“I’ll bring you some carrots later,” he said. “Maybe a few apples.”
“Apples? Where are you going to get apples from?”
Gialyn spun on his heels. Elspeth was standing ten paces away, smiling at him.
“Oh yes, I forgot; no apples yet.” He was remembering the dream he had had about the Apple Man.
“You look… smart,” he told her. Elspeth was in her new sergeant’s uniform. Gold livery on a thin leather tunic with dark brown breeches and shiny leather boots. She looked… official.
“Really!” Elspeth said, spinning around to show him the back. “Can you believe it? Me, in charge of my own squad of archers! And a bodyguard, no less!”
Gialyn had thought the King had gone mad the first time hearing about Elspeth’s enlistment, and her instant promotion, but then he discovered that Daric had recommended her for the post. Strangely enough, it had taken Elspeth two days to say yes, and she only did that after the Captain of the Guard agreed to let her go home for a month.
“I can’t think of anyone better,” Gialyn told her.
She’ll have her twenty men and women running around in circles, he thought, and gods help the Princess… if she tried to make Elspeth fetch her washing. Somehow, though, Gialyn knew her experience over the past six weeks would help make her a good sergeant.
She blushed. “Thank you, Gialyn. That means a lot coming from you.” She looked at his bandage through his pale shirt. “How is it? Does it still hurt?”
Gialyn shook his head. “Not really. The dressing is just to keep it clean. How about you?” He nodded to where her arrow wound was.
“Oh, that.” She waved off his question. “It’s healed, almost. I still get dizzy, now and then. Master Roan said it’ll be a few days yet. I hope he’s right, that foul brew the man keeps forcing down me tastes like iron filings.”
A smile creased her lips. She looked down at the clasps on her breeches, and then up at the hayloft above the stalls. “I could show you how well it has healed; my uniform is very easy to put on… or take off. If you want.”
Gialyn felt a big, dumb grin blooming across his face. Elspeth grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the ladder. He didn’t struggle.
* * *
That evening, Master Roan had to change his dressing again. His wound had been bleeding.
“What, by the gods, have you been doing, boy?” the herbalist asked. “I told you to be careful.”
“Uh, nothing,” Gialyn replied. “Just, uh, stumbled on the stairs. I think I knocked it.”
Roan gave him a look. Gialyn was sure the old man knew he was lying. “Well, if we don’t get it fixed, you’ll not be going to the banquet. We only have an hour, so stop fidgeting.”
Gialyn lay still and let the herbalist clean his wound with more of that sickly-looking green paste. It was made of dough and yeast, so Roan had said, but it didn’t look like anything Gialyn would ever want to eat.
Elucia was pacing back and forth at the end of his bed.
“…and nobody has mentioned anything,” she asked. “No more dreams, no messages. What about Olam, he must have been in contact by now.”
Master Roan sighed. “I said I’d let you in if you promised not to pester the boy. You’ve asked your questions—twice. Now kindly let him be.”
Elucia folded her arms and scowled at the herbalist. “Vila’slae was a mild annoyance compared to what’s coming, Master Roan. The Witches of Eiras can be of great help to Aleras’moya in the coming months, but we need to know everything. We can’t toil away in the dark.”
“Can’t you talk to Olam?” Master Roan asked her. “I thought you witches had all that Spirit World hokum tied up and under control.”
“Hokum! I assure you, Master Roan, the Powers will determine who wins and loses this battle, not herbs and spices.” She waved nonchalantly at Master Roan’s table full of potions.
“There’s no need to be—”
“Can you please stop arguing?” Gialyn interrupted. “Elucia, I have told you before, you will be among the first to know if I hear anything, and Master Roan…” He looked down at his wound. “Don’t you think you’ve put on enough of that… stuff?”
His stomach was swimming in the green paste. Elucia laughed, and Master Roan fumbled around for a cloth to wipe off the excess. “See what she does with her attitude?” the man said.
Gialyn stifled a laugh. Those two were made for each other.
