by Dave Freer
Meb blinked. "I feel very stupid now. I thought they did it because they loved it. I did. I did think about the money, and maybe wonder . . . but, well, I was concentrating on juggling. You always had money. So, I thought that was maybe where it came from."
"That comes from my hoard. I have accumulated a bit over the years. At times I have to spend some. Just not gold, if I can help it."
"Oh. So . . . what else can I do, Finn?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. You seem adept at summonsing things. But humans are generally strong with earth magics. Rather different from dragons like me. Humans are good at making things grow. The trick is to always remember that you can do too much. That will kill you. But right now you need to be adept at changing your clothes, because Port Lapith is close."
He was so . . . matter-of-fact about being a dragon. Sensible Meb knew it was silly. People were not dragons. Sensible Meb that knew all the other things didn't happen either. The other dreamer Meb in her head said, "You were there. The magic works. You've talked to mountains. Why not the rest?"
And a little part of her still said, "Why me?" and was very afraid.
Meb felt that she was becoming quite a seasoned traveler with a knowledge of ports by now. This was her third, after all. It was also the most chaotic. There were armed centaurs running about everywhere—without, it appeared, any logical reason for doing so. The captain was not prepared to let the passengers disembark until the centaurs had given permission, and this took a long time. Eventually a centaur trotted up to the gangplank. "You can put to sea again, captain. The berths are needed. Or we will buy your ship. We want transports."
"Excuse me," said Finn. "Can we disembark? I believe you want us, more than transports."
"Why would we want you?" asked the centaur, looking down his nose at them.
"Because we're water diviners," said Finn. "And it was foretold that you'd need us."
The centaur stood stock still for a moment. And then took a deep breath. "Foretold? Come with me."
He set off at a hasty canter. Finn put a hand on Meb's shoulder. "Walk. He'll be back."
He was, with three others a few moments later. "We're not as fleet of foot as centaurs, friends," said Finn calmly.
One of the accompanying centaurs asked: "Who foretold that you would be needed?"
Finn smiled up at him. "A black dragon."
It is not really possible for the man-half of a centaur to fall off the horse-half's back. But the centaurs tried. Eventually one of the centaurs spoke. "What did he say?"
"He said that predictions are usually wrong, unless your understanding is complete. And he said that I was to give you something. This bag." He hauled a leather bladder out of his pack. "He says you could either play games with it, or let the contents loose. Doing the latter was his advice. And I was to ask you for a piece of stick, because that was what my assistant and I will need to find your water."
It was like tossing a deadly sea-snake out of a basket of fish onto the gutting table. Half-horses exploded away from them yelling, calling. Others came galloping, crowding around them. Shouting. Asking questions. Eventually a centaur with gray touches to his beard restored it all to some semblance of order. "I am Ixion," he said in a deep carrying voice. "I command the battle phalanxes. Tell me who you are and why you are here." He looked at the old leather bag in Finn's hand. "And what you are doing with our ancient treasure."
"Bringing it back to you. I thought that was quite obvious," said Finn. "Here. Catch." And he tossed the bladder to Ixion.
"It is a holy object! It should be treated with great respect. Not flung!" said the catcher in a choked voice, holding it as if it were very fragile.
"Chuck it back to me and I'll try again," said Finn, sardonically. "Now we're here to deal with your water problem. Can we get on with it? We have other work to do."
It was obvious that this Ixion too just had no idea what to do in the circumstances. "I . . . I will have to consult with the others."
"Go ahead. But it's a long way inland. And uphill. And we're in a hurry and so are you. Mind if we start walking?"
Ixion took a deep breath. Nodded. "Abraxis. Will you see that they are suitably escorted? I must take this to the high plains." He held the old leather bag aloft.
So, surrounded by a phalanx of centaurs, Finn, Meb and Díleas started walking. It was a long, steep, winding trail up to the escarpment, so Meb was very relieved when some more centaurs led a horse-drawn cart up to them. The horses seemed less pleased than she was.
The cart reached the top eventually, and the horses were unhitched, while more were led up. Along with them came a delegation of older centaurs. They were respectful, but wary. "Stranger. You say you come from the black dragon, the destroyer."
"Sometimes in order to fix things, you have to break them," said Finn, cheerfully. "What have you done with the leather bladder I brought you? The black dragon thought it would be a good idea if you opened it and let the contents go. Good for the centaur people in the troubled times that lie ahead."
"Can we consult with the black dragon?" asked one of the elders timorously.
"He's not where I last saw him anymore," said Finn. "He was just passing through, and he gave me this job to do, and paid me well for doing it too. Now, he said we were to ask you for a special piece of stick. We use them for divining, you know."
It was plain the centaur knew exactly what he meant—and was terribly shocked at the suggestion. "But . . . we hold it in sacred trust."
"It's a stick. I'll probably give it back to the owners, when we're done," said Finn. "If you want your water, that is?"
