Enziet had known that secret, and with it he had, centuries ago, compelled the dragons to leave the Lands of Man. He had put an end to the Man-Dragon Wars by exchanging oaths with the dragons—if they departed from the Lands of Man and allowed him to live, then he would permit them to live and breed, and would keep their secret safe.
Enziet had kept his end of the bargain up to the very instant of his death, when all had become clear to Arlian.
Dragons reproduced by contaminating humans with their venom, mixed with human blood. The elixir that bestowed the "heart of the dragon" upon any ordinary mortal who drank it—as Arlian had, when he lay trapped beneath his grandfather's bleeding, venom-drenched corpse—did more than anyone else had known.
Every member of the Dragon Society knew that a dragonheart was immune to disease and lived for centuries—and during that extended lifespan a dragonheart became ever more detached from humanity, ever more like a dragon. A dragonhearts blood was inhuman, toxic to normal humans, and became more so over time. They knew that, too.
What they did not know was that at the end of a thousand years, more or less, that poisoned blood became a dragon, and burst forth from its human shell.
Arlian had seen the dragon that sprang from Enziet's heart, had seen Enziet's mind behind its eyes—
and had slain it, there in the caves beneath the Desolation.
That was the second great secret, the one Enziet had guessed at but never known for certain. All his life Arlian had heard that no man had ever slain a dragon; he did not know whether it had been true before Enziet's death, but it was true no longer. He had done what even Enziet had never managed.
Dragons were an incarnation of fire and darkness, immune to all weapons of wood or steel—but obsidian, the volcanic glass for which Arlian's home had been named, was fire and darkness made stone, and could cut a dragon's flesh. Enziet had made an obsidian dagger, and Arlian had found it and with it killed the dragon Enziet had become.
These were the two great secrets Arlian knew about the dragons—how they were born, and how they could die. These were Enziet's true legacy, far more precious than his house or lands.
When the dragons destroyed the village of Obsidian and slaughtered Arlian's family, he had sworn to destroy the dragons or die in the attempt. For years, everyone who learned of this oath told him he was mad.
Arlian thought it was entirely possible that he was mad—there could be no question that he had lived through experiences that could drive a man mad—but he also saw that thanks to Enziet, he did indeed have a chance to destroy the dragons, once and for all. In theory, he could hunt them down in their caverns, deep beneath the earth, and kill them while they slept—obsidian weapons should, he hoped, be sufficient.
He could not be certain of that until he tried it, but an obsidian blade thrust into its heart had been enough to kill a newborn dragon, and he could only hope that this vulnerability was not something dragons outgrew.
Finding their underground lairs would be a challenge, but he thought it could be done—by following rumors, by using sorcery, somehow he was sure he could find the dragons.
Furthermore, once he found and slew the existing dragons, he could end the entire race of dragons forever, free humanity of any threat of their resurgence, by destroying all the dragonhearts in the Lands of Man.
Of course, he was one of those dragonhearts, as was his friend Rime, as were all the other members of the Dragon Society.
There might be some way to cure them of the draconic taint, by sorcery or other means, to turn them back to mere mortal men and women again so that they would not undergo the hideous transformation Enziet had—but there might not be any such possibility, and if Arlian could not find a cure he would have to kill them all, and then end his campaign by destroying himself, as well.
Slaughtering the entire Society would take careful planning, and probably some treachery, since he was sworn not to kill any of the Society's members inside the walls of Manfort. He would therefore leave that until later; he would start by hunting down the dragons. That would be a daunting challenge in itself, certainly.
If he survived it and completed the hunt, only then, when the dragons were gone, would he turn his attention to the Society. And only when he was certain that he had exterminated all the others would he take his own life.
This would take a very long time, but after all, there was no hurry. He had a thousand years or so.
When Ferrezin had departed, Arlian began the business of restoring the Old Palace to its proper operation. He waited until Black had seen Ferrezin out, then inquired as to the condition of the staff.
