Dragon Blood

8—WARDWICK

Day by day I was failing, hour by hour it was harder to ride the pain. The greater portion of the panic gripping me had nothing to do with the herbs in the water I drank; I lost hope.

Oreg, where are you?

Sometimes the demons brought me back to my cell when the morning sun trickled through the small, grated window far above me. I would stare at the pale light on the straw because the window hurt my eyes. In my more cognizant moments I realized they weren't letting me sleep.

At some point I quit eating the food they left, but I managed to remember that the water was important, and I gagged it down before crawling to my straw cave.

I could tell it was almost time for the monsters by the relative clearness of my thoughts. The door opened and I tried to pretend I wasn't there, burrowing into the straw until they couldn't find me.

But it wasn't the usual monsters, because the door shut, leaving the intruder caged with me. The break in routine was frightening and the resulting adrenaline rush sent me to my feet.

A woman stood just inside the door in a plain woolen robe. In her right hand she held a wooden rake.

"Tisala." The small voice spoke for the first time in a long time, but it was virtually lost in the sea of terror that drowned me. It hadn't taken long to learn that anything new was bad.

She walked in tentatively, a horrible creature with seven heads who was going to poison me with the tears that tracked down her face. I scuttled away from her as far as I could, but she kept coming.

"Tis," I said, though I hadn't planned on saying anything at all. "Stay back. Please?" If she tried to touch me, I knew I would die. But the little voice had been forced out of hiding for fear I would hurt her.

She backed away then, and left me to my safe haven while she raked out the straw that didn't belong to my nest. I stood glued to the far wall, shaking.

When she left, I wept as she had, but I didn't know why. I didn't stop until the monsters came again.

They held my head under the water this time, but I didn't struggle because Jade Eyes told me not to. I held my breath until I passed out. Then they—and I—did it again.

This was something new, and in my drugged exhaustion it seemed perfectly sane to peer through the depths of the water and look for … safety, sanity, I don't know what. It seemed to me that I could see it just on the outside of my vision.

"See what?" Jade Eyes asked, after I awoke coughing and choking the second time.

I blinked at him like an idiot; even after four years, the mask of stupidity I wore throughout my youth was more at home on my face than not. Tosten liked to tease me about it.

Tosten. Hurog.

"Something to fill the hole in me," I said, realizing after I said it that it was true. I rolled off the wet bench and back into the water without help this time.

Hurog, I thought Dragon, come take me.

Dragon claws snatched at me, dragon magic, filled me for a moment. I knew this dragon.

"Oreg!" I screamed underwater.

Then between one instant and the next it was gone, and the hole that separation from Hurog always left inside me was all the emptier for having once been filled. It was infinitely worse than the pain in my head, and some part of me believed that I would never be whole again. That this time they would succeed in taking Hurog from me.

A hand, not dragon claws, hauled me out of the water and strapped me down to the table in the center of the room.

"Did you feel that? asked Jade Eyes excitedly to his fellow mage. "That's what his magic felt like on the trip over here. Have you ever felt anything like it?"

I cried for Oreg's loss. Even in the state I was in, I realized that Oreg had tried to rescue me—and he'd failed. There would be no rescue. And if Oreg couldn't rescue me, no one could.

"It was unusual," said Arten. "But Jakoven was firm that we break him. I think we've done it. The drugs should be mostly out of his system and he still threw himself into the water that last time. I suppose he might be trying to kill himself, but that flare of magic …"

"He was looking for something," said Jade Eyes, petting my forehead. "Weren't you, Ward?"

His voice was so soft and soothing, I couldn't help but reply. "Dragons," I said, sobbing out the words. "The dragon is gone."

Arten nodded abruptly. "I'll be back with Jakoven," he said. "Amuse yourself until I return at his convenience. Don't take him back to his cell. I'll tell Jakoven you've managed to re-create the effect you noticed bringing him here. But I think he's impatient to get on with his plans." On those words he left me alone with Jade Eyes.

Amuse himself Jade Eyes did. And it was different this time. The knowledge that not even Oreg could get me out had broken some hard core of resistance. The thin veneer, the shadow of my old mask that I wore to protect myself, crumbled completely and there was nothing left to save me. I screamed when the pain flamed through my body, robbing me of all control. I sobbed for it to stop, then sobbed and shook when it did and the pain was replaced by caressing hands. I wished fervently for the pain rather than the sure knowledge that it would begin again, and over and over I received my wish.

It was during one of the «rest» periods that Jakoven finally came. I didn't hear him enter, didn't notice him until he struck me lightly on the face.

"Ah, Ward, my boy. Good to see you," he said.

