Dragonslayer: A Novel (21 page)

King discovers Galen's source of power—the amulet

Galen at the mouth of the lair

Baby dragon nuzzles the dead princess

Galen looks up at dragon on Lake of Fire

Galen crouches on Lake of Fire

Galen stabs Vermithrax

"It would be wonderful if you did. It would end the Lottery. It would end all that grief and fear."

"You
know
about the Lottery?"

For the first time a spark of real life came into Elspeth's face. "Of course! How could I
not
know? We
all
suffer through them, all the women of my age."

Galen laughed doubtfully.

"What do you mean by
that?"
she asked.

"You? You're the
princess.
You're the king's
daughter."

"Yes." She waited innocently.

"Well, why should
you
take part in the Lottery?"

The flush began at her throat and rose to the roots of her resplendent hair. "My father," she said, after a long pause during which the flush vanished and her face took on a chalky pallor, "would not do anything like that."

"Privilege is privilege," Galen said, shrugging.

"He would not protect me and pretend otherwise. He would not."

Galen said nothing.

"And I think you're beastly to suggest it."

"Elspeth," he said after a moment, "forgive me. I'm not an Urlander. I don't know your ways. I don't really know your father, either. But I've lived in Urland all summer. I've listened to Urlanders speak.
They
don't believe the Lottery is equal for all. They don't believe that the daughters of nobles take their chances together with the commoners. They say that the preparation of the lots is always secret, always supervised by Tyrian and Horsrick, and that lots bearing some names are kept out."

Gradually the color returned to her cheeks. "Thank you," she said. She stood quite still. Behind her, the bevy of white animals was growing restive. She seemed, even as Galen watched her, to have become more regal. "I thank you," she said again, and she was gone.

Casiodorus, meanwhile, having dispatched couriers with news of the extraordinary Lottery, had spent the intervening two days cloistered with the amulet. It fascinated him. He found that he could not look at it directly. Whenever he tried, it stared back like a malevolent, unfocused eye. Frightened, the king had turned the stone over and contented himself with examining its intricate silver setting. The thing possessed enormous power—he could feel its radiance even while it lay on the table. Then, impulsively at dawn on the third day, he summoned Knurl, his minter, and ordered

him to cart in from the midden chunks of lead pipe, drainage tiles abandoned since the Roman occupation, now almost lost under accumulated garbage. In fact, the first few pieces Knurl brought were dripping with offal. "Oh for goodness sakes, wash them
off,
man! Wash them off!" Soon there was a small pile of perhaps fifty pounds of wet lead in the center of the throne room floor.

"Now then," said Casiodorus, picking up the amulet.

"Sir . . ." Knurl was shrinking back.

"Yes? What is it?"

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, it's just that, well, many of these sorcerer's charms are known to have great power."

"Yes. Of course. Why do you think I have asked you to assemble all this lead? We are going to turn it into
gold,
Knurl. Do you have some objection to gold?"

"Well, no, sir . . ."

"I should think not." Casiodorus raised the amulet.

"Sir, he is right." Tyrian had joined them, unnoticed. "Some of these talismans—mind you, I'm not saying I believe it, only that it is said among the people—have not only power; but power that twists back upon those who abuse them, or who direct them toward ends for which they were not consecrated."

Casiodorus turned his rheumy gaze full on his centurion. "This is strange stuff from you, Tyrian."

"Yes, sir. I know, sir."

"Are you
afraid
of this stone?"

Tyrian stood silent. Never in his life had he admitted fear, not of pain, not of humiliation, not of battle, not even of Vermithrax. He had encountered all challenges with the fixed grin of the born warrior. He
was
afraid frequently, although he had never admitted it. Fear enraged him. But now he found himself nodding. "I have told you," he said, "that I killed the old man, Ulrich."

"Yes, yes. Go on. What are you suggesting?"

"Only that I am not sure I was truly the agent of his death. If this amulet was indeed his, I would advise you, sir, to treat it with the utmost respect."

"Not to get gold?"

Tyrian shook his head.

"Then we disagree."

Tyrian raised his chin. "With your permission, Your Highness, I will see to the horses."

"Go! Go! Get out." Casiodorus lifted the amulet as the centurion departed.

What happened next occurred so swiftly that Knurl was unsure of the sequence; but he believed that Casiodorus extended his arm toward the pile of lead, spoke in Latin, and was instantly enshrouded in a shimmering blue haze like ambient summer lightning. With a cry, the king dropped the amulet and fell back, his arm still extended. The talisman fell free, skittering across the flagstone floor. For a moment Casiodorus lay stiff, arm straight up, lips opened to utter another cry which never came. Edging close, gaping, Knurl feared that the king had been stricken dead. But then the eyes flickered.

"Your Majesty?"

"Up. Help me up, Knurl!"

With the old man's assistance, the king tottered to his feet, only to sink into a chair immediately.

"What. . . what happened, sir?"

"The stone
stung!
It felt like a score of bees."

"Leave it alone, sir! Destroy it!" Knurl stared apprehensively at the amulet. It had fallen under the table. It seemed inert, innocuous.

"Bring it to me."

Knurl found a stick and gingerly touched the thing. When there was no reaction, he tapped it out from underneath the table.

"It won't hurt
you,
Knurl. It won't do anything unless I give it an order. Then it will either comply or refuse. Give it to me."

Knurl picked it up with his fingertips and quickly dropped it into Casiodorus's outstretched hand.

"Now then," the king said, "we'll try one small piece of lead at a time. That one, Knurl! Pull it away from the rest!"

It was then, when Casiodorus was preparing to utter another command to the amulet, a command that Knurl was sure the thing would refuse with equal vehemence, that two things happened at once. First, a tremor shook the throne room; not a quake, but a gentle shudder sufficient to rattle the fragments of lead, and to send one tumbling onto the floor. Second, Elspeth entered.

"Father."

"Yes, my dear."

Again the tremor came. Elspeth stopped walking. "Father, why is the room trembling?"