Dragon War: The Draconic Prophecies - Book Three (20 page)

“The Blasphemer wants to know,” the red one said in a whispering hiss, “why you aren’t dead yet.”

“The Blasphemer wants you dead,” the iron dragon added, rumbling and loud.

Rienne tried to steady herself, calm her pounding heart and relax the muscles clenched in her shoulder and legs. “Then he’ll have to kill me himself,” she said.

W
hy all the interest in the Lyrandar?” Thuel demanded. “I always knew Kelas had an interest in the Prophecy of the Dragons,” Aunn said. “It seems that was an interest he shared with Nala.”

“And he’s supposed to play some part in this prophecy?”

“It makes me dizzy.” Aunn stared into the fire in Thuel’s office. “Kelas sent me to help get Gaven and Haldren out of Dreadhold. As far as Haldren was concerned, Gaven was important only because he knew so much about the Prophecy. He thought Gaven would help him and Vaskar achieve their goals—get the Eye of Siberys, find the Sky Caves of Thieren Kor, and turn Vaskar into the Storm Dragon. That’s not what happened, and somehow I think that’s never what Kelas meant to happen. Or Nara.”

“What did they intend to happen?”

“I think they always knew that Gaven would become the Storm Dragon.”

“And he did.”

“Yes.”

Thuel folded his arms and looked intently at Aunn. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

Aunn rubbed his temples. He had been talking with Thuel for hours, and he was exhausted. “I’m not entirely sure. I know he came back from the Sky Caves much more powerful than he was before—beyond what I’ve read about other Siberys heirs of House Lyrandar. He defeated the Soul Reaver at Starcrag Plain, the leader of all the monsters that spilled from the earth there. Then he went to Argonnessen, and ended up at the Dragon Forge, and Kelas stripped his mark from him. I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that.”

“And Nara wants him for some kind of reunion.”

“That’s what she said.”

“And what does he want to do? What’s he doing right now?”

Aunn looked to the window and saw the dark evening sky. He and Thuel had talked long past the time he was supposed to meet Gaven and the others back at the Ruby Chalice. He shot to his feet.

“What’s the matter?” Thuel said.

“I was supposed to meet him for dinner, along with Ashara and Cart. I came here to get him some traveling papers.”

“Sit down. We’re not finished here.”

Aunn looked at Thuel, keenly aware of the threat in his voice. He sank back in his chair, wondering what Gaven was doing. “Where’s he planning to travel?”

“He wants to go to Stormhome.”

Thuel’s eyes went wide. “An excoriate and a fugitive? To Stormhome? Why?”

“He and Rienne were separated in Argonnessen. He doesn’t know where she is, and he’s desperate to find her.”

“Why Stormhome?”

“They had magic tokens to transport them back to Stormhome. If she made it back from Argonnessen, she probably went there.”

“Interesting. I had a report that she was held briefly in a jail in Thaliost last week.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes. Traveling without papers, suspicion of stowing away on a Lyrandar galleon. And of course assisting a fugitive.”

“But she was only held briefly?”

Thuel snorted. “House Kundarak and House Lyrandar declined to press charges, and her fines were paid. Very heavy fines were paid.”

“Who paid them?”

“A Lyrandar pilot, if I remember correctly.”

“Is that all? Do you know anything more? Where they might be now?”

“I haven’t received any further word. However, before you get too excited, let me remind you that what Gaven does at this point is a matter of national security. He doesn’t have much choice in the matter, and I don’t think that having him travel to Thaliost or Stormhome or anywhere else at this moment is in anyone’s best interest.”

Fear clutched at Aunn’s stomach. “What do you intend to do with him?”

“Well, he needs to be off the streets, clearly. He’s a danger. We can’t have him falling into Nara’s hands just yet, or Jorlanna’s. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.”

“He can take care of himself.”

“Clearly. Which makes him that much more of a threat.” Thuel leaned forward. “Look. I can see that you think of Gaven as a friend. But you can’t let friendship interfere with your duty. You know that. I know Kelas taught you.”

Aunn stared into the fire again. Evidently Thuel saw more emotion on his face than he was used to showing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Thuel was right—he did think of Gaven as a friend, perhaps his only friend. Thuel said them much more kindly, but the words were right from Kelas’s mouth:
“You have no friends. If you love, if you care about anything, you will suffer. You will fail!”