I stared at him blankly, far past worrying about the newly familiar smells that accompanied Jade Eyes entertainments: feces and urine, blood and sweat. Nor was I concerned about the tears that continued to slide down my cheeks, though I was aware that all of these things would once have embarrassed me—especially the tears.

"Hurogs don't cry." It was not my inner voice who spoke, but an older one. It took me a moment to remember that my father was dead and I didn't need to hate him anymore.

I think Jakoven thought the heat in my eyes was directed at him, not realizing I was almost beyond recognizing who he was.

"Do you know why you are here?"

No, I thought. "Hurog," I said in a voice so hoarse and deep that it must have been difficult to understand. Then the tissues of my throat, swollen from screaming, closed up, and I couldn't utter another word.

Jakoven looked away from me and said, "Leave us. Stay, Jade Eyes."

The room emptied. I hadn't realized until then that there was anyone else in it but the king, Jade Eyes, and me, but a number of mage robes passed by my eye.

When they were gone, Jakoven pulled up a stool and sat by my head so I could see him. The Tallvenish king who ruled the Five Kingdoms including my own Shavig was, in many ways, the epitome of what a king should be. His voice was rich and carrying, the kind of voice that could encourage armies in battle. His face was regular without being handsome—the face of a general, perhaps, or a … well, a king.

"Arten tells me that you've amazed my Jade Eyes, who thinks you've happened upon a new form of magic." The king shook his head with a kingly smile. "He's young yet, and hasn't met many self-taught mages—as I have." He reached out with a clean white cloth and wiped my cheeks, but I continued to cry without knowing why. "When a mage teaches himself magic, he has little control, leaking power he should capture and use. Your father really should have sent you out for training. I doubt you even know when you set up your magic guardian to watch your sleep—that's what gives it the feeling of sentience he received."

"But—" protested Jade Eyes.

"Quiet, my lad. You're young yet and convinced you know all the answers. I know the guardian spell is advanced—but someone thought it up once. I imagine they did it in much the same way our young friend here did. Poor boy." He crooned to me and kissed me.

I gagged and jerked, but the king was thorough and the bonds that held me were tight. Fear shook me, sweeping up from my feet and to my head, leaving me light headed and dizzy. Fear of the king, fear of the pain, fear of what new thing they were going to do.

I heard Jade Eyes say something, but I didn't pay attention.

"Jealous?" asked the king, pulling away from me. "Foolish boy. Now get me that bag on the top shelf—no, not that one. The small one. Thank you."

I couldn't see the bag with my head restrained. And the king settled back so I couldn't hear him, either, just felt the feather-light touch of his ringers on my forehead.

"Did you know that Hurog means dragon in old Shavig?" said the king. My stomach wove itself another knot. "Why do you think that is?"

I didn't say anything, but Jade Eyes answered, "Because when there were dragons, they nested near Hurog, I suppose."

"Mmm," said the king. "There are stories about Hurog. That the dragons are drawn there by a magical stone, deep in the heart of Hurog."

The only thing that had been in Hurog's heart was the bones of a dragon, and I'd taken care of that when I used the bones to heal the sick earth.

"I've heard that one," said Jade Eyes.

"When I asked the Hurogmeten—the real Hurogmeten, this one's father—about it, he laughed and said there was nothing in Hurog to attract a dragon. I've since come to believe he was right—but there's a grain of truth in some old folklore. Some years ago during the renovations of the castle here at Estian, my stone mason, rest his soul, came across a curious thing. He brought it to my attention shortly before he died."

Broken I might be, but I found myself wondering why Jakoven felt it necessary to remind Jade Eyes that he could kill anyone he chose.

Maybe, I thought, in sympathy with Oreg's formerly suicidal tendencies for the first time, maybe Jakoven would choose to kill me. I didn't believe it, really, just hoped for it.

I heard the rustle of cloth. Jade Eyes gasped, and a cold fog of dark magic crawled through my skin, dirtying me inside and out.

"I keep it here in this special bag, so that no one would ever be curious about it—as you must have noticed, it was difficult for you to find even after I directed you to it. Do you recognize it?"

"No, sire," said Jade Eyes, fear or excitement tightening his voice. "It's very old—and powerful."

"How about you, boy?"

A hand appeared in my field of view holding a bronze staff head. Mages liked to top their staves with elaborate metal sculptures, usually just expensive toys encrusted with gems and glass beads. This wasn't even impressive, just a crude rendering of a dragon holding a small gem in its open mouth. With a body length of distance no one would have even noticed the dull, cloudy gem the size of a pea, much less that it hovered between the dragon's jaws without touching the metal anywhere. Without being mageborn, no one would have noticed the black power spilling from the gem. I could almost see the wave of misery that flowed out to cover me like thick syrup.

