A couple of hours’ rest and chance to wash, even just lying on a bed, sounded good to Gialyn.
All were in good spirits. Apart from Ealian; he seemed too interested in the many tapestries decorating the hallway to have paid attention to Sarai. Ealian gazed at them as if the pictures stirred his memory. Now and then, he would shake his head, scratch his chin, and then stand with his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side as if working on a puzzle. In the end, Grady had to drag him away, or he might have stayed there all day.
Elspeth shrugged at her brother’s newfound fascination, but Gialyn noticed both Daric and Olam were paying close attention to her brother. The look in their eyes made Gialyn wonder if something had been said. Maybe they were worried whether Ealian was still sick. Or maybe Ealian was just acting his usual annoying self. Gialyn did not much care, either way.
Elspeth took the first room – seemingly happy to be on her own – and the rest paired up: Daric with Gialyn, Ealian with Grady. Following Sarai’s suggestion, Olam and Arfael took the large room at the end.
* * *
Gialyn emptied his pack onto the floor at the foot of his bed and began sorting through his clothes. Normally, he would have thrown them into piles, toss them around the room, but his father was behaving in an overly organised fashion, as usual. For a second – and barely a second, at that – Gialyn had thought of sharing with Ealian. But all that came of that thought was a lessening of his anxiety over sharing a room with his father. Still, it felt awkward; he had had his own room since he was four.
“So what do you make of all this?” Gialyn asked, gazing at his crumpled-up smallclothes. He could hardly believe he was starting a conversation with Daric. What was next? Playing cards with the man and sharing a pipe? He had to do something, though; the silence was too uncomfortable.
“Son, I’m barely able to keep up,” Daric said, folding a shirt and putting it in the wash basket. He folds dirty clothes. “I’m glad we’re safe and should be thankful to our hosts for that. Let us leave the questions for another time and have a day’s peace.”
“But Arfael… he is a god or something.”
“Not a god; a legend. Although to wolves, there may be little to split the two. Arfael’s people and the Rukin have history; there is naught so sure as that. What part Arfael played in all this, we may never know. Unless they speak of some deed or other that stirs his memory. Or have some potions or witchcraft to heal him.” Daric stopped folding yet another dirty shirt and gazed at the stove. “That Toban was quick to say he was ‘cursed.’ Maybe he knows more than he’s letting on.”
He sighed and then continued with his laundry. “I don’t know. Let us take this chance at rest and be thankful for their kindness. Clean clothes and decent food sound as good to me as any tale of the heroes of old. Plenty to settle my mind of questions for the time being, and so should it you!”
“Yes, Father, I’m glad of their hospitality, too. It is just… You spoke of adventure before we left. I never thought for a minute that we might truly be in the middle of one. It scares me, but I also feel… lucky. Do you know what I mean?”
“Indeed I do, son. I’m pleased to hear you speak of it in such a way. I had hoped this trip would strengthen your spirit a little. If nothing else, it has to be better than staring at mountains or spending your days fantasizing about things that will never happen.” Daric raised his chin and gave Gialyn the I-told-you-so look he did so well. Why do parents do that? How do parents do that? Daric laughed as he continued to empty his clothes onto the bed. “Though, to be fair, I could have done without the arrows.”
“Yes. That’s true. But they were aimed at you!” Gialyn joined in the laughter.
* * *
Meanwhile, Grady settled in his room with Ealian.
Like the other rooms, Grady’s had a bed on either side of a small stove, with soft wool blankets folded up and placed on top of the pillows. Everyone had their own washing bowl on small tables either side of the door. The rooms were plain and clean. The single round window, opposite the door, let in just enough light to see by, but did not provide much of a view. Through it, Grady could just about make out the trees on top of the western ridge, where they had walked less than an hour ago.
He busied himself with unpacking, occasionally sniffing at his clothes to determine which needed washing. After a few moments, he gave up that endeavour and threw the whole lot into the basket. Leave them for Sarai to deal with. It’s not as if we’re going to get another chance at cleaning or mending clothes before we reach Bailryn.
