Alastair frowned. “Julienna and Mar’esh have been in Edonarle these past few weeks, haven’t they?”
“They have. And doing a fine job of guarding the roads around the capital, though of course . . .” He trailed off and busied himself with cleaning his plate. In the sudden absence of conversation, I became aware of a faint whistling sound, as if someone nearby was breathing sharply through parted lips. It rose and fell at uneven intervals before ceasing altogether. The others didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes?” Alastair asked.
The general chewed his last bite with a thoughtful expression. “Well, your sister’s dragon is rather, er, earthbound.”
The clink of crystal on the polished oakstone surface of the table hung in the air like a well-mannered gasp. Alastair looked away, and I saw at once the strength of the friendship between the lord general and House Daired. Little else would weather such a comment. Julienna’s dragon Mar’esh had a maimed wing, a gift from the accursed Ranger Tristan Wydrick, and though both Mar’esh and his Rider were deadly warriors, Mar’esh could not fly. Wise Arleans, however, didn’t mention that in the hearing of Julienna’s older brother. Alastair had killed Wydrick at the Battle of North Fields in retribution for what he’d done both to Mar’esh and to my younger sister Leyda. Even now thoughts of Wydrick still made me angry, yet whatever fury I felt I knew Alastair felt it ten times over.
“Not to say she and Mar’esh didn’t take their fair share of Tekari heads,” Lord Camron added after an awkward pause. “Of course. And Lady Catriona and the Drakaina and your cousin have been helping secure the southern coast, naturally, but—”
I held up a hand. “Forgive me, Lord Camron,” I said. “Alastair, do you hear that?” The whistling sound had started again. “Listen.”
We listened. From the distant depths of the house it came a third time, less like a whistle and more like a screech. I remembered Cedric Brysney’s arrival at Pendragon just a few months before and his wyvern’s scream, announcing the approach of the Greater Lindworm and the end of Arle as we knew it. A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach and I was halfway to my feet when the door at the end of the hall flew open.
“Barton?” Alastair asked. “What’s going on?”
Barton’s usually impeccable suit was disheveled and his breath came in gasps as if he’d just run the whole length of the house. “You have—you have—forgive me, my lord—you have a visitor,” he wheezed.
“For Thell’s sake, man, catch your breath,” Alastair said.
The steward straightened his jacket. “Apologies again, my lord, my lady. It’s a messenger—most urgent.”
“Whose messenger?” I asked.
“From the north. Castle Selwyn on Lake Meera,” Barton said. “Lord Alastair, he asked to speak with you immediately. Says it’s a matter of life and death. Madam Gretna and Master Nettlebaum are with him in the summer parlor.”
“Nettlebaum? Is someone hurt?”
“Not exactly, sir. Madam Gretna merely thought it prudent to summon a physician just in case. The young man was quite wild.”
“We’ll be with him in a moment,” Alastair said. Barton bowed and hurried out.
“Life or death, eh?” the general said.
“I’m sorry, Camron. We weren’t expecting any other visitors today,” Alastair said.
Lord Camron shrugged and pushed back his chair. “You have duties, just as I have. I won’t keep you from them. In any case, the king expects me back in Edonarle soon. We’d better be off. Thank you for lunch.” He bowed and touched four fingers to his brow in a fourfold farewell. “Shield and Circle keep you, lad.”
Alastair returned the gesture. “And you, my friend.”
Lord Camron turned to me. “Lady Aliza, it was a pleasure. I hope I will see you both again in Edonarle soon. No, no,” he said as Alastair moved for the bell to summon a servant. “No need. I know the way out. Go. See to your visitor.”
We found Madam Gretna at the door to the summer parlor giving orders to a handful of maids. “Oh! My lord, my lady, I’m so glad you’ve come,” Madam Gretna said. “He won’t speak to anyone else. He’s inside.”
