It’s not like it’s very far away from Aunt Elenna’s. Or hard to find, either. A sudden thought made her feel very small. Could he have forgotten? Just let him not be with Lady Sherrine.
She wrapped both hands in her hair now, pulling until it hurt. She was desperate to leave, to go look for Linden. Which was stupid; she hadn’t the faintest idea where to start.
Something cold stung her face. She looked up, wondering. A second fat, cold raindrop slapped her cheek. “Ouch!” she cried, and the scattered drops became a downpour.
At once the courtyard became a madhouse of activity. People rushed for the arcades lining the courtyard, servants ran everywhere at once, dragging tables laden with food and drink under shelter. The music ended with a discordant squawk as the performers joined the laughing rout.
Moments later Maurynna stood alone in the courtyard, staring up at the sky, oblivious to the soaking rain. The sense of urgency overwhelmed her.
Maybe he left word at the house.
She spun on her heel, mind made up. She joined the throng crowding the arcade, calling for her cousin.
“Here! Over here!”
Maurynna craned to see over the crowd; many of the As-santikkans were as tall as she. At last she caught a glimpse of a pale hand waving at her. She elbowed her way through the crowd.
Maylin—as Maurynna should have guessed—had managed to find a spot by one of the tables of food. She stood, smiling smugly between bites of a pasty filled with honey and dried fruit. “Want some?” she offered as Maurynna squeezed in next to her.
The sight of the sticky sweet turned Maurynna’s stomach. “No! Maylin, I … I must leave. I can’t—” Someone jostled between them; Maurynna pushed back to her cousin’s side.
Maylin finished the pasty in three quick bites. “It’s because of Linden, isn’t it? Rynna, he may have been delayed at that feast. Maybe he had to talk to the other Dragonlords. Won’t Almered be offended if you leave now?”
“Very likely, yes,” Maurynna admitted. An elbow dug into her back; she shifted away from it. “But I’ll have to risk that. I want to go home, in case—anyway, this crowd is driving me mad. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to, you know. I’ll leave Gavren to see you home.”
Maylin sighed. “Don’t be an ass; Mother would have my head if I let you go unescorted. Please don’t tell me you’re expecting to find a message from Linden waiting for you.
“Oh, don’t glare at me like that, Rynna. You’ve been mooning about like a lovesick calf for days. We’ve been worried about you ever since the night Lady Sherrine attacked you and he said he couldn’t see you anymore—for no good reason that I can see.”
Maylin set her hands on her hips. “I know you’ve always loved the legends about him, and believe me, I can understand how exciting it was to meet him. I’m just afraid you’re making too much of it. He didn’t ask you to dally with him, did he? But he wasn’t at all shy to ask Lady Sherrine to. Face it, Rynna—whatever his interest in you was, it wasn’t that. You’re a friend of Otter’s, no more.”
Maylin’s voice turned gentle. “And I don’t want to see you hurt over him. You’re eating yourself alive, Rynna. You’re … not like yourself,” she finished with an uncertain, frustrated gesture.
Maurynna forced back angry words and hurt tears. When she could trust her voice, she said, “Don’t think I haven’t told myself all that already, Maylin. Over and over and over. But I just”—the memory of the kiss in the garden filled her—“can’t make myself believe it.”
“You’re being a fool, Rynna.”
Maurynna said sadly, “I know. But I can’t help it. I can’t explain it, either; I wonder if this is what being under a geas is like.”
Maylin threw her hands up. “Oh, wonderful,” she said, sticking her head out in the rain to glare up at the heavens as if holding the gods responsible for her cousin’s madness. “Now the girl’s talking like a bard’s tale!” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to wait for the rain to end? No, I didn’t think so. Very well, let’s be off. Besides, I forgot to set the bread dough to rise for tomorrow’s baking.”
Maurynna swallowed. “Maylin—thank you.”
With a grunt and a heave the gelding scrambled out of the ferry and onto the landing. It snorted at the hollow booming under its hooves and danced.
