The Fire Dragon

by Katharine Kerr

  She rose to her knees, then flung her arms above her head and began to chant in a rhythm he'd never heard her use before, slowly at first, then faster. Such melody as there was rose and fell. As she swayed back and forth, sweat broke out on her forehead, then ran down her face. Back and forth, on and on—sweat stuck her dress to her back, and she began to gasp for breath. In the witchlight her face turned as pale and cold-looking as a fish's belly.

  “Hold, Rae!” Verrarc laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “There be a need on you to stop lest you kill yourself.”

  With one last sob she let her arms fall to her sides. For a long moment she knelt, her head bowed, her face so wet that he wondered if it were sweat or tears that ran there.

  “There be shame so heavy upon me,” Raena whispered. “I did fail her. Now she turns her face away from me.”

  “Be you sure of that? Or could the truth lie in what Jahdo did tell the town, that your Alshandra were but a spirit like Lord Havoc?”

  “Never!” She raised her head with a toss of her long hair. “That lying little snake! Truly, you should have slain him, that day in the water meadows.”

  “Oh here, as if I'd cause Dera and her kin one moment's pain!”

  “True spoken. Forgive me, my love, I be so desolate I know not what I say.” Raena sat down, crossing her legs, on the floor and wiped both hands across her face. “What did he tell you?”

  “That there were a battle in the sky twixt her and a mighty mistress of the witchroad. When Alshandra died, he saw her body break apart, and all the Horsekin did scream and howl in despair, for they did believe her dead.”

  “And for their sin they did perish, all of them that doubted her. Those who believed came safely through her country to their homes again, just as I did return to the man I love second only to her.” She reached out a soft hand and caressed his cheek. “Ah, Verro! Someday I hope and pray that you will see her as I have seen her, in her glory.”

  “It would be a grand thing.”

  His voice must have lacked conviction, because she winced and turned her face away. While he sat, trying to think of some comforting words, at the window something rustled. A shutter knocked on stone, then fell silent. Verrarc was on his feet without thinking and running to the window.

  “Douse that light!” he hissed.

  As soon as the light disappeared Verrarc flung open the shutters. No one was there, and indeed, he felt a sudden fool when he realized that the window opened out on empty air. He stuck his head out and looked straight down to the stone plaza, a hard drop of some two stories below. He closed the shutters again.

  “No one here,” he said. “And no one could be here lest they could fly.”

  “Don't mock that idea, my love.” She muttered something else that he couldn't quite understand.

  In the darkness he could not see Raena's face. It took him several moments before he realized that she wasn't forming words; she was laughing, a choked sort of laughter, brimming with panic.

  In the physical world Raena's dweomer light, an extrusion of etheric force, shone brightly, but on the higher planes it appeared as a darkness, marking the spot on the etheric plane from which she'd sucked substance. In hawk form Evandar had been as usual hunting for his brother, first back in the ruins of his Lands, then ranging farther afield, until at last he circled low over Cerr Cawnen, though still in the etheric rather than the physical world. In the shimmering blue light the stone buildings stood black and dead, while the lake seethed with silver energy, reaching dangerous tendrils up high. As he passed over the plaza, a lake of blackness, he could see the dull reddish glow of the trees near the ruined temple, and Arzosah's aura— a huge plumed thing of gold and green, ever shifting and swelling up high only to fall back in ripples.

  Nearby he saw the strange little pock of nothingness that marked a dweomer light on the physical plane. Raena? Quite likely. He let himself drop back to the physical and found himself circling the Council House. Wooden shutters covered one window and only one. Sitting on the sill, his ear pressed against the wood, sat Shaetano in the form of a black-and-white shrike. Evandar gained height, then laid back his wings and dove. Shaetano looked up, threw himself from the sill, and disappeared. Cursing under his breath Evandar swerved and burst through the gateway into the sunshine of the Lands, only to find his brother gone.

  Yet Shaetano had left tracks behind him: the pawprints of the fox in moist earth, a tuft of russet fur on a bramble, and in the air, an astral essence like crystals shimmering. Following them, Evandar flew steadily and saw at the horizon the green swell of trees. Of course! There was only one place where Shaetano would be able to hide from him, the wild forest under the verdigris moon. He was desperate indeed, then, with no human worshipper to feed upon, but clever still. That forest was the only place on any plane where Evandar feared to hunt.