A young man, who escaped the title “boy” only by virtue of the patchy beard clinging to his chin and cheeks, lay on a sofa pulled close to the fire, attended by Master Nettlebaum, the Pendragon physician. The young man wore the formal livery of a lord’s messenger, a surcoat in deep navy with the wheel-and-trident crest of Lake Meera on his shoulder. His face was pale and sheened with sweat but I saw no injuries. A hooded gyrfalcon stood guard on the back of the sofa, talons sunk deep into the upholstery, jesses jingling an agitated rhythm. When we entered, the bird let out a piercing cry, loud enough to make Madam Gretna jump. The messenger opened his eyes. When he saw us, he struggled to his feet.
“Lie down, boy!” Nettlebaum said, but the young man pushed him aside.
“Jen T-Trennan of Castle Selwyn, Lake Meera,” he said, each word clipped by the steel edge of a Noordish accent. A shock of fair hair flopped into his face as he bowed, overbalanced, and caught himself. He held out a letter to Alastair in one hand. With the other hand he twisted a button on his surcoat. “Lord Daired, I bring a message from Lord Selwyn.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but the boy needs quiet.” Nettlebaum slid between them as Alastair took the letter, doing his best to herd Trennan back toward the sofa. “It was a tomfool thing to do, ride without resting like that.”
“I had my orders—”
“Three days, he says, my lord!” Nettlebaum said. “Three days’ hard riding from Hatch Ford with hardly a pause for breath, let alone food or sleep, and that on top of the ride from Lake Meera! Nearly falling out of the saddle, he was.”
“Was something chasing you, Master Trennan?” I asked.
He looked from my face to Alastair’s and back. If possible, he grew paler. “I don’t—I don’t know, milady,” he said.
“You don’t know?” Alastair said.
“I never saw anything, sir. Not so much as that. But there was a feeling . . .” He shook his head and thrust the letter once more toward us. “I’m sorry, Lord Daired, but my master gave me strict orders. I’m to make certain you read this at once.”
I leaned over Alastair’s shoulder to read as he unfolded the paper. It smelled of wax, ink, and sweat, both human and equine. However hard he’d ridden, however fast he’d run, Trennan had kept his master’s message close to him the whole way.
To the honorable Lord Alastair Daired,
Keeper of the House and Bloodline of Edan the Fireborn,
Protector and defender of Arle, dear to Mikla and to Thell:
Greetings.
Sir, please allow me once again to offer my congratulations on your recent nuptials and wish you and your new bride every manner of happiness the Fourfold God can bestow. I trust you received our small token of regard, though I am certain your fighting skills are worthy of a finer blade, just as I am sure your lady’s beauty outshines even the finest Lake Meera pearls.
I write on a business matter of the utmost seriousness. Not long after the death of the Great Worm (for which all of Arle owes you and your dragon our profound gratitude), strange things began to happen in the vicinity of Castle Selwyn. First it was no more than missing livestock, sheep and chickens and the like. Then the people of the lake towns began to find bodies lying along the shore—not human bodies and not their missing livestock, but Idar. The first was a young troll, beheaded. Soon after it was a gale of pixies, their wings twisted off and their bodies strewn across the beach. Most recently was a second troll, an adult this time, stabbed through the eye. All the slain Idar had one thing in common. No matter how they died, the killer or killers had cut open their chests and removed their heartstones.
I have spoken to the local contingent of Vesh and lithosmiths. They are as puzzled as I am and swear none of their people are responsible. However, last week it was not only livestock or Idar that went missing. A young girl of th
e town nearest to Castle Selwyn vanished during her evening chores. She has not been seen since. As yet no one has been able to discover what happened to her, but we are prepared to accept the worst, that this killer has taken its first human life.
Lord Daired, I would like to make a formal petition for the services of you and your dragon with the purpose of seeking out this killer and removing it before it causes further harm to the people of Lake Meera. I have also secured the services of a beoryn Rider, one Theold Gorecrow of Selkie’s Keep, and his beoryn Chirrorim, to pursue this monster in whatever form it takes, be it Oldkind or human. It was Master Gorecrow who recommended you to me as a partner in this hunt. I understand you are old acquaintances.
