Hatchling (Tameron and the Dragon) (36 page)

I'll make for t
hat dragon statue at the corner.
His groin still ached, and he had to force himself not to go back towards Kiliane.
Surely she doesn't want me to freeze to death,
he thought resentfully. Then he spoke to himself out loud. "No. I won't do it. Besides, she's probably locked the window by now. And Mauric might already be there." He remembered listening to Jarrett and Marysa in the barn that one night before he'd regained his memory and how ugly it'd made him feel. He was annoyed that the vision of the other couple didn't reduce his yearning--in fact, in some ways he wanted Kiliane even more.
Maybe Randor was right about the Red Cup, and my father was wrong.
He kept moving. He had to be as far away as possible from temptation if he was going to lose his mind. At least that way he could avoid hurting Kiliane, whose only real crime was to love someone else.

He finally reached the stone dragon on the first corner and leaned on it for a moment.
Most noble of beasts, can you help me? Dragons have always stood for wisdom, even with people like me who weren't raised to worship you. I know I'm not the Silver Dragon they said I was in the puppet show, but for Lorin's sake, who is your friend, lend me some of your power!

Suddenly he shook with cold and his stomach churned. Tameron feebly clung to one curved claw as he spewed what remained of his dinner over the side. His fingers nearly slipped on the slick surface, but somehow
caught a fresh grip on rough stone before he fell. Once he was steadier, he hung on with one hand and used the other to wipe the foulness from his mouth.

Tameron rested there for a sh
ort while. His body still demanded release, but his mind was clear enough to know what he must do. "Thank you, dragon," he whispered, though for what he wasn't sure. At least he wouldn't have the potion he hadn’t digested yet to deal with.

He moved on. Just past the dragon-statue was a cascade of layered stones in a familiar pattern. Tam felt every breath of chill wind, while his feet were going numb. He'd have to watch his steps more carefully, since his ability to feel the way was less with every clump of snow that soaked the heavy
wool of his stockings.

He
stopped at the corner. He had a decision to make now. He might be better off heading directly towards the stables below and hope to find spare clothing inside. No. That wouldn't work. He needed to get completely dry before going anywhere, and on a night like this all the extra cloaks would likely be in use.
I can't leave like this. I'd perish from the weather nearly as quickly as Kiliane would.
He hated dying so
stupidly.

I have
to be on my way soon.
He began climbing to the third level. A night journey in a winter storm was madness, but trusting his father was worse. "I almost gave in," he said to himself as he got to the third level. The wind was worse up here. Anger gave him strength now. "Father didn't trust me to believe him! He put poison in my food to make me do what he wanted!"

I can't let them catch me,
he realized as a gust of wind nearly peeled him away from the ledge.
If I become a prisoner of Dever Tower after refusing to hurt Kiliane this time, will she be my first 'bride'? And what will they do to me there to force me to obey? How much of the Red Cup will they give me next time?
He shuddered. He was ashamed to realize that he'd do anything, anything at all, to avoid the potion, no matter how wrong. At first he'd thought that escaping tonight might be enough. Now he realized that he must leave and never return, even if he risked his death or worse by challenging the Elements. If his belief about the Earth Giant was wrong, he'd have to make his way to Warding and try his luck in the Anchor Pool.
Better my body caught in the muck at the bottom than being trapped in a life as no better than a beast!

He realized that he was now over Randor's room, but it would be a mistake to ask for help. His old servant would do his best to care for him, but that would use time he might not have. And who knew? Randor would tell him he was only a fool for not obeying the Protector in the first place. Why, the old man might notify the guards, just so his charge would be safe.
If Stine's there again, I’ll never be allowed to leave. I'm still not as tired as I was last night at this time, and the linen rag is probably still tied around the dragon closest to my room. If they've locked my window again, I'll break the glass and go in anyway.

He mov
ed as quietly as he could closer to the Guardian's chambers. She'd never believe her own brother was capable of such treachery. Or maybe she would, and think it was justified by his reluctance to do his Duty.

Tameron carefully inched out onto the dragon nearest his aunt's window. He was amazed to find that the surface felt cold, but was dry.
How did that happen in this rotten weather?
He wasn't about to question his luck. That made climbing down to the clawed feet much easier. Fortunately his window hadn't been locked, and opened without any trouble.

At last he was in his own room. He wanted to collapse on the bed, but knew that would be a bigger mistake than stopping to say a last farewell to Randor. He stripped and dried himself, then dressed in fresh clothing. His feet were still numb, but after he wrapped them in wash-rags soaked in hot water from the privy, they began to sting. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but knew he dare not begin this journey until they were warm clear through. Once he thought they were all right, he put on as many pairs of stockings as he could and still fit into a
n extra set of slippers.
I was an idiot to give those old boots to Lorin! My feet might hurt more now, but at least I'd have more protection from the snow.

Too late to do anything about
that
, unfortunately. He packed all the things he'd picked out before in the spare cloak and tied everything up. He also unsheathed his sword and dagger, dried them off, and wiped them with the oiled cloth in his kit, though he grudged every moment.
How long will it take before my father finds out that Kiliane is alone? Or maybe even not there, if Mauric can take her away? I've got to get going!

Tam
looked out the window. He didn't really want to go back out, but had no choice
. At least now I'm dressed for it.
He used his dagger to slice a strip of cloth off his sheet and tied his makeshift carryall to his back. Then he remembered a pouch he had with a few coins, and fastened that to his belt. At the last moment, he took out one of the glow-bulbs in his room, and muffled it well so its light wouldn’t betray his presence.