  Evandar flew onward, turning and swooping over the twisted dark below until he saw the beacon tree, green and burning on the boundary. Mayhap those that live in the wild will do my work for me, Evandar thought. Yet he knew beyond knowing how he knew that his brother's Wyrd lay with him and him alone. In time, though, the creatures of the night would flush Shaetano out of the forest again. He knew that for a certainty as well. On long wings he spiralled down to the ground, and as he landed, he changed, taking the form of a massive black hound. He lay down, couchant, under the verdant half of the tree and waited.

  A spring dawn was breaking in a clear sky when the Council of Five met up on the plaza, but rather than go to the Council House—and close to the dragon—they stood twixt the well and the head of the path that led down to Citadel. Below them the white buildings gleamed in the rising light, and a breeze stirred the mists of Loc Vaed, gleaming turquoise through the rifts.

  “Soon the watch will be opening the gates,” Verrarc said. “It behooves us to reach some decision about Rakzan Kral and his embassy.”

  “Just so.” Burra spoke firmly. “I'd not have them in this town again.”

  “No more I,” Hennis put in, “but you do ken the old saw as well as I: Scorn the Horsekin, see harm ride your way.”

  Frie and Admi stayed silent. Verrarc was painfully aware of the way that his fellow councilmen were watching him: narrow-eyed, unsmiling, arms crossed over their chests.

  “When I did take Raena in,” Verrarc said, “little did I ken that she'd been consorting with Horsekin.”

  “And if you had?” Burra snarled. “Would it have made one cursed bit of difference?”

  Verrarc felt his fists clench. When he took a step forward, Burra held his ground.

  “Stop!” Admi shoved his bulk in between them. “This be no time for fighting amongst ourselves.”

  “Well by the gods!” Burra stepped back. “There be a passel of secrets that Verrarc does hide, bain't? How did that witchwoman of his get out of the city if he were not the one to help her?”

  Like a sheepdog Admi herded Burra a few steps back, but the gesture made Verrarc realize that the four of them stood on one side of an invisible line whilst he stood alone on the other.

  “True spoken,” old Hennis joined in. “We do need a few answers from you, Verrarc.”

  Verrarc tried to speak, but he'd gone cold to his very soul. They waited, his accusers, watching with eyes of flint, sharp and glittering. He swallowed hard and found his voice at last.

  “I know not how she did leave the city. There be many a lie she's told me. Ye gods! Don't you think I feel the fool, letting a woman lead me about by the nose?”

  They considered this, and Hennis at least seemed more thoughtful than angry. Verrarc took a deep breath, then went on.

  “But be that as it may, Raena does ken many a thing about the Horsekin and their country. She can help us, not harm us. There be a need on us for such lore, bain't? Consider this: she did tell me that the Horsekin do indeed worship the new goddess of which Zatcheka did tell us, but this goddess did only promise them the Slavers' country. Is there any one of us who loves the Slav
ers in his heart?”

  “Well, now,” Frie said, “if it be the Slavers that they've marked out—”

  “Don't be a fool!” Burra snapped. “Mayhap they will conquer the Slavers first. Then we'll be next.”

  “I do agree with that,” Admi said, “but it behooves us to give them a hearing before we reach a judgment. As for your woman, Verro, this be not the time to pass a final judging on her deeds, either. She too shall have her chance to speak to us and the town. I'd have you keep her close by until then.”

  “So would I.” Verrarc could hear the rage in his voice. “You have my word on that.”

  Still they watched him, but perhaps their eyes had softened. He could not be sure, and no more could he be silent.

  “I took her in out of the snows,” Verrarc went on. “Should I have let her freeze to death? I knew not where she'd been, any more than any of us knew. Lady Zatcheka did bring us the first news any of us heard of this Horsekin war against the Slavers. Would any of you have thought that she'd been among the Horsekin? I doubt me—”

  “Hush!” Admi held up one broad hand. “None of that has the least import now.”

