The Dragon Society (Obsidian Chronicles Book 2)

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  "Indeed, I think we now have," Hardior said. He turned.

  Arlian was scarcely in time to open the door for him.

  On the morrow, after the midday meal, Arlian dressed in his best clothes and allowed Cricket and Lily to comb and trim his hair. He donned his best white silk shirt and a black linen coat, with a red silk scarf to add a touch of color—and hide the cut Toribor had made on his throat. The slash on his forehead was not so readily concealed, and remained visible.

  When his preparations were complete he made his way up to the Citadel. He did not bother with the coach, but walked theone-mile distance and arrived perhaps a quarter-hour before the appointed time.

  He used this extra time to look over those portions of the Citadel open to the public. Unlike most visitors, though, he looked not so much at the paintings, tapes-tries, gardens, and statuary, but at the defenses—after all, the original Citadel had once lived up to its name.

  That time was long past. The moat had been mostly filled in, becoming a garden and a series of ornamental fishponds. The battlements had been widened into ve-randahs and terraces. Openings clearly originally intended for dumping large objects or hot liquids on unwelcome visitors now had glass-paned doors in them and opened on ornate balconies.

  And that was the outer defenses. The inner structure had never been defensible at all.

  The original Citadel had been built well after the end of the war against the dragons, during an unsettled period, and had been designed to fend off rioters and re-bellious lords, not dragons. When peace came the Citadel had been abandoned in favor of the Old Palace—then simply the Ducal Palace—but after a century or two the present Duke's grandfather had decided the palace was too much trouble to maintain and had had the ruins of the inner Citadel torn down and a new palace built on the site. The old walls, outerworks, and tunnels provided plenty of space for the bureaucracy necessary to run Manfort, and if that stone-walled space was less pleasant than the plaster and gilt rooms in the Old Palace, that bothered the Dukes not at all.

  The new palace, the inner Citadel, was the Duke's home, and it was as luxurious as anyone could ask.

  Arlian could not help thinking, though, that if the dragons ever did return the Citadel would be about the most unsafe place in the city. Most of Manfort was built of gray stone, unbroken by trees or gardens; every street and alley was paved. That was so the dragons would have little to burn; flaming venom would simply run harmlessly off the stone.

  Of course, draconic talons could break stone if necessary, but at least the solid walls and pavements would slow them down.

  The one part of the city that was not built of stone was the Upper City, where several great lords had, over the centuries, built themselves mansions and palaces, complete with broad windows, spacious gardens, and wooden structures as well as stone. For at least five hundred years now no one had thought the dragons would ever return to Manfort, and the architecture reflected that

  And as long as Enziet had lived, the dragons would indeed not return—but Enziet was dead, and Arlian estimated that a dragon could reduce most of the Citadel to burning ruins in a matter of minutes.

  Of course, his own home in the Old Palace was no better. The Grey House would be safe—but Arlian still intended to sell it If the dragons came he did not want to cower behind stone walls, but to face them openly.

  He was standing on a path in what had once been the moat, watching butterflies dance above the flowers, when a footman came hurrying up.

  "Lord Obsidian?" he asked.

  Arlian turned. "Yes?"

  "His Grace will see you now. If you would follow roe?"

  Arlian followed.

  He discovered, however, that "now" actually meant after roughly a quarter hour of sitting in an antechamber staring at a painting of the present Duke's grand-mother when she was a young woman. Arlian could not decide whether she had been the most vapid-looking woman he had ever seen, or the artist had simply been exceptionally unflattering.

  At last, though, he was shown into the Duke's audience chamber, where His Grace sat upon a great red cushion beneath a silken canopy. Arlian went down on one knee, as Black had instructed him, ignoring the half-dozen courtiers and guards standing to either side.

  He had seen some of the courtiers before, at the auction of Dnsheen's estate; he was pleased to see that none of those present were dragonhearts.

  At least one was probably a spy for Lord Hardior, though.

  "Lord Obsidian," the Duke said, smiling. "A pleasure to see you again!" The smile appeared genuine.

