"Fairy stories are important," Jendrai told Alanna. "Legends teach us and guide scholars in searching out the truth of history." He smoothed the map before folding it. "It would be the adventure of a lifetime to find the Dominion Jewel."
Faithful and Alanna looked at each other. The cat's ears had pricked forward at adventure. The knight thought it over. If I win it and return home bringing the Dominion Jewel for the glory of Tortall, no one can suggest that I got my shield with magic and trickery. Instead of being his Majesty's most talked-of knight, I'll be the honored vassal who brought a prize to honor his reign. Another voice in her mind whispered, The Roof of the World! Did I ever meet anyone who'd been that far in his lifetime? It's a place to go. Someplace new. The Goddess said my path would be interesting.
Nahom sighed and put the map away. "Seldom do I regret my family and my duty to them. This is one of those times. I would love to go seeking such a thing. What land wouldn't prosper with the Jewel in its ruler's hands?" He gave the map to Alanna.
"How does it work?" Alanna asked. She fingered the emberstone at her neck. "Do you have to be a sorcerer to wield it?"
"Giamo was no sorcerer," Coram pointed out. "Look at the damage he did."
"Norrin wasn't Gifted, either, although Anj'la knew herb-lore and healing magic," added Jendrai, scanning a scroll rack. "Here." He pulled out one, blew the dust from it (making Faithful sneeze), and unrolled it on the table. "This is in High Gaulish—do you read it?" Alanna and Coram shook their heads. "Here's the section I want. A rough translation is 'Said Jewel worketh its power in two fashions. In the hands of the un-Gifted, it exerteth natural benefices, knitting its power with the Earth's own for as far as its ruler's holdeth sway.' " Stopping, he explained, "The Jewel only works for those who are rulers or conquerors by nature. It also explains why the Jewel was often better used by a commoner than by someone royal-born. Just because you're born to be a king doesn't mean you have the will for it."
"Where was I...? 'In the hand of one Gifted, one who understandeth the devices of sorcery, the Jewel may be more directly used, in healing and war, for fertility or death. A knowledgeable ruler, knowing fully the creation of magical formulae, may create new land from ocean deeps, or return the breath of a dead child. With its wielder's knowledge and the will to rule, the Jewel maketh possible all things.'"
"That's scary," Alanna whispered. "What could Roger have done with the Dominion Jewel?"
Coram said, "Thank the gods we'll never learn."
OUTSIDE THE air was raw, a reminder that winter was not done. Alanna shivered, walking briskly to keep up with Coram. Faithful trotted in front, sniffing the night wind. Alanna thought wistfully about the Bazhir lands—winter came to them as chilly rains, not snow and ice. She preferred the desert winter; she was afraid of cold weather, in a way she couldn't understand.
They weren't far from the inn when Coram spoke. "What will ye do?" Realizing she'd been thinking of something else, he explained, "The Jewel, my lady."
"I think we should find it."
"Knowin' how ye like the cold, I didn't think ye'd fancy the Roof."
Alanna made a face. "You're right. Still, if that's where the Jewel is—"
Faithful hissed, We have company.
Coram glanced around. "Rogues." His voice was loud enough for Alanna to hear, no louder. "Wantin' to take our purses, doubtless."
Alanna glanced to the corner ahead, where five men in dark clothing blocked their escape. She drew Lightning: it shimmered faintly. "Why so many of them for two of us?"
"Four more on yer right," Coram hissed. "Because they've little else to do?" Out came his broadsword.
Of the thieves, two held swords, two more carried short axes, three had iron-shod staffs. Alanna guessed that the others had knives. "Let us by," she ordered. "You don't want the trouble it'll take to get our money." She made the sign George taught her, the one to give her safe passage among rogues.
One of them stepped forward, his sword up. "Be ye Alanna of Trebond in Tortall? Her as claims she's a true knight?"
Coram bristled. "Ye'll find she's knight enough if ye step just a bit closer."
"Our business ain't with ye, master," someone else barked. "Leave now, else ye be hurt."
"I'll leave if ye do the same—or when ye're dead. It's all the same to me." Coram shifted his stance, planting himself firmly.
Alanna looked at the one who'd spoken first. "I'm Alanna of Trebond and Olau."
