by Anne Leonard
The door opened. Liko stumbled in, followed by Bron. Corin thought Bron had probably given him a push. The scent of soap clung to him. His hair was clean, and his clothing was new.
He opened his mouth to ask Tam to leave. He did not want Liko to know anything about her. What came out was, “Stay here, my lady. Captain, bring Joce in, please, and shut the door.”
She looked startled. He knew it was the dragons moving through him. He whispered into her ear, “Sit down, love, and watch,” then took his own seat. He turned it to face Liko, who stood sullenly with Bron and Joce flanking him.
He looked at Bron. “Any trouble?”
“Nothing to speak of, sir.”
“Good. Liko.”
The man mumbled something that might have been an acknowledgment.
Corin said pleasantly, “I’ve no time for games. Don’t make me ask you anything twice. I want you to tell me everything you didn’t the last time about Lord Cade.”
Liko said nothing. Finally Bron stepped closer. Then Liko spoke. “He spent a lot of time talking to the Myceneans, and he had Imperial coinage.”
“What else?”
“You won’t believe me. It was absurd, even for him.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Liko still looked sullen and defiant. He said, “He wanted me to put him into trance so that he could get instruction from the Emperor. He said Hadon would not write it or use a messenger, but that they could speak together in the dark place. Obviously I refused.”
“Did he find anyone else?”
“I’ve no idea. I told you before that he would have killed me if I went along with it and found out what was in his mind. Not that there was much in it.”
Corin remembered how Liko had hesitated before telling him the stories of the docks. He pushed. “You believed him, didn’t you, Liko?”
“Of course not, my lord.” His voice was faster than usual, his face a little flushed.
“You believed him and you were afraid of what might happen. Afraid of what he might do, what Hadon might do. You aren’t entirely a charlatan, are you? Have you got some power?”
Silence. Bron moved restlessly. Liko mumbled, “Cade had no power, nor have I. No one does. The wizards are all dead.”
“Then what would have been the harm?”
“He was speaking treason!”
“That’s not what stopped you, though. You could have turned him in for a nice sum. Why didn’t you mesmerize him?”
The man stared at him. Clearly he thought he was being trapped or made a joke of.
Corin said, “I don’t hold the truth against anyone. Even if it seems absurd.”
Liko looked down, then said almost inaudibly, “He meant to go into the dark place to talk to Hadon. I don’t know what it is, but it’s real. He knew that too. Putting someone in trance is like water on a road, it goes to the ruts that are already there. I didn’t want to risk it if someone else had already let him through.”
“How would Cade have been let in in the first place if no one has power? Or were you lying about that too?”
“It’s—” He broke off and thought. His eyelids fluttered rapidly. He made another false start, then said, “Sorcery works that much, if one has the will and the strength. Not many do.”
Corin interrupted. “You do.”
Liko made a small, mocking bow. “I did.” Once. Before. A long time ago.
“How does it work?”
“The spells, the rituals, they focus the mind, that’s what opens it. It doesn’t matter what color candle you burn or where you burn it or how the planets are aligned, it’s the attention to the flame that counts. Trance is the same.”
“You might as well call that power,” Corin said. He did not want to think about the implications at the moment. “Cade had no power, he had to use someone. Who would it have been if not you?”
Liko shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t come back.”
It was no use asking him if he thought Cade had found his way in. He would have nothing to say on that count either. Corin shifted focus. “The dark place, can anyone be brought there?”
Liko looked uneasy. Corin suspected he knew where this was going. “If they want to, my lord. But both men have to really will it, and the one has to have the strength. It’s not going to happen by accident at a dinner party.”
“Could you have brought him through if you wanted to?”
“Perhaps. I haven’t tried for years. There’s a reason that place is separate, I don’t want to open something I can’t shut. It’s a bad place. And if anything in there gets a chance to come out it’s not going to stop to thank whoever released it. Devour him, more likely.”
Wise man. He remembered the trapped thing, clawing at him, hungering. Cade might have realized he would be a victim and tried to back out, or simply failed in his attempts to speak with Hadon, but by then he knew too much. The pieces clicked neatly into place. Tyrekh advanced, Tai was kidnapped, Corin came home—things were moving, and Cade became a liability. A little Sarian poison put Cade away and shifted the gaze eastward, and other plans were made. Arnet was not foolish enough to risk himself in the dark place just to speak to Hadon, if he even had needed to. Corin knew he should be that sensible.
But the dragons had touched him. Him and Tam both.
Must you do it? Tam had asked. Must was a hard word. He did not believe in destiny or fate. He had the choice. He should do his duty by his country and not go haring off on a fool’s quest he would likely fail in for the sake of the dragons. If he did free the dragons, Mycene would fracture and leave Caithen to be even more firmly gripped by Tyrekh. He could not let that happen either. There was nothing to be gained at all by following the path the dragons laid before him.
He had vowed to not even glance at Tam so as not to draw Liko’s attention to her, but he could not help himself. She was looking at him. Understanding flashed between them. He stood on the brink, and her hand was in his, not to pull him back but to leap with him if that was what he chose.