What about Aundair? What about the queen and the crown? He was supposed to love his country and queen, wasn’t he? That was why he was here, telling Thuel everything he knew—already, perhaps, betraying his friends.

Yes, that was what Kelas was saying: love queen and country, and everything else comes after. And perhaps in this one thing he was right, Aunn thought. If Gaven had to suffer in order to prevent Jorlanna and Nara from overthrowing Aurala and seizing the crown, shouldn’t he be willing to let that happen? Weren’t the crown and the people of Aundair—hundreds of thousands of people—more important than Gaven or the bond of friendship they shared?

“Yes,” he said at last, a heaviness settling in his chest. “I do know that.”

“Good.”

“Shall I bring him in?”

“I think not. Tell me where to find him, and I’ll send a team. I’m not going to take any chances.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Aunn said. He ignored Thuel’s glare and pressed on. “Three dragonmarked houses haven’t been able to bring him back to Dreadhold yet. You think three of your spies can capture him where Sentinel Marshals, the Ghorad’din, and House Thuranni’s best assassins have failed?”

“Yes, I do,” Thuel said, his voice cool. “As I understand it, House Kundarak would have returned him to Dreadhold by now if their ranks hadn’t been infiltrated by a spy who helped him escape. And if what you tell me is true, Kelas had him in his grip as well. I suggest you put aside your friendship and your pride and do your damned job.” Thuel stood and folded his arms. “Where can we find Gaven?”

“I don’t know. I was going to meet him at the Ruby Chalice for dinner, and give him papers, which I haven’t had time to make up.”

“You needn’t worry about that now.”

“No, I didn’t think so.”

“Who is he expecting to see? Does he know what you are?”

“Yes, he knows I’m a changeling. I’ve been wearing Kelas’s face, but he knows this one.”

“And how was he planning to reach Stormhome?”

“He hoped to get on a Lyrandar airship in the morning.”

“Very good. This interview is concluded. We will resume in the morning, early. And you will remain in this tower until that time.”

Aunn got slowly to his feet. “Am I a prisoner, then?”

“Not yet. But if you attempt to leave, I will imprison you. Good night.”

Thuel let Aunn make his own way out of his office, but he knew the Spy Master was already issuing orders—his every move within the Tower of Eyes would be watched, and if he tried to leave, he would be stopped. There was no denying it, he was a prisoner. He had some freedom, for now, but it was a precarious and very limited freedom.

What have I done? he thought. I’m sorry, Gaven.

*  *  *  *  *

“I don’t think he’s coming,” Ashara said.

Cart leaned forward on the table. “Something must have happened to him.”

“So what do we do?” Gaven said. “Head back to the Tower of Eyes and try to rescue him?”

“I think that would be foolish,” Cart said. “If he’s been discovered, we have no friends there.”

“Thunder!” Gaven leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Nothing’s ever simple, is it?”

“No, it never is,” Ashara said.

“I have no idea how we would go about finding him,” Gaven said. “In the past, he’s always found me. How do you find a Royal Eye, or someone who’s been captured by the Royal Eyes? Especially when he’s a changeling?”

“Shh.” Ashara glanced around at the empty tables surrounding them. They had waited in the Ruby Chalice for hours, and the crowd of dinner patrons had long since departed, leaving them alone with the few serious drinkers getting an early start on their late-night revels.

“Maybe we just have to trust that he’ll find us again,” Cart said. “He has proven himself resourceful enough in the past.”

“But what do we do in the meantime?”

Cart shrugged. “Carry on with what we were doing, I suppose.”

“How can I do that? Without papers, I can’t get to Stormhome. I can’t even get a room to sleep in tonight.”

“We can get you a room, at least,” Ashara said. “Perhaps by morning Aunn will reappear.”

“All right, then. Let’s go.” Gaven pushed his chair back from the table and stood. His body ached, and the thought of spending a full night resting in a real bed suddenly sounded very appealing, even if it meant a sleep haunted by dreams.

Ashara and Cart followed him out of the Ruby Chalice and into the plaza outside. The night air was cold, promising a bitter winter, but the sky was bright. The Ring of Siberys stretched across the southern sky like a glowing golden cloud. The light of half a dozen moons and a thousand brilliant stars washed the plaza in silver light. All around the square, lovers strolled arm in arm, groups of revelers stumbled to their next amusement, and a few travelers emerged from late-arriving Orien coaches.

