"Yes," the Healed One replied, "but there are other things you must know, things I did not have Xarxius confide in you because I thought them unnecessary. Now, Melina's willingness to move so openly makes me believe she may feel she needs none of us much longerùthat she is near her goal."
"Goal?"
"Last winter Melina came to New Kelvin bearing three artifacts of proven provenance," the Healed One said. "I believe she is seeking something here in New Kelvin that will make those artifacts as nothing, an old power bound in the days of the Founders. Our legends call it the Dragon of Despair."
Chapter XXXIV
FIREKEEPER WAS FAR LESS BOTHERED by her inability to follow the conversation than the others might have imagined. Although she understood a great deal more Pellish than she had a year before, much of what was said in more complicated discussions was still lost to her. She had learned to compensate by watching expressions, coming to the decision that though humans lacked proper ears and tails, they really did give a great deal awayùeven when they did not intend to do so. This watchfulness, combined with Wendee's whispered translation, gave Firekeeper more than enough information to keep her interested.
After a few minutes, she decided that she liked the Healed One. His robes might hide his body, but nothing could hide the muscular power of his movements from eyes trained to look for signs of a healthyùand therefore dangerousùbeast. She wondered how someone who stayed locked within this walled city could so remind her of a stag in his prime. When she learned the Healed One was a dancer, Firekeeper was content.
The tale of the Dragon of Despairùwhich Toriovico began by telling how the dragon came to beùreminded the wolf-woman of the stories Queen Elexa had told her when her winter cold had kept her in bed. Firekeeper wondered how much of this tale was true and how much fancy, but the sincerity of the Healed One's tone as he related the taleùeven to a tight, strained note barely detectable beneath his wordsùgave credence. Clearly, the Healed One believed the tale and equally clearly he did not expect them to do so.
Firekeeper decided to keep an open mind as to its truth. After all, not much over a year before she wouldn't have believed in human cities. She'd hardly believed in humans, come to that, and humans had not believed in Beasts.
The wolf-woman felt a momentary twinge of fear that humans might now believe, and what that belief could mean to her people, but she put the fear from her, though she did tighten her hand in Blind Seer's fur.
When the story of the Dragon of Despair, its binding, and the Healed One's belief that Melina was seeking it to turn its terrible power to her own uses had ended, Firekeeper listened a trace impatiently as the others asked the Healed One various clarifying questionsùnone of the answers to which seemed to make them very happy.
After some time had passed, Derian glanced around the room uneasily and said, "Isn't this dangerous, our meeting with you like this and for so long?"
The Healed One's lips twisted in that odd expression that seemed like a smile but held no warmth.
"Usually, it would be dangerous," he agreed. "Indeed, I fully expect word of this meeting to get to Melina, but that was something I had to risk. I sincerely hope to convince her that we were simply discussing the customs of your country."
"But," Derian pressed, "it sounds like Melina has a lot of influence here in Thendulla Lypella. Won't she just come walking in when she gets wind of this?"
The Healed One shook his head so vigorously that his long green braid whipped over his shoulder.
"Not this time. Melina is in a trap of her own making. Since she brought the accusation against Xarxius to Apheros she is required to be a witness at the hearing. As Healed One I could insist I had duties that require me to be elsewhere. My Consolor does not have that excuse.
"Moreover, I do not believe Melina will be willing to leave Apheros. She knowsùfor Xarxius nearly freed Apheros from her power by appealing to his pride of officeùthat this hearing is the greatest danger to her hold over the Dragon Speaker there could be. Therefore, even if someone brings her word that I am meeting with youùand I do not think her agents could get a message into the sealed judicial chamberùshe will be reluctant to leave."
"Why," asked Doc through Wendee, "is your civil ruler called the Dragon Speaker? I'd expect him to be called something like Number One Prime. It better fits your nomenclature."
The Healed One looked momentarily annoyed, then suddenly he turned serious.