Should you accept this commission, I beg that no time be lost. Winter is approaching fast and the passes to Lake Meera may be cut off if you do not leave before Martenmas. The hunt too will prove treacherous should you wait until the snows come. Please, sir, take my advice: do not wait.
In recognition of the swiftness with which my request requires, I am prepared to offer you whatever bond-price you will name, up to one hundred gold dragonbacks.
Please send your reply posthaste with my messenger.
Respectfully,
Lord Niall Selwyn
Keeper of the Lochs and Lord Sentinel of the Lake
Castle Selwyn, Lake Meera, Arle
Alastair folded the letter.
“Will you take the commission, sir?” Trennan asked. “Will you come help us?”
“My dragon and I will discuss it,” Alastair said.
Trennan’s face crumpled.
“Yes, yes, very well,” Nettlebaum said. “Now please, if you don’t mind, Lord and Lady Daired, the boy needs to rest. If he hopes to sit in the saddle again any time this month, he needs to get his strength back. So, with all due respect, out.”
I caught a glimpse of Trennan’s expression over Nettlebaum’s shoulder as he swept us toward the door. Delivering the message hadn’t seemed to ease his anxiety. He watched us leave, face pinched with worry, fingers still plucking at the thread on his jerkin. He’d twisted the button clean off.
Chapter 3
Dust and Darkness
Later that afternoon Alastair and I headed for the stables to see the mares Lord Camron had delivered. Our shadows stretched out behind us as the sun slipped toward the mountains to the west, an extension of the dark mood that had descended again after Trennan’s arrival.
Lord Selwyn’s letter weighed heavy on my mind, stirring questions like broken wings inside my head. What monster would kill Idar and cut out their heartstones? And why turn suddenly to hunt human children? A young girl attacked during her evening chores, panicked and alone, running toward safety that was just out of reach . . . My heart grew cold and I forced aside the image, still so fiercely clear, of my little sister Rina’s body broken over the stone wall of the south pasture at Merybourne Manor. A Tekari would think little of killing either humans or Idar, but that didn’t explain the heartstones. There too was what Trennan had said about being followed. I hefted my cloak around my shoulders as a new thought shot through me, sharper than the wind from the mountains. What if it followed him here?
I looked up along the nearest slope. Edan Daired had built the first wing of what would become House Pendragon on an outcrop of the Dragonsmoor foothills, high enough to see any enemies approaching across the moors and buttressed by a wall of mountains at the back. Ancillary buildings had sprung up around the main house, from stables to storehouses to the family’s own private smithy. Paved walkways and covered colonnades connected them, the starkness of the marble mellowed by climbing vines and the golden light of evening. Dim against the blue sky, the dark shapes of vultures circled overhead, fewer than this morning but still an ominous shadow over the otherwise peaceful scene. Dried and dying leaves lined the path to the stables, stirred into piles by the recent passage of Lord Camron and his retinue. Alastair walked a little ahead of me, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed in thoughtful silence.
“Will you take the contract?” I asked.
He looked up. “Hm?”
I slipped my hand in the crook of his arm. “You’re miles away, dearest. You have been all afternoon.”
“Have I? Forgive me. Just thinking.”
“About Selwyn’s contract?”
“And other things.” He paused beneath the arched doorway to the stables and felt in his jerkin. I heard the crinkle of paper and he withdrew a letter in his hand. He handed it to me. “Barton said this came just after Trennan arrived. Tell me what you think.”
I recognized the sailing ship crest of the southern city Wain-on-the-Water from the broken seal. I skimmed the letter’s contents. “Blessings and congratulations on your marriage, Lord Daired, favor of the gods, etc. etc. . . . our city has been beset by more than the usual amount of Tekari since the death of the Great Worm . . . unfamiliar beasts, creatures we’ve never seen before . . . living in a state of great unrest . . . we’d sleep easier knowing there was a dragon guarding our borders . . . yours faithfully, etc.”
I handed it back to him. “They’re scared and they’re asking for a Rider’s protection. What’s so intriguing about that?”