I knew what it was, though not how it survived. Anyone who'd ever listened to the tale of the Empire's Fall would have recognized it. Jade Eyes must not have a taste for music or old tales.

"Tell him what it is, Ward, if you know." I didn't have to see Jakoven's face to hear the smile in his voice.

Maybe if my throat hadn't closed up from screaming I would have complied. But then again, maybe if my throat hadn't closed up from screaming it would have closed up from fear. Not the nameless fear for myself that had troubled me so only moments ago, but directed, heart-wrenching fear for all that I loved.

"Ah, children. How undereducated you are. This is the Empirebane, Destroyer of Cities, also called Farsonsbane. The greatest mage ever known, Farson Whitehair, took the blood of three dragons and concentrated it into this small stone—an experiment. Years later it was stolen and enemies of the Empire used it to bring down the stone buildings and walls of the great cities and crumbled them to ashes. Farson recovered it and hid it, vowing that no one would use it again."

I'd heard that the Last Emperor, a boy of twelve, had stolen it and hidden it until he could recover it. But he and his remaining bodyguards were found. They died without revealing where it was. Either way, it made a good story.

"Farsonsbane?" Jade Eye's voice was incredulous, but not doubting—the power of the thing was palpable. "I thought it would be made of gold, and the gem was supposed to be the size of my fist. My servant has gems more impressive."

The magic gathering around the bane wasn't growing, I finally realized, it was exploring. I shuddered as the rich darkness slipped through my defenses and tasted my magic greedily. How ironic that Jade Eyes would mistake Oreg for some sort of sentient magic, and not recognize this. I'd felt magic like this before, on Menogue and at Hurog.

"Your servant's gem couldn't flatten a city the size of Estian with a word. Show some respect." The king removed the staff head from my sight but the magic stayed.

"Too bad you can't use it," said Jade Eyes. "It must be fed with dragon's blood, and there are no more dragons."

The king's stool creaked and he said, "There is an interesting thing I ran into while doing my research. It was something so insignificant, I almost didn't pay attention to it. How old is Hurog keep?"

I could almost hear the shrug in Jade Eye's voice. "It's old, maybe the fifth century after Empire? That would make it eight hundred years."

Earlier than that, I thought. Far earlier.

"There are books in my private library that were written during the time of the Empire, and one of them mentions Hurog. Calls it the Dragon's Keep." I could hear Jakoven's nail tapping on something metallic, maybe it was the staff head. "There is a story that the first few Emperors had a mage who was a dragon. There are also old stories that claim the lord of Hurog is a dragon. So what do you think, Ward? Are you descended from that mage? Do you have dragon's blood?"

He cut my arm, just a little. And mopped up the blood with the same cloth he'd wiped my face with. I didn't see what he did with it, but I presumed it was to wipe the red smear against the gemstone because something happened.

Jade Eyes exclaimed loudly and the king's stool fell to the ground. The power that had been examining me changed, just a little. Just for a moment it recognized me.

"Hurog?" it said, resonating soundlessly in my skull. "Dragon?"

And something deep inside of me answered the call before the magic of Farsonsbane was abruptly cut off.

"It's not supposed to do that," exclaimed Jakoven. "The records specifically say the stone flares with red light as it is touched by dragon's blood. But this is the first response I've gotten from it."

"Blue," said Jade Eyes assessingly. He walked near to me until I could see him. "Your blood turned the stone from black to blue." He looked across me at Jakoven. "Did you try your own blood? Perhaps mageblood affects it."

"My blood does nothing to it," Jakoven replied. "I've tried." I saw a flutter of cloth out of the corner of my eye as the king walked past me. I heard him replace the bag on the shelves.

"Ah, Ward," Jakoven said, kissing my forehead. "You have answered my most fervent wish. For ten years that artifact sat upon my shelves waiting to be awakened."

He pushed back from me and I heard him pick up his stool and set it upright.

"Well enough," he said briskly, as if the raw lust in his voice had never been. "Arten tells me you are ready, Jade Eyes. And any fool could see he is broken. But I want him stupid and happy. Make sure he can speak, eh?"

"Right," agreed Jade Eyes. "We've been experimenting with drugs to get the proper effect. We'll give him a little sorcerer's root to make sure no one could ever mistake him for normal and top it off with a few things to make him happy."

"Good. See that it is done."

It was a beautiful day, the crisp shill of late fall drifting clean and pure into my lungs. I told the guards that as they helped feed me into a covered two-wheeled cart that was to take us to Court.

I told the big Tamerlain who sat rumbling on my feet. It bothered them when I talked to her, though, because they couldn't see her.

"Gods take you, shut up," said one. "Are we going to have to listen to this all the way to the Castle?"

