else would I have chosen you?

  A sudden wind kicked up a faceful of sand, and both horses spooked. Inna’hael became one with the squall, faded away until he was no more than a pair of yellow eyes and a saber-tusked grin, and then he was gone altogether. The wind died. Talieso whipped her leg with his tail and stamped, furious with her for not doing something about that cat.

  Askander whistled softly through his teeth.

  “I do not envy you your companion,” he said. “It is hard enough with a bonded vash’ai. I cannot imagine what it must be like to face down a wild sire, much less a kahanna. I thought your dreamshifter was a bold one, but this! You have some tits, woman.”

  “Wait… kahanna? What is this?” Ani had the sudden, sinking feeling that she was about to hear something she did not really wish to know.

  “Kahanna. You know… a vash’ai sorcerer.”

  “Za fik,” Ani swore, with feeling. “Of all the goatfucking, sword-sucking, maggot-infested, gut-wounded, nut-licking animals in the world, why did this one have to choose me to pick on?”

  Askander threw his head back and roared, startling a golden hare from a pile of rocks. “Oh, Ani, you precious thing, he doubtless chose you for your sweet words and gentle manner.”

  Ani scowled at him. “Males of any species are a pain in my ass.”

  Talieso stretched his neck back and bit her foot, hard.

  The sound of their laughter, the sun in Askander’s hair, the way his eyes curved into half-moons as he laughed at her. These things would become a memory to be treasured, bottled up and hoarded. A memory to light her way in dark times.

  The faint path they had been following for so long now had become a wide avenue of footprints, hoofprints, claw-marks and wagon-ruts. As they drew closer to the river and to the wide arch spanning its steep banks these tracks gave way to a groomed, hard-packed avenue and finally to a cobbled stone road. They kept their horses to the side and gave them their head. Encouraged by the smell of fresh water and sweet grasses, their stallions fell into a strong trot. Askander’s eyes took on a faraway look for a few heartbeats, and then he looked at her and smiled.

  “Duq’aan has found a pride of young and unattached queens to flirt with until we are ready to leave. Will Inna’hael accompany us into Bayyid Eidtein, or will he remain outside the city walls?”

  “He will do as he will do.” Ani shrugged, reluctant to admit that although Inna’hael spoke to her as he wished, he rarely chose to do so. “We are here, and that is what matters now.” She could feel the fell knife, wrapped and bound in leather and hanging from her belt. She had not wanted to leave it in her saddlebags, but touching or even looking at its naked blade made her flesh crawl. “Now we must find Hafsa Azeina and give her this blade, and that will be an end to it as far as I am concerned.” She pushed the thought of Nurati back down to the dark deeps of her mind.

  “Ah, yes, the dreamshifter.” Askander set his mouth in a thin hard line and picked up the pace.

  Ani stood in her stirrups and held a hand up to shade her eyes as the bridge to Bayyid Eidtein came into view. “Look, oh look, it is just there. It is so big! I had not known it was so… big!”

  Askander snickered. “Not the first time I have heard those words from you.”

  “I was not speaking of your ego, First Warden. I was speaking of the bridge. Half a troop could ride abreast with room to spare. But there are no guards… just look at the low walls of the city! And they have planted trees from the river banks to the wall.” She clucked her tongue. “A single pride could take this place in a single day and have time left over for a game of aklashi.”

  “Yes, but who would want to take Bayyid Eidtein? It is known as a den of rogues and miscreants. Travelers and traders from Quarabala to Rah Kuwei come here to drink and whore, to gamble and fight…”

  “Why have you not brought me here before?” She grinned. “It sounds like my kind of place.”

  “Which is precisely why I have not brought you here before. Bad enough we should let you influence our younglings, without turning you loose on the poor tender outlanders.”

  Ani was spared the need to reply as they drew close to an ancient olive tree which squatted next to the road like a wide and ancient grandmother napping in the sunlight. A voice hailed them from its gray-green boughs and both Talieso and Akkim spooked to the side like silly young colts.

  “Yassa!” A smiling and heavily tattooed brown face peeked out from the foliage. “O good travelers, how my heart delights to see you! How I could kiss your cheeks and weep with joy!”

  Ani raised her brows at Askander. “He seems happy to see us. Why do you suppose that is? Do you think perhaps he is a brigand and means to rob us? I suppose we should shoot him.”

  Askander reached for his bow. “He did threaten to kiss us. I suppose it is only prudent.”

  “No… no!” The boy squeaked, and practically tripped over his own tongue, so quickly did he speak. “O honored pridesmen of the Zeera, please have pity on a poor traveler…”

  “Pity. Yes, that is the word I was looking for.” Askander agreed. “Pray tell, why are you perched up in that tree like a songbird?”

  “The better to beg for a kiss?” Ani guessed. “Fly down here, little bird, and ask me to my face. Perhaps I will kiss you with my knife.”

  “Ah, beautiful lady. I, ah, I find myself in a deplorable state of undress at the moment… and I would never dare to beg a kiss of such a lovely—”

  “I would stop right there,” Askander warned, “before she decides to cut you after all.”

  “Ehuani, Askander, I believe he was speaking to you.” She clucked to Talieso. “Let us leave this little bird to his singing.”

  “A moment! Please!” The boy sounded near tears. Ani pulled her horse around with a heavy sigh.

  “Make it quick, outlander. We have business in the city.”

  “The… city.” The boy blinked. “Of course. As I s
ay, I find myself, ah, sadly without…”

  Askander urged Akkim under the tree and looked up. “Clothes. Naked as a fish. Caught with another man’s lover, hey?”

  “His daughter,” came the woeful reply. “She was willing enough—”

  “Dumped you off out here for the bandits and barbarians without a stitch to cover your hide, did he?” Ani laughed.

  “Yes, and he stole my horse, as well.” The boy indeed looked woebegone.

  “Ah, the folly of youth.” Ani reached back to rummage in her saddlebag. “I suppose I can… Here. It will be a bit short on you, I suppose, but at least your balls will not be hanging out in the wind.” She tossed him an old tunic.

  A brown and surprisingly muscular arm shot out from the tree, and he caught the garment neatly.

  “O great lady, the birds will sing your praises!” He favored her with an impish grin. “Especially this bird.” He pulled the linen over his head and dropped from the branches. A lanky youth, at the most twenty years of age. “If I could beg one further favor…”

  Askander glanced at Ani and sighed. “I suppose you are going to insist on holding his hand all the way to the city. Give you a brat with big brown eyes, and you go soft in the head.”

  Ani looked the youth over and hid a smile. Her girls would be fighting one another for a shot at this one, for sure, curly black hair and mischief to the bone. “Perhaps he will be of use to us. Tell me, boy, do you know Bayyid Eidtein?”

  “I do, O beauteous one.” He started to bow, seemed to think better of it as the hem of her tunic rode up his thigh, and settled for a flourish of his hands instead. “Let me be your guide. I know the city well.”

  “If you do not stop trying to flatter me, I will take my shirt back from you and let you walk naked.”

  His face fell a little at that. “Walk? I had hoped…” He eyed their horses.

  “Do not push your luck, brat. This woman’s bark is bad enough, but her bite is much worse.” Askander turned so Ani could just see the mark her teeth had left on his shoulder, just this morning. If only she had something to throw at him…