Dragon Blood

I ate as I walked the space and figured measurements, and thought it might be possible to make a small addition onto the south side of Hurog and give us six extra rooms to put guests. Then I'd still have to share if the Council descended again, but any small group of noblemen—

"If you put an extra door in the side of the great hall, you could put a few of these on the south side without making the keep less secure," said Oreg from the doorway as he munched on an apple.

"Reading minds now?" I said, licking grease off my fingers. "I thought you said that wasn't one of your talents."

He gri

I laughed. "The only thing I succeeded in was making an idiot of myself."

He smiled like a cat and shook his head. "I disagree. You convinced Tisala that you knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that she was it."

"Do you think so?" I was skeptical. "I was more of the opinion that I sounded like a pitiful sad-story hero who languishes and dies in the final refrain, leaving everyone feeling sorry they hadn't treated him better."

"Trust me," said Oreg lightly. "It wasn't pity I saw on her face, it was revelation."

I stared at him and saw that he was serious.

"If so," I replied slowly, "then I don't mind embarrassing myself in front of everyone. I'd suffer a lot worse than a little humiliation to win Tisala."

Through the arrow-slit window in the side of the room I heard a commotion outside. It was probably only the arrival of one of the men Alizon and Haverness had summoned to Callis, but I started for the door anyway.

I had a moment of anxiety when I stepped into the corridor and realized I didn't know which way to go.

"Which way to the great hall?" I asked Oreg.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he answered with a grin.

So I turned right and, with Oreg unhelpfully following, explored the twists and turns until I found a section of keep that looked familiar. Doubtless there were several paths I could have taken that were shorter, but we made it to the great hall before the new guests were welcomed.

Haverness was already in the room, seated by the fire where a scattering of chairs and benches made an impromptu conversational area. He was shaking his head as Alizon leaned forward and spoke with an earnest air. Garranon had draped himself against the wall, listening expressionlessly.

My uncle was leaned back in a wooden chair, elbows braced on the chair arms and his hands folded thoughtfully under his chin. I knew that pose and wondered when he would loose his first attack in whatever conversational battle they were engaged in. Axiel stood with his back to them all, watching the fire dance. Tosten was seated a little apart with his battered harp, playing a bit to keep anyone from overhearing the discussion. I'd used him that way before—no sense making things too easy for the king's spies that doubtless infested both Hurog and Callis.

Tisala sat on the flagstone of the floor, her shoulder resting against Haverness's knee. I met her steady gaze and saw something that made me think that Oreg might be right. Neither she nor I smiled, but some co

"How stupid do I look?" Haverness asked gently, in reply to some statement by Alizon that I'd missed while exchanging glances with Tisala. "You and I know that the stories of the Empire are greatly exaggerated. You've heard what minstrels have done to the battles of the Rebellion and it has only been a few decades since then. If the Bane ever existed, which I question, it was likely no more powerful than something our wizards could conjure up."

"If I could level my keep with magic," I said mildly, "then why couldn't the ancients create a tool that would do the same?"

Haverness rolled his eyes, reminding me forcefully of his daughter. "I'm just trying to convince the old fool that he'd do better not to mention the Bane to the people who are here. Tell them Jakoven's a mage if that's true—and my daughter tells me he is. But if you tell them he's got Farsonsbane, then you'll lose them."

"He has the Bane," said Oreg quietly. "To maintain otherwise is a dangerous lie. They need to know what they face."

Haverness shook his head. "Yesterday, after Alizon told me the tale you've concocted, I spoke to my own wizard. If he doesn't believe it, how do you expect to convince my Oranstonians?"

"Oranstonians believe in magic," replied Oreg. "They worship Meron the Healer, who asks for sacrifices of magic."

"Peasants worship the Lady," corrected Duraugh gently. "Haverness is right. We had trouble getting our Shavigmen to accept the Bane."

"I heard about your convenient dragon and walking dead man," said Haverness dryly.

"He was alive," said Garranon shortly. "He was a good man and he suffered and died because of my carelessness."

"He died because of Jakoven," corrected my uncle. "Don't you forget it, Garranon."

"I apologize," said Haverness. "I had only Alizon's tale to go by; I hadn't realized you knew the man. I wouldn't have spoken lightly of it if I'd thought it was anything more than an illusion like the dragon."

"Oh, the dragon's quite real, Father," said Tisala without looking at Oreg. "Just like the Bane."

"Have you seen it?" asked Haverness. "Can any of you doubt that if Jakoven decided to fabricate an ancient artifact, Farsonsbane would be the perfect one? It would inspire fear and awe."

"The Bane is real," I said. "I have seen it and felt its power. And only an idiot would try to re-create the Bane's semblance just to impress people. Too many people would refuse to serve a man who wielded it unless they were convinced of its power and terrified of it."

"And are you going to produce a dragon to convince the men here of that?" asked Haverness impatiently.

"If necessary … " began Duraugh as a guard opened the doors to the hall, letting in light, fresh air, and a bedraggled woman with a toddler on her hip. She entered attended by a handful of lightly armored guardsmen who appeared no less tattered than she.

Garranon lost his casual pose and strode rapidly across the floor toward the lady, who stood hesitantly as her eyes adjusted to the dim indoor light.

"Allysaian of Buril," the guardsman a

I compared the image I held of Garranon's wife with the woman whose pale and plain face was tight with strain. I didn't recognize Garranon's wife, but I had only met her twice, and both times there had been other things taking my attention.

"Garranon," she said with such utter relief in her voice that I knew whatever had brought her here had been very, very bad. Something, I was afraid, that had to do with Farsonsbane and the residue of its magic, which I could still taste in the air.

Garranon walked soberly to her side and she collapsed into his arms.

The expressions on the faces of her guardsmen showed no less relief than his wife's had. Remarkable trust, I thought, for a man who was able to spend so little time at his estates.

Haverness moved as if to get up, but stopped abruptly. "Best wait," he said. "We'll get little information before she calms down. I hope she didn't run afoul of bandits after leaving Buril. I thought we were rid of most of them along the road between here and Garranon's estate."

Garranon stiffened at whatever tale the armsman was telling him in quiet tones that didn't carry over Tosten's quiet music.

Garranon bent down and said something to his wife and took the sleeping child from her arms. She nodded and stepped back, wiping her eyes. She took his arm formally and they headed toward us.