There was much stamping and muttering.
"How do we know you'll give it back to them?" asked the elderly centaur doubtfully.
"You don't. Or you can fill your pool with buckets and try to see."
Chapter 44
Vorlian lay on his gold and brooded and healed. He looked out of the cavern mouth of his eyrie across Starsey and to the purple bulk of Yenfar across the ocean. A visit from Belet was the only thing to interrupt his dark thoughts.
The fire-being was of course his usual apparently respectful self. Vorlian right now felt that he could use some respect, but that of the demon was . . . wanting. "Greetings, great Lord Vorlian."
"Spare me the flattery. What do you want?"
"Merely that you had sent a message to say that you had found out more about our fugitive human. We are finding her very hard to track down. She vanishes in our auguries."
"She's sailed from here, going West. She is in the company of a black dragon called Fionn. There are two other humans with her. An innkeeper's daughter called Keri and a man called Justin—he's a petty criminal and informer."
"West. I will alert our contacts," said the fire-being.
"Do that," said Vorlian, tersely. "Tell the tree-women too. I told the centaur. He broke my mirror."
"One of my informants tells me he has sailed for Lapithidia. I thought that he was in exile," said Belet.
"Umph," said Vorlian, deciding for now to keep his council about the centaur and the mirror. "Well, now we need a centaur and the human mage, and of course the merrow and the dvergar."
"The sprites can always constrain the merrows and we can deal with the dvergar."
The fire-being took his leave, and Vorlian continued his dark thoughts about Myrcupa and even the doings of that rogue Fionn. Then he spotted a dragon. Far off-shore, making no attempt to come closer. But plainly intending to be seen.
Fury roused Vorlian and, despite still being in some pain, he flew out. However, distance cooled his temper, added caution. What if it was a trap? The other dragon was not attempting to gain altitude and in the clear sky Vorlian could see no other dragons. He flapped slowly out. The other dragon was considerably smaller, but not black. He placed her. Tessara. He had nothing against her, and he would have thought she had nothing against him. They had mated once.
"What do you want?" he asked from a safe dista
nce, still keeping a weather eye out for other dragons.
"To talk," she said. "Some of the others sent me. We're worried."
"Having chased me out of the conclave, why would you want to talk to me?"
"That was before Fionn came and set things straight. Anyway, that was all Myrcupa and his gang of friends. Nothing to do with me," said Tessara.
Vorlian absorbed this. "My wings are sore and I am still a little burned," he said in a more reasonable tone. "Let us fly to those hills over there and we can talk."
"Awkward not to have the conclave as a neutral meeting ground. I was ready to flee," said Tessara, turning to follow.
Soon they'd settled on the high, sunbaked rocks of the ridge. "So, just what did Fionn say?" asked Vorlian.
"He made us laugh as usual," said Tessara. "And he took a great deal of risk in irking Myrcupa to tell us that Zuamar had been in your territory in the last week or so."
Vorlian blinked. "Yes. But what does that have to do with it?"
"Well, it does make your ambush and the murder of Zuamar more understandable. I mean, we knew that he'd killed Jakarin. We can understand you felt threatened. Perhaps it is best that he's dead. And if you were injured, it made sense not to fight Myrcupa. You didn't just run away."
Vorlian opened and shut his mouth like a beached fish. Then asked in a dangerous voice. "Did Fionn tell you this?"
"No. Myrcupa told us about the ambush and you running away from the scene of the murder, and then him . . . I found that hard to believe. Fionn just made a fool of him and said you'd defeated Zuamar and that we should all be grateful. Myrcupa was all set to kill him, but he slipped away."
"Fionn would kill him, rather than the other way around," said Vorlian. "He was the one who defeated Zuamar. Not me."
"But . . . but everyone, even Fionn, says that you killed Zuamar," said Tessara.
Vorlian nodded. "He defeated him and let him go. I merely killed Zuamar afterward, but in a fair midair fight. Half of Yenfar must have seen it. And I'll fight Myrcupa, injured or not. I'll fly over there now and deal with him. He couldn't drive me to flee if I was on death's door, Tessara. I have my sources. He's there by invitation. By invitation from the alvar! They sought protection from me, alvar alone know why. In fact I think I will fly over and devour the liar! And those alvar."
Tessara shook her head. "They are flying in pairs, expecting you, Vorlian. It's not natural. And they're changing things in conclave. They attacked Marcellus there. Inside the caverns. There was almost a riot. But not quite. They're the largest, and are sticking together. They say we need to start a program to exterminate humans."
Vorlian took a deep breath. "Then maybe we need to come together too. In times of crisis, dragons have allied before. We allied to create this refuge." He looked around. "What I really need to do is something I thought I would never admit to wanting to do. I want to talk to Fionn. I'm not sure what his game is but I think it is time that I found out."