"We bring ye regards from him known as Claw, back in Tortall. He bids us tell ye mourn for yer lover now, whilst ye have breath. George Cooper will be dead afore summer, but we're to send ye t'the Black God first!"
He threw himself at Alanna, the swordsmen and staffmen following with a yell. Alanna moved until she and Coram were back to back, meeting the speaker's charge and knocking his weapon aside. He came at her again with a backhand chop, and she knew he'd had a little training. It wasn't enough compared to hers. She brought Lightning down across his chest, cutting deeply. He fell, and she looked for her next foe.
There was little room to maneuver, little chance to counter single opponents. The thieves understood simultaneous attack. Alanna and Coram blocked automatically, searching for anything that could be turned to their advantage. Hesitation now would mean death.
One of the staffmen swung and missed—she ran him through. Coram shouted fiercely, and someone screamed. When a swordsman looked to see the screamer's fate, Alanna slashed his leg. He dropped with a cry. A knife fighter rushed to pick up the fallen sword.
A black lump dropped from a roof, clinging to one man's scalp. Trying to dislodge Faithful, the thief fell into an axe's downswing. He lost his life. A second later the axeman was down, a victim of Alanna's rapid side-cut. She could hear Coram gasping. Sweat dripped into her eyes.
Alanna's left arm stung. She reversed Lightning in a crescent, killing the man who'd wounded her. She was bleeding, but she didn't dare stop to bind the cut.
Faithful launched himself again, yowling fiercely. Coram shouted and was down, bleeding from the thigh. Alanna swung to stand over him, her brain coldly taking charge. Later she'd remember that sweat stung in her eyes, that her arm hurt, that she was scared for Coram. Now she blocked and cut like a machine, looking everywhere at once.
For a moment Lightning was caught under an axe blade. Trying to free her sword, Alanna was knocked down by a staff. Cursing, she rolled to her feet. Before she had her balance, two thieves leaped on her, forcing her down.
One gripped her arms, yanking them behind her back. Alanna bit her lip to keep from screaming. She'd always been afraid this would happen. Disarmed, in the clutch of a stronger opponent, she was trapped. The second rogue grinned at her, reaching for her tunic.
The street echoed with an animal roar. Something shot into the man in front of Alanna: he rammed into a nearby wall and was still. Liam hit the ground on both feet, spun and kicked back into an attacker. The man seemed to leap backward, sprawling yards away. The Dragon shifted, his leg furling up and out, streaking toward Alanna. She froze, and Liam's kick struck the man gripping her. She was free.
Liam grinned, then whirled to face the last killers. They fought and died, the street echoing with the Dragon's cry. Alanna's hands worked as she watched, cutting up her tunic for a bandage. Kneeling by Coram, she examined his bleeding thigh.
"It's not bad," Coram assured her through clenched teeth. "I've had worse. He's a sight, isn't he?"
Alanna nodded as she tied the bandage over the wound, pressing to stop the bleeding. The stories she'd heard about Shang came nowhere near the truth. The Dragon went from blow to kick in a blur. When he struck a man, that man went down and stayed down.
"Ye're bleedin' " Coram rasped, holding her arm. "Ye must have it seen to."
Alanna barely heard him. Awed by Liam, she whispered, "I'll never be that good."
Coram snorted. "I've news for your ladyship." He sat up, replacing her hands on the bandage with one of his own. "Ye're just
as quick, with a sword in yer hand."
Silence returned. Those of their attackers who were able had fled. The ones who remained were either too badly hurt to run or were dead.
The Dragon came to Alanna and Coram, examining a tear in his sleeve. "You're all right?" He looked worriedly at Alanna, who was beginning to feel dizzy and a little sick. Coram reached up, and Liam helped him to his feet. "I was coming back from the home of a friend, and I heard the noise. Don't you know enough to stay out of trouble?"
Faithful came out of the shadows, his tail switching irritably. We do, the man and I. She doesn't.
Liam glanced down at the cat, frowning. "Did…? No." He caught Alanna as she faltered and dropped in a faint.