“‘Unfamiliar beasts?’ I’ve fought many Tekari in my time, Aliza, but never one that no one’s seen before. And it’s not just Wain-on-the-Water. Nearly every request I’ve gotten in the last fortnight has said something to that effect.”
“Have they said anything about murdered Idar and missing heartstones?”
“No, thank the gods,” he said, “but it still worries me. If there’s new evil abroad in Arle, we Riders need to know about it, and Akarra and I can only take so many contracts at once.”
He lapsed into silence again as we drew near to the stable. A wave of warm air rolled out over us, homely with the snuffling of horses and the smell of hay. The door swung open just before we reached it and a slight woman in plain, practical riding leathers came out to greet us. She bowed and touched four fingers to her forehead.
“Ah, Horsemaster,” Alastair said. “Aliza, I don’t know if you’ve been introduced. This is Horsemaster Ramsrath.”
I returned her fourfold greeting. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“My lady,” she said. “I assume you’re here to see our newest additions, my lord? Beautiful creatures. Pelagians of the First Pasture with sealed pedigrees. Ready for breeding.” She gestured to the middle two stalls with proprietary pride. “A boon for the Pendragon stock, Lord Alastair. You couldn’t ask for finer.”
They were indeed beautiful beasts, a blood bay and a liver chestnut with a reddish mane and tail. The bay stared at us suspiciously from the far side of her stall and refused my offered hand, but the chestnut was friendlier. She thrust her head over the stall wall and sniffed my fingers with equine politeness. Alastair leaned against the edge of the stall and inspected them with a critical eye. “Are you in contact with the Royal Master of Horse, Ramsrath?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Good. Write to him tonight and find out if they have any studs available. There’s a letter of mine going to the palace on the next post carriage. Tell Barton to send yours with it.”
The way he said it made me smile. This was his “Lord Daired” voice; for all its politeness, all its understated courtesy, it was a voice used to commanding absolute respect. It struck me as Ramsrath bowed that, to the majority of his household staff, and indeed to most of Arle, this was the only Alastair Daired they knew.
“When were you going to tell me that your family bred horses?” I said when the horsemaster had left us.
“When you asked,” he said with a smile as he extended a hand into the bay’s stall. The mare watched him without moving. “Daireds have bred them for generations. The name Pendragon means a lot to the horse traders in Pelagios.”
“You sell them?”
“Sometimes.”
I frowned as the bay sidled up to the front of her stall. After a litt
le doubtful nosing, she lowered her head with a grunt of contentment and allowed Alastair to stroke the white star on her forehead. I searched for the right words to the next most obvious question. “Do we . . . er, need the money?”
His laughter cut like a sunbeam through the gloom of his former attitude. “Khera, you don’t think Pendragon was paid for by our bond-prices alone, do you?” My sheepish silence was answer enough. No doubt Barton would have told me as much if I’d worked up the courage to review the household accounts with him, but I hadn’t. Alastair’s smile turned thoughtful. “Akarra and I bring in dragonbacks, yes, and so do Julienna and Mar’esh, but House Daired has interests in all corners of the kingdom. Beyond it as well.”
I thought of the conversation over lunch. “Even in Els?”
“No, not so far, though if what Camron says about a new treaty comes to pass, that might change.”
Along with what else? “I think you’ve been claimed,” I said as the bay closed her eyes and snuffled happily. “What are you going to call her?”
“Eshya,” he said after a moment’s thought.
“That’s pretty. What does it mean?”
There was a pause, not long, but just long enough to notice. “‘Four-legged wind,’ in some dialects of Eth.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And in other dialects?”
“Ah, ‘horse,’” he said.
The chestnut jerked away from my sudden snort of laughter. “You can’t name your horse ‘Horse!’” I said when I’d gotten control of myself again.
“Why not?”
“You just can’t—ow!” I fell back, and there was a tiny tearing sound as I yanked free, a mouthful of my dress still in the chestnut’s mouth. She tossed her head and struck the side of her stall with her hoof. I glared at her. “What was that for?”
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