Dragon Blood

14—WARDWICK

Six Oranstonian lords had accompanied Alizon. Farrawell, the one who'd yelled at Tychis, I knew by reputation though not by sight. He was the only one of the Oranstonians I hadn't met, so I had no trouble fitting the name to the man.

Farrawell had accounted himself well in the wake of the Oranstonian Rebellion, surviving not by diplomacy, as with many of the older Oranstonian lords—like, say, Haverness—but because he'd been imprisoned when the Oranstonians broke. I'd heard he was a man of hot temper and little insight. He'd been one of Haverness's Hundred and, like Haverness, had taken the defeat of the Vorsag as a signal that he could stay at his estates—which were vast by any standards.

Beckram's friend Kirkovenal was there, a generation younger than the other Oranstonians. He sat next to Garranon, who wore his usual bland court-face. Only the shadows under his eyes showed the strain of Jakoven's attack.

Danerra, Levenstar, Revenell, and Willettem had all fought in the Rebellion and the Hundred—which was all I knew of them. There was an empty seat between Willettem and Kirkovenal, and Beckram slid into it. I leaned against the wall. If I sat down now, I'd be asleep in five minutes unless someone did something more interesting than talk.

Alizon, when I'd known him at court, had been famed for his outlandish clothes and dyed hair. Today his hair was streaked with gray and cut short in no particular fashion. If I'd walked by him in a market, I wouldn't have recognized him.

Kellen and Rosem were noticeably absent, but my uncle sat on Alizon's right, watching the faces around him intently. Tosten wasn't there, either.

My uncle greeted me with a glance and then launched off into speech with the air of a man repeating something for the twentieth time.

"You say that you want to attack Estian," he said, looking from one Oranstonian face to another. "Which at this point is utterly foolish."

"Fighting in the streets of Estian, where every hand might be against you, will only lose men," agreed Alizon. "We have to pick our target."

"If not Estian, then where?" asked Kirkovenal. "Would the Shavig lords attack Avinhelle? Then we could attack Tallven while Jakoven was concentrating his efforts in the north."

Garranon shook his head. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I doubt you'd get more than a tenth of the Oranstonian lords who would be willing to send armies to fight in Tallven. It leaves us too vulnerable to attack from the Vorsag on our southern border."

Revenell shifted forward on his seat and said, "If we split our forces and left half the army to defend our homes …"

Beckram shook his head. "Jakoven's men already outnumber us. If we spread out our troops like that, he'll cut a swath right through the Oranstonian armies while the Shavig are busy fighting the Avinhelle armies—which will be defending their homes, not just obeying orders to fight. Then when Oranstone is cowed, he'll come back and support Avinhelle, and they'll sweep back over Shavig before spring. The Avinhelle have their mountain folk who know how to wage war in winter as well as we." Duraugh nodded. "He's right."

"Tallven is all grasslands," said Farrawell. He was strangely hairless except for the salt-and-ginger moustache that covered his upper lip. "There are only two or three cities of any size. The keeps can't protect the land, just the people. Easy to run over that with an army. That's why the Tallvenish worked so hard to take over the other four kingdoms, so they'd have barriers to protect their grain fields."

"But we're not fighting a war to break away from Tallven, gentlemen," said Danerra, who would have looked more at home in a library than in a meeting of war—during the Rebellion his men called him the Badger. He said mildly, "We're trying to replace Jakoven with Kellen, not destroy the main food supply for the Kingdoms."

"I wasn't talking about burning the fields," said Farrawell. "That would be stupid—at least until spring."

"It would be just as stupid in the spring," said Levenstar hotly. "Kellen will want to feed his people after we're through."

The meeting began to dissolve into chaos, with stools shoved aside as men bellowed while Alizon and my uncle tried to bring it to order. Only Garranon seemed immune. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest against the stone wall.

I moved around the fight (which so far was only vocal) until the wall I propped myself up on was next to Garranon. "Where's Kellen?" I asked.

"He gave up and told them to let him know when they had a plan."

"What did he want to do?

Garranon shook his head. "He wanted to wait and meet with all the Oranstonian lords like we just did with your people. But Oranstone doesn't have anything equivalent to your Council, and hasn't had since the Rebellion. Alizon has a good idea who is against Jakoven, but the problem is most of them won't be interested in replacing Jakoven with Kellen: To them, one Tallven is as bad as the other." He paused as someone hit Farrawell—I couldn't be sure who because I'd been looking at Garranon.

Garranon raised his voice and said pointedly, "Some of them don't know whom to fight." But none of the combatants paid him any attention.

"Does Haverness still have enough power to get the most important people together at Callis?" I asked, keeping a weather eye on the escalating battle.

