"Not much, and most of it negative. These two don't know where the guns and powder were supposed to go from Enkiar. They don't know who made the powder in the first place; Sternius had all the barrels loaded in his wagons before he put together his team."
"How about the guns?"
She shrugged. "They picked them up at a smith's in Pandathaway, just before they left. Arriken the Salke—he has a medium-big shop on the Street of Steel." She chewed on her lip for a moment. "You know, we could go into Pandathaway and look him up."
Karl nodded. "Not a bad idea. Although the idea of entering Pandathaway makes me a bit nervous." He fingered his beard. "I guess I could lose the beard, maybe dye my hair. Dressed as a sailor—"
"No way." Slovotsky shook his head. "Thousands of people in Pandathaway saw you win the swords competition; a lot of them must still be around."
"I wasn't suggesting that Karl do it. But me, well—"
"Right, Tennetty." Karl snorted. "And there are a whole lot of one-eyed women warriors wandering around."
"Well, there's that glass eye that Thellaren has been trying to sell me. Maybe it won't look natural, but . . ." She fingercombed her bangs to half-cover her eyepatch. "But if I wear my hair like this . . ."
"Hmmm." Slovotsky nodded. "It might work. But why not take it from the other end? Pandathaway is too risky—but we could try it from the Enkiar side. I'm more than a little curious about who the guns and powder were going to, and why. And particularly how much they were paying. There's a technical term for the kind of trouble we'll be in if this stuff is relatively cheap."
"What's that?" Karl asked.
"Deep shit." Slovotsky smiled.
"But how would we do it?" Karl rose and stretched. "We don't know who we'd be looking for. The leader might have, but—"
"But what if he got himself killed? What if, say, the group was jumped by that evil, wicked Karl Cullinane and his raiders? And what if they lost, say, a quarter of their number before their guns drove that wicked Cullinane character off?"
Karl nodded. "Not bad." He turned to Tennetty. "How soon are they due in Enkiar?"
She shrugged. "Whenever they got there. Sternius wasn't rushing, but he wasn't lollygagging, either. I figure they're due in about three tendays, but I doubt that the buyer'd be worried if it took four. Only one problem."
"Well?"
"We need the right . . . props. By the time we get to Enkiar, I'm sure we'll be able to handle these slaver rifles, but that's not going to do it, not all by itself."
"So? What's the problem?"
"The first is the wizard. The buyers will be expecting one; apparently this stuff is too valuable to trust to such a small party without having a wizard around for the extra protection. Even if we put one of us into wizard's robes, that might not fool them."
"That's easy." Walter said. "Ellegon's due tonight; we'll have him fly back Home, bring back Henrad. Time the kid earned his keep."
"That's not enough." Tennetty shook her head. "What if the buyers are expecting the slavers to have a couple of slaves with them? I don't think we could expect Jilla and Danni to play along."
"No," Walter said, "we couldn't. Besides, if everything blew up in our faces, they wouldn't be able to fight their way out. No, we'll do it this way: What happened is that one of the slaves got killed in the fight, and the other tried to escape. We flogged her seriously, then healed her up when infection set in and it looked like it was going to kill her. Left a few scars . . . ."
Tennetty finally got it; she gasped, her face paled. "I can't. No—nobody's putting a collar around my neck."
"Easy, Ten." Karl laid a hand on her arm. "You don't have to. Maybe it won't be necessary for the disguise to work. The thing is, though . . ." He let his voice trail off.
"Well?"
"Who else could do it? Who else could look the part—and fight her way out, if all hell breaks loose?"
Slovotsky nodded. "As it always seems to. The only other choice I can think of is Andy."
"No." Karl shook his head. "No. Not if I'm going to be around. And not if I'm not. Clear?" When Andy-Andy was endangered, it was hard for Karl to concentrate on anything but her safety. He owed the others better—he owed himself better.
Tennetty looked him straight in the eye. "So I'm expendable, but Andrea isn't. Is that the way of it?"
"If you want to think of it that way, then go ahead. It's your choice." He folded his hands over and cracked his knuckles. "But damned if I'm going to justify myself to you, or to anyone else. You got that?"