Surprised, I looked up from the big animal stretched across the floor of the cart.

"Look at him," he said to his comrade. "To smile like that with tears running down his face …"

"Relax," grunted the other guard. "He's been shut up in the Asylum for almost a week. He's not used to the light, and his eyes are tearing up. It'll go away soon."

The Tamerlain sat up on her hindquarters and placed a forepaw on either side of me. The cart didn't shift with her movements the way it did with mine—as if the Tamerlain had no weight at all.

"I'm sorry, Ward," she said into my smile. "But it's time."

As she spoke, fire lit my blood and licked up my body, icy fire that burned impurities and nerves alike. Sweat poured from my skin and stung my eyes, mucus blocked my breath.

"Damn it, he's having convulsions," grumbled the second guard, though he made no move to come near me. "If the stupid mages did something to him that kills him—you and I know who's going to get the blame."

The worst of it was over by the time the horses stopped. I stumbled shakily out of the carriage to face a back entrance to the king's palace, truly sober for the first time since I'd drunk from the general's waterskin.

The guards hauled me unceremoniously up a narrow stairway and into a back room where a hot bath was waiting. They stripped my filthy clothes off and scrubbed me with rough cloths. Wrapped shivering in a bath sheet, I sat on a stool while one of them shaved me clean. There was some discussion about cutting my hair, but they decided it was a Shavig affectation, toweled it dry, and brushed it into a queue. The Tamerlain watched, unnoticed—Oreg could do the same thing. I took care not to look at her directly. And I smiled the whole while until my cheeks ached with the strain.

The clothes they gave me to wear were all black and plain, though expensive. The boots they pulled on my feet were my own, though they'd been polished to a higher gloss than I'd had them. They covered me with a hooded cloak and shuffled me out the door and into the hall. The hood kept me from seeing much about where I was going, but that was fine. It gave me more time to think. And I needed to think.

The king wanted me so he could work Farsonsbane. He wasn't about to give me up.

But there was something else he wanted. Today the king told Jade Eyes to make sure I was happy and stupid. The Tamerlain had told me that Jakoven would present me before his court—no, that wasn't it.

I stopped abruptly and someone pushed me forward.

Abruptly my forehead broke out with sweat and a flash of heat swept from my feet to my head, robbing my joints of their strength as it passed. I slumped to the floor. The Tamerlain nudged me anxiously.

"What is wrong with me?" I whispered.

"Your body has begun to crave the drugs they fed you," she said. "I can do nothing for this."

Jakoven's men scrambled. From their words I understood that Jakoven had commanded me to be in a presentable condition when I was brought before the court. The only thing he wanted the court to see was that my mind was broken—not my body.

They brought a bucket of water and washed my face with cold, damp cloths, careful not to muck up the clothes. I grabbed the bucket from them and drank to assuage my dry throat. When they helped me to my feet, I let them steady me.

I was weak, so I leaned upon the men who led me, saving my strength for when it was needed. The Tamerlain walked in front of us, pausing every few steps to watch me worriedly. The halls we traversed were unfamiliar, but I was more interested in getting to the stage of Jakoven's drama than I was in observing the sights. I had acted many roles, but this was going to be the performance of a lifetime—if I could manage it.

My guard stopped before an inconspicuous door, and one of them stepped through it, closing it behind him—but not before I glimpsed the tumult of people in the formal hall. I took a deep steadying breath as I heard Jakoven's voice, only slightly muffled by the door.

"My lord Duraugh, my chamberlain tells me you have been waiting for some time. We are sorry for it. Please come forward now with your family and receive Our apologies." There was a pause, and I supposed my uncle was following the king's directions.

"Well now, Duraugh, what brings you here?"

"I am here, my king, at your bidding and to inquire about my nephew, the Hurogmeten." My uncle's voice cut through the closed door as easily as it cut through a battlefield.

And finally I realized the whole of what Jakoven intended. He wanted to present the court with a Hurogmeten who was stupid so they'd see why he couldn't leave Hurog in my hands. That would leave me in his power. The Tamerlain's magic had given me the chance to counter his plot.

But my uncle knew I wasn't an idiot. Without warning of my condition, he might have done something unpolitical—like accuse the king of damaging me.

But I wasn't going to go into court under the influence of Jade Eye's drugs.

"Ah, yes. Ward of Hurog." Jakoven spoke as if he had forgotten about me, as if I were of only minor interest to him. "We were reminded that at one time the boy was considered unfit. We have not seen him since you set him to run Hurog and We decided that such an important post could not be held by an imbecile."

"My brother is no imbecile," snapped Tosten. The pause before he added "my king" was too long.

Panic froze me in place. Tosten was here.