Garranon shook his head. "Sure he has the power—but he's the leader of the faction that doesn't support war against Jakoven."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Where's Tisala?"

Garranon raised his eyebrows in surprise and shook his head. "I don't know. What does Tisala have to do with this?"

The door to the room opened and Kellen stood in the doorway and watched as Beckram and Kirkovenal dragged Farrawell off of Danerra.

"Well," Kellen observed in icy tones. "When we get tired of fighting my brother, we can just kill each other instead."

A sheepish quiet fell on the room, and my uncle helped Danerra to his feet while Beckram and Kirkovenal released Farrawell gingerly. Only after everyone had taken their seats again did Kellen step all the way into the room with Rosem and Tisala flanking him.

"This is what we are going to do," said Kellen. "Tisala's father, Haverness, will call a meeting of the Oranstonians. She thinks he can get most of them to his keep at Callis without alerting Jakoven since the Oranstonian lords have grown good at keeping my brother's spies from following them. Haverness, Tisala tells me, keeps pigeons. She thinks he can have them together in two weeks."

"She exaggerates her father's importance," said Farrawell. "Why would we listen to a woman?"

"I have no idea," I said. I don't know what they heard in my voice, but there was a general shift away from me in the room. "Maybe it's because she knows what she's talking about—unlike most of what I've heard this afternoon." I looked at Farrawell. "And she's competent. For instance, if she'd hit Danerra, he would have stayed down until he woke up. But she wouldn't have hit him unless it served some purpose other than self-aggrandizement, gentlemen."

Farrawell's hand went to his hip where his sword would usually be.

Kellen leaned toward me. "Enough."

I bowed "As you ask, sire." As I straightened, I caught Tisala rolling her eyes at me.

He turned to the room. "Tisala tells me that Haverness has been avoiding the more radical lords—such as yourselves—but I believe that Alizon and Tisala can persuade Haverness to cooperate."

Alizon nodded, a slight smile on his face. "I believe the Old Fox will be willing to help negotiations."

"Thank you," said Kellen.

"You won't get a majority support, sire," said Kirkovenal, his face sober. "Most of Oranstone would as soon that the royal house of Tallven disappeared off the face of the earth. They don't want a different Tallvenish king."

"I think I can change some of that," said Kellen. "I understand what they want—thanks to my uncle." He nodded at Alizon. "I can convince some of them that they'll be better off following me—and every man in this room knows that even a thousand more men might make the difference between winning and losing. I'm going to bring the Hurogmeten" — he gestured at me—"and that will help as well."

Farrawell's mouth dropped open. "He's the Hurogmeten? He's too young to be the Shavig Giant."

I bowed to the room in general. "You were busy when I came in—allow me to introduce myself. I am Wardwick of Hurog."

Danerra gave me a thoughtful look I saw echoed in several other faces. "That just might work," he said. "I wouldn't have thought so until I met him—but the Shavig Giant's a hero in Oranstone."

Garranon watched my face and grinned suddenly. "We Oranstonians are a musical people," he explained to me. "There are twenty or thirty popular songs about Haverness's Hundred—most of them praise the Shavig Giant who brought a mountain down on the Vorsag. And as Danerra has just pointed out, you might as well have hero written across your forehead."

I could feel my face flush with embarrassment.

Kellen smiled tightly. "He's charismatic," he said. There was something in his gaze that made me wary.

"But where should we attack first?" asked Farrawell.

"We don't," Kellen said. "If Jakoven attacks first, it will scare some of the Oranstonian lords. They know that Jakoven has just been waiting for an excuse to destroy what power the Oranstonian aristocracy still holds. He has a slew of landless Tallvenish noble lordlings who would give him utter loyalty in return for Oranstonian keeps.

"We wait," said Kellen, "and then we destroy him."

My brother composed several songs about the Shavig Giant that he sang at night after dinner. I threatened the head of whoever had told him about the name the Oranstonians had adopted for me—but no one confessed. It was probably Beckram—but it might have been Kirkovenal, who seemed to get on well with my brother.

Alizon stayed another day to rest his horses, then left with his Oranstonian lords. We left Hurog twelve days after Alizon—we being Kellen, Rosem, my uncle, Garranon, Oreg, Tisala, Tosten, and me with Axiel as pilot. Beckram remained at Hurog to supervise the keep.

"How many know of this?" asked Kellen as he fastened himself on the gently bobbing raft.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Not very many."

There were more people than the raft had seats; I planned to sit on the floorboards and hold myself on by the straps fastened to the raft for that purpose. Tisala had found a seat in the rear. I started toward her, but Kellen, in front, touched my arm.