  The other councilmen nodded their agreement. Their expressions had changed to pity, Verrarc realized, a sickening, condescending sort of pity. Involuntarily he took a step back, as if their feeling were a blow.

  “Very well.” Burra took up the question again. “Let us think on the problem at hand. Remember what that filthy sorcerer did, threatening that little lass? How dare we let them into the town? Do we want our citizens to tear them apart and have the wrath of the Horsekin come down upon us for it?”

  “That be a true fear,” Admi said.

  “What say you all to this?” Burra went on. “We go down to the south gate and meet there, just inside the wall. If the crowd turns ugly, then the Horsekin may flee for their lives whilst we shut the gates.”

  “Just so.” Hennis nodded. “And truly, perhaps we should summon the townsfolk to hear them out. The day for voting draws near, bain't?”

  “Tomorrow,” Admi said. “I do keep tally.”

  “Well, then, let the rakzan plead his case for all to hear, to spare us the time and trouble of repeating it at council fire.”

  “Splendid!” Frie clapped his enormous hands. “I do agree with that.”

  In general agreement the council meeting broke up, Admi and Hennis to summon the Horsekin emissaries, Burra and Frie to cry the news through the town. Verrarc hurried back to his house.

  By then Raena had risen; he found her in the bedchamber but dressed, sitting by the window while she ate a bowl of milk and bread. When he came in, she laid the spoon in the bowl and put it down on the windowsill. In the sunny light her hair gleamed with bluish highlights like a raven's feather. Once he had loved the midnight color of her hair, but now the thought of ravens made him shudder.

  “Good morrow, my love,” Raena said. “You be out and about early this morn.”

  “So I was. The council did need to come to some decision about the Horsekin emissaries. Rae, the mood of the town be ugly about this. We did deem it best that they stay near the gates—for their own sake.”

  “Once the folk hear Kral out, they'll be less a-feared. Would it be seemly if I did speak to the citizens as well?”

  “It wouldn't. I do think it best you stay here at the house and not go down.”

  “What?” Raena got up with a toss of her long hair. “I do wish to hear the proceedings!”

  “Indeed? Why? No doubt you already ken every word this rakzan will be saying.”

  “And what do you mean by that?”

  “What I did say. Or did you talk of naught when you were a-bringing them here?”

  She went pale and silent.

  “You understand me,” Verrarc went on. “Do you believe me blind, that I'd not see which way your loyalty falls?”

  “You know not the whole of it!” She laid a soft hand on his arm and looked up, her eyes pleading. “Truly, I be loyal to their cause, but more than any other, I be loyal to you. Verro, if Cerr Cawnen does decide to ally with them, the Horsekin will remember your part in this. You'll be like a lord unto them, a man they can trust. I swear it: the Horsekin repay their friends.”

  “Oh, do they now? Think you I'll sell them the town? That be where your words are leading.”

  “Naught of the sort! I only meant they'd honor you.”

  Verrarc knew she was lying, but for those moments, when she stared up into his eyes, he felt tempted. He could be Chief Speaker—more! With Horsekin soldiers at his command he could abolish the council. He could rule Cerr Cawnen as its lord. Raena's eyes seemed to turn to mirrors and show him the treasures that would be his. At last he would have his revenge on all those townsmen who'd let him suffer as a boy and who sneered at him now and snubbed his woman. They would pay for it, all of them! They'd all been against him, always—except for Dera and her family.

  The thought of Dera struck him like a slap upon the face of a sleeping man. Raena was smiling, staring up at him in triumph. He grabbed her wrists and held her at arm's length.

  “Stop it!” Verrarc snarled. “Keep your ugly little ensor-celments for your enemies, Rae! Unless you count me as one of those?”

  “Never! What are you saying? I did naught—”

  “Hold your lying tongue!” He let her go with a little push.

  Panting for breath, she stood rubbing her right wrist with her left hand and staring down at the floor.

  “I must be gone,” he said. “For your own sake, stay here! Ye gods, have you not seen the way the folk look at you?”

  “If only I could tell them of Alshandra,” she began.