As steward, Black was responsible for overseeing the household, and even though Black had, like himself, only just returned from an absence of months, Arlian was certain that he would have arisen earlier and already seen to his business.
Arlian was correct in that assumption.
"I haven't spoken to everyone," he said, "but Stammer assures me the pantries and larders are well stocked and the ovens and cookware all in good condition."
Stammer was a young widow Arlian had hired after her husband's death of a fever; the deceased, Cover, had been one of the looters Lord Enziet had brought to the ruins of Arlian's village, but Arlian did not blame Stammer for her spouse's crimes. She had proven loyal and competent, and now ran the kitchens.
"Venlin reports the formal coach is in good repair and the horses all healthy," Black continued. "The footmen are all well and at their posts."
Arlian nodded.
"Hasty appears to have taken charge of the house-maids. The house appears clean, but beyond that I can't say."
That was no surprise; Hasty was not the sort to give succinct summaries of anything. She was not a servant, but a guest—one of the former inmates of the House of Carnal Society, her feet amputated to prevent any possibility of escape. When the House was burned Hasty and another woman, Kitten, were taken by Lord Kuruvan, the only ordinary mortal among the six proprietors.
Arlian had dueled Lord Kuruvan and won, freeing the two women. Hasty, however, carried the late Lord Kuruvan's unborn child—who surely could not remain unborn much longer. Arlian felt considerable responsibility for the coming child, since he had killed its father.
"Hasty—has her child been born?" Arlian asked.
"Not yet."
"I should visit her."
"Yes, you should," Black agreed. "You should also talk to Qulu and Isein at the first opportunity."
Qulu and Isein were two of the three Aritheian magicians in Arlian's direct employ; the third, Shibiel, had accompanied Arlian into the Desolation, and would have nothing to report.
Qulu and Isein, though, had had charge of the trade in magical devices that was the basis for much of Lord Obsidian's immense fortune. Arlian had been the first person in decades to make the perilous journey across the Dreaming Mountains to Arithei, reopening the trade route between that mysterious realm where wild magic was everywhere, and the Lands of Man, where magic was scarce and expensive. He had brought back three wagonloads of magical devices, but was no magician himself, and had hired Qulu, Isein, and Shibiel to use and sell those devices.
"Of course. Have you seen them?"
"My responsibilities are the household and your person, Ari; your business enterprises are none of my concern."
"Now, does that mean that they wouldn't talk to you, or that you haven't yet found the time to track them down?"
"It means I delegated that to Thirif and Shibiel, whom I saw at breakfast, and Thirif later told me that Qulu and Isein are glad you have returned, and want to discuss matters with you."
"Very good." Arlian smiled. Thirif was not actually in Arlian's employ, but he had nonetheless joined the pursuit of Lord Enziet, and had provided invaluable assistance. "Is Rime still here?"
"Lady Rime left about an hour ago, to attend to her own estates. She said to tell you that she expects to be quite busy for some time, catching up on matters neglected during he
r absence."
That was no great surprise, although Arlian would have liked a chance to say a farewell and thank Rime for her assistance on the road—and to ask whether she had, in fact, been awake during the events on the plaza outside the gate.
Perhaps, after months spent in close quarters, she had wanted to waste no time in putting a little space between Arlian and herself. If so, he could scarcely blame her. The wagon had been quite crowded.
"And what else?"
The two of them ran quickly through other household matters—not all of which Black had yet investigated. That done, Arlian hesitated. He wanted to see the guests he had left behind—Hasty, Kitten, Lily, and Musk. He also wanted to make sure Cricket and Brook were settling in comfortably.
But business, in the form of Isein and Qulu, beckoned. He left Black to attend to other matters while he turned his own steps toward what had once been the ducal treasury and accounting offices, back when the Old Palace had been the seat of government for the city of Manfort. Arlian had established his own businesses in that wing.
He found Isein and Shibiel talking quietly in their native language in the old tax assessor's hearing chamber; they looked up when he entered, but neither woman spoke immediately—probably because, Arlian thought, neither of them was entirely comfortable speaking Man's Tongue as yet.