"Stay here with me," he said. "I have need to talk with you."

So I seated myself between Kellen's seat and the one Rosem had taken.

Kellen gestured toward the tunnel we would travel down.

"Even one person knowing about this is too many." He spoke softly, but not so quietly that Axiel didn't overhear.

"Only the dwarves can take vessels through here. In another couple of weeks the spells will be finished, and only a man of dwarvenblood who bears the mark of the king will be able to cross the wards and let anyone here. Then it won't matter who knows," said Axiel.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Why do you think the Council allowed you access?" he asked, checking to see that Rosem and Kellen were fastened in properly. "They knew they had the ability to control what uses you put our ways to."

"You mean that you control it," I pointed out.

Axiel smiled slowly. "Ah, but they think that is the same thing."

"Meaning it isn't?" asked Kellen.

Axiel grinned at Kellen companionably. "Meaning that I trust Ward somewhat more than my father's Council does." He stepped past me to check the next pair of seats.

"Ward," said Kellen, in a pleasantly casual voice that carried no further than Rosem, who occupied the seat on the other side of me. "Your Shavigmen made it clear that they follow you, not me. You have the dwarves and the dragons as your allies. And you have the eye of Haverness's daughter. The Old Fox would throw away Callis for his daughter if he could. So why don't you take my brother's throne for yourself?"

I choked. "Gods save me from that fate, begging your pardon. Except possibly for the bit about Tisala." The thought of being responsible for all of the Five Kingdoms made me blanch. "It's enough to care for my own folk, let alone all of yours. No, thank you very much."

He shifted. "I'm afraid I need a better reason than that, Ward."

"Well, then," I said, "the kingdoms of Tallven, Avinhelle, and Seaford would never stand for a Shavig High King. Nor would Oranstone—they think we're barbarians."

There was safety in the truth of my words. If I'd been in Kellen's position, I'd be looking for someone else to throw the Five Kingdoms to, and I was grateful it couldn't be me.

"Then why not let Shavig be independent under you," he said. "You could demand it as a price for your support."

I shook my head, relaxing against the side of Rosem's seat as if I hadn't noticed that his hand was on the haft of his knife. Rosem worried that I'd take offense, since Kellen was all but accusing me of treachery. But I'd been expecting this conversation since the night the Council agreed to follow Kellen.

Because that night, I'd discovered that my uncle was right; I did have power.

"Shavig wouldn't survive on its own," I explained. "The reasons for uniting the Five Kingdoms are stronger now than they ever have been. Together we can weather early winters in the north by sending Tallvenish grain and Avinhelle cattle to Shavig. We can use Seaford fish and Oranstone rice to fill in when the crops fail in Tallven and Avinhelle. Oranstone ore mixed with Shavig iron makes a fine steel for swords. Our weavers use Avinhelle wool and flax for cloth. Together our armies can run off conquerors from across the sea or the Vorsag in the south. Alone, Shavig is nothing but meat for raiders."

"All very nice, I'm sure," said Kellen, implying by his voice that he meant just the opposite. "So you have no aspirations to the throne, and Shavig is not pursuing independence. Then why did you bring in the dragon? Once it showed itself, you knew that they would follow no other but you."

My patience for this round of questioning was thinning. He'd been in the hall that night and knew very well why Oreg had come.

"If" — I bit out the words—"the dragon had not shown itself, Orvidin would have left and taken most of the Council with him. It has been too long since great magic was done in our land for easy belief. They had to see one legend to believe in another."

My temper was rising. Questioning me to ascertain my motivations was fine, but the last question implied that he hadn't believed my answers. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Axiel was just seating himself.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, "I have a lady to mind." I stood up and bowed, as if we were at court, and strode back to sit on the boards next to Tisala.

I hadn't made any particular effort to be quiet at the last, and Tosten must have heard something of our conversation, because he patted my leg as I stepped over him where he sat on the boards between Garranon's and Oreg's seats.

"Hold on," I told Tisala as I sat down beside her. "This is a wild ride."

When we stopped in a cavern where odd formations of rock crystal wept from the roof to the walls and down to drape wearily over dark stone on the shore, Kellen sat forward with an exclamation of surprise at the oddity of the grotto.

Under the cover of the ensuing conversation, Tisala touched her hand to the top of my head and said quietly, "Don't take offense at his questions. It is only that he has been betrayed so many times. It makes him question everyone."

I raised an eyebrow and said, "Did you hear it all?"

To my surprise, color bled rapidly over her cheeks as if she were an untried maid. I shifted so I could see her better, putting my back toward Oreg as I tried to remember what we'd said that would cause her to blush.