She grunted.
"I asked if you got that."
"Yes."
"I can't hear you."
"Yes, dammit."
"Fine." He closed his eyes for a moment. He was missing something.
Ahh—if they were going to impersonate the slavers, then this raid didn't happen. And if it didn't happen, then what were all these bodies doing littering the meadow?
He raised a hand and beckoned Erek over. "I want Stick saddled and brought to me; I'm going up to the mesa to wait for Ellegon."
"Messages?"
"Two. First is to Chak. Begins: You and Slovotsky are going to pick a thirty-man team to impersonate some slavers; report to Walter. I want the wagons cleaned up and the insignia remounted; they're to be ready to roll by morning—but keep everyone out of the wizard's wagon; it's to stay sealed up until we have Henrad check it out. Ends. To Gwellin. Begins: Report to Tennetty, immediately. Ends. Go."
Erek nodded and ran off; Karl called Daherrin over. "Change of plans—I want the slavers buried in the woods."
"Buried? What for?"
"Practice."
Daherrin snorted, then broke into a deep-chested laugh. "I will get an explanation eventually, won't I?"
"If you live until dark. Bury them deep; I don't want any wolves digging them up. This raid didn't happen. Got it?"
"Yes, Karl Cullinane." The dwarf walked away, bellowing for his assistants.
Karl turned to Slovotsky. "Walter, I want you to pick the team carefully. No dwarves, and go light on elves."
"Of course."
"Compare notes with Tennetty and Chak. This could easily turn out to be messy; anybody who was even a bit off his game last night goes back Home."
"How about Donidge? I hear he was damn good last night."
"So?"
"So, his wife's due in a few tendays. I think it would be nice if he was around for it."
"Good point—count him out. Same for anybody else with pressing business back Home." He lowered his voice. "Exceptway orfay oinersjay; Ahiraway's avinghay enoughway oubletray, as it is. Kapish?" Pig latin wasn't exactly an elegant code, but no adults from This Side spoke English well enough to puzzle it out.
"Sí, señor. Gwellin's going to lead the overland group?"
"Right. Also, I want you to have the team work out with the slavers' guns, but make sure everyone's damn careful with that powder until we know more about it. Turn in your own guns to Gwellin; he's to have them broken down and loaded onto the flatbed."
"Can I keep a couple of pistols?"
"No—and none of our bullets or powder, either. We're going to play slaver until we get to Enkiar, and I don't want any slipups." Karl turned to Tennetty "You're to supervise the stowing of the slaver powder. I want a little taken out of each barrel and put in a flask. Carefully, now—this stuff might be poison; make sure you don't get any on you. Then seal the barrels back up tight and leave them alone."
"Fine." she nodded. "Who's going back Home with the powder?"
"You are. If Ellegon's brought the basket, you'll take Jilla and Danni with you. Otherwise they'll go back overland with Gwellin. Prepare them for both possibilities. Also, take three of the slavers' guns for analysis—put them with the powder. You're to take slaver rifles and powder to Riccetti and Andy-Andy; have them run an analysis. I'll want Ellegon to catch up with us somewhere this side of Enkiar; we'll set up a rendezvous when he gets here. He can bring Henrad along wit
h him."
"And me?"
"Look—if you want in, you've got it. If you don't, you may as well take some time off at Home. If you do want in, you'll have to get yourself outfitted with that glass eye."
"Very well," Tennetty said. "You can count me out of this one, Karl. I don't want to wear a collar again. Ever."
That was too bad, but he wasn't going to try to push Tennetty into doing something that she really wasn't willing to do. "Fair enough. We'll have to do without."
Walter opened his mouth, then closed it. "Fine."
Erek arrived, leading Karl's horse. Karl pulled himself to Stick's broad back. "Anything else?"
"Yes." Tennetty jerked her thumb at the woods. "I've still got those two slavers."
Damn. Karl had forgotten about that for a moment—forgetting wasn't a luxury he could allow himself. "What kind of shape are they in?"
She shook her head. "Not too bad. Just a few cuts and bruises. I mean, I hamstrung them, of course—"
"Of course."