Master Roan and Elucia left as soon as the herbalist had finished. The maid came and helped Gialyn with his clothes. Socks and shoes, mostly; he couldn’t bend down very far—something he wished Elspeth had taken note of earlier. Once dressed, he slowly began to make his way to the banquet hall on the first floor.
Ealian caught up with him on the stairs. “Are we to be brothers?” Elspeth’s brother asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gialyn answered. He felt a flush of panic; surely Elspeth hadn’t said anything to him.
“Oh, nothing, just something Alacin said. He’s been in a good mood all day. He seems to think that I’m going to stay in Bailryn, now that sister has her little job.”
“She’s a sergeant in the palace guards, Ealian, not a tavern maid.”
“I suppose you’re right. Still a job, though.”
“Well?” Gialyn asked.
“Well, what?”
“Are you staying in Bailryn?”
Gialyn wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer. Elspeth’s brother had been easier to get along with since Alacin had made a home in his mind, but he was still… Ealian.
Ealian shrugged. “We are going home first, of course. I’ll decide after that.” He gave Gialyn a thoughtful look as they began to walk down the wide steps of the main stairway. “I wouldn’t be surprised if mother and father decide to move to Bailryn, once they hear about everything that has happened. I know mother will want to; it’s whether father can be persuaded to pull himself away from his job. He’s very proud of being the King’s Emissary to the Geddy Vale.”
Gialyn nearly choked; it was the longest speech Ealian had ever made about his family, at least to him. “Yes, it will take some explaining, won’t it? I’m not looking forward to telling mother that I’m stuck with this responsibility.”
“‘Stuck…’ You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Re’adh. Hasn’t six weeks with me taught you anything?” Ealian laughed. And once again, Gialyn was surprised by the friendly banter. Seemed Alacin’s presence was doing the boy some good.
“Maybe,” Gialyn said. “I don’t think I can walk away from it, though. Not after all that’s happened.”
Ealian looked thoughtful. Was he actually going to agree with him?
“I hear you have a horse.” Ealian changed the subject.
“Yes, a, uh, Painted Eurmac gelding.”
Ealian nodded in approval. “Good horses, a little plain, but hardy and trustworthy. Have you taken him out?”
Gialyn shook his head. “Not yet, I need a saddle.”
“I’ll buy you a saddle,” Ealian said.
Gialyn nearly tripped. “You, why?” For a moment, he wondered if he was talking to Alacin, and not Ealian.
Ealian shrugged. “You should have a good saddle. I’m thinking of the horse, you understand? A cheap one will chafe.”
Gialyn bit his lip to stop a grin. If Ealian wanted to pretend, say the saddle was for the horse… “Yes, good ones are expensive.”
Again, Ealian shrugged. “Turns out Alacin is rich. His family still owns a sizeable holding to the south of Bailryn. I’m sure he won’t mind buying you a saddle.”
Gialyn nodded to himself. So that’s why Ealian was in a good mood. Still, if he got a free saddle out of it… “Well, thank you, Ealian. That’s a very thoughtful gift.”
“It’s for the horse,” Ealian insisted.
Gialyn was about to say something else, but Brea appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and Ealian’s mood changed, he suddenly looked… shy? Wh
at was going on there?
Brea looked right past Ealian. “You look nice,” she said, eyeing Gialyn’s new blue tunic and cream breeches. “And you’ve cut your hair. It looks better short. Reminds me of your father.”
That was the last thing Gialyn wanted to hear. Changing the subject, “Has Rek said anything else?” he asked.
“A little,” Brea replied. “Mostly mumbling. It’ll be a while before he can form words properly. Dragons don’t do anything quickly.”
“But still, after all this time, it must be nice to talk to him.”
Brea nodded. She looked shy, too. Indeed, the two of them were making a point of not looking at one another. Brea fiddled with her skirt while Ealian repeatedly straightened his cuffs. Yes, something was definitely happening between them. Maybe Elspeth knew; he’d have to remember to ask.
