Dragon Blood

"That attitude would surprise the two other Hurogmetens that I've known," said my aunt dryly, referring to my father and grandfather.

"Meten means guardian, and Ward is Hurogmeten," said Oreg before taking a bite of bread.

"What can you do that Beckram can't?" protested Tosten. "I say warn Uncle Duraugh and Beckram and let them deal with it." But the heat was gone from Tosten's voice. He knew all of Hurog's old songs and stories better than I did. He knew the duties of the Hurogmeten. If Oreg's firsthand experience had robbed the old lays of veracity, it hadn't robbed the ideal of its power.

"I need to have a better feeling for what's going on in court," I explained. "Jakoven's abduction of Tisala is just the start. Something ugly is about to happen, and I'm afraid Hurog is going to be caught up in the middle of it."

"Who are you taking with you?" asked Aunt Stala, and the matter was settled.

We pla

The armsman who ran in was white-faced. "My lord," he said. "There's royal troops riding in."

My mouth went dry. Were they here after Tisala? Thoughts flew through my head. But I'd decided after I heard Tisala's story that it wasn't likely that Jakoven would come after her here—too many people to silence with too little gain. He wouldn't want anyone knowing he'd tortured Tisala.

That left only one answer that would send a royal troop: the writ.

Should I run? Oreg would take me—but that would leave Hurog and those who belonged to her vulnerable—and my family open to charges of treason. My uncle couldn't prove he hadn't helped me, could he? Nor could Beckram, if that was truly whom the king was after.

We could fight. It would start a civil war. Shavig would fall behind us. Oranstone might as well—but they had to worry about the Vorsag invading again as they had four years ago. Except …

I shook my head as I dismissed the thought of civil war. It might have happened if the king had attacked us next year instead of this. Today, Hurog would fall in a day, and presented with that accomplishment, Shavig would moan and groan, but ultimately submit to Jakoven's hand.

We were ready to hold off bandits, but the king's army was another thing entirely. Maybe if we had a real gatehouse and portcullis on the curtain wall we could have withstood for long enough. Instead we had nothing but an outer wall with a stout wooden door barred against intruders—the keep had no door at all.

"No need to go to him, he's come for you," said Stala, confirming my thoughts.

The pulse of fear beat heavily in my throat. I didn't have much time. "Tisala—go to my room now and stay there. It'll be death for everyone if the king's men find you here. I'll make certain they don't search the keep, but I'm not sure I can keep them out of here altogether."

Blessed woman turned on her heel and made quick time up the stairs without argument. I waited until she was out of hearing and turned to the others.

"Stala, you keep the Guard from fighting, do you understand? They, and you, must stay here to protect Hurog. Keep Tisala safe as long as you can. As long as the troops say nothing about her—we don't, either. I don't think the king will try and force the issue—it would leave him with too much to explain."

Grim-faced, Stala nodded.

"Tosten, stay out of sight, too. As soon as we are gone, ride for Uncle Duraugh. Make certain he knows that Beckram is in trouble. I would have expected to hear from him sooner than this—maybe something happened to our message."

"You're going with them?"

"Yes, I have to. Don't worry, I'll get out of it. Oreg, can you find your way to Estian and to me in secret?"

Of us all, only Oreg didn't look worried. "Of course."

The sound of hoof on tile made us all jump. But it was only the guardsman's horse. He hadn't taken time to secure her and she'd wandered through the open doors and come to see what the fuss was about.

I ignored the man's embarrassed apology and set my foot in the stirrup. His stirrups were too short. From the mare's back I said, "Luck to you all," and rode out of the great hall without a backward glance, afraid that I'd lose my nerve if I didn't go.

I dismounted at the gates and tried to send the armsmen there to their quarters, but I made the mistake of letting them know just what I thought the king's troops wanted. They were reluctant to leave me alone.

"Begging your pardon, my lord," said Soren, dropping to his knees on the cold ground. "But you took my family and me in when we would have starved to death last winter. I'll not leave you alone with an unfriendly troop of men."

There was a murmur of agreement; the man who'd stayed on the wall called out as the king's troop approached. They were making good time, I thought, if they followed so close on the heels of my lookout.

"If I'm here alone," I explained, "they'll see no need for violence. But they've come looking for a fight—and they'll find reason for it if they can."

"If you are given an order, you will obey it," said my aunt's voice coldly. "Ward, you know better than to explain your orders." She looked at Soren and the defiant men, and sighed pointedly. "And if you have to explain your orders, make certain you do so clearly. Gentlemen, Oreg will accompany the Hurogmeten at a distance and retrieve him if it looks as though the king intends to harm him. In this way Ward is safe and Hurog won't suffer under an attack we ca

Her clear voice carried to the tops of the wall and the man who was there scrambled down the ladder and started for the guards' quarters without a word. His action inspired the rest, and Soren jumped to his feet and retreated with them, leaving me standing with my aunt.

"What'd you do, tell them you were going to let the king's men take you in order to save everyone here?" she said dryly after they'd gone.

I flushed and she shook her head. Then she leaned forward and pulled my ears until I bent down and she could kiss me. Without another word, she followed the path the men had taken and I was alone in the darkening bailey.

I walked to the gates, but before I could touch the bar to open them, something hit them with a reverberating crack and they bounced and flexed against the bar. The king's men were using a battering ram before parlaying with the guards that should have been on the walls. It made me even more sure what they were here for: They didn't parlay, because no man would give himself up to be taken to the Asylum unless he was truly crazy. For a second a humorless grin twisted my lips.

They hit the gates again. I wondered a minute where they'd found a timber to use as a ram, then remembered the rubbish pile just outside the wall. There might have been a broken timber or two large enough put to use.

The cups had bent around the bar until only a crowbar could have released it. Not having one handy, I moved out of the way and waited for them to open it from their side.

When the doors fell, the king's men swarmed over and I was glad I had decided not to fight. There must have been two hundred men. Flattering, I thought sourly.

With no one to offer them a fight, they stopped, casting alert gazes at the arrow slits in the third floor of the keep and the guard towers along the walls. I was standing next to the doors behind the men and they didn't notice me at first

The Blue Guard would never have made such a mistake—but these men weren't trained by my aunt. A harsh blow of a battle horn from beyond the walls stopped them, but they looked only in front, missing me entirely. If I hadn't been so frightened by what I intended to do, I would have gri