  "The pleasure and honor is all mine, Your Grace,"

  Arlian replied, rising.

  "I understand you wanted to see me," the Duke said, still smiling.

  "Yes, Your Grace," Arlian said. "I wanted to ask you why your guards attempted to enter my estate the other day. If there's something I have that you need, surely I can find it for you more easily than your soldiers."

  "Ah, that!" The smile dimmed somewhat. "Your people must have told you what I'd sent my men for—

  to fetch out those sorcerous weapons of yours."

  Arlian feigned puzzlement. "So they said, Your Grace, but I have no sorcerous weapons."

  "Oh, come now! You don't claim you haven't been making strange weapons, do you?"

  The appearance of sudden understanding transformed Arlian's features. "I have been making obsidian weapons, Your Grace," he said. "An affectation to accompany my name." He had devised this he the night before, but he had not decided until this very moment whether he would use it. Now, looking at the Duke, he believed that Lord Hardior would live up to his threats, and he did not see any reason to condemn this harmless old fool to death.

  "I assure you," he concluded, "there is nothing sorcerous about them."

  "Indeed? I am told one of these spears dispelled a sorcerous illusion when poor Lord Stiam died of a curse someone had put upon him."

  Arlian waved the idea away. "Any spear would have done as well against the sorcery there. I brought obsidian merely because I had them on hand."

  "That was not the impression Lord Hardior received."

  "Oh, now, Your Grace, please don't hold me responsible for Lord Hardior's errors and misinterpretations!

  I have enough trouble coping with my own."

  The Duke chuckled. "Of course," he said.

  For a moment the two men simply looked at one another, then Arlian cleared his throat and said, "Your Grace has not told me why the order to confiscate my weapons was given."

  "Oh, well, it was just a precaution," the Duke said, waving a hand dismissively. "When I heard that you had challenged Lord Belly, I was uncertain as to just what you might be planning. The possibility that you might die, and the weapons fall into the wrong hands, had to be considered; likewise the possibility that you had gone mad. Lord Hardior assured me that the spears were sorcerous. I am no sorcerer myself, and it seemed wise to take precautions, as I said."

  "And were the archers on the wall another precaution?'

  The Duke's smile vanished completely.

  "You saw them."

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  "That was Hardior's doing. I ordered them removed.

  [ do not use assassins. I think Lord Enziet did, on my behalf or my father's, but I nev r liked the idea. If I want you removed, my lord, I will have you arrested and properly tried, not shot from ambush."

  "I am reassured, Your Grace," Arlian said, trying not to sound sarcastic.

  "I'm sure you are," the Duke said. He studied Arlian seriously for a moment, then said, "You're a strange man, Obsidian."

  "I do not mean to be," Arlian replied, honestly.

  "Yet you are. I don't understand you, and that means I need to be careful. Lord Hardior says you're dangerous, and he may well be right."

  Arlian could think of no safe response to this.

  "You've killed several of my lords," the Duke continued. "The gossip would have it that you were pursuing some personal vengeance,
but all the same, you've cut an impressive swath through Manfort. The Aritheian ambassador, and Lord Enziet, and Lord Drisheen..."

  Arlian opened his mouth to protest, but remembered at the last instant that one did not interrupt the Duke of Manfort.

  "... Lord Iron and Lord Kuruvan, Lord Stiam, Lord Wither..

  The strain of not responding was plainly visible on his face, but Arlian kept his tongue still.

  "... and then it appeared you meant to kill Lord Belly, as well. When you had disposed of Enziet I had thought you were finished, but then there were three more, and Hardior said he did not think you would ever stop killing. I can't have that—I need to know that my advisers will live long enough to advise me!"

  "Your Grace, I did not kill all those people!" Arlian said, when the Duke finally paused. "I did not kill Stiam or Wither or Enziet, nor the Aritheian ambassador."

  "Then do they still live?"

  "Ah ... no. I don't know what became of the ambassador; that was an internal matter among the Aritheians and I thought it best not to ask. Lord Stiam died of a fever, and both Wither and Enziet took their own fives."