  “This be no day for that! And what about the black wyrm? Dare you go out where she might see you?”

  “Ah gods.” Her face dead-pale against the raven of her hair, she sat back down.

  “Well and good, then. I'll be back as soon as I ever can to tell you how the meeting did proceed. Until then, stay in the compound.”

  “I will, have no fear.”

  Verrarc turned and strode out. He was halfway down the hill before he realized he'd not given her a single kiss. No more did he regret it—that was the most shocking realization of all.

  As the dawn brightened into day, the morning shift of the town watch tramped across the commons to relieve the night guard. Both contingents shouted back and forth as they changed places upon the catwalks. The noise woke Dallandra, who rolled out of her blankets and got up rather than lie there and curse the louts. She took a bone comb from her saddlebags and stood working the tangles out of her hair whilst she watched the militia manning the winch to open the south gates for the day. When she strolled over and looked out, she could see, some hundreds of yards away, the Horsekin camp of narrow tents. Some of the men were out and about, leading horses to the nearby river to drink, but there was no sign of the rakzan and the mazrak who belonged to Alshandra's Elect.

  In a few moments several men came out of the largest tent. With her strong elven eyes Dallandra could see that one of them was human. This fellow, bald and stout, left the camp and came hurrying back to town, waddling rather than running, his scarlet cloak flapping in the morning wind. And just what was the Chief Speaker doing among the enemy? Dallandra wondered. The question was answered innocently enough, however, when Admi walked through the gates and hailed some of the town watch. She was just wondering if she could get close enough to eavesdrop when Admi waved her over with a vigorous pump of his arm.

  “I do have a favor to ask of you, my lady,” Admi said. “The council did decide that the Horsekin emissaries shall speak their piece here on the commons. We do fear what our fellow citizens might do, should the Horsekin come all the way across to Citadel. I did ask them to appear here when they've broken their fast and suchlike. Could your men move their horses round to the far side of your tent? We do expect a goodly crowd to hear them out.”

  “We can do that, certainly,” Dallandra said. “Or even s
trike the tent and move it farther along.”

  “That does seem a great imposition.”

  “Not to the likes of us. We'll move the camp over to the commons on the far side of the Gel da'Thae.”

  “My profound thanks.” Admi grabbed the hem of his cloak and wiped sweat from his jowls. “Ai! I do fear that this day be an ill-omened one.”

  Dallandra would have liked to have reassured him, but unfortunately she could only agree.

  Moving the camp took a good while, even with the help of the Gel da'Thae men, who appeared silently, bowed to her, and carried whatever gear she indicated to them. Zatcheka, no doubt, had sent them, but she and her daughter stayed in their tent until the dusty, messy job of moving the horses and tethering them out in the fresh grass was over. By then a crowd of townsfolk had started to form in front of the south gates and spill over, just as Admi had predicted, onto the commons to either side of the path. The other four councilmen also appeared and clustered around Admi for what appeared to be an urgent conversation.

  The grassy commons sloped slightly down from the walls to the lake, but even so, only those persons well to the front would be able to see and hear the rakzan when he finally arrived. The Council of Five bustled around, giving orders, sending men off to fetch wood and tools, talking anxiously among themselves, until finally workmen appeared and began to improvise a platform out of tables and crates. Dallandra kept an eye on Verrarc, who stood off to one side, leaning back against the wall with his head bowed. When she shifted her vision to the dweomer sight, she saw immediately that someone had tried to ensorcel him. His aura, a sickly grey-green, clung close to his body and in spots had the appearance of stone. No doubt he'd used his own weak magicks to harden it and fight Raena off. If it even was Raena, Dallandra thought. But she knew that if anyone else in Cerr Cawnen had dweomer, she would have spotted them long before this.

  Once finished, the platform wobbled to such an alarming degree that the council had the workmen pull it all apart and start over. The crowd grew and began to sort itself out so easily that Dallandra realized the citizens had come to these large assemblies all their lives. The women and children sat down in front, the men gathered in the rear, the town watch turned up on the walls to lean over and listen from there. Dallandra looked back and saw Daralanteriel and his escort coming from their camp, and