Arius shrugged. “Of course I am, Ian. Kol is a very reasonable and intelligent young man. I have no idea why you were having so much trouble.”
Kol walked to the green-robbed wizard with his hand out. “Hey, Xavian. Ian. Good to see ya again.” He looked from one wizard to the next, just daring one of them to correct his “diction.”
Neither did.
“You’re Arius’s brother, right? I’m Nikolas Der’helder. I guess we’re all family now.”
One big happy family. Just what he always wanted.
CHAPTER 25
THE GROUND MOVED. The cart. Drynn’s heart raced as he twisted to his hands and knees, waiting for the resistance of rope or metal.
He blinked past the sunlight.
This cart was open and he wasn’t tied. A human man sat with his back toward Drynn. Brown hair curled under the man’s hat, the same color as his long coat, but that was all Drynn saw from behind.
Fire flashed across his memory. He had burned the bar and gotten away, out of the city, and walked in the first direction that presented itself. He had ducked from humans and would not stop. His muscles ached and his thoughts grew distant. Dirt and grass blurred under his feet. Still he had kept walking until . . . nothing.
The man turned, smiling, slight creases framing his brown eyes. “You’re awake.”
Drynn jerked back. Would the man attack him if he tried to jump away?
The man looked back at the road. “I found you face first in the brush a few leagues back. Can’t figure why a boy your size would be out so far alone.”
Drynn stared. His hat was gone, but he still had the band around his ears. It didn’t matter, though. He would reveal himself the moment he opened his mouth—if he hadn’t already.
Just like The Lord had said.
“Come on,” the man said, “I make a living collecting stories, and I figure you owe me that much for cutting your walk short. Did you get your foot stuck in a bear trap a while back?”
Drynn glanced at his foot, still scarred and slightly swollen from walking so much. He was so tired of running aimlessly, but what else could he do? “Where are you taking me?”
“He talks!” The man waved his hand with mock excitement before answering. “Kalum City, of course. The capital. That’s where you’re headed, right?”
Drynn hadn’t been heading anywhere. He had just wanted away. “Where’s Elba?” Maybe if Drynn asked the man now, he would tell him before he figured it out and tried to grab him.
He could still jump off the cart if he needed to.
“The forest?” the man asked. “East. Far east. If that’s where you’re headed, you couldn’t be more off course if you tried.”
So he might get away from this cart, but he wouldn’t be safe, no closer to home than when he started. “In Kalum, there are temples.” Full of experts on the opal and humans who had no interest in grabbing elves, if his dreams could be trusted.
They might be the only thing worth trusting now.
The man nodded. “Sure. Cultist, then? You follow the old religion. On some sort of pilgrimage? We get crowds of foreign monks coming through there in the spring.” The man paused after every line, waiting for Drynn to confirm his guess.
He had to respond with something. Picc had called him a monk once, before the thief saw Drynn’s ears. Maybe that was best. “I got separated from my group.”
“That’s a start, I guess. I’m Jesp Asterson of Kalum City. Bard. You?”
“Drynn.”
“And your father? City of birth?”
He couldn’t tell anyone about his father. It only led to trouble. He should lie, but what human city would be plausible? What human name? Another human on a horse trotted past, coming from the opposite direction.
Drynn ducked.
The horse passed without pause, but Jesp stared at him, twisting in his seat. Then he turned away like he hadn’t noticed anything. “So, the temples. We still get loads of people coming to see them, but it’s been a few years since I made the trip myself. Do you mind company?”
Drynn’s heart raced, a part of him screaming to get out while he could, but an equal part was exhausted and didn’t want to be alone and directionless anymore. He might be able to trust someone at the temples, but what about before then? “I-I don’t want anyone to grab me.”
The man stuck out his hand, smiling. “Deal.”
Drynn flattened his back against the far side of the cart, stumbling over sacks of luggage.