When I remembered, I almost let it go, but something told me that it might be time to push my suit a bit—maybe because she didn't deny Kellen's claim that she was interested in me.

As she stared out blindly at the crystal-laced cavern, I said, "He had one part of it right enough. I wouldn't mind tying my house with your father's."

Expressions crossed her face rapidly before she covered them with a polite mask. When she spoke, it was with the inflection of someone repeating a rote learned speech. "I'm flattered, Ward. But you need to look for someone younger—a Shavig maiden who will run your keep—"

"Bah," I interrupted with a rude disgust I certainly didn't feel. That she had worried enough to memorize such a speech surely was a good thing. If Tisala had wanted to dismiss unwanted flirting, she would have done a much better job of it. "Do you have quarrel with the way my home runs? I certainly don't feel any pressing need to find a wife who will run it any better. The food is eatable, and the keep is tolerably clean. I don't need a delicate flower. My father married one of those and when her children needed her to protect them, she turned to her dreamweed and sleepsease to hide from her duty."

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I had a vision of the first time my father had drawn my blood. I didn't remember what had caused him to hit me so hard. I just remembered staring at the blood on my hand and realizing that it had come from my ear. My mother looked at my hand, too, and ran out of the hall—away from me. That vision was the reason I forgot my vow to be patient and spoke with sudden passion. "I don't need a pretty maid, Tisala. I need a mate who can protect her children with her sword and with her wit. One who will not let her daughter live in terror because she didn't have the ability to cry out if attacked, or allow anyone to cut her son down until he thought the only way out was to slit his wrists, thereby missing his chance to fight for Siphern in the Afterworld. And when the bastard she married struck his son with the flat of his sword, I need a wife who would rend him limb from limb before he could do it again."

I returned from the intensity of my feelings with the same sensation I remember from falling unexpectedly out of a tree: out of breath, startled, and horribly aware that the murmur of other conversation had ceased and everyone was looking at me. I hastily sat down and looked at the dark water that lapped gently at the edge of the raft. "How old were you?" Tisala asked her voice guttural.

"Eight," said Oreg when I didn't answer. "At least I think that was the first time. It got much worse later." His quiet voice was loud to my hot ears.

"I didn't know it was so bad," said my uncle beside me.

"Sorry," I said in utter embarrassment. Then I realized I wasn't the only one I'd left exposed. "I'm sorry, Tosten." He didn't like talking about his attempted suicide so many years ago.

"If she lets you go," he replied obliquely, "she's a fool." I felt Tisala's fingers touch my shoulder in a quick caress and she leaned closer to whisper, "Maybe you do need me as much as I need you."

I took her callused, damaged hand in my free one, and my eyes met Kellen's considering gaze as Axiel gave me respite by beginning another course of the wild ride through the tunnels.

The docks in the underground cavern at Callis lit at our arrival, but there was no one to greet us.

"Perhaps Alizon was unable to communicate how we were traveling," murmured my uncle as he helped Axiel tie the boat off.

"My father would have guessed," said Tisala worriedly, stepping out of the craft and onto the ancient stone dock. "Even if he didn't intend to support you, sire, he would have left an honor guard to greet you here."

Oreg stood flat-footed in the raft and I reached out to steady him as a wave bumped him off balance. He didn't turn his attention to me, just stared into space.

"Do you feel it?" he asked me.

Of course, once he said something, I did. It was just the remnant, like smoke after a fire, but the scent of a Great Magic was in the air.

"Is it the Bane?" I asked, though I sensed the same flavor of magic I'd tasted in Jakoven's Asylum. Apprehensive certainty suddenly sponsored a hundred terrible things that could have caused Haverness to need his men at his side.

Oreg nodded. "But what has he done with it?

"My lord?" said Kellen to me.

"Jakoven's used the Bane," I said.

"I remember the flavor lingered centuries where Farson loosed it. Some places I can still feel it," said Oreg dreamily as I helped him onto the dock. "There's no telling how long ago the Bane's magic was used."

"Oreg," I said sharply, and he refocused on my face.

"Oreg left just before the dragon appeared," said Garranon suddenly. "I wondered where he was going. Is Oreg your dragon, Ward?"

I looked around and realized that he was the only one who didn't know what Oreg was. Too many people were finding out, but there was nothing I could do about that now.

"A dragon and my friend, my brother," I said. "But never my dragon."

Garranon laughed abruptly. "No wonder you escaped from me so easily when I tried to hold you at Hurog after your father died."

"Actually, that took Oreg and Axiel." I explained at the same time that Oreg said, "He did that on his own."