"—but they're not near dead. Should I fix that? Or do you want to?"
"The watchman lives. I promised him."
"Oh, great. 'Karl Cullinane's word is as good as gold'—is that it?"
"Yes."
"No!"
Stick took a prancing step backward; Karl reined in the stallion with difficulty. "Easy, damn you. . . . Yes, Tennetty. My word counts for something."
"What do you want to do? If we're going to try to impersonate a slaver team, we can't afford to have him wandering around, working his mouth. Do you want me to turn him loose?" she shrilled, her hand resting on the hilt of her saber.
Walter moved behind Tennetty; Karl waved him away. "No, Ten. Take a bottle of healing draughts—one of theirs. Fix up his legs, and one arm. We'll take him back Home, keep him locked up. He won't see any more than traders already have. Once we come back from Enkiar, we'll turn him loose. I promised that he'd live."
Tennetty took a deep breath. "And the other? You didn't promise every bloody slaver his life, did you?"
"No, I didn't. Kill him. Walter, go with her; take charge of the prisoner. I won't want a ley de fuga, kapish?"
"Got it."
Karl gave a light tug on the reins; Stick broke into a canter.
Chapter Three
Ellegon
I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls.
—Job
The night passed slowly, filled with the chirping of crickets, the whisper of wind through the trees, the flickering of the stars, and the pulsing of the faerie lights overhead. The faerie lights were more subdued tonight, changing slowly, as though the bloodshedding of the preceding night had shocked them into sullen dimness.
Karl finished laying the fire, spread his blanket near the edge of the mesa, then sat down, watching the sky, leaving the wood unlit.
Be here tonight, he thought. Please.
Stretching out on the blanket, he pillowed the back of his head on his hands and let his eyes sag shut. It could easily be a long wait.
Karl wasn't on the watch list—rank hath its privileges; and he could have allowed himself to fall asleep in his own tent—but if he wasn't up on the mesa waiting for Ellegon, he would have to put up with the dragon's nagging complaints until Ellegon took off for the trip back Home.
Ellegon was reliable within his limitations, but he did have limitations. It usually took the dragon three days to make it from Home to this particular rendezvous, but any number of things could throw him off schedule. Sometimes, innocuous things—Riccetti might have delayed him to fire a load of soft-pine charcoal, or Nehera might have been working on a batch of high-alloy steel.
Occasionally, Ellegon would be late because the dragon had been delayed at another resupplying stop, helping a hunter team out of trouble.
More than once, Ellegon's arrival had meant the difference between victory and death. A fire-breathing dragon was a nice hole card; standard doctrine, whenever possible, was to schedule a raid just before one of Ellegon's resupplying runs.
Karl smiled, remembering the expression on the face of the slavers who had trapped his team just outside of Lundeyll. Everything had gone wrong that time. A sudden rainsquall had come up, making it impossible for his team to reload their weapons, and it turned out that most of the supposed slaves chained behind the wagons had really been slavers. His back to the Cirric, Karl had resigned himself to a fight to the death, until a familiar voice sounded in his head.
So he had surrendered. Sort of.
Thermyn had been very pleased with his catch, until the moment Ellegon's massive head snaked out from behind a rock outcropping and bit off his legs, leaving an expression more of surprise than pain on his face. . . .
Usually, though, lateness was just a result of Ellegon's trying to avoid people. Dragons were close to extinct in the Eren regions; humans seemed to have an almost instinctive fear of the creatures.
Ellegon didn't fly over populated areas during the day. While the dragon was immune to almost any nonmagical threat, a dragonbaned crossbow bolt could cut through his scales like a hot knife through butter. And though he could fly far, far above the range of any bow, he did have to land eventually. It was best that nobody know when he was in the area, the dragon said.
That was true, but Karl had long suspected that fear of being attacked was only part of the reason the dragon avoided coming within range of strangers; Ellegon simply didn't like reading the hate and fear in their minds.