The man looked down at his hand, then brought it back with a shrug. “Don’t shake hands either? All right. I can work with that.”
The cart’s rhythmic movement lulled Drynn to sleep until a series of loud voices pounded their way into his head. Human voices. He wasn’t safe here. Anyone could have grabbed him.
Drynn peered over the side of the cart and fought the urge to duck back down. Large gates gaped before him, opening to a city bigger than all the rest. Plaster and brick buildings with tile rooftops lined the streets. Hooved livestock clanged against the cobblestone, mixed into the boisterous crowd. So many people. So many sounds.
Drynn’s gaze darted from one thing to the next, tracking the movement of the humans on the street, when it hit him. The streets of Kalum City looked exactly the same as they had in his dream. The humans here didn’t wear tunics and leggings—they wore the same collared shirts and vests all the other humans did—but that could easily be explained by the passage of time. Human habits changed all the time.
His dreams were real, and they were on their way to the temples, as promised. He would have all the answers he longed for and be on his way home at last.
Jesp turned the cart off the main road, and Drynn’s restlessness grew. They were going the wrong way. Drynn recognized the streets leading up to the temples, but the feeling wouldn’t leave him. He looked behind his shoulder up the main road, engulfed by the shadow of a building as large as a mountain.
Drynn had never seen anything like it before, not even in a dream. “What’s that?”
Jesp started and jerked around. “There you are. Thought you would sleep the whole way to the temples and it probably wouldn’t do you a bit of harm. There’s some food back there somewhere if you’re hungry, though it’s probably a bit stale by now.”
Drynn’s stomach growled at the reminder. He had barely found anything while foraging on the road, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Especially with memories of Bell pressing forward.
He would be lucky if he ate ever again.
Jesp shrugged. “Suit yourself. What did you want to know about?”
Drynn pointed ahead. Even off the direct road, the building still loomed over everything.
The man turned back to the road. “Alestrial, the Wizard Tower. Never heard of the Tower before?”
Drynn sank into the cart. “I’ve heard of it.” Kol was in there, hating Drynn for leaving him with a wizard who put him there. And if Drynn wasn’t careful this man would take him there too—let the robes take him apart.
Jesp nodded. “Lots of strange stories about the place, but basically, you don’t bother them; they don’t bother you. Too wrapped up in their own mischief.”
That’s not what the thieves had said. Was Jesp lying to settle him down as Kol had? Or were all the other humans lying? It was so hard to keep track. Whatever the case, he needed to smother his fatalistic urge to go there.
Drynn watched the road in silence. He caught himself nodding off again, even with the constant noise of the street. He shook himself, sitting up straighter in the cart.
He wasn’t safe and probably wouldn’t be until he returned home.
“Now the temples are over here,” Jesp said as the cart turned another corner.
Drynn peered at the smaller gates—weather-beaten and cracked, but he still thought he knew them. Weeds overtook the grass and holes in the cobblestone.
Jesp scanned the grounds with him. They were almost completely vacant. “Seems a lot of the groups coming t
hrough here have already moved on. Were you hoping to find someone?”
Drynn slid off the cart and followed the same path Saylee had, turning from the southern purple-marbled temple to his right to the western green temple to his left. The statue of the god and goddess still stood there, but ivy twisted over it. The painted engraved letters on the temple had faded, and the columns held large cracks and gouges.
Dust covered the floor, muffling his footsteps down the empty hall.
Images from his dreams pressed forward in his mind as if to mock him. This place used to be so alive; its current desolation seemed a personal blow. This was the one place in the human realms that he hoped to find answers and help—experts in magic and healing, people who had helped the elves in the beginning—and it was gone.
But then, maybe he should have known that would be the case. Cindle had said the old gods were long gone, and even when he carried the opal, it had done nothing for him.
His dreams could have been only that. Dreams.
Jesp’s footsteps echoed behind him. “Why’d you run off like that? I was worried. Some of the ruins aren’t so stable.”