My uncle was good at court politics: As long as there was no obvious blood, no signs of torture, I could count on him to keep a cool head. My brother would take one look at me, too thin and barely strong enough to stand on my feet, and he'd do something rash.

"I'm sure you're right," purred Jakoven.

My brother let out a low rumble that sounded for all the world like the growl of a dog.

If I waited here any longer the king would incite Tosten to riot even without my haggard appearance to help. I'd have to count upon Uncle to control Tosten.

The men I leaned so heavily against were not prepared for my sudden shove. I stepped around them and through the door, which opened just below the royal dais.

"Of course I'm not an imbecile," I said cheerfully, striding into the room. "As our most gracious majesty has discovered for himself."

I bowed low before the king and then turned to face the court. The Tamerlain stood close to me and I let her brace me.

"Our king has been a very gracious host the past week." I pulled the time frame from the guard's comment as we traveled from the Asylum. As far as I was concerned, it could have been months or years since I'd left Hurog. "And I hope that I have satisfied him as to my fitness to rule. As he told me earlier today, I should have presented myself formally to him a long time ago, but I've had my hands busy rebuilding my keep. I suppose I could have left it to the dwarves" — I paused to remind Jakoven that I had allies he hadn't considered—"but it was my fault that Hurog fell. It seemed my duty to see it arise again."

I glanced over at my family, who stood tense and still at the front of the court, arrayed before the king, and smiled convincingly at them. The hard pump of battle fever and the Tamerlain were the only thing keeping me upon my feet.

The lords present, including many Shavigmen, nodded and smiled at my reminder of my role in stopping the Vorsag invasion and the cost Hurog had paid for it. I'd made mention of the dwarves, who had come from the mists of legend to reappear at Hurog. Many of the Shavigmen, at least, had seen them. I noticed that there were several of the more powerful Shavigmen who moved through the crowd to stand at my uncle's right. If this didn't play right, it wasn't only my family who'd suffer. I set the smile in my eyes and wondered how to get out of the room and take my family with me.

"I see you, Hurogmeten," growled a deep voice, and I turned to face the Warder of the Sea, the highest-ranking Seaforder, whom I knew only by sight. He seldom came to court, being needed to run his shipping empire. "It would have been Seaford that the Vorsag would have eaten after they digested Oranstone. We remember what you did." He bowed low twice. Once to the king and once to me.

I wondered if he knew that I was circumventing the king and wanted to help—or if his words meant no more than was said. Either way I was grateful, because the cheer that followed his pronouncement gave Jakoven no choice.

I turned back to the king, my face a careful blank. "I trust that I have settled any doubts that you have, my king."

He looked from me to the smiling court. "I have no doubts about you, Wardwick of Hurog," he said graciously.

I bowed once again, carefully so as not to upset my precarious balance. As I stood upright, my eyes met Jade Eyes's gaze and knew bloodlust. Child of my father that I was, the desire for Jade Eyes' death momentarily consumed me.

The king waved his hand in dismissal and called to his chamberlain for his next case as if he'd forgotten about me. But I saw the white-knuckled grip he had on his throne as I walked past him toward my family. I put a casual arm about Tosten's shoulders and whispered "Out, now" around my wide smile.

Tosten slid his arm under my cloak and unobtrusively half carried me out of the court. Beckram and Duraugh fended off well-wishers, so when Tosten dragged me into the corridor, we were alone.

"Someplace out of sight. Quickly," I said, feeling the weakness increasing in my knees.

Tosten leaned me against a wall and jerked open several doors. He hauled me through the last one, shutting the door behind us. Light came through the open windows from the garden and I could smell the faint scent of autumn roses. I sat abruptly and concentrated on breathing.

"You've lost weight," observed Tosten, crouching next to me where I'd collapsed on the floor. "But you're still too heavy for me to carry."

I nodded, but instead of speaking I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to quit shaking. He said something more, but I couldn't hear it because the sound of my heartbeat drowned it out. After a few minutes the shaking eased and I rested my head against the wall in relief.

"We can't stay here forever," said Tosten. "Someone's bound to notice."

"How far are we from your rooms?" I asked.

"We're not staying here. Duraugh rented a house—I gave him the money from the strongbox in your study to help pay for your rescue. I hope that was right."

I didn't want to sleep under Jakoven's roof, but I didn't see how I was going to get from here to a rented house without causing a scene.

"How do I look?" I asked.

"Like you've been poisoned and are waiting to die," said Tosten. "But in the dim light in the corridors of the palace, I don't think that anyone who didn't know you would notice. It's getting dark outside as well. I think we can get you out without attracting attention."

I slid myself up the wall with Tosten's help. When my legs didn't immediately collapse under me, I walked slowly to the door. "Did you bring horses, or am I going to have to crawl all the way there?"

