[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (15 page)

“Will it be offered in full or in part?” the
thing asked, gazing hungrily at the cup in Berys’s hand.

“In part, at first,” said Berys.

“Give,” the demon demanded, and yelped again
as Berys twisted the chain around it.

“You obey me for the price,” he said, and the
thing bowed. “Take,” he commanded, and offered it the brass cup full of my
blood.

The demon took it and drank it all down at
once, whereupon it screamed far louder and more convincingly than it had at
Berys’s hands. It didn’t stop screaming, and as it didn’t seem to need to
breathe, the noise was appalling. It was obviously in agony. I couldn’t tell,
exactly, but it looked as though it was trying to rid itself of the blood but
couldn’t. It finally managed to say the words “broken” and “contract,” and
Berys yelped. He sent what looked like black fire towards the thing—a kind of
reversed Healer’s light—and a stream of blood, presumably mine, flowed out of
its mouth onto the stone floor. It finally stopped screaming.

“What in all the Seven Hells happened?’ cried
Berys. “It is only blood, there is nothing in it that could—”

“Kantrissshakrim!” the demon hissed. “You fed
me blood of the Kantrissshakrrrim! I will dessstroy you!”

Berys stood still as death, staring in utter
astonishment. The demon tried to get at him, but the binding held. Berys shook
himself and said, “Only your death would break the contract. All is done, you
are released.”

“Payment!” it cried.

“You were paid with lansip when I summoned
you. You have not done as I demanded, you are owed nothing. Go!”

The demon hissed like a cauldron full of
snakes and disappeared with a loud bang and a reek of rotten eggs.

Berys turned to me, frowning in frantic calculation,
his eyes narrowing as he started to pace back and forth in front of my cell,
muttering to himself. “How is it possible? You are human, I know it, your
father lies there and your mother was but a vessel made use of. Human born of
human. You cannot be other, but you are.” He glanced for an instant at the
smoke still hovering above the brazier. “Demonstrably.”

Then his frown disappeared and his eyes opened
so wide I could see white all around. And I thought he looked insane before.

“Kantri and Gedri blood. Can it be? How in
the—no, forget how. You! Speak truth!” he cried, and cast a cloud of that
darkness at me. I took a deep breath and held it before the cloud reached me. “Speak!
Your blood is Kantri and Gedri mixed?” he demanded.

“Go to the deepest Hell and rot there,” I said
with the last of my air, when I knew I could hold my breath no longer. I was forced
to breathe in that blackness—but I could not. It was like trying to breathe
soil. I had choked nearly to death when he dissipated it. I knelt, desperately
gasping sweet air into my burning chest, as he stared. And then he started to
laugh.

That was worse than hearing the demon scream.

Berys laughed loud and long, and eventually
came close to me. I shrank as far back as I could.

“I do not know what has changed you, or how,
or why,” he said, exhilarated, “but as of this moment, you are the most
precious creature in all the world to me.”

Marik stirred at this. His breathing was
returning to normal and he sat up, wincing. “I don’t see what’s so wonderful about
her,” he said, his voice rough. “In any case, I’m sure it will still be
wonderful when her soul is gone to pay off my demons.”

“Hmm—true enough, I suppose. Though it’s a
bother I didn’t need this night,” sighed Berys, peeved. “However, I don’t need
her soul for anything in particular, and she will surely be easier to transport
if her will is gone. I will perform the sacrifice this very night before we
leave, if only to shut you up about it.”

“About damn time,” growled Marik, climbing
slowly to his feet. He stood before me, just out of reach, his face distorted
by the mixture of triumph and hatred. “These are your last hours, girl,” he
growled, adding in a voice only I could hear, “all of you.” Then, louder, “Suffer
as I have suffered, sure in the knowledge that before midnight your soul will
be in thrall forever to a Lord of Hell.” He laughed then, a soul-chilling laugh
because it sounded so normal. As if he laughed at a slight witticism rather
than rejoicing in the hideous fate he planned for me.