They carried on in an awkward silence the rest of the way. Once inside the banquet hall, Gialyn was surprised to find the Toyan captain, Nana Duran, talking with his father. Daric waved him over.
“Nana has just been telling me how brave young Elspeth had been. It’s quite a story.”
“I heard,” Gialyn said, eyeing the captain.
She spoke: “And I need to thank you, Gialyn. If you hadn’t insisted on sending help, we all might still be lying out in that field.”
He wanted to say that he had asked for help rescuing the Surabhan soldiers. He still couldn’t forgive the Toyans, not since he had discovered that the assassin who killed Olam was Toyan, and not a Kel’madden.
“I just sent the message,” he told her. “It was nothing.”
Nana laughed. “Saving two hundred injured Toyans is hardly nothing, young man. The Merchants’ Council will want to honour you, once these talks are over.”
“Talks?”
“Yes, a new treaty. Seems King Vierdan has torn up the old one. He’s invited the Council to administrate the Whitecliff mines, and given them the shipping rights to the Krasis Straight.”
Gialyn nodded at her words, but he had no idea what the woman was talking about.
The room was full; folk were milling about all over, a banquet buffet had been laid out on a long table, but all Gialyn could see was Elspeth in her dress uniform. She smiled when he approached.
“Do I have to call you ‘Sir’ in public?” he asked.
“Not unless you’re planning on joining the guards,” she replied. “But you can call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone, if you like.” She gave him a cheeky grin.
Blushing, Gialyn looked around to make sure his father hadn’t heard. That made Elspeth giggle.
“Really, you’re nearly nineteen, Gialyn. You don’t need your father’s permission,” she said. She moved closer and whispered. “You’ll have to talk to my father, though. You know, if we’re…”
“‘If we are…?’” he whispered back, hoping she wasn’t saying what he thought she was saying.
“Married, of course. You can’t do what we did and not get married.”
The room felt hot, Gialyn suddenly had an urge to sit down. “Uh… Well… I – I – We…”
Elspeth laughed. “Olivia told me to say that. She was right, you do look like a cooked prune.”
“Olivia! You told Olivia,” he whispered.
Elspeth was still giggling. “Oh come now: I suppose you haven’t told anyone?”
“Who am I going to tell? Your brother, father, Master Roan?”
“Em, I never thought of that.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Olivia will be discrete.”
“That’s not the—”
A bell rang, and Lady Cesim asked for quiet for the King.
“Lords, Ladies, welcome,” the King said. “Let me begin by thanking you all for coming, I know it has been a difficult few days for everyone, but I wanted to throw this… party, to thank you for all your hard work and sacrifice…”
The King carried on in that vein for nearly half an hour, until…
Running footsteps echoed from the hallway, and out on the balcony, Tor and Ribion, who had been sitting outside, began to roar up at the evening sky. A crowd made their way to the windows. The King, Lady Cesim, and Daric moved out onto the balcony. Gialyn and Elspeth followed.
Ealian was already outside. “We have visitors, Your Majesty,” Ealian said.
To the north, the sky was full of dragons. At least fifty of them were flying over the city in a long line east to west. They were flying low. Gialyn could hear screams and shouts from all around. People were running for cover inside the palace. Gods knew what the city folk were doing. The dragons kept to their line, though. They didn’t look as if they were readying for an attack.
“It’s an honour guard,” Tor said.
“An ‘honour guard’? For whom?” the King asked.
“Not for us,” Tor replied. “A dragon honour guard is more a show of strength than a tribute. They’re sending us a message.”
“Do I want to know what the message is?” the King asked. Tor said nothing.
The dragons circled the palace once, and then a Drin flew low and dropped an iron ball, attached to a strip of what looked like silk, onto the balcony. Lady Cesim ran to pick it up.
“There’s a letter attached,” she said.
The King looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “Read it out, Evin.”
“Uh, Majesty,” Odaman said. “Do you think that wise, maybe a private reading first?” The little man was wringing his hands and looking around at the crowd.
“No,” the King replied in a loud voice. “It affects us all. Read it, Evin.”