"Actually, the title is tied in with that same legend I was relating a moment ago. Although the Founders' government was different from our modern oneùfor one thing, the Founders didn't have a Healed Oneùthey did govern via a council. After the binding of the Dragon of Despair, the Star Wizard was given the position of head of the council in recognition of his heroic deeds. Since the Star Wizard had spoken to the dragonùsome said he continued to hear its laments for the rest of his lifeùhe was given the title Dragon Speaker. When my ancestor the First Healed One created the Primes he retained the title for its ancient honor and tradition."
Firekeeper felt unaccountably uncomfortable at this snippet of information. To distract herself, she asked a question of her own.
"What about Peace and Edlin?"
Now it was the Healed One's turn to look uncomfortable.
"Xarxius said something about the two of them being missing," he replied. "He mentioned it after he was arrested. I had the impression he was trying to let me know that Melina had them. However, I must admit I have no idea where they areùor how she acquired them in the first place."
As Elise explained how Peace and Edlin had been captured, being far kinder to Firekeeper in the telling than the wolf-woman would have been to herself, Firekeeper considered the task the Healed One had set for them with a sense of dread that intertwined with her own weariness and the continued pain of her injuries.
Not only did they need to find where Melina went at night, they needed to learn what they could about her investigations into this dragon. The Healed One had admitted that he believed the story, but that he had no idea whether the dragon might be a symbol for something else.
Firekeeper understood about symbols, but in her gut she thought that Melina would not be looking so hard and taking so many risks if she wasn't fairly certain that there was a real dragon to be had at the end of the chaseùor at least an artifact so powerful that it had raised a mountain and caused vast destruction.
So Firekeeper had to find the truth of this dragon story. From what the Healed One was now telling Elise, it looked as if Firekeeper would need to find Edlin and Peace as well. Rather than simplifying matters, she thought that their visit to the Healed One had complicated their tasks greatly.
Firekeeper said as much to Blind Seer and the wolf replied, "The spider's web is tightest at the center, dear heart. Trails cross most when you near the deer yard."
"Proverbs," she said, punching him.
"Truth."
MOTHER DIDN'T come. Citrine waited, crouched for hours on the cold stone floor of the storeroom, waited until she worried she would fall asleep, sleep there until morning, and give away Mother's secret.
Citrine wanted to go to look for Mother, to make certain she hadn't left without her, but she was afraid that Mother would come and leave without her.
Then Citrine remembered a trick Grateful Peace had shown her, a trick for telling if someone had opened a letter or drawer. She reasoned that the trick would work as well for a trapdoor. Peace's trick called for something small to be laid across the fold or opening, something so small and unremarkable that it would be moved or broken when the letter was unfolded or the drawer openedùbut the person who had left it there would know the marker had been moved.
So Citrine moved a bit of cobweb from where the spider had left it behind a barrel and carefully stuck it over the edges of the trapdoor. The storeroom wasn't swept very often and certainly wouldn't be this night. She could trust the cobweb to tell her if Mother had come through in her absence. Thus reassured, Cit
rine went looking for her mother.
The first thing Citrine was aware of was that the Cloud Touching Spire was a great deal busier than it usually was at this hour of the night. The second was Tipi sweeping down on her.
"There you are you bad girl!" Tipi exclaimed, all fury and relief. "Where have you been?"
Citrine stayed close to the truth.
"I was looking for my mother."
"Your mother isn't here," Tipi scolded. "Consolor Melina sent me a message saying that she would be in meetings through much of the night. She told me to bring you her good-night wishes."
Citrine doubted this last. Melina never had indulged in such sentimental overtures. Tipi must have had some other reason for prowling around Citrine's chambers. Thinking of the handsome guard she had snuck past on her way out, Citrine thought she knew why Tipi had wanted an excuse to be in that part of the tower.
She giggled to herself when she thought of how surprised Tipi must have been to find the bed empty but for a bundle of cloth.
"And why are you dressed like that?" Tipi demanded, indignant that the girl was not afraid and noticing Citrine's tunnel-prowling robes for the first time.
