Hatchling (Tameron and the Dragon) (9 page)

How much of the truth to tell? "I was trying some blood
magic. Nothing else worked and I was desperate." Tam bowed his head.

Stine nodded. "You can't take risks like others can. I've seen the Guardian heal a death-wound in less than an hour, and it took you days to get better. Fortunately she knows her potions as well as she does her spells, and doesn't mind taking advice. The liver soup was my idea. Everyone knows it's good for blood loss."

Tam remembered what she'd said at the posting-house on the way here about him not being affected by magic, especially healing-spells. "I'd better be careful then," he said.

Stine looked uneasy. "The guard who took you through the short-cut that nearly got you killed is in custody for the Protector to deal with. None of the people in the city had arrows with white fletching, though. In fact, by the time we got to the alleyway, all of those arrows had been removed, so the Guardian had nothing to trace. And we still don't know who the other group was. The girl keeps insisting she was to let you go once you'd had your fun."

Tameron put his sword back in its sheath on his belt, and began to dress. "No place is safe, is it?"

"Well, your father and Lady Kiliane are on their way here, and will
arrive with their escort in a few days. We'll probably return to Kelemath with them before the weather gets too bad to travel. I don't have to tell you to watch your back
there
. You can't trust anyone."

"For a moment I didn't trust you."

"Good. You'll stay alive longer that way," the Commander said calmly, and handed him his shirt. "You've been walking around half-asleep for over a week. I hope this wakes you up."

It did. For the rest of the day he started at every sudden noise. Was the servant who laid the table putting something in his food? Who came into his room to clean when he wasn't there? The worst thing of all was that he began to wonder if Randor himself would stay loyal forever.

By evening, he was sick of the creeping suspicion that filled his heart. Was it worth living like this, if every breath was bought with fear? He wanted to ask the Guardian if Stine was right, but was afraid she'd tell the truth this time.

S
oon his father would be here. Why was Lord Sidian bringing Lady Kiliane with him? Tameron remembered the beautiful, dark-haired girl. What bargain had the Protector made with the Sandega clan? For a moment hope flared in his heart. Perhaps he was to be set free, as the Council wished. No one ever need know his secret vulnerability if he were to be adopted by some ordinary family. Randor, for one, would never tell.

But why bring Kiliane here?
he wondered.
Why didn't Father summon me home to appear before the Council if I'm going to be let go?
Then he remembered what the Guardian had said about the Anchor points. His aunt's castle was one of the four places in Fiallyn Mor where his father could rest without fear. What if he was in trouble, too?

Tameron ate little of his dinner as he thought about it.
It's my fault
.
If only I had magic. But I don't. Stine should be protecting my father, not me, but she isn't because I can't even defend myself properly. And if my children are so important that they can be used against my father, who paid the girl to wait for me?

That night he dreamed again of being in the Council Chamber. Once more he was forced to stand after drinking Mimn's potion, and he soon found himself in bed, his body thrilling to the touch of the girl next to him.

Only, this time she wasn't Liselda. Dark hair and red lips replaced the other girl's charms.
Kiliane. But you don't even
like
me,
he thought in this dream.

Her mocking laughter did nothing to diminish how much he wanted her, but for some reason he was able to resist it this time. He tried to move away from the bed, only to find he was tied to it by one hand.

"See? You have no choice," she said bitterly. "Neither do I. Shall we make the best of it?"

Part of him eagerly complied. Another part watched and waited. He began to breathe heavily and thrust faster, but Kiliane drew a knife, as he'd come to expect. This time he was still thinking clearly enough to wrestle it away from her hand into his, and used it to cut the strip of cloth that bound him to the bed.

While she gaped open-mouthed at his actions, he rushed toward the door, seized the handle, and left the room. Stine stood in the hallway, a naked sword leveled at his belly. "I told you not to trust anyone," she said.

Then she killed him.

Tameron woke screaming.

Randor rushed into the room, only his night-clothes on. "Are you all right, lad?" he said.

"A bad dream..." All Tam wanted to do was to weep into his pillow, but he was too old for that. He sat up on the edge of the bed. "I'll go back to sleep soon," he lied. He knew better.

"You should tell the Guardian about it," the older man said.
"This isn't the first time.”

Tell my aunt about
this
? Not likely!
"I'll be all right," he said.

Randor looked worried and shook his head. "I don't want you to say that if it's not true. I knew so
mething was wrong the night you…you were hurt, and I didn't do anything until it was almost too late. There's nothing so bad you can't tell me about it, lad. I was once a boy like you. We all have times when we think life is cruel to us, though I must admit you have more reason than most. I can't believe what I heard Stine did to you in drill."

Tam hesitated. "I--I've been dreaming about the red-haired girl, the one from Lochil."

"Every man has
that
kind of dream! What's in it to make you wake up this way?"

"Stine was there, too. With a sword."

"Well, after the beating you took yesterday, no wonder! You need a holiday, lad."

"Father will
be here soon."

"Is that's what winding you up? I can't say I blame you. For all his kindness, it's been too long since he was young. It may take a couple of days, but I can arrange to have some amusement brought your way, since you can't go into town. We'll call it an early birthday celebration."

Tam swallowed back tears. His birthday was on Midwinter, and the Feast of Mourning was a holiday for elders only. Oh, he never went short on gifts. Last year he'd received his sword from Stine, an order for a suit of armor made to his measure from his father, a set of books from Tayn, and a basket of cakes from Randor. But the day was never
his
the way other people's birthdays were. His father always promised to make it up to him, but somehow he never did.

