Dragon Sword Series - Dragon Sword Part 7

Dythragor wasted no time. Striding forward, but keeping his distance from the mutilated Dremord, he grabbed Mernyl roughly by the arm and pulled him toward the door. Whatever the illusion the sorcerer had used to give himself a sense of power, it was gone now, and Dythragor had the sense that he was laying hands on a traitor, one who would bring an end to all that Gryylth stood for. He could not understand why Vorya had turned again to the counsel of superst.i.tion, but he knew that, if he could find an excuse to take the man's life, he would be doing the king a favor.

Just struggle a little, f.a.ggot. Just give me an excuse.

But Mernyl was pa.s.sive, limp. To slay him would have been a dishonor. Dythragor was disgusted.

Alouzon, as usual, was complaining. "Leave him the h.e.l.l alone, Dythragor."

"What? While he sells us all down the river?"

"He tried to save the man."

"He tried to pull a fast one."

Santhe murmured to Vorya. The king rose. "Dythragor," he said softly. "You are in my house."

The Dragonmaster stopped short, glaring down at Mernyl. The sorcerer's attention, though, seemed to be elsewhere. He reminded him of Helen: she had been similarly distracted as she wove her own fabric of deceit and betrayal. Like Alouzon, she would have sympathized with this viper. "I want him back in the Cotswoods."

"Back to the Cotswoods he will be sent, Dythragor, 68 69.

but as I am king, you will not harm him under my roof." Vorya turned to Mernyl. "Is it your wish to depart?"

"There is . . ." Mernyl absently rubbed the bruises that Dythragor had given him. "There is no more for me to.do here, my king. I cannot fight what has happened to this man."

' 'Nor anything else, either,'' said Dythragor.

Vorya gestured to the soldiers. They took the Dremord back out of the room.

Santhe spoke up. "My king," he said cheerily. "Mernyl and I were attacked on the way here. Dythragor saved us from a ... prolonged fight." His eyes twinkled. "If Mernyl is sent home alone, he might be captured."

"Oh, how terrible," mocked Dythragor.

Santhe shot him a glance. Dythragor had nettled the councilor. He was sorry for that, but, well, Santhe laughed too much. He also tolerated Mernyl. He should know better. He was like one of those junior professors at Berkeley who had been so tolerant of the dissent on campus that they had let everything go to h.e.l.l.

But Santhe found his humor again and continued. "Whether we have a use for Mernyl or not, the Dremords would be encouraged by his capture. Therefore, I suggest an escort. I would be willing to provide it."

"I am honored," said Mernyl. "But do not fear for my safety. I am adept at staying hidden when I wish."

Dythragor dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I wish you'd stay hidden more often."

"You have my permission, Santhe," said Vorya. "But you must not leave until tomorrow morning, by my command. Your journeys lie heavily on you, and you must both rest this night."

Dythragor saw Mernyl and Alouzon exchange glances. Not good. Not good at all. If Alouzon was already sympathetic to the sorcerer, an overnight stay would give them time to collaborate.

She was, he noticed, falling back into her old persona: knee-jerk radical war-protestor. He wondered how far she would carry out the regression. If given the chance, perhaps with Mernyl's help, would she blow up Hall Kings- 70.bury? Possibly. But it was much more likely that, in Gryylth, any action she might take would be speedily neutralized. She was, after all, a woman, and whether she carried a sword or not, she was going to find out what that meant.

When the magician departed, he allowed himself to relax a little. He reminded himself of his other responsibilities. There was that Dremord . . . "What did they do in the Heath?"

"That is something we do not know," said the king. "They entered, and they left with something. From the marks on the ground, they had a wain with them."

For a moment, Dythragor recalled the brief glimpse of a white-clad figure and a shadowy something that flickered. Maybe ...

"We were hoping that Merayl might have told us something."

Dythragor looked up in annoyance. "Well, he couldn't. So let's have no more of that." The glimpse, he decided, had been nothing. Maybe the moonlight. "If the Dre-mords can go into the Heath, then so can we. We'll take a look around and find out what they did."

Alouzon was doubtful. "If the Heath did something to that man, I'm not sure it's a good place to go."