"It's my costume for one of the dances," Citrine lied. "I'm an evening shadow."
Tipi snorted to show what she thought of such ridiculous nonsense. Despite having lived in New Kelvin for many years, the slave paid little attention to the local religion and Citrine had counted on her not knowing that there were no shadows in the Harvest Joy dance. Tipi's private cult was one of profit and survival with Melina as her personal goddess.
Citrine decided to invoke that goddess now.
"I wonder if Mother will be angry with you when she learns you were out tonight?" she asked with mild curiosity.
The fashion in which Tipi stiffened made Citrine think that Melina would indeed be angry. The restriction on wandering the Cloud Touching Spire at night didn't apply as strictly to Tipi as it did to the lesser servants, but apparently it did apply.
"Nonsense," Tipi retorted, her words more confident than her bearing. "Consolor Melina sent me to check on you and check I shall. You'll need another bath or you'll rub off paint on your sheets."
Citrine surrendered, even to the extent of another bath, though she knew from experience that she could remove the paint quite well with just a small amount of the cream on her dressing table and a damp cloth.
The next morning Citrine heard, along with everyone else in Thendulla Lypella, about Xarxius's disgrace and the treason hearing. That morning at breakfast, even beneath her skillfully applied face paint, Melina looked tired and worried.
"Can I help you, Mother?" Citrine asked.
Melina's reply had been uncharacteristically gentle.
"Only if you could find a way for me to be three or four places at once, chick. I have to attend Xarxius's hearing all day and I don't know how I can possibly do that and still attend to everything else that demands my attention."
"Maybe I could stand in for you," Citrine offered hesitantly.
Melina's expression balanced between a scowl and a smile, but the smile won.
"That's very sweet of you, dear, but you can't take my place. Now don't trouble me any further. Off to dance practice with you."
Citrine had been about to offer to take a message to Idalia, but Melina's command effectively sealed her lips.
DESPITE CITRINE'S FEAR that Tipi would check on her, the girl slipped out of her room at the usual hour the next night.
Although Xarxius's hearing was sequestered, enough rumors were circulating that Citrine's rational mind knew that Mother wouldn't be venturing into the tunnels tonight. But her rational mind was nearly smothered beneath clamoring howls of fear, for over supper, Tipi had told Citrine that the Healed One had excused himself from Xarxius's hearing to entertain emissaries from Hawk Haven.
"Five people and a great, huge wolf," Tipi had said with malicious relish. "I can guess who they are. I bet you can, too. I wonder what their business could be?"
Citrine had no doubt. They were going to take her away, away from Mother. Elise and the others. They would mean well, but they didn't understand how Citrine needed to see Mother, needed to be reassured that Mother still loved her and took some pleasure in having her littlest girl near.
The fear that filled her mind with noise came not from the fact that the others wanted her back, but from a growing certainty that Mother wouldn't fight to keep her. Mother was having a lot of trouble now. Citrine didn't understand all the government talk, but she understood enough to know that Apheros, one of Mother's greatest friends in Thendulla Lypella, was in trouble, that he might lose his place as Dragon Speaker.
Citrine had also gatheredùmostly from sly looks and chopped-off sentences whenever she came in hearingùthat Xarxius had gotten himself and Apheros into trouble over her. Citrine didn't need to be as clever as Mother or Grateful Peace about government workings to guess that the easiest way to solve all of this trouble was to give Citrine back.
No Citrine. No trouble.
But Citrine didn't want to be given back, so she crouched on the cold stone floor, hoping Mother would come and that they could be together just like always. Citrine would explain to Mother how much she wanted to stay, how helpful she could be. She'd show her how well she knew the tunnels. That she knew about Idalia and the underground town. Then Mother could make Citrine her go-between.
Citrine hugged herself, almost giggling at the thought of their sharing that cozy secret. She determinedly didn't think about how Mother might be angry at her for sneaking around, nosing into her business. Instead she thought about how proud Mother would be that Citrine had some backbone, not like Ruby or Opal or even Jet, though Mother seemed to think so highly of him.