“Stupid creature,” Linden said, keeping a firm grip on the reins as he led the horse to solid ground. “You’ve done this how many times now? And has the dock opened beneath you yet?”
The gelding’s rolling eye and rapidly flicking ears said, You never know.
Laughing, Linden tossed a coin to the ferrymen. “And let’s hope I’m the last to drag you out on such a miserable night.”
The younger ferryman caught the coin out of the air. The older one smiled, revealing stained and missing teeth.
“Thankee, m‘lord. There’s a nice bit of fire waiting in yon hut. Would ’ee like to warm up by it?”
Linden vaulted into the saddle. “No, thank you. I’ve already kept a lady waiting for me for too long.”
The ferrymen laughed in understanding and ran for the hut. Linden urged the reluctant gelding into the mud of the road.
Once more he pushed it as fast as he dared; no sense in having it get caught in the mud and strain a hock or fall down. It was bad enough that the idiot animal shied and tried to bolt at each blaze of lightning and peal of thunder. He had to concentrate every moment on keeping it under control.
“Ah, Shan, Shan,” Linden muttered. “If only you were here.”
He kept his head lowered against the rain driving into his face, only looking up from time to time to gauge his progress.
They passed the clump of birches that marked the bend in the road, then the dead oak blasted in some earlier storm. The gelding trotted on, snorting nervously.
There was the big field stretching away to his right. That meant he was only a quarter mile or so from the city. Good; he’d be at the Vanadins’ soon. Maybe Maurynna had waited for him … .
Movement flickered in the corner of his eye. He jerked his head around, searching the darkness.
Two horsemen were riding out of the woods at the far side of the field as if they had been waiting for him. And he was a rock lizard if they meant him well. Linden reached for Tsan Rhilin.
But before Linden’s hand reached the hilt one of the men gestured. Pain exploded through the Dragonlord’s body. He screamed at the sudden agony and half-fell from the saddle. Before he could claw his way back up, the terrified gelding slewed around and jumped sideways, flinging him to the ground, and made its escape.
Linden writhed in agony in the muddy road, each wave of pain worse than the one before.
She’d been a fool to think that he’d have left word at the house. Damn him to every one of the nine Yerrin hells; Dragonlord or no, he had no right to treat her this way and dishonor his invitation from Almered.
And Otter had said.Linden Rathan wasn’t an ass.
A wave of panic hit Maurynna. It was gone so quickly that she thought she’d imagined it. But an uneasy feeling lingered, and without thinking she was stripping off her gown and shift in exchange for breeches, tunic, and boots. She snatched up the belt with her sailor’s dirk and made her way as quietly as she could downstairs.
Maurynna poked her head into the kitchen. Maylin was kneading dough.
“I’ll be upstairs in a bit,” Maylin said as she slapped and pummeled the floury mass.
“Ah, um—I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d go over some accounts in the office.” She cleared her throat. “Don’t wait up for me.”
Maylin blew a tendril of hair out of her face. “Oh, very well,” she said, and went back to her dough.
Maurynna crept down the hall and tossed her cloak around her shoulders. She eased the door open and slid outside into the rain. She had to find Linden, damn him. But where?
Forty-four
Fire blazed through Linden as
his muscles spasmed and heaved. He thrashed in the mud. It felt as if acid ran through his veins; had he been able to, he would have screamed. But even that release was denied him. He could only grunt like an animal.
Instinctively he tried to mindcall Kief and Tarlna. Pain lanced through his skull; he nearly blacked out. It took everything he had to fight his way back from the edge of unconsciousness.
Convulsion after convulsion wracked him. What was happening to him? He’d never heard of any illness like this.
A new fear stabbed him. Gods help him, what if he rolled to land face down in the mud? He hadn’t the strength to lift himself; he’d drown.
As if that burst of panic were a signal, his thoughts became chaos. Images tumbled over each other in his mind as his consciousness ebbed away. A final memory flashed before his mind’s eye as if lit by lightning: Sherrine drinking, then offering him the goblet of wine.