Pa.s.sive, gutless woman. What's she got up her sleeve?

"He spoke of a tree," Cvinthil ventured.

"And the rest of the phalanx went in and out without harm," said Dythragor. "There shouldn't be a problem."

"Maybe Mernyl should come," said Alouzon.

"Will you get off Mernyl?" Once again Dythragor was becoming genuinely angry. "He couldn't do anything for that Dremord: what do you think he's going to do in the Heath?"

She glared back at him. "It was a thought. OK?"

The others were looking uneasy. Marrget, though, nodded. "The First Wartroop will accompany you."

"I wouldn't ask anyone who was unwilling to enter." Dythragor looked straight at Alouzon, hoped that she took the hint. She did not.

71."My men will follow orders and be glad," said Marrget. "They will be honored to fight again beside Dythragor Dragonmaster." He glanced at Alouzon. "Even if he chooses strange companions." . There was laughter. Alouzon flushed. "Go ahead," she muttered. "I didn't ask to get tossed into this."

"I didn't either," said Dythragor.

Vorya silenced the mirth. "We do not honor our guest. Woman she is, but Dragonmaster also, and we will show her respect." He turned to his guards. "See to it that a place is prepared for her rest.''

Dythragor was alarmed. "In Hall Kingsbury? Are you sure you want to do that? What will the wartroops say when they hear that you're putting up women?"

Vorya frowned, but Cvinthil spoke. "If Alouzon Dragonmaster is willing, my household will be honored by her presence." He said it shyly, as if embarra.s.sed.

"I accept," said Alouzon.

Cvinthil now, too? Was Alouzon making so many inroads into the power structure of Gryylth? ' 'Won't your wife think this rather strange, Cvinthil?"

It was a gratuitous remark, and he noticed more than one look of surprise. Cvinthil, though, shrugged.

"My wife should know that I am faithful unto death," he said simply.

Alouzon followed Cvinthil into the village. The meeting continued in the hall as Dythragor and Marrget planned for the exploration of the Heath, but her host had left, and she was glad to get away from Dythragor. Fear and uncertainty had shortened her temper, and she had felt an almost irresistible urge to strike him as he had bullied the men of Gryylth.

"Spoiled brat."

The street-path, actually-took them to lower ground where the houses and shops crowded closely together. The stagnant puddles reappeared. Mongrel dogs snapped at one another between the buildings. Boys clashed wooden swords on shields and ran into alleyways at their approach. Alouzon could see them peering out from the 72.shadows as they pa.s.sed and heard them talking in excited whispers: "A woman. "

Cvinthil seemed to catch himself, and he slowed so that they were walking abreast. "Forgive me, lady," he said. "I fall into our customs."

"Huh?"

"Women usually walk behind. But you are a Dragon-master. I was being rude."

She liked this place less and less. She was thankful that she wore armor and carried a sword. She had some protection. "They just put up with this?"

Cvinthil shrugged slightly, bewildered. "No one has questioned it. Everyone is content."

"That's weird . . ." She looked around. Gryylth had seemingly gone beyond Fundamentalist Islam: women, veiled or not, were not even on the streets. "How do .they get anything done?"

"I do not understand."

"Uh . . . buying food, shopping ..."

"Oh, I see." His confusion dissipated. "Market day is Thursday, still two days off. Women do not usually leave their homes save for specific reasons. Today, they have no reason."

"So they just . . . stay at home."

"There are men's tasks, and women's tasks. We are all kept busy.''

"Yeah." She was acutely conscious of the stares she was receiving from the men of the village. Some were outright hostile, others were examining her as though she were a prize heifer. Deliberately, she allowed her hand to fall to the hilt of the Dragons word, and some of the stares were redirected.

"Doubtless you would be more comfortable if you could meet some of our midwives," said Cvinthil. "Their tasks call them abroad at all hours, and they are allowed by custom to live alone, without a man."

"Sure." Silbakor, why the h.e.l.l did you bring me here? But it was not her place to judge Cvinthil or his people. Not yet. That might come later, but for now she wanted .

73.more information, particularly about Dythragor. "Listen, Cvinthil," she said, "What's Dythragor's game?"

"Game?"