"It didn't look like a bad wound," Coram said, taking Alanna's left hand and examining the cut running across her forearm. Then he swore, seeing the wound reached up the back of her arm to the shoulder. Alanna's shirtsleeve was thick with blood. "I'll tear a bandage," he ordered Liam, pulling off his tunic. "We'd best take her to the inn fast—Windfeld can fetch a healer." Quickly he reduced the garment to strips and formed a bandage for the knight's arm. Once it was in place, he set off down the street.
"Does she often do this?" the Dragon asked, following with Alanna.
"She's worn herself out other ways before this, silly lass. She's quick t'tell ye when to stop, but she never thinks maybe she should listen to her own advice."
When they reached the Wandering Bard, Windfeld took over. In the space of a few minutes a healer was seeing to Alanna while another stitched Coram's thigh. Liam went to the kitchen and returned with a mug of tea for Coram. The man-at-arms took one sniff and coughed.
"What've I ever done to ye?" he demanded.
Liam grinned. "It smells better than it tastes. Drink it—I've had to myself. Shang taught us all manner of herb-lore, in case we get caught with no healer near."
Coram shrugged and obeyed, choking as the stuff went down. He felt better almost immediately. "Whatever it is, it works. I don't want t'know what it is," he said quickly when Liam opened his mouth.
"It's only herbs. Your lady gets the same, when she wakes up. Now—who were those men?"
"Messengers, of a kind. From an enemy of—of a friend of hers." Coram blushed. Liam raised an eyebrow, but the older man shook his head. He was not going to tell an almost-stranger, not even this one, the whole truth. "Someone who knew that if she was killed, it'd hurt Cooper—her friend."
Liam yawned and stretched. Coram was envious. The redheaded man looked as if he'd been exercising hard, not fighting. "Well, this Cooper's unhurt, and the two of you will heal."
Coram got up stiffly and offered Liam his hand. "We owe ye our lives. We won't forget."
Liam returned his grip. "You'd've managed, I think. I just speeded things along."
2: The Road East
SHE SUPPOSED she was sleeping. Her twin brother, the sorcerer Thom, stood before a tomb with his hands upraised. His Gift, violet colored like her own, glittered around him. Thom was pale, sick-looking. The door to the tomb began to open.
Thom looked at her. "I don't have enough power to shut it. I need your Gift. And I need that." He reached for the emberstone at her throat. She clung to it.
"No, Thom! The Goddess gave it to me. I'll never take if off!"
"Calm down." The voice was male, warm. "Keep your trinket."
She dreamed again. George Cooper sat at Myles's desk, staring moodily at a painting. With surprise she saw it was a miniature of her in gold-washed chain mail, her lioness shield at her feet. Did he have it painted from his description of her?
There were silver threads in his dark hair. "But you aren't even thirty!" she protested.
He didn't hear. "Who will you be, my darlin'?" he asked the painting.
The door flew open. Jonathan entered, looking as if he'd been in a fight. "I hear the Earth cracking," he whispered.
Her eyes flew open. "Coram!" she yelled, scared because she felt so weak. She was in bed.
"He's sleeping." Liam stood beside her, a steaming mug in his hands. "He didn't lose as much blood as you, but he still tires fast."
Alanna sat up. Outside rain fell; somewhere closer a fire crackled. If only her head would stop spinning! "How'd you get to be assistant nurse?"
He winked at her. "Coram trusts me. Don't you?"
In spite of herself, Alanna smiled. "Not a bit."
Liam shook his head. "So young, and so cynical. Drink this."
Coram would have warned her about the brew, had he been there. As it was, she took a good swallow before she even noticed the smell. It was nasty, bitter stuff with herbs in it. Her stomach tried to heave. With an act of will Alanna made it stay put. Closing her eyes, she went back to sleep.
LIAM WAS by the fire when she woke again. Faithful curled beside him, purring—the big man plainly had the cat's approval. The scent of meat cooking rose from downstairs, making Alanna's mouth water. She was hungry!
Liam smiled. "About time." He gave her another mug of tea, one that smelled far better than the last. "Sit up and try this. If it stays down, you can eat."
Alanna obeyed, still amazed that the Shang Dragon should have an interest in her. His tea tasted of cinnamon and oranges.
His eyes held hers until she blushed. Lifting her hand, he kissed it—his lips were warm. This gets more interesting all the time! she thought.