Poison? The word echoed in his mind as he sank into darkness. But how—how—how? …
“Rynna—where are you going?”
Maurynna clenched her fists in frustration and stopped. She should have known Maylin wouldn’t believe her. “For a walk.”
Perhaps—just perhaps—her cousin would take the hint and leave her alone.
Maylin caught up to her and snorted in derision, flour-covered fists planted on hips. “At this hour? In the rain? You must think me dim to believe that. What are you really up to?”
Maurynna bit her lip, wondering what story she could tell the younger girl. If she told her cousin what she planned, Maylin would likely drag her back to the house, yelling for her mother all the while. The words tumbled out anyway. “To find Linden. Something’s wrong; I know it.”
She nearly kicked herself for a fool. And the long, hard look Maylin gave her shredded her already frayed nerves a little more. Just as she couldn’t stand it any longer, the other girl said, “Maurynna—you’re being an ass. What if you find out he’s with someone else? But fool or not, you’re not walking about alone in Casna after midnight. If you insist on this idiocy, I’m coming with you. Are you armed?”
Maurynna sighed and pulled her oilskin cloak enough to reveal the long, heavy sailor’s dirk—almost a short sword—hanging from her belt.
“Good. Give me a moment. I want to change to breeches in case we have to run.” Maylin dashed up the walk and eased open the door, slipping inside without a sound.
Maurynna waited, sick with worry, listening to the drip-splash of rain falling from eaves to cobblestones. Far off in the distance she heard the ominous rumble of thunder; another storm was moving in. She bit her knuckles. Something was wrong. She knew it. She knew it.
If only she knew what.
The door opened again; a shadow slipped out. Maylin trotted up to her, buckling something around her waist. To Maurynna’s surprise it was a sword belt with a short sword in a worn sheath.
She must have made some exclamation, for Maylin said, “It’s Father’s old one. And yes, I do know how to use it. Maybe I don’t fight off pirates the way you do, but I sometimes ride with our pack trains, and bandits have been known to attack even well-guarded merchant trains. Now—which way do we go?”
For a moment Maurynna thought Maylin mocked her. But her cousin was serious; it seemed her feelings were as good a guide as any for this fool’s mission.
“I—I don’t know exactly. But I feel … pulled that way.” She gestured to the north. Thunder rumbled again, closer this time.
Maylin scratched her snub nose. “Not much to go on, but better than nothing. Lead on, Captain.”
Forty-five
He woke up enough to realize that he was being dragged up the bank and onto the grass, though he couldn’t open his eyes. Nor, try as he might, could Linden move a muscle to fight his captors. They were not gentle with him, but he had a small sort of revenge. Judging by the grunts and groans, as a dead weight he cost them a great deal of effort.
They hauled him across the wet grass well away from the road. The motion made his head spin again. Once more he tried to mindcall his fellow Dragonlords; once more his only reward was agony. There would be no help from that quarter.
“Far enough!” one man protested. “It’s not likely anyone’s going to come past in this storm.”
“I’d like to get him under the trees,” the other gasped. “But you’re right. Gods, he’s heavy; it would have to be the damned Yerrin.”
They dropped him face-up to the rain. He was nauseated almost beyond enduring now. He sensed one of the men drop to his knees beside him and fought to gather what was left of his wits.
“Well met, Dragonlord,” said a voice, coldly amused. “In a few moments—when you’re able to answer them—I’m going to ask you some questions and you will answer truthfully. You have no choice, you see. And when this is over, you will remember nothing of this. Just that you were suddenly taken ill after you left the ferry.”
Linden fought to move, but the paralysis was complete. Not even an eyelid flickered. He was trapped in darkness, helpless before these men. And terrified as he’d never been in his life.
After a long silence, the voice spoke again. “Very well, Dragonlord—I think we’re ready to begin.” Then, triumphantly, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this.”
They stood in the rain-soaked darkness, their cloaks pulled tight around them.
“Where to now, Maurynna?” asked Maylin, sounding tired and resigned.