Tisala's anxious focus on the open metal doors that led from our landing to stone steps rising to Callis proper recalled me to more important things.

"Best we set the past where it belongs and find out what caused Haverness so much distress that he would forget to welcome visiting royalty," I said, but on the tail of my words, Haverness and a panting guardsman came through the entranceway.

"Lord Kellen," he said smoothly. "Welcome to Callis. You must be Rosem, welcome sir. And you as well, Lord Duraugh. Garranon, it is good to see you again, my friend. And you, Lord Wardwick, Lord Tosten, and Oreg." I was impressed that he'd remembered Oreg's name after four years. "I'm sorry to be late, gentlemen—but you arrived on the heels of some other guests and it took me a moment to break away when my guard told me you were coming."

He turned to his daughter. "Alizon tells me that you and the young Hurogmeten have decided to escalate our careful plans."

She took his hands and held them tightly for a minute. "Father, it's good to see you." She stepped back and said formally, "Matters have escalated it for us, sir. As Alizon doubtless also told you."

"Indeed," he said, glancing at Kellen thoughtfully. "But now come and allow me to extend my hospitality. Time enough this evening for politics."

I noted as we climbed that the passage here at Callis was rougher than the one leading to the Dwarven Way at Hurog. Did that make Hurog's older?

Callis was larger and more luxurious than Hurog. Kellen and Rosem were given a large suite near the family apartments, of course. But I was given a room to myself—though it was small and spare. I realized with wry humor that I hadn't had a private place since I'd left the King's Asylum. The room came complete with a cold lunch set on a low table—the only furniture in the room aside from the bed.

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 grinned. "I saw you pacing the room off. It wasn't such a leap. I came by to congratulate you on your successful stalking of the warrior maiden."

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 connection was made anyway. My heart picked up an exalted rhythm as I realized it was no longer a matter of if she would agree to marry me, but when.

"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 announced at the same time that Garranon exclaimed, "Lys."

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.

"My lords," said Garranon, his face a blank mask I recognized from court. "Jakoven has successfully tested the Bane—I think that there will be no need for dragons and dead men to convince my fellow Oranstonians that it is a threat that needs to be fought."

"What happened?" asked Haverness.

"Yesterday afternoon," said Garranon, "my wife took my son and a few guardsmen to check on outlying farms. When they got back to the keep, everyone was dead."

"Every armsman on the wall, every servant in the hall, every horse in its stall," said Allysaian in a monotone, the rhyme adding an eeriness to her quiet words. I saw her knuckles whiten on Garranon's arm. "All the plants were withered and dead."

Alizon looked at Haverness, who was shaking his head in disbelief, though the expression on his face argued that he was reconsidering even as he shook his head.

"Gods," said Duraugh. "I'm sorry, Garranon."

"How much blood does he have left? Could he get power from all that death, Oreg?" I asked Oreg quietly.

"I don't know," he replied, his arms wrapped around his middle as if he'd been punched in the stomach. I wondered what I'd feel right now if I'd already witnessed the Bane destroy civilization once. "I don't know how much it takes to use the stone. I would guess it would take more because the blood is impure. But he may have found someone else of Hurog blood to use. As for the other, he can't power the stone with death magic, but he certainly could gain power himself. I doubt it in this case, because it usually takes some sort of ceremony and the bodies collected. It would have taken days, not hours."

Garranon turned to Oreg, apparently having overheard—and the eyes in his blank face were wild with rage. "How close would he have to be to use it?"

Oreg shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know. I was in Hurog while the world fell, but I was young and … it was not a pleasant time. My memories of the Fall of the Empire are not entirely intact."

Alizon and Haverness turned to stare at Oreg.

"At this rate there won't be a soul in the Five Kingdoms who doesn't know Hurog's secrets, Oreg," I said, exasperated.

He turned to me, his eyes caught in the past, and said in an abject voice I'd hoped never to hear from him again, "I'm sorry, my lord."

I shook my head. "No matter, Oreg. It's your secret to keep or not." I looked at Alizon. "I mean that. You'll have to ask him about it—later."

Garranon swung abruptly to Alizon. "This gives you the attack you claimed you needed to pull Oranstone together. I hope that my people's deaths buy Jakoven's destruction."

"Kellen will see to it," Alizon promised.

The whole time we'd been talking, Allysaian had been standing beside Garranon with her arms wrapped around herself, muttering something sotto voice. When Garranon put his free arm around her and walked her past us, headed for somewhere private, I heard what she was saying.

"The children, the children … oh gods, so many children dead."

Bile rose to choke me.

"Excuse me," I said, "I don't feel well." I turned abruptly and exited behind Garranon.