The stone turned his fingers to ice once he
went outside. As soon as he was back on the ground again, he could risk wearing gloves, but not yet. He looked up at the dragon, and decided it was too much of a risk to pass by the Guardian's window again. He stayed on the second level and went as far as he could till he reached the gap. Tam paused for a moment. That was a mistake. The wind blew so hard he nearly fell, even though he was hanging on. The bundle on his back caught the force like a sail. He blew on his fingers to get some feeling back into them, carefully lowered himself to where he could grasp the edge of the narrow walkway, and let himself dangle. He was still some distance above the ground, but let go. He'd never be able to pull himself back up.

The fall knocked the breath out of him when he landed on an icy patch and his feet slid out from underneath.
He slowly stood back up, his wrist stinging with pain from a scrape, and a face full of snow and mud. He wiped his face, which only made it feel worse. Then he gratefully put his gloves on, though he winced when the cuff of the left one rubbed against the sore spots.

The courtyard looked empty, but with so much snow falling he couldn't really tell. If he remembered the afternoon briefing in Stine's office correctly, there should only be one guard down here. Most likely he was keeping close to the gate. After all, a mage set the wards at sundown each day. With guards now assigned to the roof, who apparently hadn't seen him
, judging by the lack of arrows headed in his direction, and the bad weather, he thought he had a chance to make it to the stables without being spotted.

Tameron
dashed for the side entrance, big enough to lead a pony through. The main doors would almost certainly be locked this time of night. The smaller entry-way opened quietly. He vaguely remembered hearing something about the night groom and one of the maid-servants--with any luck, the man was too busy to watch out for him. He still walked carefully near the quarters for the stable hands. Fortunately they usually went to bed at sunset, though Stine might have posted a sentry there in the last couple of days.

He breathed a sigh of relief once he'd made it to the horse-stalls. No one had challenged him so far. Everything was quiet except for the snuffling breath of sleeping horses. Tam was glad none of the beasts was ailing, or a groom might be sitting up with it.

He set his bundle down for a moment. Where was the stall for the chestnut mare? Was she still here? He checked the loose box where she usually stayed. The sweet beast recognized him and nickered softly. "Hush, hush," he whispered. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed one side of the clean straw that covered the floor was much higher than the other. He crept into the box, taking his bundle with him, and pushed some of the horse's bedding aside. His helmet and breastplate glinted underneath. He lifted up the plate, and saw what it covered.

Tameron swallowed back tears when he ran his hands down the pair of large old boots. They were probably Randor's. Inside, he found two extra pairs of dry stockings, a small pot of salve in one toe--and a pouch with his woodworking tools in the other. He changed out of his soaked s
lippers, rubbed his feet to put some warmth back into them, and sighed with contentment once he was properly dressed and shod.

He
packed the contents of his spare cloak and the armor in a pair of saddlebags, and filled the space left with dried rations and a couple of water bags. Fortunately chain mail folded, more or less, but he had to put his helm in one bag and the chest-plate in the other. He'd fill the waterskins on the way--if nothing else, there was plenty of snow, and he could carry one underneath his arm.

He loaded his gear on a small, good-natured pony named Mujuk,
and saddled the chestnut mare. He even put a bridle on the horse, though he wasn't going to ride her. With any luck she'd delay searchers looking for him by going off in a different direction.

He led both beasts one at a time out the side door, his heart pounding with fear that someone would wake up and catch him. After all the books he'd read about the law, he knew more than he liked about what happened to prisoners that tried to escape too often.
Some were blinded, while others were deliberately crippled. Father never mentioned that possibility for me, but I imagine
someone
will think of it if I am caught tonight.

Tam began walking as quickly as he could towards one exit he knew was guarded by a friend. Luck was still running with him, and he'd best take advantage of it.

A tall man loomed out of the storm in the middle of the courtyard. "Here, now, where are you going with those beasts?" he demanded.

He
nearly ordered him to keep quiet out of habit, but thought better of it. "The Protector's son promised me a lot of money if I waited for him with these horses outside the gate into town. He told me the guard knew all about it, and would let me through," he said. He'd never seen this man before, or didn't remember him anyway, and hoped he wasn't recognized. "He said he wanted to meet that redheaded girl that
he
liked, and not just whoever his father picked out for him. I asked him what he wanted a pack pony for, and he said it wasn't any of my business. I know we're not supposed to talk to him, but he gave me these coins and said he'd have more when I met him again." Tam pulled out a few from his pouch and held them on his hand. "See? These are silver, but he said if I did what he asked the others would be gold. Do-Dorena, my sister, complains because I don't send enough home." He kicked himself for using a name that the Protector would recognize once the night groom told someone else about this.

The man laughed, and swept them out of Tameron's hand into his own. "Then I'll follow you, and we'll both be rich."

"He said I have to be alone, or I can whistle for my money," he said, throwing in a bit of a whine.

"Oh, well. Take the horses where he told you to, and come back to me as soon as you see the young lord. It wouldn't be right to let him fall into bad company. I'm sure his father will be grateful to us. I would hate to have to speak to the day groom about one of his lads."

It'd look odd if he didn't protest. "What, and lose everything else he gives me?"

"No, no, this is plenty. You can keep all the rest. But I want to be the one who tells the Protector where his precious son has run off to
this
time. You owe me that for letting you get this far! And here, take this one back--the guard will probably want it to let you pass." The night groom handed over one of the coins. "I'm surprised you're awake. After someone sent down wine to keep you lads warm, all your friends are snoring like pigs. If I hadn't been with Tirea instead, I'd be asleep myself, I suppose. And now we both have this splendid opportunity. No doubt the young lord planned that generous gesture, too."