I stood up straight, summoned what defiance I
could muster, and responded, “I am alone and unarmed. What you say may indeed
come to pass.” I forced myself to attempt a smile, anything to plant some seed
of doubt in Marik’s mind. “But you are, of your own free will, actively
sacrificing your only child to the powers of darkness. How do you hope to
escape the same fate I shall suffer?”

He smiled. “As long as you go first, I don’t
really care.” He turned and left, whistling. Berys, once his bears had cleared
away the trappings of his altar, stopped and grinned at me. “Soon,” he said, as
he summoned his Healer’s power and gestured at me.

“Sleep,” he said.

I knew no more.

Well, I admired Varien’s dedication, but you’d
not get me running down that road in the dark so soon after a decent meal. I’d
get a stitch in my side in no time, and I expected he would too. But there, he
was following his love.

Well, so was I.

I glanced over at Aral, almost unconsciously
sitting beside Vilkas as she spoke with Maran. As though it were her natural
place. She chose not to notice that Vil, close as a brother to her, had never
indicated that he felt anything other than that for her. I noticed. He had
never said… we had never spoken of her in that way, but after these two years
I knew them both weD enough. That churning soul, never at rest even in sleep:
he did not long for Aral as I did, as a man longs for a woman, but he needed
her desperately. It was that she sensed. It can be a powerful attraction for a
young woman, knowing that you make a genuine difference in a man’s life, that
you are truly needed. It is not enough, of itself, to make anything other than
friendship, but Aral was very young. I knew she loved him and that he did not
return it, and when we had all three been cast by Berys to float on the tides
of the world, I had resolved to be with her when she came to need me, for that
day would surely come.

I was interrupted by Gair, the landlord and a
friend of mine. ‘Lo, Willem,” he said, cheerily. “You are right welcome, you
and your friends who pay good silver in good time!”

I grinned. “Well, if you can’t make your hints
any broader than that, I’ll not pay you until I see you next.” To still his
spluttering protests I drew forth a small handful of silver and paid the shot I’d
run up over the last few months.

Gair took it with thanks, and said with some
amusement, “You’ll never credit it, but I heard some of the old lads talking
about dragons this afternoon! Can you imagine? Dragons!”

I raised my eyebrows and stared at him. “You
amaze me.”

“Sure as life. They sat out there”—he gestured
to the common room—“and said they’d seen dragons—not the little ones, the big
ones! Like in the children’s tales!” He laughed. “Perhaps I’d best cut the ale
with more water next time!”

“Gair, where have you been this day long?” I
asked, as innocently as I could. Goddess, it was hard to keep a straight face.

“Cooking all day, since before dawn,” he said.
“This is my baking day. You’re lucky, I made extra bread and those honeycakes
on a whim. Mind you, I expected that roast to last me all week. I’ll have to
start another tomorrow.” He looked around. “You don’t think all this food just
appears from nowhere, do you? It’s taken me most of the day, starting when late
turns to early. Why, what’s been happening?”

“Have you never looked out your door, man?” I
asked, stunned.

“Only to look away south and wonder what was
keeping the trade away.”

I took him by the shoulders and drew him back
into his kitchen, trying not to laugh. “Gair, my friend—the old men were right.
There are dragons here. Now. Not just the little ones, the Lesser
Kindred—though they are come into their own. They can speak and reason now,
Gair, the little dragons. They are intelligent.”

“Never!” he cried, eyes wide. “Impossible! I’ve
seen the creatures in the woods for years, they’re no brighter than cattle!”

“Believe me. Awake and aware and capable of
speech.” I started to smile, watching his face. “And, Gair—breathe, man, life
has changed but all’s well enough—the True Dragons are here as well. They
arrived this morning.”

He went from astounded to annoyed in the
instant. “Nonsense!” he scoffed. “It can’t be. They’re not real, man!”

‘Then I’ve been talking with tales all the day
long, aye, and for some days since,” I said, trying not to laugh.