Ruins. That’s all they were now. There was no help here or anywhere.
Drynn looked at his feet. A scorch mark marred the marble floor. It stretched as long as he was tall, reaching in both directions like open wings.
He bent down and traced its outline. “This looks like the fire bird.” He knew the name in Elven but was unsure of the Human one.
Jesp nodded. “Yes. The phoenix. You don’t know the story?”
Drynn shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Well, you best stick with me for a while longer, because that’s what I do. Going right now if you wanted to come along.”
“Where?” Drynn’s heart raced, now keenly aware that the closest exit was behind this man.
Jesp sidestepped as if noticing the same problem. “To the inn, of course. I’m a bard.”
Bard? It wasn’t a name; it was a trade.
“You tell stories about foreigners and fairies.” Stories which prompted several other humans to hit Drynn upon learning his origin. “Are you going to hit me?” He didn’t know about the phoenix; he didn’t know anything about this city. Even if the man weren’t a bard, he had to know Drynn was foreign, even without seeing his ears.
It had only been a matter of time.
The man was already smiling, laughing. Nothing but a joke to him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. Bards don’t hit people. They only entertain crowds—tell stories, like you said.”
“Thieves do that too.” Kol stood on stage, and Bell sang. They still hit people. And if this man was the origin of all the stories, he could be king of all the thieves.
Jesp’s smile faded, now completely somber. “I’ve heard of that. Thieves ruined a lot of our reputations by building their own troop. Did you get into trouble with a group like that?” He let out a long sigh when Drynn didn’t answer. “Is there anything I can do to get you to trust me?”
Drynn had no idea. He wanted to know what happened to the phoenix. He wanted to trust someone, but how could he? All the humans could be thieves.
Jesp sighed. “I have a wife, if it helps. And a son. You could meet them.”
“You have a wife?” Drynn didn’t think any of the thieves did. They never kissed the same person twice.
“Yes, and Meg would skin me alive if I let a young thing like you run off alone.”
Drynn was nervous, terrified, but this man hadn’t done anything. He had helped Drynn get to the temples, and Drynn hadn’t even thanked the man yet.
His mother might have skinned him alive too . . . or at least frowned a little.
How did any of the humans survive like this? How did Kol do it?
“Do you have a knife?”
“What? No.” Jesp’s eyes narrowed, then he grabbed for his boot. “Well, I have this one, but it’s just for eating. Do you want it? Will it help? Get you through the night?”
Drynn didn’t want it. He didn’t want anyone to have it. He hadn’t wanted to hunt or even hear about dorrans being hurt by goblins in a distant land.
He didn’t want to fence. He never had.
He picked the knife up anyway. Smaller than Tayvin’s sword, duller than Kol’s blades, but maybe it would work for him.
Jesp shook his head. “Now let’s get out of here. It’s getting late. I’m starved, and I still have to return my cart to the stable.”
Drynn nodded. He was ready.
Drynn stared at the sign above the bar’s door. The symbol of a dancing hare rapped rhythmically with the wind. Drynn had never been scared of a rabbit before. Now he was. The place seemed an eerie replica of the one he left in Wildred with the sign of the snarling dragon. Drynn caught himself looking for Picc with a knife to throw and Bell to pour some new drug down his throat.
Drynn caught his breath, reaching for the knife as he crossed the threshold, following after Jesp. Humans lived in boxes. Humans weren’t scared of them.
Jesp went to the counter and talked with the man there. He came back with a plate of food and set it on a table near the back. “You can sit here, by the window. And here.” Jesp took some gravy-drenched meat off his plate and ate it. “Now you know it’s safe. I’ll come find you when I’m done, so don’t go running off.”
Jesp went to where the crowd of humans was thickest. Several greeted him in a chorus, like everyone called to Tayvin at home. A prince among his admirers.
“So, Jesp have any new stories?” one of the men asked.