"Horses," said Tosten, wedging a shoulder under my arm. "Uncle Duraugh, in a fit of optimism or a show for the audience—I'm never sure with him—even brought an extra for you."

When we stepped back out of the room, Duraugh and Beckram were in the hall waiting. Neither of them spoke, but I had learned to recognized the slight tightness in Duraugh's cheek that denoted white-hot rage, and Beckram was shaking with it.

"I'm all right," I said, though it was patently untrue. Beckram slid under my free shoulder and helped with the task of getting my unwilling body out of the castle.

There were things I needed to know, things I needed to tell them all, but I contented myself with staggering to the stables. The grooms tactfully didn't notice that I had to lean against the wall while my brother pointed out the horses to be saddled. They'd put it down to too much drink, unless someone questioned them, and forget about it before the day was over.

When Tosten appeared with Feather, I buried my head against her neck and let the clean smell of horse wash away the stink of the Asylum. I tried twice to mount on my own, and if Feather had been any lighter, I'd probably have pulled her over. Beckram, with a shoulder in my rump, made my third attempt successful.

I don't remember riding through the gates or arriving at the house. I do remember being met at the door by Oreg, who picked me up and carried me up the stairs as if I didn't weigh half again what he did.

They fussed over me for a while, my brother, cousin, and uncle, while I scrubbed in an oaken tub, then sat while Oreg went through my hair with a comb to rid me of lice and nits—which the king's men hadn't bothered to do.

"Ciarra and I have a daughter," said Beckram, leaning back on his stool to keep out of Oreg's way. "Three days ago. I just found out today."

I looked out from under the clean wet hair Oreg had thrown over my eyes. For a minute we grinned at each other.

"Does she have a name yet?" I asked, stammering a bit.

"Leehan," he answered. "After the spirit of the woods."

"There are a lot of your men here. Is she at Hurog?" Surely they wouldn't have brought her all the way to Hurog when she was so near to delivering.

"No. We left half the guard there—she said she was fine. The king's men left as soon as Mother convinced them that Father and I were on our way to Hurog."

I rubbed my face tiredly. It was so hard to gather my thoughts, harder still to order my tongue.

"I think it's dangerous," I said. "You need to get her to Hurog."

"Ward," Duraugh said, "she's just given birth. She's not up to the ride to Hurog. What makes you think she's in danger?"

"Jakoven," I said. "Get all of our blood out of Iftahar—it's not a fortress. Hurog is better defended even now."

"I would think Jakoven more likely to lick his wounds and try again," said my uncle.

"No," I said, rubbing my forehead. "It's important to him now. He'll act immediately. We need to get Ciarra and the baby to Hurog."

"I'll go," said Beckram, hearing the urgency in my voice. He stood up as his father started to argue. "If Ward says they're in danger, I'll move them to safety."

Duraugh shook his head at both of us, but said only, "Sleep the night, then, and leave at first light. It won't help her if you break your neck galloping off in the darkness."

Oreg helped me stand and poured warm water over my head as Duraugh and Beckram worked out the details. Shivering even in the warm room, I huddled in the toweling Oreg brought me and wished I felt clean. Tosten handed me fresh clothes and I struggled into them.

They managed me into another room, complete with fire and bed, and Oreg bullied everyone else out. He stayed, a silent sentinel. But even his presence couldn't make me feel safe.

I didn't sleep. Didn't want to sleep. There were too many things running about in my head. I just lay still with my eyes closed.

Jakoven wanted power and he thought my blood might be the key to using Farsonsbane. My blood, or the blood of someone in my family—descended from dragons as we were. Oreg had said as much to me.

Jakoven wasn't going to let us retreat in peace for long. Gods forbid he find out what Oreg was.

Alone, Hurog could not stand against the king, but if I threw Hurog behind Alizon, some of the Shavigmen would follow me. And if the rebellion took fire before Jakoven managed to get me or another Hurog-blood in his hands again to activate the Bane, we might be able to hold the king off for a few months.

But my objections to the rebellion were still valid. Essentially, there were too many nobles who would stand behind the king. In the end we would lose.

While I tried to chart a course with a possibility of survival, I was dimly aware of the door opening quietly and a murmured argument. The door shut and I was left once more in silence with my fears, but not left alone.

Every plan I came up with led to disaster sooner or later. I was in the middle of trying to see how we could lure the Seaforders to Alizon's cause (something I wouldn't have dreamed of without the Warder of the Sea's little speech), when I experienced another of the debilitating bouts of miserable shaking. This time I itched as well.

A cool damp cloth wiped my face and then the rest of my body as armies of imaginary bugs trooped over my skin, driven away by the clean water and Tisala's soft crooning.