"He sure lords it up around here. And the way he tore into Mernyl-I thought he was going to kill him.''

"That, I am afraid, was a possibility. The Dragon-master has little love for the sorcerer. He has never allowed his services."

"I could tell that. Why?"

"Years ago, Mernyl was an advisor to Vorya, and had arranged a partial settlement with the Dremords. In his own way he is a good man, Dragonmaster. He is devoted to living things, and it grieved him to see so much life taken. But I think that grief blinded him to the true nature of our enemy, for the morning after the truce, as we prepared to celebrate the end of the war, word came to King Vorya that the Dremords had attacked across the East-reach River. We had no choice but to meet force with force."

"So that was the end of it."

"Aye."

"How long ago was that?"

"Ten summers."

"Has anyone else done anything about a settlement?"

Cvinthil stopped in the middle of the street, his hands clasped behind him. He seemed to be pondering. "No," he said. "No one. But you must understand, Alouzon Dragonmaster: the Dremords are not like. us. They seem to delight in destruction and disorder. They allow their women to roam freely ..."

He noticed her eyes, shut his mouth, and considered.

"I speak of things that are well known," he managed. "There has been much destruction."

"OK." She kept her tone carefully controlled. "But all that doesn't explain why Dythragor hates Mernyl."

"I think the Dragonmaster fears for Gryylth. I think he distrusts that which is unseen and mysterious." Cvinthil 's voice was calm and factual, without any of the bl.u.s.ter that had characterized Dythragor and Marrget.

74.Gaei Baudino "Memyl fell into error because of his arts, and Dythragor would keep others from sharing that fate."

Like many of the other buildings in Kingsbury, Cvin-thil's house was built of stone and timber, but the squalor of the town lay less thickly over it. The path to the door had been swept recently, and some effort had been made to brighten the small garden with flowers.

The tall warrior smiled at the blooms. "My wife, Seena, planted them. You might like her, Alouzon. She is perhaps a little stronger than most of our women."

There was pride in his voice, and love. He held the door open for Alouzon, and she stepped into a large room floored with flagstones. Rushes and fragrant herbs covered the stones, and they scented the air sweetly. A small girl with a broom stared at them with big eyes, and her eyes grew bigger when she saw Alouzon. Dropping the broom, she darted out through a door, and the Dragon-master could hear her feet pounding up the stairs. "Mama! Mama!"

"My daughter Ayya," said the warrior. "Will it please you to sit?"

She took a stool to one side of the fire. "Dythragor made that crack about your wife, Cvinthil . . . are you sure I'm not going to cause problems?"

"Seena will accept my will," he said.

And just then there was a soft step on the stairs, and a woman entered. She was shorter than Alouzon, her long hair confined in a braid that reached to the small of her back. Her clothing was plain: a gray smock, simple shoes. What Alouzon noticed most, though, was the submissive hunch to her back, and how she kept her eyes downcast as she approached Cvinthil. "My husband," she said, standing before him. She bowed.

"Wife."

"Ayya told me that . . . you have brought a woman with you. Have I displeased you?" Her voice was a monotone, as though she were afraid to ask, more afraid to hear the answer. "Will you now turn me out or sell me?"

"She is a guest, Seena."

75.Seena dropped to her knees. Alouzon was on her feet instantly, her stomach twisting. "Cvinthil, this is-"

"Peace." Cvinthil looked at Seena. "Wife, this is my will: Alouzon Dragonmaster is our guest this night, and perhaps others. You will treat her appropriately."

"How have I displeased you, master, that I am asked to serve women?"

"You have not displeased me, my beloved Seena." His voice was kind.

Seena lifted her eyes and met Alouzon's. Alouzon tried to smile rea.s.suringly, but Seena paled. "Armor, husband? And a sword? Is she a Dremord?"

"Nay, wife. She is a Dragonmaster." Cvinthil turned to ALouzon. "Some Dremord women carry weapons," he explained. "We of Gryylth have an inborn horror of something so unnatural." He realized his error. "Ah . . . unnatural for Dremords and Gryylthans, not Dragonmas-ters."

Alouzon felt as though she were playing a farce after memorizing the wrong script. "You don't have to serve me, Seena. I don't need anyone to serve me."