  "Enziet a suicide? I did not know Lord Wither well enough to say whether he might consider such an act, but Enziet?"

  "We fought, and his sword broke, Your Grace; he stabbed himself in the heart rather than yield to me."

  The Duke's expression made it plain he still didn't believe Arlian's account.

  "Your Grace, I admit to killing Lord Drisheen; why then would I deny killing Enziet, had I done so?"

  "I have already said I do not understand you, Obsidian." He waved the matter aside. "In any case, you certainly attempted to kill him, yes?"

  "Yes." Arlian admitted.

  "Then the details don't matter. You're responsible for the deaths of half a dozen lords, not to mention at least two of my guards and, rumor would have it, a shopkeeper or two."

  "That was Enziet!"

  "The details, as I said, do not matter," the Duke said angrily. "Whatever the exact circumstances, you have killed several men in my service. You have let it be known that you had personal reasons for each killing—but all the same, the result has been to remove several of my supporters. Furthermore, sorcerous or not, you've been making weapons—and by all accounts not just a handful for the guards at your gate, but enough to equip a small army. And what is there in Manfort to turn an army against, my lord? What else, but myself?"

  Arlian's mouth opened, then closed again.

  "This is what Hardior suggested to me, at any rate, and he advised me to remove you once and for all.

  Lady Rime argued for your life, and I agreed, because I had no proof that you meant me any harm—but still, why did you need all those spears? So I sent my men to retrieve them until we could discuss the matter—

  and your men refused them, going so far as to use magic against them!"

  They acted without orders, Your Grace," Arlian said.

  Of course, if he had suspected the occasion might arise, he would have ordered them to do exactly what they had, in fact, done.

  "I thought that might be the case," the Duke said, sitting back. "And you spared Belly's life, even letting him think he had beaten you, so that suggested you were perhaps not the bloodthirsty lunatic Hardior believed you to be. In fact, it suggested you haven't the courage to plot against me!"

  Arlian blinked at that—had Zaner spoken to the Duke, perhaps?

  Before he could say anything, the Duke continued.

  "I decided to think matters over before pursuing the matter of the spears further—and then you requested this audience, and here we are, able to discuss it like the men of good sense we are."

  "I assure you, Your Grace, the notion that those spears might be turned against your guards had never even occurred to me," Arlian said, deciding to ignore the implication of cowardice. "I have no designs on you or Manfort at all."

  The Duke nodded. "Then what did you want so many spears for?"

  For once, Arlian's knack for quick lies failed him, and the idea of speaking the truth, and risking Hardior's retaliation, did not appeal to him. Telling the Duke of Manfort that those weapons were intended to fight dragons did not seem like a good idea at all. He stood awkwardly silent for a moment, then said, "I wanted to have enough for my entire staff."

  "Why?"

  "I... I don't know; just a whim."

  The Duke's expression was plain; he thought Arlian a liar, a madman, or both.

  Before he could speak, though, inspiration struck, and Arlian said, "Your Grace, I confess, it was more than a whim. I do have a use for those weapons, but it's a trade secret. Must I reveal it?"

  That clearly intrigued the Duke. "I'm afraid you must," he said.

  Arlian sighed theatrically. "Of course you know, Your Grace, that my fortune is built upon trading in Aritheian magic. Have you ever wondered what I trade to the Aritheians for their magic?"

  "Weapons?" The Duke was obviously delighted by his own perspicacity in producing this answer.

  Arlian nodded. "I give them the weapons they need to defend themselves against the wild magic in those unholy lands beyond the border."

  "And you've been preparing your trading stock? Is that what these spears are for?"

  "Exactly. Your Grace is very quick."

  "I see! And you've kept this secret so that no one else could share in your profits."

  "Exactly," Arlian repeated.

  The Duke considered this for a moment, staring at Arlian. Then he said, "You know, there are other rumors about you, besides Hardior's theory that you meant to take the city from me by force or sorcery."

  "Oh?"

