"There you are, lad," Sir George declared. "So you've managed to stir up a pot of trouble, and now you've called for me to get you out of it."
"I beg your pardon, but I don't recall that any of this was my fault," Thelvyn replied as Kharendaen rubbed her nose against his chest.
"Stop kissing your dragon and come to dinner," Solveig said as she hurried past him, bearing a large tray to the table. "We were about to start without you."
"Solveig! You've come as well," Thelvyn exclaimed, pleased.
"That was quite a ride, I can tell you," Sir George remarked.
"He rode in the saddle, while I held on behind him," Solveig explained. The tray she carried turned out to be Kharendaen's dinner, a roasted haunch of elk. In a moment, a servant arrived with their meal.
Thelvyn hadn't seen Solveig White-Gold for some time now. She was involved in her business with Sir George and hardly ever came to Braejr. He flashed a warm smile at her, remembering fondly a time when he had been much younger and she had totally fascinated him. Solveig was descended from the fair barbarian folk of the Northern Reaches, and she had been given the name White-Gold because of the pale gold color of her long hair. She was fond of wearing barbarian armor, and she was one of the few people Thelvyn had ever met who was taller than he. She was one of the most deadly fighters he had ever seen, and Thelvyn had learned most of his own fighting skills from her. She had lavished him with the understanding and gruff affection of an older sister for all the time he had known her.
"I trust that Kharendaen has explained everything to you already," Thelvyn said as they sat down to dinner at the solid wooden table set beside the dragon's bed of deep cushions.
"Insofar as she was willing or able to," Sir George said. "Fortunately, I already knew a few of those secrets. I don't suppose that you had any luck with Byen Kalestraan."
Thelvyn shook his head. "I believe the expression is something like "Butter wouldn't have melted in his mouth.' He assumed the stance of a poor misjudged soul. The good wizard asked how he can prove he wasn't involved. Of course, he offered to help us search to our hearts' content."
"And search we shall," Sir George agreed. "Of course, I think I would prefer to do my searching without his help, since my concern is about the places he won't want to show us. As soon as I can arrange things, I think Solveig and I need to have a look in the dark places beneath the Academy. I need you to find out what you can about their older stronghold in Braastar."
"Are you equal to the task of searching the abode of wizards?" Kharendaen asked.
"I trust so," Sir George answered, seemingly unconcerned. "In my time, I've been a knight, a wizard, and a thief, not necessarily in that order. That combination of skills has gotten me in and out of tight places often enough in the past. I think the first question that we need to have answered is whether or not this collar is even here in the Highlands."
"You seem to think it is not," Thelvyn commented.
"No, as a matter of fact, I'm inclined to agree with Kharendaen on that account," Sir George said. "The renegade dragons must have been involved in the theft of the collar. Only a dragon would know what it was and where to find it, and only a dragon could have carried it away. Did anyone ever give you a good description of the thing?"
"No. I simply assumed it must be some kind of a collar large enough to fit a dragon."
Sir George glanced at Kharendaen for approval to speak freely. "It was given to the dragons by the Great One long ago. It's supposedly an artifact of great value and magical power."
"Perhaps I can explain that best," Kharendaen said, although she appeared uncertain about discussing secrets of the dragons so openly. "The Collar of the Dragons was not a gift from the Great One, but an offering of peace to the dragons from the wizards of Blackmoor at the time of their truce with the first Dragonlord. It was indeed very costly, and it supposedly granted the dragons certain powers they desperately needed to survive at a time when their race had nearly been destroyed. I should point out that a collar is the draconic equivalent of a crown, although no dragon has ever worn it as such. There is a prophecy that someday the Dragonking will appear, a mystical figure who will lead his people into a new age of greatness, and he will be the first dragon to wear the collar. I cannot dismiss the possibility that one of the renegade kings has convinced himself that he is the true Dragonking and has stolen the collar to prove his claim."
Solveig looked startled. "So if the Flaem don't have the thing, and the Alphatians don't have it, we have to start checking the renegade dragons?"
"It might come to that," Sir George agreed.
"I should add that, if the wizards did steal it, they would have needed special magic just to carry it away," Kharendaen continued. "The collar was made to draconic proportions and contains nearly an entire ton of gold and jewels. It is not something that a fleeing wizard could have simply stuck in his pocket."
"Kalestraan mentioned that he has no need to steal an artifact of power when he already has his own hidden source of native magic," Thelvyn said. "He said he wouldn't want an artifact of such power so near his own source of magic."
"What the mage says holds little weight. The Fire Wizards have never had much success controlling their secret power," Kharendaen said. "Kalestraan might have seen the collar as a possible means to contain and direct his magical source. Now that he knows that he is suspected, he might try to do something about moving it to a more remote location. If the dragons had discovered it here, he would be in a very difficult position."
"If he tries to move it, we'll be waiting for him," Sir George declared.
"Well, that does answer one thing," Thelvyn declared. "At least now we know why Kalestraan might have been motivated to steal the Collar of the Dragons in the first place. He hoped it might give him control of his hidden source of power."