“But—but in the tales they’re huge, they
couldn’t come and—not be—seen—Will, you bastard, you’ve seen them!”

“Gair, you idiot, they only bloody well landed
in your field!” I said, laughing openly now. “Damn near two hundred of them,
not half a mile away—oh, no—I suppose it’s nearer four hundred now.”

“What!” I could see the white all around his
eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re not breeding that
fast,” I said, snorting. “No, no. It was quite a show, but one of the big ones
and two of the folk out there managed to—oh, never mind, it’s too long a tale.
But be told. They are here, they’re as big as legend makes them, they’re
brighter than you or I will ever be, and they’re—they’re good folk, Gair. As
long as you tell them the truth. They can spot a he a league off.”

Gair didn’t speak. I don’t think he could. I
was casting about for some way to reassure him when Rella came to the door. “Have
you run out of ale, landlord?” she asked brightly.

“D-d-d-dragons!” Gair yelled. “Dragons! It’s
the end of the world!”

“Don’t be stupid, man. It’s a new start, and
you’re one of the first to know about it,” she said. That seemed to get
through, a little. At least he was breathing again.

“A new—a new start?” he asked. “How? How can
we fight something like that?”

“Goddess, man, there’s no need to fight them!
They’re creatures of Order. Trade with them! They are new-come to this place,
they have no food, no shelter.” She grinned then, moved close to him, and
murmured conspiratorially, “You do know what they say about dragons, don’t you?
Think, man! What do they sleep on, hmmm?”

At least he knew his children’s tales. “Every
fool knows they sleep on beds of go—” The transformation was nearly magical.
Where a moment before horror had reigned, now greed opened his eyes wider and
brought a mad smile to his face. I’d seen that smile earlier in the day, when I
told Timeth of his great good fortune. Rella grinned. “Good lad,” she said
cheerily. I nodded to him and took the ale to where the others sat.

I woke suddenly in darkness and was just
starting to curse Hygel for a liar when there came a knock at the door.

“Master, are you waked?” said a young voice. “There’s
a man to see you i’ the common room. Will ye come?”

“Aye. Come and light my candle, lad, I can’t
even find the door latch it’s that dark in here,” I replied. The voice proved
to belong to a young lad of maybe ten years, who wandered in, lit the candle by
the door from the candle he carried, and disappeared. I went to the basin and
splashed my face with cold water, for I was still muzzy from sleep. It helped a
bit.

The common room was lit by several lamps as
well as by the fire, but despite that—or perhaps because of it—there was a
generous helping of shadowy corners. Hygel came over to me, shook his head, and
muttering something about what the cat dragged in, led me to a dimly fit alcove
where sat a man of about my own age. He looked nothing special, short dark hair
well salted with grey, a trim beard with more grey than dark, a nondescript
cloak thrown around his shoulders against the cold nights of early spring. When
he stood, though, his eyes gleamed in the firelight, and I saw the mind behind
them awake and on guard.

“Magister Rikard, this is the man I told you
of.” Hygel glanced at me, muttered, “Good luck,” and left us to it.

“I don’t believe in wasting time, sir,” said
Rikard, swiftly seating himself. All his movements were quick and precise like
his speech, and his eyes were sharp and bright. “I have known Hygel for years,
and if he vouches for you, I am willing to at least begin with you, but he says
you have impugned the
Archimage. How
do you dare to speak ill of so good a man?”

“I’ve known him longer than you, if not as
well,” I replied cautiously. “Though to say truth, I would not so corrupt the
word ‘good’ as to speak it in the same breath.”

“I have had concerns myself,” he said, equally
cautious. “If you have a complaint to make against the Archimage, I pray you,
tell me. He surely would not be pleased to know that there were those who felt
ill-used by him.”

I said nothing.

“Well? What’s wrong?” he snapped.

“I don’t know you, Magister. I barely know
Hygel, and neither of you knows me from Fanner Jon’s off ox. And none of us can
afford to be wrong.”