They had worked out a routine for Ellegon's resupplying trips. The dragon would leave the valley during the afternoon, flying throughout the night and reaching his first resting place just before dawn. He and his human assistant would rest during the day, taking to the air at night, flying as high as possible, crossing the land in night-long hops, finding another resting place before morning, then sleeping, eating, and talking during the day.
Karl had long ago noticed that the more Ellegon liked whoever had been assigned to assist him, the later the dragon tended to be. Extended conversation with adults was a rare pleasure for the dragon; the few Home citizens who really liked Ellegon and felt safe around him were usually too busy to spend much time with him.
* * *
Karl lay back, occasionally nodding off, until a vague reassurance touched his mind, bringing him quickly out of his light sleep.
A familiar voice sounded in his head. *Well? I brought the fatted calf—where are the party hats?*
"Ellegon!" A smile spread across Karl's face; he jumped to his feet. Where are you?
*Just out of sight. I'll be there in a moment. Hang on, stupid.*
The flapping of leathery wings sounded from below. Ellegon's massive form rose above the edge of the mesa; the dragon folded his wings against his sides and landed on the flat surface like a sparrow rising to a perch on a rooftop.
A very massive sparrow—the shock of his landing knocked Karl off his feet.
*Hello, clumsy,* Ellegon said. He was a huge beast, fully the length of a Greyhound bus from the tip of his twitching tail to the end of his saurian snout. He loomed above Karl in the dark, gouts of smoke and steam issuing from nostrils the size of hubcaps.
*Would you help Henrad down? The ride seems to have disagreed with him. He's been like this for the whole trip.*
"I can't imagine why," Karl said. Light the fire, if you can reach from here.
*No problem.* Ellegon snaked his head out and carefully flamed the wood, while Karl walked around the dragon's side and climbed halfway up the rope ladder to help Henrad unbuckle his riding harness and dismount.
Even in the flickering firelight, the apprentice wizard was almost green. Karl brought Henrad over to his blankets and helped him sit down. The boy gratefully waved Karl away, then leaned forward, his head between his knees.
*We ran into a bit of turbulence—rain clouds are moving in. I'll want to take off fairly quickly, if I'm going to outrun it.*
Fine. But why Henrad?
*Objection
?*
No, as a matter of fact, he should come in handy. In the morning, the boy could check out the wizard's wagon and disarm any magical glyphs, leaving any physical traps to Slovotsky. But you didn't answer my question.
*Your wife's idea. His crush on her is getting a bit out of hand—stop that.*
Stop what?
*Stop reaching for your sword. Andrea can handle him; if she couldn't she would have let me know. She just thought she could use a break from his roving hands and from him "accidentally" bumping into her at every opportunity.*
Karl glared at Andy-Andy's apprentice. I'd better have a word with him, anyway.
*I don't remember you being tolerant of other people messing with your apprentices. Leave it be, Karl, leave it be.*
As you did?
*Me?* The dragon's mental voice was all innocence. *What did I do?*
I suppose that you didn't make the ride as rough as possible. Karl snorted. I guess I'm just overly suspicious.
*You should watch that tendency of yours. It's not one of your prettier failings.*
Others had already arrived to help unload. They began by removing the saddlebag-slung leather sacks, then untied the huge wicker basket cupping the rear half of Ellegon's back and unloaded the burlap sacks underneath it.
Tennetty led the two former slaves up to the dragon, muttering reassuring words, while Daherrin carried the bound, blindfolded, gagged slaver over and unceremoniously dumped him in the basket.
"Daherrin," Karl called out, "sling the basket and rig the tarp. It might get a bit wet up there." What did you bring?
*Lamp oil, salt, dried beef, mutton, vegetables, bread—the usual. Open that wooden box first. Lou sent along a dozen bottles of the latest batch of Riccetti's Best.*
Oh? How good is it?
*What does a dragon know about corn whiskey? I can tell you that Ahira swears by it, although I think he's been using a bit too much, of late.*
Karl walked over to the dragon's head and reached up to scratch the fine scales under Ellegon's chin. It was like trying to pet a granite wall.
*Mmm . . . nice. Harder.* It was the thought that counted; Karl would have had to use a hoe for the dragon actually to feel it.
The Silver Crown Page 5