"Enough of that." It was Coram, bearing a heavily laden tray. "If ye're not embarrassin' each other, ye might think of my tender feelin's."
Liam helped with the tray. "Your tender feelings?" he joked. "You haven't any."
Alanna watched as they set out the food. Clearly they'd become friends, which was good if Liam pursued her (as he clearly meant to). Coram was difficult if he didn't approve of her romances. His feelings had made for an uncomfortable week in George's Port Caynn house, until the two men came to a truce (it helped that Coram had fallen in love with George's cousin Rispah).
She watched the Dragon, remembering what she'd seen of his fighting. What was he like with sword or axe? If he was as fast with weapons as he was unarmed, he'd be almost unstoppable. She was good with sword and axe and bow, but take away her weapons and she was in trouble.
How can he want me? she asked herself, puzzled. He could have any woman—why pick one who's not even very feminine? She took the tray he gave her, blushing when their hands touched. Well, that's part of it, she thought as she spooned up soup. Sheer physical attraction.
Once the servants cleared the dishes, the three settled back to talk. "Coram showed me your map," Liam informed her. "He tells me you're bound for the Roof of the World."
"Coram's been very talkative," she said drily.
The older man flushed. "Liam's been about these parts a bit, Miss. If he can advise us on the road to take, so much the better!"
Alanna turned to Liam. "Well?"
"You should avoid Sarain."
"Is their civil war so bad?"
Peeling an orange, he nodded. "Do you know anything about the Saren?"
"Some," she replied, bristling at the hint she was ignorant. "I had an excellent education."
He looked doubtful. "Nobles rarely know as much as they think they do—not about the real world. Who rules Sarain?"
Alanna scowled. She had not thought Liam might have a side she didn't like, but this older-and-wiser-head approach got under her skin. "The jin Wilima—their title is warlord, not king. The current one is—uhm—Adigun, the third jin Wilima ruler. Two years ago rebels tried to overthrow him and crown Dusan zhir Anduo in his place. Zhir Anduo's descended from their former kings, the zhirit Kaufain."
Coram gave the Dragon an elbow in the ribs. "So there."
"You are educated," chuckled Liam.
Alanna glared at both men. "My adoptive father keeps up with things. He says zhir Anduo's rebels won't unseat their Warlord."
"That was true once." Liam poked the fire and added another log. "Jin Wilima bought mercenaries last spr
ing. They destroyed towns, crops—people." His eyes turned icy green. "The K'mir rebelled against both sides."
"The K'mir are tribesmen, like our Bazhir," explained Coram.
"Jin Wilima married one—her name was Kalasin." Liam scratched Faithful's upturned chin. "The most beautiful woman in the world."
"What happened to her?" Alanna sat up, hugging her knees, intrigued by this glimpse of an alien society.
Liam shook his head. It was Coram who answered quietly, "Killed herself last summer. Her daughter Thayet's as lovely as she was, they say."
"But Thayet isn't the heir," Liam said. "The throne's up for whoever can take it, and the K'mir promise to fight the winner."
Alanna thought it over. "Can we avoid passing through Sarain?"
"Get a boat out of Fortress Jirokan at the border," Liam told her. "Take it down the Shappa, then a coastal runner to Udayapur—"
Alanna blanched. "No boats!" The handful of times she'd been in one, she had been disgracefully sick.
Coram grinned. "I told ye, lad."
The Dragon smoothed his mustache. "Then take the Shappa Road to the Inland Sea, and the Coast Road east. The war's in the mountains and highlands, not down by their coast."
Alanna struggled with a yawn. Liam rose. "Past your bedtime, little girl. I'll ride with you as far as the Saren border, whichever way you choose."
Alanna consulted Coram with a look; he nodded his approval. "We'll be glad to have your company." She added, "I always wanted to learn Shang fighting—the unarmed kind."
Liam shook his head. "You're too old."
Alanna glared at him. "First you call me 'little girl' and then you say I'm too old. Make up your mind."
"And then she'll go to a great deal of effort t'prove ye wrong," Coram joked as he opened the door for Liam. Returning to his knight-mistress, he drew his chair over to the bed. "I like him. He won't let ye run him ragged."
Song of the Lioness #4 - Lioness Rampant Page 3
