Dragon Blood

It was the size of a prune pit, painted with yellow and red designs and strung on a leather thong. Tisala had seen a number of barbarians—Shavigmen, she hastily corrected—wear such charms for luck while she had been at Hurog.

Rosem shook his head. "He won't be allowed to keep it."

"Can he hide it in his chambers, then? That's the only way I'll know where to get him, unless you want me to wait until you, yourself, are with him?" Oreg's voice was unfailingly courteous.

"I'll find a place to hide it. Don't you want to know who we want you to get out?" Rosem's voice was level with suspicion.

Oreg shook his head. "It doesn't matter. If I get Ward out of the Asylum, anyone else we get out can't worsen his position with the king."

"Kellen," Tisala said. "Jakoven's younger brother."

"I was wrong," said Oreg after a bare instant. "Rescuing Kellen Tallven will definitely take Ward off Jakoven's list of who is to be invited to important social events—except, of course, Ward's own execution."

Tisala couldn't help a quick grin.

Not knowing Oreg or Ward, Rosem said, "So your answer is no."

"I didn't say that," said Oreg. "It'll be up to Ward, but since he has a wide band of stubborn stupidity that would do credit to a mule when the question of right and wrong is concerned, I expect he'll agree. You understand I can't say for certain until I have Ward out. Once I have him, I'll get Kellen out immediately so security doesn't tighten."

"I'd rather you not use his name so freely," said Rosem. "Being a wizard, you know about scrying."

Oreg snorted. "Being a competent wizard, I can keep Jakoven's pets from listening to any of my conversations. They'll not learn of your plans for Kellen from me."

"Tell me where and when to meet you after you've gotten him out," said Rosem.

Oreg hesitated. "Menogue," he said at last. "At the path before it begins the climb to the hilltop. I'll meet you there the evening after your man escapes. It should be very soon—so make sure he gets that charm."

"First thing tomorrow," agreed Rosem, closing his hand over the little bead until his knuckles turned white.

Tisala closed Rosem's door behind them and hugged her arms together as the chill night breeze cut through her clothing.

"He's not usually so abrupt," she said, setting out for the mansion where Ward's family would be waiting. "He's just worried."

"Jealous," correct Oreg, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Jealous?" she asked.

"Rosem has Tallvenish body servant written all over him. His duty and honor is to protect his lord, but he has to go to a mage for help."

She thought about that for a moment. "Maybe a little," she said.

Rosem had engineered an escape once, years ago. It had failed, and the resulting chaos made it perfectly clear to everyone involved that if the king believed there was a real chance of his brother escaping, he'd forget about oracle warnings and kill Kellen. If Oreg wasn't successful, Kellen would die and it would be Rosem's fault. But Kellen was already dying in that little cell. "I still think it's mostly worry," she said.

When Tisala followed Oreg into the library at Lord Duraugh's rented manor, they found Tosten waiting for them. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and he rubbed them wearily, setting aside the battered harp he'd been fingering.

"I found him," she told Tosten in a voice suitable to a house where people were sleeping.

"How was he?"

She looked away and said, "Oreg thinks they are using herbs—he wasn't himself." The image of Ward trying to bury himself under the straw haunted her, and she didn't see any reason to share it with his brother—especially when the effects were, she hoped, temporary.

Tosten turned to Oreg. "But he'll be all right?"

"I'm getting him out tonight," said Oreg in oblique reply. "Help me move this furniture, I need a clear space on the floor."

By the time they'd cleared the floor, Lord Duraugh, looking more tired than Tosten, had come up to see what the noise was.

Oreg produced a sheet of vellum and made Tisala stand over his shoulder as he drew the section of the Asylum where Ward was. When he was finished he had a fair map. Then he picked Tisala's memories to pieces again. She found she remembered details she couldn't possibly have: how many stone blocks there were between each doorway, where the paint was scratched on the inside of Ward's cell door, the shape of the lock.

When he was finished with her, Tisala sat down abruptly on a bench and realized he'd used some magic on her—she could feel its absence now that it was gone.

Without a word, Oreg took a piece of charcoal and began marking the polished wooden floor.

"What are you doing?" Tosten's voice startled Tisala. She'd forgotten he and Duraugh were in the room, too.

"Transportation spells without a definite destination are difficult in the best of times." Oreg replied. "This" — he paused in his drawing to gesture at the marks he'd made on the floor—"will help me return here if something goes wrong. Hopefully I'll be able to get myself to where they've stashed Ward, and then I can get us both out."

"They have the area magicked to prevent someone doing just that," said Duraugh. "I've asked a few friends about it—discreetly."

"Jakoven's pet wizards don't have the power to ward it against me," said Oreg contemptuously.

Tisala had watched her father's mage use symbols to work magic before, but there was something different about the way Oreg moved—like the difference between watching an artist and a talented amateur. Oreg never stopped to look something up in a book, never paused in the detailed lines he placed on the floor, though she could barely see the marks in the dim light. He never had to stop and go back to redraw anything. Even so it took him quite a while before he was satisfied.

After setting aside the charcoal, he jumped lightly over his artwork and sat, cross-legged, in the unmarked section he'd left in the middle. He closed his eyes and became still.

Nothing happened for such a long time that when the first few sparks sputtered from the marks on the floor, Tisala thought she was imagining things.

Then between one breath and the next the temperature in the room shot up from winter-cool to unbearably hot. Blue and gold sparks spewed from the black marks and lit the room, forcing Tisala to bring up her arm to protect her eyes.

When she lowered her arm, the room was thick with smoke and a dragon curled around itself where Oreg had been, filling the room.

Then Oreg stood in the dragon's place, staggered a few steps forward, and fell to his knees. Duraugh rushed to his side and helped him to a chair.

"Oreg?" he said. "Are you all right?"

The wizard nodded his head, breathing heavily. "I can't get to him," he said in a voice that shook. "I haven't seen wards like those since … It's warded with dragon magic. I couldn't get through. If I were inside, with him, I might have been able to get him out—but not from here."

"They have a dragon?" asked Tosten tightly.

Oreg shook his head. "More likely some remnant piece—a tooth or scale would be enough."

"Are you sure you could get him out from inside?" Tisala asked.

Oreg smiled grimly. "Yes."

She rubbed her hands over her eyes. "I'll see what we can do. There is only one cleaner for that section. It'll be difficult to remove her again without arousing questions—not to mention the prevalence of mages who might notice a wizard strolling through their doors, for all that he's dressed like a cleaner."