Grady heard Ealian muttering to himself. The young Tanner boy was leaning back against the wall with his feet up on the narrow feather mattress. Ealian was holding a dirty white shirt in one hand – why has the boy brought white shirts. Has his father never taken him camping? – and a pair of socks in the other. The boy did not appear to notice he was holding either one.
“They were there, I’m sure of it.” Ealian’s muttering was faint but understandable. “Or at least he was. And if he was there…” Ealian stared vacantly into the cold ashes of the stove. His brow creased in concentration. He began biting his thumbnail – socks still in hand – as if working something out in his mind. “Blai’nuin. The Eiras. Barais’coi. How can it be them? Where have I been? The Kel’madden and the dragon… The Dragon! The Kel’mai and… and… that traitor Tor… Tor! Where is everyone?”
Grady stood up straight, boots in hand, staring at the boy. “What, by the gods, are you talking about, lad?”
Ealian blinked and then shuddered, seemingly snapping out of a daydream. “Oh, uh, sorry. I–it’s those tapestries.” He quickly pointed to the hall. Grady knew that was not the case, but he left it to Ealian to dig his hole and jump in. “I remembered my history lessons, something I was schooled.”
Fair enough. Lie if you want to. I’m too tired to care one way or the other.
“Well, I will say this,” Grady said. “You must have liked school. You were getting quite excited there for a moment.”
Grady put his pack at the end of the bed and began unravelling his socks, throwing them one by one onto the pile already in the basket. “Phew. If we ever come across the Salrians again, I’ll just throw one of these at them.”
Ealian laughed. Scooting to the end of his bed, he, too, began sorting through his washing.
Grady had to suppress a chuckle at the amount of brightly coloured shirts the boy had with him. No, his father has never taken him camping.
“Strange goings on, aye?” Grady said. He did not want to talk to the boy, at least no more than was polite, but what else could he do? They were stuck in the same room. “I expect you’re worried about all this trouble we’ve been having. It has not been the quiet trip we were all expecting.”
“Not really. I think you and Mr. Re’adh have everything under control.” Ealian tugged at his blanket. In their rush to leave, he had stuffed it – unfolded – into his pack. He wrenched it free and pulled it out, along with half the contents of his bundle. Ealian gathered everything in a pile and then started plucking dead leaves and twigs from his blanket.
Grady finished with his clothes and started to wash his face at the half-full water bowl on his side of the room. “Thanks for the compliment, Ealian. But I doubt we would have fared so well had it not been for our Olam.”
Ealian mumbled something inaudible. Whatever it was, it did not sound complimentary. Grady turned his head and squinted through the soapy lather covering his face. “What was that, boy?”
Ealian continued with his sorting, absently tossing clothes into the basket. “What do you really know of him?” he said. “What do you know of them? You must be curious.”
Grady, his head over the bowl, rinsed off the soap. He fumbled for the towel. Spreading it over his face, he spoke through it. “I know we would be in a fix without them. What do you mean? What do you want to know?” The boy wasn’t answering. Grady lowered the towel to dry his neck. Eyes still half closed, he turned to face
Ealian. “What do you mean ‘curious’?”
Opening his eyes, he jumped back a pace.
Ealian was sitting on the edge of his bed, back straight and hands clasped in his lap. His brow was drawn low, eyes fixed on Grady. Something was wrong; they were not the eyes of a young man.
“Do you know aught of their history, sir?” Ealian’s tone was beyond him. “You are a soldier, are you not? How can you trust a stranger so readily? You should be wary of those two, my friend.”
For a moment, Ealian’s stare reminded Grady of a wolf tracking its prey. He found himself backing away from the boy.
Gods, the poor lad has the shakes! Bloody hell, that’s all we need.
Realising he was still backing away, Grady stopped and slowly moved forward with his hand outstretched in a calming gesture. “It’s all right, son. Nobody is going to hurt you. You are safe here. I promise you that. You trust me, don’t you?”
Again, Ealian seemed to snap back to normality. “Sorry, I was just… uh… it’s nothing. Nothing. Never mind. I don’t know what happened.” Ealian pushed his palms into his eyes and gathered himself. He looked dizzy.