Arlian stepped into the room, then bowed.
"My best to you both," he said. "Isein, it is a pleasure to see you again after so long an absence!"
"Welcome home, my lord," Isein said, and Arlian noticed her resisting the temptation to stare at the venom scar on his cheek. "It is good to see you."
"I understand you and Qulu wished to speak to me?"
"Yes." Isein glanced at Shibiel, then faced Arlian once again. "We must return to Arithei," she said.
Arlian frowned, slightly startled. "You wish to leave my employ?"
"No, no." Isein waved a hand in the air helplessly.
"We need to go and come back."
Puzzled, Arlian asked, "Why?"
"Because we have sold it all!" Isein said. "We must get more magic."
Comprehension dawned on Arlian's face.
Encouraged, Isein said, 'Two, maybe three months ago, we ran low. All the best magic was gone then.
Now the rest is gone. Nothing is left. Qulu and I tried to make more, but the ... the air here has so little magic we could do nothing."
"Of course," Arlian said. "So you wish to return to Arithei, and bring back more magic. Excellent. We will assemble a caravan at once."
"Good, good," Isein said. "But Arithei is beyond the mountains."
"A very long way," Arlian agreed. "You should start immediately."
"Yes, but..." Isein looked at Shibiel.
"Amethysts," Shibiel said. "To cross the Dreaming Mountains."
"And silver," Isein added.
"You have your pendants..." Arlian began. He stopped when he saw Isein and Shibiel exchanging glances.
"Caravan " Isein said. "Not just four of us. Four is not enough to be safe. When we came north we were twelve, and had swords and silver and amethysts.
Now we are four, with silver and amethysts, but we have no swords now, and two of us ..." She gestured at herself and Shibiel. 'Two of us are women, not warriors."
Arlian stroked his beard, thereby reminding himself that it needed trimming. Isein had a point—of the dozen Aritheians Arlian had led north, half had scattered across the Borderlands on business of their own. Hlur and her husband had come all the way to Manfort, but Hlur had taken up her post as the Aritheian ambassador here, and would not want to join a trade caravan. That left only the four in the Old Palace—Qulu, Isein, Shibiel, and Thirif. Each of them had a silver necklace with an amethyst pendant—silver kept away some varieties of night-creature that roamed beyond the border, while amethyst, and nothing else, protected the bearer from the mind-destroying nightmares and dream-things that gave the Dreaming Mountains their name.
The Aritheians kept the knowledge of the power of amethysts a secret, so that the Dreaming Mountains would protect them from any outsiders who might seek to exploit or conquer them; no one in the Lands of Man knew, save Arlian and his companions.
Unfortunately, there were no longer any amethysts to be found in Arithei. It was a lack of amethysts that had closed the trade routes, and Arlian's bag of stones, inherited from a dead Aritheian named Hathet, that had reopened them.
And in addition to amethyst and silver, cold steel blades would be needed to handle some of the other monsters along the way — not to mention the bandits who lurked along the southern edge of the Desolation.
Four magicians who had used up their magic would not be much of a caravan, as Isein said, and anyone else who accompanied them would need to carry silver and amethyst to cross the mountains. The silver was no great problem, but amethysts? In the Lands of Man amethysts were considered just pretty rocks, not even fit for cheap jewelry. The Aritheians' secrecy had worked against them in that regard.
"Also," Isein said, "how do we pay for new magic?"
"Silver," Arlian said. That, at least, was simple.
"Your money is all in gold. In Arithei silver is worth more."
"Changing it is no problem. But amethysts ..." Arlian tried to recall whether he had ever seen amethysts in the possession of anyone in the Lands of Man other than himself or the Aritheians.
He didn't remember any.
Arlian had gone to Arithei with one hundred and sixty-eight amethysts; he had returned home with two he had kept for himself, and each of the Aritheians had had one. Now he needed to replace some of the ones he had sold.
Well, he knew where those one hundred and sixty-eight had come from—the mines in Deep Delving, where he and Hathet had been enslaved. He could presumably commission the miners to find him more.