"On the other hand, if Kalestraan has learned to control his source of power, he might not need to be concerned about the dragons coming to collect the collar," Sir George said, frowning. "He would already have all the power he needed to defend himself against the dragons—or the Dragonlord, for that matter. The fact that he has not yet tried to seize the throne and toss Jherridan and the Dragonlord out is the best proof we have that he either doesn't have the collar or else he hasn't been able to get it to work for him the way he expected."
CHAPTER FOUR
Thelvyn was feeling somewhat better about his situation at court when he arrived the next morning. The morning was devoted to civil court, in which the king heard and pronounced judgment, or at least took under advisement, various important petitions and other civil matters from throughout the Realm. Thelvyn was one of the king's advisors, and as such he might be called upon to offer his opinion on matters being considered. He knew that the lives and livelihood of many people could depend upon an accurate judgment, and he preferred to be on hand to hear those cases for himself.
He entered as inconspicuously as he could through a side door hidden by screens on one side of the throne room. The king was standing on the steps just before his throne as he listened to a petitioner. Jherridan was still young and impatient, so filled with excitement that he would often stand or even pace while conducting business. Thelvyn moved quietly to the end of the gallery on the side of the room. As he did so, one by one all the petitioners in court turned to stare at him, some quietly pointing him out to others. They knew him at once as the Dragonlord, the tall, black-haired foreigner with vaguely elvish features, attired simply for a figure commanding such tremendous power.
Thelvyn waited patiently through the presentation of that week's petitions, but for once he hardly heard a thing. His thoughts were still occupied with his own problems. He hadn't even noticed the morning's business was done until the herald dismissed the court, now empty of petitioners. He was surprised to find that Taeryn, the king's valet, had come up quietly behind him bearing a tray of large cups.
"The king seems quite content lately," Taeryn said in his simple manner. "
He used to worry about the Alphatians all the time—whether they were trying to do something to us, or what he could do in retaliation. Sometimes I wished that the Alphatians would just go away."
"I doubt that the Alphatians will ever 'just go away,' " Thelvyn answered. "But the king might indeed have reason to be less worried about them."
"I've brought liquid refreshments," Taeryn said, proffering the tray. "The king says that you are to join him for lunch."
Thelvyn took one of the cups. He had no idea what had made Taeryn think that he should bring drinks to the throne room if lunch was about to be served, but the young valet did the best he could and everyone was tolerant of his eccentricities. Thelvyn wasn't fond of the spiced, sweetened ale the Flaem seemed to like so well, so he was in no hurry to drink whatever it was he had. He walked slowly over to the front of the dais, waiting while the king spoke quietly with Byen Kalestraan.
"Will you be staying for lunch?" the king asked the wizard as he descended the steps of the dais.
"No, I really must be getting back to my own affairs," Kalestraan said, then turned to Thelvyn. "The king told me of your suggestion, that perhaps we could contribute something important in the war against Alphatia. We have begun the search either for magical weapons or for defenses
against their magic."
"Have you been successful?" Thelvyn asked.
"Unfortunately, it is too early yet to guess whether or not our efforts will bear any fruit," the wizard explained. "So much of our learning was lost in the time of exile. You have doubtless observed for yourself that we have been working exceedingly diligently to build a whole new field of specialties based upon our native fire magic. We will also be doing what we can to determine how much the Alphatians might recall from their own past, or more importantly just how powerful their magic is at this time."
"I have heard the stories of how the ancient magic destroyed the home world of both races," Thelvyn said. "I should think the Alphatians have had a shortage of powerful wizards for at least the last five hundred years, since magic has not played an especially important part in their conquests."
"Are you sure of that?" Kalestraan asked.
"I asked about it when I was in Thyatis," Thelvyn replied. "The Thyatians know more than anyone about the Alphatians since their coming into this world. You might begin your research with them."
"Yes . . . that might be an excellent suggestion," Kalestraan agreed, then bowed to them both. "Gentlemen, if you will excuse me."
Thelvyn watched as the wizard hurried away down the carpet that led from the main doors of the chamber to the throne. The young Dragonlord had the uncomfortable feeling that he had this same conversation once before, five years ago when he and his companions had come to Braejr to try to find a way to subdue a dragon. Kalestraan had seemed friendly and eager to help then, much the same as now. Thelvyn was quietly amused to think that Kalestraan's pleasant demeanor was probably intended to divert suspicions that he had anything to do with the theft of the collar. The young advisor to the king wanted to make certain the Fire Wizards sought Thyatian help by diplomatic means, rather than by resorting to their previous method of pilfering tomes of history and magic from the libraries of other lands.
Jherridan set his untasted cup back on Taeryn's tray. "It would be nice if those wizards came up with something useful for a change. They're too expensive not to get more out of them."
Thelvyn only shrugged. "I'm not so sure they will. They can't have much strong, solid magic at their command, or they wouldn't be so desperate to find more. And I know that the Alphatians aren't doing any better. If you do get your war with Alphatia, I really suspect it to be fought with more conventional weapons."