Lady Cesim broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. She cleared her throat.
You have been given your freedom, but know this; freedom is a narrow path on a steep and winding road. You have this one chance to prove yourselves worthy of my gift. Do that, and we will fight side by side. Fail and a hundred Gaw Dragons will descend on your city. No warning, no treaty, no quarter; Aleras’moya will be without a king. Serve your people well, Vierdan. Prepare them for the coming battle, or prepare your own tomb.
Sek the Black
The dragons turned and flew off to the north. For a long moment, silence reigned on the balcony.
“Bit flowery for a dragon,” the King said, laughing. “And who wrote it?”
Nervous laughs echoed through the crowd, but none who were standing with Gialyn was laughing, especially not Arfael.
“You would do well to heed his warning,” the big man said. “I have no doubt Sek will be true to his word.”
The King turned and took a step towards Arfael. “And do we do the dragon’s bidding?” he asked. “Guess at what a mad beast wants from us? No, we carry on. We are Surabhan, not slaves.” A cheer erupted from the crowd. “Believe me when I say we are well aware of the threat. We will do what is needed. But we will decide what is to be, not Sek the Black. If we cower, we’re as good as lost.” He looked down at the note as Evin passed it over. “I’ll write my own demands and send them to Toi’ildrieg. If the dragons want to fight beside us, then we will welcome them. But as equals, not as masters and servants. He can either accept that, or come and find me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Another cheer sounded, and people began to dance and hail praise to the King. To Gialyn, it all looked ridiculous, surreal; not a one of those nobles had stood on the line, and here they were, raising a battle cry. He could almost understand Sek’s point of view.
“Come on,” Daric said. “Leave them to their party. I’ve lost my appetite.”
Gialyn followed his father back into the banquet hall, and all seven of them, Nana Duran included, made their way quietly to Daric’s apartment.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Daric said, pulling the stopper out of a bottle of red wine. “The palace is about to enter a complicated phase in its long history, I fear if we don’t go now and bring your mother back, she’ll be coming on her own. Will you go with me, son?”
Gialyn blinked. His father had never
asked him anything like it before. “Of course, Father. I thought we were all going at week’s end?”
“Tomorrow, before the new general can ‘find me something to do.’ The man is a pig, one of Breen’s supporters, promoted to keep the nobles happy. He’ll throw a stick in my plans, given half a chance.”
“Well, in that case,” Gialyn said, “I should go pack.”
“The dragons will take us,” Brea said.
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the Oracle.
“Won’t they be busy?” Daric asked. “I’m told your mother has asked them to help move the villagers back to Braylair.”
“It won’t take thirteen dragons to do that, Mr. Re’adh. And I’m sure Ribion, Ban, and Lyduk would be glad to be away from my mother for a week. She can get quite strict, at times.”
“What about Rek?” Gialyn asked.
“Oh, he’ll come, too,” Brea said, “but he’s not big enough to carry anyone.”
“I don’t suppose there’s one who can give me a ride to Toya?” Nana asked.
Brea laughed. “Maybe, Tor was talking about visiting Eiras at the end of the week. He won’t want a passenger, but Tiama will be going with him. I’m sure they will drop you off on the way past.”
Nana’s eyes widened. She laughed. “I was only joking, but now you mention it, yes, if they could do that, I would be most grateful.”
Gialyn hid a grumble under the pretence of rubbing his chin. Was everyone just going to accept the woman? Had they forgotten about Olam?
“So,” Daric said, handing Gialyn a full—full—glass of wine. “We’ll be seeing the country from the back of a dragon. Certainly sounds better than being cooped up on a boat.”
Gialyn couldn’t argue with that. He’d seen the passenger vessels—they called them ships, but they were no bigger than a large fishing boat—and was not looking forward to travelling on one. Furthermore, it would be good to see the land from a different perspective. Maybe this time he would have a chance to admire the view. It would certainly be more interesting than riding.
“Riding!” He suddenly said. “What about my horse? It’ll cost a fortune to keep him in the stable for two months.”
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 143