“I think I do, son.” Grady gave a smile. Best to get him at his ease… the bloody shakes: a hateful sickness. “Don’t you worry; there’s no shame in it. Sometimes, when bad things happen, life can seem difficult for a while. I have seen men twice your size suffer with it. All you need is rest. I will see about staying here for a day or two. You’ll be fine with a few days’ peace and quiet.”
Of all things, shock! An expression of shock covered Ealian’s face. “No, no. You can’t. Please. Oh no, please don’t tell anybody. I will be fine. I will take care, I promise.” Ealian raised his hands as if begging. He looked scared.
“It can be a dangerous illness, lad. The shakes, I mean. It can be dangerous for all of us.”
“But… uh… I–I could not stand the shame.”
Are those tears in his eyes?
Grady paced back and forth. The best thing would be to tell. He knew that. Get the boy some rest. But shame is a hard thing to live with, too. Telling might do more harm than good. Bloody hell, this journey is turning into a campaign.
“I tell you what I will do, lad. I will ask for a day for myself. I’ll tell them my hip is hurting, or something. But the first sign of trouble…”
Ealian raised his praying hands to his lips. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”
Grady nodded. Simple journey. Ha! They never bloody are.
CHAPTER 21
Dining with Wolves
Considering the heat of the mid-afternoon sun, the banquet room – if that’s what they called it – in the Hall of Wolves was surprisingly fresh and cool. Maybe they kept it that way to protect the tapestries. There were more than enough vents along the walls to take advantage of the slightest breeze. The grey limestone tiling and whitewashed walls added to the cool feel. It was a pleasant place for Arfael to spend an hour studying the wall mountings. Most were generic, the weaver’s depiction of long-forgotten battles, stories told and retold a hundred times before reaching their creator’s ear. A few were more out of the ordinary; in particular, the two on the left wall, showing images of the Dragons of Aldrieg. Fascinating, because Arfael recognised them: he had seen the Aldrieg dragons before!
It was a faint memory, something held back from his youth; a memory of meeting the Dragons of Aldrieg while marching through Northern Aleras. He could not remember where he was marching to, or why he was there, but there were dragons… of that he was certain. What’s more, as patchy as his memory was, he was certain the dragons were friendly – or at least they were at that time. He wondered if they were still there. Maybe he should go and see…
But the moment he imagined meeting a dragon, he felt a wave of anger – primal rage – rushing through his veins. Images flashed in his mind of a battle; blood, death, fear. The image was clear, then gone. Gone, like so many other memories from the time before he had woken up outside the cave at Barais’gin. No, he should not try to find the dragons, at least not until he was sure they were his friends.
He was still peering at the tapestry when Sarai called through to the others. It was time for lunch.
Olam was the first to emerge. The Rukin robe looked surprisingly natural on him. If he had brought his staff, he would have looked like a wizard, Arfael thought.
Olam noticed Arfael looking at him, nodded, and changed his course.
The “wizard” wore a big smile as he gazed at the tapestry Arfael had been studying. “Anything interesting, my friend?” he asked. Maybe he thought it held some secrets. The man had been giddy, like a child at feast day, ever since they entered the Rukin Village.
“I’m not sure. But that looks like home,” Arfael said, pointing a finger at the cave on the far right of the tapestry.
“What do you mean ‘home’?” Olam moved to Arfael’s right. He squinted at the elaborately weaved image of the Karan Ridges – or rather, the eastern end of the Karan Ridges.
Arfael continued: “Not sure, but look at that cave. Is that not Barais’gin? See, there’s the tower.”
Olam squinted at where Arfael was pointing – the tapestry was the largest of three, but the cave weaving was no bigger than Arfael’s fingernail. “Yes! Yes, I think you are right. And there—” Olam pointed farther to the right “Is that the eastern cliffs of Karnui?”
“Yes. I was there. All of this, it was where I lived.” Arfael gestured along the length of the tapestry. “There is Cul’mida, Aldrebaras. That’s Bara’coi – I think. That, I don’t know,” Arfael said, pointing to a similar sized cave, but on the far left of the tapestry.