"Perhaps you are right," Jherridan said. "However, I needn't tell you how strongly our people are motivated by thoughts of ending our ancient conflict with Alphatia. That in itself might encourage our excellent wizards to greater efforts."
Thelvyn tried not to look too amused, but he had never expected to hear the king speak so critically of his wizards.
"The new ambassador from Darokin has arrived," Jherridan continued. "I consider it encouraging that they now consider us important enough to merit an experienced ambassador and a stronger diplomatic presence."
"That will permit you to discuss the subject of an alliance with a high-ranking representative of Darokin for yourself," Thelvyn observed. "If Darokin could be brought to Thyatis's present level of enthusiasm, the war with Alphatia would almost be assured."
"I have that very much in mind," Jherridan admitted. "We will be having a reception for the ambassador as soon as he is settled into his residence."
"Oh?" Thelvyn asked guardedly.
"The ambassador is apparently quite an admirer of the Dragonlord," the king added. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but I very much need for you to be there if you can."
"Yes, of course," Thelvyn answered uncertainly, thinking that it would undoubtedly be a formal affair.
Thelvyn's discomfort with such events was entirely a matter of personal embarrassment. For one thing, he was always required to attend without an escort; the Flaemish ladies had always been quietly cautious of his company since he was a foreigner, and he had preferred keeping to himself since he had come to Braejr. Another source of his dread of such affairs was that he hardly ever dared to attend them dressed in proper attire. Rich clothes, a ceremonial weapon, or even shoes would prevent him from teleporting himself instantly into the armor of the Dragonlord. Of course, everyone knew the reason for his more casual dress, and the king actually approved. Jherridan appreciated having the powers of the Dragonlord immediately at hand in case any situation developed in which they were both vulnerable to attack.
Thelvyn was glad when it finally came time to return home that evening. Darkness was already settling over the city as he made his way through the streets of the fashionable western district of Braejr, and night was coming late with the rapid approach of summer. That morning he had felt especially confident about himself and his new policy of keeping himself removed from affairs that were not an actual part of his duties. He seemed to have supplanted the wizards in the king's favor, which he felt certain would encourage the wizards in their research so Kalestraan might have something to show the king and win approval.
Thelvyn had found the situation gratifying at first, but now he was beginning to feel vaguely uncomfortable. His presence at court had been irrelevant for so long that he was unprepared to suddenly find himself in high favor with everyone and his opinions valued. His efforts at exerting his independence seemed to have worked against him, as if his greater authority and determination had only made him more desirable as an advisor. He had to admit that he would probably feel better about things if Kalestraan did not seem equally impressed with him, since it only brought to mind the wizard's past duplicity. Kalestraan was probably only echoing the king's approval as a matter of political expediency.
To his surprise, he found that Sir George and Solveig had investigated the layout of the Academy during the day, and they proposed to pay a secret visit that night to search for the Collar of the Dragons. The three of them had dinner together and then settled down to wait for the depths of night by retiring to the den, a cozy room that had been appropriated as Sir George's domain since he first moved in. Thelvyn was reminded of an older time, sitting together in the den in Sir George's former house in the remote village of Graez on the northern frontier. It had been a rather brief but still especially important and happy time in Thelvyn's memory, since that was the time of his transition from a frustrated and lonely youth to a full-fledged adventurer in the old knight's company. Still, the setting was less than perfect, for two old friends, Korinn and Parrentin, were absent, and the entire company was unlikely to ever be together again.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come along?" he asked.
Sir George shook his head. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve for escaping if we get caught. If someone sees us, we could pass
for common thieves. But you're entirely too recognizable, and it would be politically difficult for you if the wizards saw you trespassing in their private quarters."
Neither Sir George nor Solveig seemed at all concerned about the prospect of breaking into the Academy. They sat in the den and traded tales of their adventures while they waited for the deepest hours of the night. The Fire Wizards had always held a vague terror for Thelvyn, although he wondered if that was mostly because of the lessons of his difficult childhood among the Flaem. In the past, he had fought renegade dragons in their own lairs, but he was happy to be going to bed when Solveig and Sir George went to collect their weapons and tools for their adventure.
The moon had set early, and the night was especially dark as Sir George and Solveig made their way through the streets of Braejr. The Academy was a sprawling structure built along the inside of the east wall of the city. The large, well-stocked library stood at the north end, the wizards' residences and the student dormitories in the center, and the actual school of magic at the south end, near the river. In formulating his plans, Sir George had concluded that the collar would not be anywhere on the main floor, since it was too large to hide easily, but he thought there was a chance it might be somewhere in the chambers and passages beneath the Academy.
He had already considered his plans carefully, and he had decided that the best way to get into the lower level was through a delivery doorway that led down into the cool cellars below the kitchens. As a mandrake, his vision was sharp enough even in the near total darkness to see the lock clearly, and his abilities as both a thief and a magic-user told him that there were no magical traps or alarms guarding the approach. That came as a bit of discouraging news, since it seemed to indicate that either there was no passage between the cellars and other regions beneath the Academy, or else the wizards simply had nothing there worth guarding.
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