  "It's rumored that you used sorcery to kill Stiam, and then destroyed the sorcerous aftereffects to remove any evidence that another sorcerer could use against you."

  "Your Grace, I had no part in causing Lord Stiam's death. I swear it by the dead gods."

  "And it's said that Lord Wither caught you somehow, and you slew him to cover your tracks, and bribed his clerk and his servants to he, and say he killed himself."

  "Your Grace, Lord Wither believed that he had con-tracted die same ailment that killed Lord Stiam, and he chose to die quickly rather than suffer as Stiam had."

  The Duke leaned forward now and spoke quietly, apparently not wishing his courtiers to hear. "Some people claim that you and Lord Enziet knew how to make an elixir of immortality, and fought over who would control it—that that was the root of your conflict."

  That one caught Arlian off-guard, and he hesitated

  "We all knew that Enziet had some sort of elixir,"

  the Duke added. "After all, he advised my father and grandfather, and looked no older when I last saw him than he did when I was a child. He claimed the for-mula was lost, though, no matter what threats were made, or what payment offered."

  "I cannot say anything about that," Arlian said. "I know of no elixir of immortality"

  That was the truth. After all, dragon venom did not provide immortality, but only a millennium of incuba-tion for a new dragon.

  "That's unfortunate. I would pay almost any price for such a thing."

  "I cannot help you, Your Grace." He suppressed a shudder at the idea of this fool of a Duke living and reigning for a thousand years, becoming ever more draconic —not to mention the Question of the succes-sion when he did eventually die, since as a dragonheart he would be sterile.

  The Duke sat back again and said, "I see. Ah, well.

  And you swear that you planned no treason, and did not intend to use those stone-tipped weapons against me?"

  "I swear it, Your Grace, by all the gods, alive or dead."

  "Nonetheless, I think it might be best if you were to remove them from the city."

  That startled him. "Your Grace?"

  "I want those obsidian weapons removed from Manfort. You say they are not sorcerous, and that you did not intend to turn them against me, but nonetheless, my lord, they do cause rumors. I do not insist they be destro
yed, but I will be happier when they are no longer within the walls."

  Reluctantly, Arlian decided he had no choice in this.

  The Duke had plainly made up his mind.

  Arlian had put off any travel, in case the dragons came sweeping down upon Manfort, but there were matters to attend to in Deep Delving, and magic to be brought from Arithei, and really, what could he hope to do if the dragons did come, if he had no aid from either the Dragon Society or the Duke? It was time to go.

  Taking the weapons on his postponed journey would be an inconvenience, since they would take up space in the wagons, and it would mean that there would be no weapons ready should the dragons attack Manfort—but then, why would they attack, if Arlian was not in the city? He was the one who had revealed their secrets and otherwise angered them.

  And the Duke appeared quite determined in his desire to have the weapons removed. Arlian bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace. I had been planning a trip to the south, to trade; I will take the obsidian weapons with me."

  Of course, this expedition would also give Hardior a chance to kill him once he was outside the city—but that did not trouble him He was fairly sure he could handle an assassin or two, and if Hardior sent a larger force against him word would get back to the Duke, which would probably not have pleasant consequences.

  "I do not require that you leave the city, my lord,"

  the Duke said, startled. "Only that you remove the weapons."

  "Of course, Your Grace—but in fact, I do have business to attend to outside Manfort, and this will permit me to make absolutely certain that the weapons are not stolen or mishandled."

  "I see. And you know, I think you are wise in this,"

  the Duke said. "Your presence has unsettled Manfort, and I think the city needs a rest For that matter, I need a rest. Very good, then. I would suggest you depart as soon as possible."

  Arlian said again, "As you wish. Your Grace."

  It began to appear as if the Duke had said all he intended to say, but Arlian was not content to stop here; before the Duke could conclude the audience, Arlian quickly said, "Your Grace, if I might ask a question?"

  "Yes?"

  "Your Grace, let us suppose that I discovered a means of killing dragons. The Aritheians have much astonishing magic, and I think there may be such a possibility."