She waited until the fit left me before she spoke. "Ward? Are you all right?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked. She was supposed to be safe at Hurog. Jakoven had taken her once already.

She lit a small candle from the banked fire and set it in a holder on a table near my bed. The flickering candle lit her dark hair with red tones. The darkness of the window coverings told me I'd lain with my eyes closed longer than I'd thought—or I'd fallen asleep.

"As if I would sit in safety when I could help," she said crisply. "I came to help get you out of the Asylum—though you got yourself out in the end."

The Asylum. The drugs had left me with a pitiful handful of clear memories amidst the nightmare images. I closed my eyes in embarrassment. "You came while I was there. I thought I had made it up." I thought of what a fool I must have looked like, hiding under the straw, and laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"I was just wishing I had some straw to cover my head," I said with more bitterness than humor.

Her hand, as callused as mine, touched my temple and trailed down my sweat-streaked cheek. "Oreg says that you should feel better in a few days."

"He told me," I said.

"After I found where they had you, Oreg tried to get you out." She took her hand away suddenly, as if she had just noticed she was touching me.

Though the king's men had scrubbed and soaped, and I'd done it again here, maybe the smell of the Asylum still clung to me. "I know he did." I remembered the call of Hurog magic as I tried to drown myself—had it been this morning or last night? "The Tamerlain couldn't get me out, either. The part of the Asylum I was in was designed to hold mages."

"The Tamerlain?" she said.

She would know what the Tamerlain was, of course, but I doubted she really believed in it. I shouldn't have said anything about the creature—not coming out of an asylum for crazy people. I glanced around the room, but the Tamerlain, having done what she could, was gone.

"You really saw the Tamerlain?" she asked, but more in wonder than if she truly doubted me.

"She made it possible to carry out that little farce in Jakoven's court," I said.

"Who are you that Aethervon takes an interest in your deeds?" she asked.

I wasn't ready for undeserved admiration. I felt fouled and small, so I snorted and told the truth. "A pawn. Don't get your hopes up, Aethervon has done all he intends to."

Tisala crouched beside my bed and looked hard into my eyes. "Tell me again what you feel about Alizon's rebellion."

I sat up and rubbed my face wearily. "If this is a serious conversation, would you mind lighting a few more candles so I can see you when I'm talking?" The shadows in the room reminded me of the cell in the Asylum.

When she was through I made her drag a chair over near the bed. Between the candle lighting and the rearranging of furniture, I bought myself enough time to decide I didn't have to be entirely honest with her, but I was going to do it anyway.

"The time is still wrong for a rebellion," I said. "The harvest was good this year, not only in Shavig, but Tallven and Oranstone as well. My father used to say that full bellies make for happy subjects, and he was right. Jakoven's tithe is fair. He hasn't overtly oppressed anyone who would incite the nobles. It's unlikely Alizon can draw any of the Avinhellish lords away from Jakoven, and the Tallvenish and Avinhellish lords can raise larger, better-trained armies than Shavig, Seaford, and Oranstone combined, even if Alizon could gather them all together—which he can't. In return for battling a superior fighting force, Alizon offers to replace one Tallvenish king with another, himself. And Alizon is base-born. I suspect that your father is not the only Oranstonian who's refused to follow Alizon."

Her face was carefully blank while I talked. Toward the end of my speech she turned her face away.

I shrugged. "I'll tell you what has changed, though. Jakoven has made it impossible for me to do anything except join the rebellion."

Her eyes snapped back to me and ran over my bare chest and shoulders looking for wounds that weren't there. For all the pain I'd endured, the only blood I'd lost in the Asylum had gone to the lice—and the Bane.

"What did he do to you?"

I smiled at her, but she didn't look reassured, so I stopped. "He found Farsonsbane."

She started to look puzzled before the name registered. "I thought Farson destroyed it—or the boy emperor."

I shook my head. "Jakoven found it while he was rebuilding Estian castle. It needs dragon's blood to activate it."

"Oreg," she whispered.

I felt my eyebrows rise. How did she find out about Oreg? No wonder she'd accepted that I'd met the Tamerlain. From dragons to the minions of gods was a small step.

I could have left off there. She'd have believed that I'd throw myself behind Alizon for Oreg's sake.

"My blood did something to it," I said. "I need to keep every person who can claim Hurog blood away from him. If Alizon is ready, I'll declare for him. If not, Hurog will rebel on its own. It's that, or allow Jakoven access to the same power that brought down the Empire."

She stared at me a moment, then said baldly, "The reason I knew how to get into the Asylum is because Alizon is not the heart of the rebellion—Kellen is."