He faced Liko again and committed himself. “Mesmerize me.”
Bron said, “My lord!” at the same time Liko said, “What!”
“You heard me,” Corin said. He shot Bron a glance that he knew would quell him. He would hear about it later, but the captain would not challenge him now.
Liko said carefully, “You want me to put you into trance.”
“Yes.”
“I can mesmerize you. There’s no certainty anything else will happen.”
Corin shrugged. “Attempts fail. But one must try.”
“What warrants my freedom if something goes wrong?” Liko asked.
“Is there a risk?”
“My lord knows where his own mind might lead him better than I do.”
A few centuries ago such disrespect would have earned him a summary beheading. But it was true. Corin said, “You have three witnesses.”
“All loyal to you.”
He heard Tam try to keep back an exclamation. He said, “You don’t want me to hold you in contempt. Do it.” He was not doing well today at getting what he wanted diplomatically. He hardly cared.
Liko had the wisdom not to say anything else. There was a cord tied around his neck. He slid it over his head, revealing an attached shiny agate pebble. He stepped closer to Corin and stopped with a courtier’s instinct for what was too near.
In the most serious voice Corin had ever heard from him, he said, “Watch the stone.” He began to swing it gently back and forth. “Sleep,” he said. Corin followed the movement of the stone, let the rhythmic words drift over him. His eyes grew heavy. Darkness fell.
Someone was shaking him. He jerked into awareness and saw Bron beside him, looking worried. The captain dropped his hand. Tam was next to him, grinning. He hoped Liko could not see her face.
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“What happened?” he asked.
“You were too tired,” Tam said. “You fell asleep.”
“Well,” he said, and laughed. “So much for that.” He could still choose to forgo the dragons’ path.
Tam leaned forward. “Let me do it.”
He went serious at once. “Tam,” he said in a voice too low for the others to hear, “you don’t know what might happen.”
“Neither did you. I’m the one who’s already been there,” she whispered.
Even so, he was frightened for her. He gave up on pretending she did not matter and said, “You’ve just been through a shock.”
“A word, my lord,” said Joce. Everyone looked at him.
He would know. Corin beckoned. Bron and Tam moved aside without being asked. Joce bent over and said into Corin’s ear, “I can watch them both. She’s strong enough.”
That was some safety. It was not enough. But someone had to See, and she had done it. She had done it with enough clarity for his father to know.
“Does he have power?” he whispered back.
“I don’t think so. He’ll ride her wake.”
“Is there risk?”
“There’s always risk, sir. But I don’t think much.”
He glanced at Tam. She was no more going to back down than he would. He said, “He thinks you’ve recovered. Do you?”
“I’m not afraid of ghosts,” she replied.
He wondered if she knew this was a turning point. Their eyes met. She gave him a sweet smile that almost made his heart break with fear of losing her. She knew.
He stood up. She took his place. He noticed how very blue her eyes were, how perfect the line of her neck. Brave one, he thought at her. He waited until Joce was standing behind Liko to say, “Go ahead.”
Liko looked nervously at him, then began to swing the stone. His hand shook a little. Tam slipped into trance quickly and smoothly. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful.
“Who are you?” Liko asked.
She spoke, her voice pitched normally but very even. “Tam Warin.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Where were you tranced?”
“In the palace in Caithenor.”
“Who was with you?”
“Prince Corin, his captain, a guard. You.”
Liko looked up at Corin. “All’s well, my lord,” he said. Behind him, Joce nodded slightly, confirming.
“Go on,” Corin said.
Liko looked back at Tam. “Are you there now?”
“No,” she said.
“Where are you?”
“Someplace dark.”
“What can you see?”
“Nothing but darkness.”
“Is it a building?”
She said nothing at first. Her face screwed up a little. Then she said slowly, “No. It smells like stone. Somewhere outside. I think maybe it’s a cave, or the bottom of a canyon. The walls are so high, so dark. It’s night, maybe, but I don’t see stars.”
Chills ran along Corin’s back and arms. The Dragon Valleys. He looked up at Joce again, who made a hand-sign. Nothing wrong. He wanted desperately to touch Tam but knew he could not if this was to proceed. Bron was tensed like a hunting cat.
“Are you alone?”
She did not answer for a long time. Finally she said, “I think so.”
Corin exhaled slowly. He had not realized he was holding his breath. He had to remind himself that she was here, in this room, safe.
“Can you hear anything?”
Tam shifted on the chair. “There’s wind,” she said. “It’s blowing very hard, I can hear it whistling. Nothing else.” Then a long pause. Her face wrinkled with concentration again. “No, wait. There is a different noise. A scrape. Something scratching. It’s like metal on metal, it hurts my ears. Piano. Someone is playing the piano. The air is moving around me. It’s cold.”
He did not need to see Joce step forward to know that meant trouble. Instantly Corin said, “Bring her back.”
Liko snapped his fingers. She sat bolt upright. Her eyes sprang open. “Corin,” she said urgently, “the dragons. The roof. Now. Run.”
“Tam?”
“I’m all right. Go, hurry. It’s Tai.”