He could inquire of the jewelers in Manfort, as well, but he had little hope of finding much that way.
Returning to the mines ... perhaps it was time he did that. There were old debts to be settled there. There was an overseer called Lampspiller who was on ArIian's list of cruel and abusive people who deserved to be punished, and the old man who had bought Arlian and put him to work in the mines had been a candidate for the list, as well.
Until now Arlian had focused his attention on the people who looted his ruined village, and the six lords who had owned the brothel in Westguard, and of course the dragons, but Lampspiller and the old man might be due for a visit.
Two of the looters had vanished, and the rest were dead. Two of the six lords still lived, here in Manfort, and four were dead. Progress had been made on both those fronts—but the mine was untouched.
And there were two people there, the brothers who had helped him escape, to whom Arlian owed a debt.
He had saved Bloody Hand's life, but Bloody Hand had given him his freedom, which was even more precious. Perhaps it was time to see whether Lord Obsidian could do anything for Enir, called Bloody Hand, and his brother, Linnas.
As for the miners themselves—Arlian frowned. He didn't approve of slavery. He hated the idea that there were still people living out their lives down there in the dark, sleeping in the tunnels, spending their waking hours chiseling lead and silver ore out of the rock. On the other hand, the only slave who might still be alive there who had been anything close to a friend to him was Wark, and Arlian needed someone down there to find the amethysts for him.
Perhaps he could make some arrangement to have the slaves freed after they had provided enough amethysts—
but to do that, he would need to control the mine...
Arlian wondered how much money he actually had.
He had tried, ever since he had first arrived in Manfort as Lord Obsidian, to give the impression that his wealth was infinite, so that he could buy his way into the attention of the six lords he had sworn to find and kill; in fact, his journey to Arithei had made him very, very rich, but he had spent freely, and his magic business had now dried up for lack o
f goods to sell.
But on the other hand, he had just inherited Lord Enziet's estates. Presumably he was now as rich as ever.
Maybe he could buy the entire mine. He would need to find out who owned it.
It was possible that as Lord Enziet's heir, he already owned it. After all, why had Enziet chosen that particular place to sell a young slave?
But if Enziet had owned it, he wouldn't have needed to sell Arlian at all; he could simply have put him to work.
It would definitely call for further investigation.
"We will get more amethysts," he said. "But it may take some time. I'll need to make arrangements, perhaps travel to Deep Delving. For now, you and Qulu should make whatever preparations you can for a caravan to Arithei to buy more magic—buy silver and wagons and so on, but nothing perishable, and don't hire any guards or drivers yet."
"Yes, my lord," Isein said, with a slight bow.
A thought struck Arlian. "Thirif may still have a few items he took with him to the Desolation. And ... Shibiel? Do you have anything left?"
"A few things," Shibiel admitted. "Not many. Not easy things to sell."
"Then perhaps we should just keep those for an emergency," Arlian said. "Thank you both for bringing this to my attention. And since you cannot devote your full attention to selling magic we no longer have, I hope to see more of the three of you!"
With that, he took his leave, and made his way to the south wing of the palace to see that Cricket and Brook were comfortable.
Arlian found Cricket and Brook, his new guests, in a sitting room with Lily, Musk, Kitten, and Hasty. He had come to see whether they were comfortable, but it was instantly apparent that Hasty was not comfortable. There was little Arlian could do about that—the discomforts of late pregnancy were not something that could be remedied by rearranging furniture.
The six women were talking rapidly when he arrived, their conversation punctuated by frequent laughter, as they brought each other up to date on all that had befallen them since they were carried out of the House of Carnal Society almost three years ago.
Arlian stood unnoticed for a moment in the sitting room doorway, listening to their happy voices and enjoying the scent of their hair and clothing and powders, and decided he did not want to interrupt this cheerful reunion. He was about to turn away when Hasty, shifting in her chair as she tried to find a more comfortable position, noticed him and called, "Triv!
The Dragon Society (Obsidian Chronicles Book 2) Page 4