Maurynna rubbed the tears from her eyes. “I’m not sure—oh, hang it all, I just don’t know. I know something’s wrong, but I don’t know which way anymore.” Her voice rose, an edge of hysteria in it.
“Stop it!” Maylin snapped. “That won’t help us! Think, Rynna, think!”
Maurynna caught back a sobbing breath. Maylin was right; breaking down wouldn’t help them or Linden. Besides, she’d always despised girls who did just that at any excuse.
She concentrated on the smell of wet earth, the different sounds the rain made as it lashed against their cloaks, solid where the cloaks stretched tight across their backs, a hollow thup! thup! against empty fabric. She focused her mind on them until she had herself under control once more.
But she still had no idea which way to go.
“Very well, then,” Maylin said, her voice falsely bright. “The way we started is as good as any, I’d say.”
Numb with despair, Maurynna asked, “What is in this direction?”
Maylin stepped out at a brisk pace. Maurynna fell in beside her.
“All sorts of things. The goldsmiths’ section, the spice merchants, things like that. If we keep going long enough, we’ll fall into the Uildodd.”
The Uildodd … Maurynna stumbled. Of course, of all the stupid—“Maylin—there’s a ferry, isn’t there? Where is it?”
“A bit north and west of here. Why—oh!”
“Exactly. Most of the nobles have estates on the other side, don’t they? What if that’s where that dinner was? He’d have to use the ferry to return.”
They broke into a trot at the same time, Maylin in front to lead the way. Maurynna fretted at slowing her pace to her cousin’s shorter legs but had no other choice, despite the voice deep inside urging her to hurry, hurry.
He’s breaking free of the spell!
Althume couldn’t believe his eyes. The big Dragonlord should not have been able to move so much as an eyelid, yet Linden Rathan was raising a hand. Just barely, true, but it should have been impossible. “Damn it!” the mage said. There were still many more questions to ask. He thought quickly. “Pol—while I strengthen the spell, get the sword off him. I think we’ll have a use for it.”
While Pol worked the buckle of the greatsword’s baldric free, Althume began the enchantment that would bring Linden Rathan under his control again. He ignored the rain, the thunder booming like war drums overhead, as he wove words and gesture in a magical pattern.
Lightning split the sky overhead. Pol jumped beside him and exclaimed, “My l
ord! ’Ware!”
Althume looked over at the road. Two cloaked figures were climbing the high bank. One held a blade. The mage swore in frustration; aside from the greatsword, which neither he nor Pol were skilled with, they were unarmed. He made an instant’s decision. “Take the sword and run. We daren’t face them.” He jumped to his feet.
“But the antidote—”
“Linden Rathan will just have to take his chances.” Althume reached down and yanked Pol to his feet. “Run!”
Forty-six
Maurynna could barely breathe now; the sense of fear, of wrongness, constricted her chest so that to draw a breath was torture. Linden was nearby; she knew it. And something was terribly, terribly wrong.
She broke into a run without thinking. Keeping to the grassy verge on the right side of the road, she avoided the worst of the clinging mud. Maylin yelled something but she ignored it.
From ahead of her and to the left came a muffled exclamation. She jumped down from the bank, running across the road, the mud sucking at her feet, turning every step into a battle. There was a dim light in the field by the road; by its uncertain gleam she could make out two men bending over something in the long grass.
No, not something. Someone.
Linden.
She drew her dirk. One of the men looked up just as a stroke of lightning lit the world. His hood fell back. He had a square, blocky face, with lips drawn back in a snarl of hatred.
Maurynna ran up the far bank of the road to firmer ground, Maylin not far behind. The other man stood up and hauled the square-faced one to his feet as she screamed a cry as harsh as a sea eagle’s. She charged them, teeth bared, yelling a wordless challenge. Battle fury raged in her blood. At first Maurynna thought they would stand firm; half-berserk, she welcomed the fight. But they broke and ran for the trees instead. Moments later she heard the retreating thunder of horses’ hooves.
The Last Dragonlord Page 31