This was what would free her. He said over his shoulder to Joce, “Question him some more, then let him go,” and ran. He heard Bron stop to say something to Teron but ignored it. The captain would catch up to him.
The stairs on the last two levels were steep and narrow and not well lit, and he was forced to go more slowly. Bron was just a few steps behind. They made enough noise with their coming that the men in the guardroom at the top were ready and attentive, not slouching and talking the way they would be again as soon as he was well gone. Roof-watch was a tedious and mostly unnecessary duty. Last night it hadn’t been. There were two men stationed here and two at the other end. He ordered Bron to send them all down a level.
It was still morning, but heat rose from the stones around him. Sun blazed on the pale granite and made him squint. There was no wind. In the west a line of greyness might have been gathering clouds or might only have been heat haze. He hoped a storm would break the heat. The air felt heavy.
The spot where dragons came, when they did, was quite noticeable. The stone had been scored by claws and darkened with fire and ash. It glittered from thousands—millions—of bits of crushed dragon scales that could not be seen alone but had accumulated and compressed over the centuries. The blood left last night had been scrubbed off, and the unnaturally clean stone was brighter than that around it. He shielded his eyes with his hand.
Electricity crackled along his skin, raising the hairs on his arms. Everything went silent. He thought it had been quiet before, but now he knew what silence was. The light changed into that heavy tinted stillness he had seen once before in the garden. He walked toward the dragon stones, not even hearing his footfalls. Bron stepped toward him; Corin waved him back, a dread that he had gone deaf growing in his gut. If everything else had been still and motionless that would have been easier to accept than this sudden total quiet.
He knelt beside the stones. In the strange light he saw the bloodstains that were forever part of the stone now. Heartsick for his sisters, he touched one of the stones. It seemed to yield. He flattened his hands beside him and leaned forward, looking. The stones began to ripple with light.
It quickened and silvered, until it was as shiny and bright as new-minted plate. The ripples continued, iridescent, like oil on sunlit water. Like a dragon’s wing. He could hear them, the faintest hums, in his head and not his ears. He was no musician, but Tai was, and she had tried to tell him how she could hear the notes before she played them. Now he understood.
The sounds increased in volume until he could make out distinct hums and whistles and clicks. Like birdcalls, but more complicated and within the mind. The dragons were talking to one another, but he did not understand the language to speak back, to ask.
Images. He tried to make images, but he could not keep them from dissolving into one another. He stared at the shining stone, listened to the whistles. His sister’s face would not stay fixed in his mind. I need her to be safe. He was mired in words.
Carefully, very very carefully, he put one fingertip on the stone again. He felt it ready to give beneath him, to open up and swallow him whole. The sounds shifted, were clearer, sharper, more distinct. They seemed straighter and less wobbly, as though he had been hearing them through a distorting liquid that was gone. The dragons were aware of him. Some of the sounds were directed to him.
You wanted me, he thought. I am here. You wanted me. I am here.
Over and over, until they had no meaning for him, he did not know who was you or I or am or here, they were just a rhythm of sounds, a beat like surf. His body
was absent. Fire roared. He was at a still point, and the world and time spun around him, streaks of light and motion.
Blackness spread, and he thought he looked down a passageway or a well, a curving endless darkness. It was bitter cold. I could step through, he thought, though he did not know where he would go.
No, said the dragons. It is not for you.
His breast thrummed with the force of their words.
A memory. Tai played an elaborate, lively, beautiful melody, and he stood leaning over the edge of the piano, listening, knowing he had heard it before and unable to say where. She looked at him and saw that he was puzzled, and she sang a few words, so softly he had to listen several times to understand them. When he did—Oh, the barrels are full, let’s set them to roll—he began to laugh so hard he could not stop. He sank onto the piano bench beside her. She finished a chord triumphantly and started laughing herself. It was a common and crude drinking song, one that became more and more vulgar verse by verse until it dissolved into incomprehensible thieves’ cant, and she had dressed it up and beautified it so that it could be sent out into the highest society. I didn’t know you knew that, he said to her. Guards have their uses, she said. She began to play again, this time in a minor key and very slowly, with low notes. Now it’s a dirge, she said. I think I prefer the other version, Corin, shall I make that one your coronation march? He said, If you will play the dirge at my wedding, and she elbowed him off the bench, flexed her fingers, and started something else.
“My lord!” Bron shouted, and he lost his balance, fell, as darkness rushed over him with the force of a waterfall, stinging, pressing him to the ground, filling his nose, his eyes, his ears, his mouth, and then came the dragon sounds again. He reached toward them, desperately. Please.
She was there, in the darkness, hand extended to him. He got to his feet and reached for her. Ice crystals glittered on his arm. He could not feel her hand, though he saw it clasped in his. He pulled.
He got his arm out, saw her wrist, her face. She was almost through.
Then something tugged at her, jerking him forward into the darkness. He pulled but his arm was cold, his face was cold. He tried to shout her name and felt ice forming on his lips and in his nose. Her fingers slipped out of his grasp. He lunged for her and was blocked. He heard her cry out, but it was very distant.