Cold seeped up through the soles of Citrine's slippers. It was this more than conscious planning that caused Citrine to creep from her hiding place and raise the trapdoor. The tunnels weren't any warmer than the storeroom, but she could move around there and keep herself warm.
Once Citrine was down below, it seemed quite natural to light a lantern. Almost as if struck to life by the same flint and steel, a brilliant idea lit the girl's mind.
Hadn't Mother said just that morning how she was worried about all the things she couldn't keep up with because she needed to be at Xarxius's hearing? Well, Citrine could mind this bit of business for her. Citrine had a pretty good idea of where Idalia might be checking for whatever it was that Mother wanted. Idalia and Mother had discussed their search pattern the last time Citrine and Mother had been down here.
Citrine would go and check on Idalia's progress. If there was nothing substantialùas there had been thus farùshe would keep silent. But if Idalia had found something wonderful!
Soft-shod feet ghosted silently down the tunnels as Citrine dwelt on this wonderful vision. Idalia sent Mother messages through special couriers, but these messages didn't come very promptlyùand Citrine knew that if one came while Mother was attending the hearing Mother wouldn't be given it until there was a break in the proceeding.
That would mean that Mother wouldn't learn of the wonderful discovery until lateùmaybe even a day late. But Citrine could learn everything and this very night go to Mother's room and tell her everything about…
The fantasy wavered somewhat as Citrine came up against the obstacle that she had no idea what Mother wanted to find down here. Treasure of some sort, that was certain.
Well then…
Citrine would tell Mother about the treasure and Mother would be proud and happy and announce to all the Primes: "This is my daughter and she is worth all her sisters and even her brother and all of you, too. She's staying with me and so there!"
Versions of this happy vision swept the fears from Citrine's mind and kept her fancy occupied while her feet concentrated on being as quiet as possible and her eyes checked the walls for the markers that showed the way and her ears stayed alert for sound that would tell her where Idalia was attending to her mistress's
business that night.
Citrine located the searchers in the second section of tunnels she checked. They had paused in a small cavern where steam rose from a vent in the wall and the air smelled foul. Peace was there and Edlin, sketchbook in hand. Idalia was there, too, along with a young man Citrine had gathered from earlier encounters was her son, Varcasiol.
As if the shackles they wore were not enough to hold the prisoners, four guards flanked the group. The guards doubled as lantern bearers so the immediate vicinity was brilliantly lit, bordered in a dancing aura of stark black shadow in which Citrine hid as among the trees of a dense forest.
Reassured by the sour expression on Idalia's face that she had not missed witnessing the finding of the treasure hoard, Citrine turned her lantern down as low as the flame could go and made sure the shutters were tightly closed. Then she settled behind a heap of rocks to watch.
The first thing Citrine noticed was that Grateful Peace looked as if he'd had a terrible fall. There were cuts and bruises on his face and he moved as if every bone in his body ached. Whenever he could, Peace braced his one remaining arm against the wall, as if he couldn't stand on his own. When he must move without that support, he wrapped his arm across his front to hold his side.
Edlin also showed signs of battering. His lower lip was swollen so that his normally cheerful features were set in a permanent grotesque pout. He had a black eye and a welt across one side of his face. Edlin hovered as near to Grateful Peace as he could and that protectiveness told Citrine more than she wanted to know.
Confused as her thoughts could sometimes be, Citrine was not a fool. She had seen various guards strike Peace, even when Idalia was not present. She had seen the hatred Idalia bore her brother. She was also no stranger to the rivalries and resentments that can grow between those whoùby an accident of birthùare supposed to be natural allies.
Citrine did not need to make a great leap of imagination or memory to know why in less than two full days Grateful Peace had gone from being a bruised cripple to a physical wreck who could hardly move without assistance. Nor did it take any tremendous reasoning power to realize how Edlin had received his own disfiguring injuries.
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