Olam moved to his left and, once again, squinted at the cave. It opened into a long valley that appeared to have a stream running along its centre. “Aye, I am not sure, but I think I have seen that valley before, at the far western edge of the Karan.” Olam shrugged. “I may be wrong. There must be dozens like it. Yet that ridge, the one that looks like a saw tooth…”
“Look,” Arfael said. “The dragon at the opening, the black dragon. The horns, his wings. I was looking at him before. I’m sure I know him, but…”
Arfael could feel a headache coming on. The harder he looked, the worse it became. There was something there, and not just the dragons; something important. But grasping the memory was like holding a fistful of fresh air.
Olam put a hand on Arfael’s shoulder. “Let us go eat, my old friend. Maybe it will come to you later.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Arfael took one last look at the tapestry and sighed. “It is only a tapestry. How can I recognise anyone from a tapestry?”
* * *
Gialyn swiped at the hand tugging at his shoulder – the hand that was waking him from his comfortable, restful sleep. “Another ten minutes, Mother. Please.” Lying on his side, he opened one eye. That’s not my wall… Of course. I’m not home, am I? He rolled onto his back and pulled himself up onto his elbows. And laughed at the sight of his father dressed in one of the Rukin robes. Light brown with white trim; it could be a monk’s robe, had it not been cut so well.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at.” Daric grinned. Another robe hit Gialyn in the face. “Come on. Sarai has called us through for lunch. We should not leave our hosts waiting. It’s rude.”
Gialyn swung his legs to the right and sat on the side of the bed. He pulled the robe over his head. It was soft, like lamb’s wool. “They could have made it dinner and left me here a few more hours,” he said through the wool.
“If you sleep now, you will be up all night, and we’re off tomorrow. Up, boy, I’m not going without you, and you know I hate tardiness, especially when it’s me who is late.”
“Yes, Father. Sorry.” Gialyn got to his feet and shook the robe down to his ankles. “It is a bit big.” He put his arms out and waved the excess sleeve around in circles.
Daric laughed. “Fold your cuffs over and use the belt to hold it up.” Daric straightened his own r
obe and waited, foot tapping on the floor. “Ready? Good.”
Gialyn followed his father out of their room just as Elspeth was leaving her own. She looked him up and down and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her shoulders shook in silent mirth.
Gialyn tsked while straightening his… skirt. “I see they managed to find you one that fits.” And it did fit. Gods, is that what she looks like in a dress? Despite himself, he could not help but gulp at the sight of her. Elspeth patted her hair. Is she blushing? No. She must be embarrassed, too. I hope I’m not blushing.
“Come on, you two, we’re late. Grady and the others are already there,” Daric said. The irritation in his voice was more than familiar to Gialyn.
Elspeth, on the other hand, watched Daric walk by with a who-does-he-think-he-is-talking-to look on her face.
“He’s always like that. Sorry,” Gialyn whispered. “He would just as soon not go than be late.”
“Well, doesn’t he know a woman is supposed to be late?” Elspeth said. But that did not stop her trying to catch up with Daric.
Gialyn raised an eyebrow. Good, it’s not just me; my father annoys everybody.
Toban and Aleban were standing in front of the unlit fire at the far end of the long banquet table. Both wore a sash with what looked like a badge of office sewn onto the silky material. Toban’s sash was wider – well, that only seemed natural, him being the leader and all – and dark green. His badge was a gold wolf’s head. Aleban’s sash was dark blue, and his had a silver wolf’s head. The same design, but smaller.
Nine blue and white porcelain plates were set neatly at the far end of a table that could have easily seated forty. One of the Surabhan women – with a rope-edged tray perched on her forearm – floated around the chairs, placing goblets and cutlery carefully about the plate settings – all but the two in front of the wolves; they had neither cup nor cutlery. It took a second for Gialyn to realise why. Once again, he felt the fool. Of course – wolves don’t use a knife and fork. Twolloc! Another Surabhan, a man this time, ushered folk out of his way as he carried a wide tray of steaming bowls from the kitchen. No sooner had he set one down than he turned and ran – ran – back for another. It would appear they liked their food hot in Illeas.
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 23