“Working on a few. But first, I made a new friend.” Jesp waved to Drynn’s table. “Drynn’s a cultist and wants to hear about the phoenix. What do you say?”
A few yelled out their consent and drummed their hands on the tables. Jesp sat on the counter. His voice became much louder and expressive.
Side conversations died down, and others gathered closer to listen.
“Well,” the bard started, hands outstretched as if to shape the importance of his words. “A long time ago there were several temples and several gods. Each god had its own group of devout followers who fell on their faces worshipping the mortal avatars of their god or goddess. One goddess had a group of followers dedicated to preserving the past and healing, writing boring histories, and fixing boring bruises.
“But besides the humans, there was said to be another worshipper as well. A great phoenix.
“It was larger than any other bird in flight and burst into flames at will. Could burn down a whole swarm of libraries, if you really got it worked up. And if someone ever managed to kill it, it would be reborn from its own ashes. It was the great protector of the mortal avatars and became the symbol of the order. Then came the War of Shadow, when many of the old religions died. The mortal avatar disappeared with the bird, and the rest of the order dwindled away.
“The temple stood empty, and there were plans to convert it to express the feeling of the new religions, maybe another bar like this one, just for you, Fledge! A new avatar, the holiest among us!” Jesp waved at a fat man with a red face who tilted his drink back to the cheers of the crowds. Men stomped their feet and laughed.
Drynn glared. Was he ever going to finish this story or just make everyone laugh? It seemed ages since Drynn had been alone with the stories in his library, and he wanted to know what happened next.
“Anyway,” Jesp continued. “They were all set for reconstruction when a great flame in the shape of a bird crashed into the town square. It chased people through the streets, setting fire to open shops and hanging laundry. A bucket brigade organized to stop the terror, but even when they splashed the flame, it had little effect. The phoenix was uncontrollable and faster than a flying arrow, determined to set the whole place on fire.
“Then something happened.
“Maybe a bucket finally struck the right place, or the phoenix lost too much fire on the last pair of long johns. Either way, the bird’s flying became irregular and labored. Ev
erybody knew it was about to crash; it was just a question of where. Crowds gathered as it struggled on to the site of the old temples. It landed, or rather fell, to the marble floor. The flame went out before anyone came near, leaving the scorch mark of a bird and ash that scattered in the wind.”
Drynn leaned in, mouth in an O as the story ended. No more jeering came from the crowd.
“What happened next?” the round man asked.
Jesp shook his head. “Nothing. That’s the end of the story, but the bird’s visit couldn’t be easily forgotten even when the terror died down. Some tried to continue with the temple’s renovation, but the mark couldn’t be removed, and in time, the whole project was abandoned. That was said to have happened over a thousand years ago, and the mark still remains.”
“But wasn’t the bird reborn in the ashes?” Drynn asked, words bursting out. “It’s a phoenix.”
Jesp nodded, smiling at Drynn like a prized pupil, just because he was talking. “Yes, I often wondered about the ending myself and have heard some variations where he did just that, but I decided to tell the most accepted version. Any more requests?”
The bard told several more stories that night, the crowd swelling, then dwindling around him, but Drynn’s mind kept wandering back to the phoenix. The story supported his dreams in a general way, but why did the phoenix die? Was the War of Shadow the same as the Drow War that Starrillaylee was famous for? And if she had followers of this religion in all races, why would she isolate herself and the rest of the elves in the forest?
His questions might never be answered. Drynn hadn’t had any more of his vivid dreams in a long time. Since giving up the opal, in fact. Now his dreams were full of dark rooms without exits. Ropes, chains, and the threat of some human ready to inflict some new torture around every corner, the anticipation worse than the actual blow.
The night wore on, and Drynn fought to keep his eyes open, scanning the crowd every few minutes. Most ignored him, but a black man sitting at a side table kept glancing in his direction.
The Queen's Opal: A Stone Bearers Novel (Book One) Page 25