Gaven’s eyes kept drifting to the airship he’d seen earlier, now moored at the tower that defined one end of Chalice Center. Crew members were still moving around on the deck, loading or unloading cargo, checking her for wear. As he looked, a group of three travelers, probably the last passengers to disembark, emerged from the base of the tower. Gaven stopped, his heart suddenly racing. The one in the middle—a woman in flowing silk, a sword stuck through a sash at her waist, long black hair draped over her shoulders—it was Rienne.

*  *  *  *  *

If he was to be confined to the Tower of Eyes, Aunn decided to make the best of it. Wearing Kelas’s face again, he sat in his old master’s study and started reading. A small key in Kelas’s pouch opened the drawers in the desk, where he found a few files—precious little, considering Kelas’s position and the number of projects he’d been involved in. Either Kelas had more files elsewhere—in a secure vault in the tower, or perhaps in his home—or he’d kept most of his secrets in his mind. Unfortunately for Aunn, the latter seemed more likely.

He found almost nothing written in Kelas’s hand—only letters and documents from agents and other contacts, some of them in code. The papers
seemed to be organized by author, wrapped in packets of thin leather and bound with string to keep letters from the same agent grouped together. He opened each one, checking the authors of the documents inside. He made a mental list of names to watch for: Nara, of course. Jorlanna, Ashara, or Wheldren. Any of the other conspirators Cart and Ashara had mentioned—Bromas ir’Lain, Kharos Olan, Janna Tolden, or the half-orc from Droaam. Arnoth d’Lyrandar, for Gaven’s sake. Or a mysterious, nameless changeling, but he didn’t really expect to find anything from the spy he’d faced in Kelas’s house, any more than he thought to find a letter or report he’d written himself. Kelas and his agents were smarter than that.

His vision began to blur as he stared at a coded message—a hundred blocks of five letters each, each letter representing one of five different letters depending on its position in the block—and tried to puzzle out its sender and its contents. He leaned back, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. When he looked back at his desk, the crystal orb was glowing again.

Nara. She had promised to contact him again tonight, but in the frantic activity of the day he’d utterly forgotten. He had nothing he could tell her—should he ignore the glowing orb? She would be furious. Best to stumble through another conversation with her. He reached for the crystal, and as soon as his fingers touched the surface the light diminished and Nara’s face appeared in its heart.

“Good evening, Kelas,” she said. “I have exciting news.”

R
ienne!” Gaven ran across the square. She turned and searched the square for the source of the call, then a smile spread across her face. She started away from her companions—two women he didn’t recognize—and then she was in his arms, weeping into his chest.

He lifted his face from Rienne’s hair—something was wrong—the smell of her hair, the feel of her in his arms. Her companions moved closer, circling to either side. They were armored, and when they realized he’d seen them they sprang at him. He tried to push Rienne away, but she clung to him.

She had betrayed him again. The thought was cold steel in his heart.

“No!” he cried. His voice was thunder, and it threw Rienne away from him. Her two companions, each clutching a jagged blade, staggered away from the blast, but they recovered quickly and lunged at him, both blades darting at him.

He felt the dragonshard in its pouch at his side, his mark coiled inside it like a sleeping dragon—and he felt the wyrm awaken in fury. It was still a part of him—its rage coursed through his veins and out through his hands, joining him to the two assassins in a bolt of lightning that stretched across the plaza. His enemies were on their knees, smoke wafting from their clothes and hair as they struggled to stand, and Rienne lay on the ground before him, tears streaking her horrorstruck face.

“Gaven, no,” she sobbed.

How could she have betrayed him again? Some part of Gaven’s mind screamed at him to stop and think, to make sense of what was happening, but the storm churned in his chest and surged in his veins, a fury that wouldn’t be contained.

Gaven raised his arms and looked up into the storm-darkened sky. Thunder rumbled, so close and loud that the ground shook. Then everything was brilliant white, and a deafening crack split the air. When his vision
cleared, the two attackers lay blackened and still on the ground. Rienne was scrambling to her feet, no longer pleading but trying desperately to flee.