"Thank you," he whispered, once he got his voice back under his control. Randor
fetched him something hot and sweet to drink, tucked him back into bed as if he were still a child, and bade him good-night.

After his servant left, Tam wasn't afraid any more, but he couldn't
go back to sleep. A holiday! He liked that idea. Each day here was much like the rest now that he was confined to the castle, except for the ceremonies that marked the end of each week for which his attendance was required. They were his only glimpse of open sky each cycle, though the ritual itself was deadly boring by now. The Guardian had her times of solitary amusement, but those were in the mornings when he had drill. His own schedule was just like it'd been in Kelemath, only more so with him being confined inside so much.

He sat up again as he thought of something. By the time Randor arranged anything, his father would likely be here. The Protector and Lady Kiliane would undoubtedly join him in whatever show his servant might arrange. Of course the performers would naturally give all their attention to his father. It wouldn't be the first time.

No. It was time he took a day. Just one day. Then he'd play the role assigned to him. Lady Kiliane couldn't be like the girl he'd dreamed about. She might even be as friendly as Liselda appeared to be. He quietly slid out of bed and dressed. Any sound he made might well be heard by a night-guard below in the audience chamber. Riding out should be safe as long as he stayed away from town, though he took a few coins with him in a pouch just in case. He was so tired of being a prisoner here!

Tam put on his plainest cloak and took his sword. If he
was caught, he'd be in more trouble for being unarmed than for leaving. He scribbled a quick note to reassure them he was all right, and then opened his door by a hair and peered out of his room. The guard usually assigned to this hallway paced up and down in the faint light. He watched and waited as the fellow took a long swallow from a flask. It was only a matter of time now till the drink sank to the other end.

At last the guard went to the other end of the hall to the privy. Tameron
left his chambers, gently closed the door, and quietly sped down to the opposite end. He was tempted to slide down the staircase rail to go even faster, but knew he'd make too much noise at the bottom.

He headed towards the stables, the hood of his cloak up, and tried to walk like a weary guard sick of his duties. Fortunately the night-groom was gone, or at least wasn't up.
Probably with that pretty maidservant I saw with the cook a while ago,
Tam thought. Once there, he chose a sweet-tempered chestnut mare. He knew some of the beasts by now, including a gentle little pack-pony that liked him for some reason.

He looked around to make sure they were being taken care of. They had no voices to plead with if they were neglected or ill-treated. The stable hands were usually kind to the horses around him, but it didn't hurt to check.

Tameron gave the mare some extra grain, and then saddled her. He walked the horse quietly through the dark, deserted yard past a couple of drowsy servants and let himself out a rarely-used side gate. It wasn't even sunrise yet, but he saw puffs of smoke in a few chimneys in the predawn light.

He cantered to the edge of town. No point exposing himself too much when he only wanted a day away from his guards and his duties...and from fear. Already he felt better with fresh air in his lungs. He laughed to see how his breath made its own white smoke in the cold morning breeze.

Tam followed a couple of wagons out through the eastern gate. The sky and the ground were nearly the same color now. Pale gray clouds cast dim shadows on the fresh snow. Occasional flakes lazily sailed down on him and the horse. To his left, the dark waters of Kadramas Lake surrounded the mist-covered island near the shore. On his right, high stone ramparts protected Lochil and the lake, forming a wall pierced only by the road from Kelemath. He enjoyed riding into the slowly-rising sun, even though the sky was overcast.

Today might be a good time to explore along the shore and see how deep the water was between the land and Neyarmie Isle
. It was closer to shore than he’d thought. The Guardian always took a boat from the northern exit of the castle, but it was supposed to be possible to walk along a spit of land that went out nearly to the edge of the sacred isle. A good horse ought to be able to swim the gap, if there was one, between the gravelly bar and the island itself.

Maybe when he rode back into Lochil this afternoon he might find a girl who'd never heard of him. Perhaps a real girl in his arms while he was awake would drive away the nightmares. He'd be sure to ask for one who took childbane, in case Stine was right.

Once he was a few hours away from town, he stopped and ate a little from the pouch he'd brought. The flakes of snow became thicker, and began to fall more heavily from the cloudy sky. Once he got his bearings, he turned back, though it wasn't even noon yet.

Then he lost sight of the walls in the freezing white wind that suddenly blew. Tam kept going, knowing it had to be the right direction. But then he thought he saw the outline of a gate to the left and turned towards it, only to discover it was an illusion. Soon he wasn't sure what direction he was going.

Tam urged his horse forward anyway. No matter what direction he went, as long as he kept on the same course he'd find either the lake, the stone walls, or the forest. The land around the small city was bare from tree-cutting, but not for any great distance. If he reached the shore of Kadramas Lake, he'd backtrack till he found the gate again. If he rode far enough south to strike the stone ramparts, at least he'd be able to find the road.

Ice cracked as his horse stumbled into a stream. He must be on the edge of the narrow river east of Lochil. There were trees on the other side, so he crossed it anyway. He tried to get a little more speed from the mare. Once he reached the forest, he could find shelter there till the storm slowed down. Stine had showed him how to dig down to find dry wood to start a fire.

He must find cover first, and then stay warm. Tam would rather find fresh water, if only for the horse, but he knew he could melt snow in a bottle under his arm if he had to.

At last he reached the edge of the trees. Once out of the wind, he stopped and wiped down the mare's legs with a rag from his saddlebag. She'd catch a chill if he didn't. He remounted and rode on. As soon as he found a protected clearing, he'd build a fire there. He almost stopped in one place, but moved on when he heard the soft trickle of water ahead of him. That was better than melting snow any day.