Tessara shook her wings out. "I will talk to the others. Among the females we have our own . . . arrangement. There are those who have contacts among the lesser species. They will tell us what happened on Yenfar."
"I will lie on my gold and recover for a while. But if you hear of any sightings of Fionn, will you let me know? I need to talk to that black smart-mouth." He sighed. "I ought to have before."
"No one takes him seriously," said Tessara.
"Maybe that was a mistake," said Vorlian.
"That is the strangest thing I've ever heard a dragon say, let alone you," said Tessara dryly. "You never admit to mistakes. Dragons don't." And she flew off, leaving Vorlian to his thoughts again. They were as confused but less dark. Where did Fionn disappear to?
The answer, when he thought about it, was painfully obvious. It was just so undragonish . . .
Fionn had no qualms about assuming other shapes.
He was the tall, foxy-faced human.
Chapter 45
Justin had recognized the two of them the moment he'd seen them together. The high priest of the lady of the forest's grove had showed them all the picture the day before.
Justin, scribe, petty thief, professional informer and would-be gigolo had joined the Lyr worshipers as a potential source of income, either from informing or from blackmail. It had been a good source of income and protection—his fellow devotees were, some of them, influential men. But this—this looked like the big pay-off. He'd originally had hopes of getting Keri pregnant and getting his way into the inn that way, but her father had made it clear that he'd rather see her dead in a ditch than married to Justin. The girl had the intellect and morals of a rabbit, and had been keeping herself occupied and miraculously un-pregnant with passing travelers for some years. Justin did consider that she was worth keeping as the first of his stable, because she'd sleep with whoever he told her to and bring him the money. Although he'd have to watch her. She stole! Now, he'd have the funds to set up in style. He'd caught up with two of the three that the Lady of the Forests wanted. There was no way off Lapithidia except via Port Lapith. And the sprites had a small grove on the island, just outside the port. Their sacred island of Arcady was close by.
The chaos generated by Finn and the girl's leaving made it a simple matter to hop off the ship without any centaur being the wiser. To his irritation Keri followed him.
"Go back," he ordered.
"No. You're up to something. Probably with that tramp in trousers."
It was a case of beat her there on the quayside, or put up with her. And there were any number of stevedores and other people about who would probably interfere in his business. So he merely shrugged. Let her tag along.
She complained about it being too cold to strip off once they got to the trees. Well, that was up to her. He'd seen what got done to those who broke the rules. He walked on, naked as the day he was born, while she carped at him. "Shut up or I'll beat you black and blue, bitch. Do as you're told."
"I only do as I wish," said the tree-woman suddenly. "Have you come to die?"
Keri screamed. Justin bowed. "I have found your quarry, Lady of the Forest. I have brought you the ones you seek."
This sprite looked identical to the one back on Starsey. "Explain," she said, as cool as ever.
For the first time doubt that he might get a reward crept into Justin's mind. But he could play hard to get.
A little later he knew that he could not. And that his life would be a great reward. But the Lady of the Forest was not finished with him.
Belet arrived on Arcady at the same time as the ship with the hasty message from Lapithidia did. The sprites did not keep the message from him. And he in turn shared what he had with them.
"He has to be a dragon. A shape-shifted dragon, protecting her."
"A shape-shifted dragon," said Lyr. "It fits. Well, we can deal with that together."
Belet concurred. They had. Compulsion had now been set on no less than fourteen dragons, together. But that was a complex working, and shaped their inclinations.
"I think we should settle for merely stunning it. We can do that too, you know."
"Of course I know. The first Lyr knew. We all know. We have some gold for us to bespell."
"I will move in some troops from Cark. We can keep watch . . . it will take them as long to come down from the plateaux as for us to land in force. We can move over by night and wait in the lee of the cliff west of Port Lapith. One vessel at sea with a mirror can relay the message by day, and a phosphorus flare by night."
The Lyr nodded, a habit she had learned from her human devotees.
On the high plateaux, with a phalanx of centaurs acting as outriders and guides, Meb found that she was pleasantly alone with Finn. She hadn't realized how Justin and the innkeeper's daughter had irritated her just by being in their space so often. And, for once, Finn seemed quite disposed to talk. He pointed to a rocky tor. "I put those there. I do occasionally have to do some hard work."
Meb looked at the strange sh
aped spike of weathered stone. "Why, Finn?"
He shrugged. "Energy flow problem. Think of everything as flowing rivers of forces. Patterns of it. Sometimes something disrupts that pattern. Mostly things correct themselves. I mean, think of a stream. It can only do just what it is meant to do if it flows exactly down a certain path. A child puts some stones in the stream and it deviates . . . it either comes back to the path or, next time there is a storm the stones wash away. Occasionally someone will come along and jam the stones together so that they cannot wash away. Then I may have to adjust things—either to compensate with other forces or to undo the blockage or put another rock in higher up or lower down. That's what that tor is."