"Kellen?" I said, startled. The king's brother—I remembered a quiet-spoken, clever boy a few years older than I. My heart began to race with a shard of hope. Kellen was legitimate: moreover, he had been terribly wronged by Jakoven and had a just cause for rebellion. With Kellen, the rebellion Alizon was leading was much more likely to succeed.

"He's been in there a long time, Ward," Tisala said. "Since it was first built. We left him there because it was the safest place for him—Alizon knew we'd have to wait for success, too. But it's been too long. He's not insane, but … " Her voice trailed off.

"Not exactly healthy, either," I finished, inwardly shuddering at the thought of spending years in the Asylum. "How long has it been?" Kellen had disappeared sometime after my father beat me stupid; I couldn't remember exactly when. But I knew it had been a long time.

"Over ten years," she said.

What I thought must have shown on my face, because she continued, "It's not as bad as what they did to you: Mostly they leave him alone. We've been looking for a safe way to get him out. Oreg said he'd try it, with your approval."

There was a plea in her voice, and I realized she was worried that I would refuse. "If Oreg can get him out, we'll do it. We can take him to Hurog if no one has a better plan. I think the dwarves will agree to transporting him to a safer place."

I swung my legs to the floor, but was taken with a fit and couldn't do anything more for a while. When I steadied enough to pay attention again, Tisala had pressed me back on the bed and was crooning to me.

"I'm fine," I said. "Would you get Oreg and bring him here?"

She looked at me, but I couldn't tell what she was thinking. After a moment she left

I must have slept, because it seemed like I only blinked my eyes and Oreg was waiting. Tisala wasn't with him.

When he saw he had my attention, he said, "Tisala has told you of the man they want me to get out of the Asylum."

I nodded. "It needs to be done—if you can do it without risk to yourself."

"It's the risk to you I'm thinking of," he replied frankly. "If a man disappears from the Asylum the same day you get out, the king will assume you had something to do with it."

"I'm not exactly his favorite Shavigman anyway. It doesn't matter now. In the end, if we get Kellen out, the chances of my surviving to a ripe old age increase tremendously."

I waited a moment, then said reluctantly, "I hate to ask it of you, but I think it's our only chance. Alizon's rebellion needs a hero—and Kellen, as I remember him, might just be the man to pull it off."

He gave me an odd look and said, "I don't expect you to kill me again and use my bones to destroy Jakoven, Ward. Quit feeling guilty about a deed that happened centuries before you were born. You can ask anything of me without guilt. I'm old enough to refuse if I wish."

I nodded, then said, "Jakoven's found Farsonsbane."

Oreg's head snapped up and his eyes began to luminesce as they did when he was agitated. "Are you sure?"

I described it briefly, then said, "I don't know what he intends to do with it—I'm not sure really what it does. But while he had me in the Asylum he used my blood to call it to life. Something happened, but it wasn't what he expected."

Piece by piece Oreg pulled the whole story out of me. He dismissed my belief that some of the effects I thought I felt when in the Bane's presence were from the drugs they fed me.

"Blue," he exclaimed. "And the magic changed?"

I squirmed but told him, "It recognized me."

"Blue," he muttered, and rubbed his cheek absently. "I've never heard of it doing that."

"Neither had Jakoven. That's why I'm sure he'll come after me—or some Hurog, I don't suppose it matters which one of us." I had a terrible thought. "Father and his father left by-blows all over Hurog. I'm going to have to warn them."

"How did he anoint the stone with your blood?" asked Oreg. "Did he use a ceremony—"

"No," I said. "He just cut my arm, dribbled blood on a cloth, and rubbed it on the stone."

Oreg frowned and sat down beside me. "What kind of cloth? Linen, cotton, silk?"

"I don't know," I said, but I closed my eyes and tried to remember the feeling of the cloth on my cheek. "Not silk. Linen, maybe."

"Was there anything else on the cloth? Was it clean?"

"Clean," I agreed, then said, "Or it was to start with. He wiped my face with it—and I was pretty filthy."

"Sweat," murmured Oreg, then he stiffened. "Not sweat, tears. Tears, Ward. Did he have your tears on the cloth?"

Oreg wouldn't think the less of me—he'd known too much pain in his long life—so I admitted what any son of my father wouldn't have acknowledged to anyone else. "Yes."

"Ha," said Oreg triumphantly, rising to his feet and fisting a hand melodramatically to the ceiling. "Take that, you bastard. Ha!" He turned to me with a grin. "Bet that Jakoven forgot he'd wiped your face—or modern mages have forgotten the power of a tear."

"So what did it do?" I asked.

Oreg, still grinning, shook his head. "I have not a clue. But it will change the nature of the Bane—you said it recognized you."

I nodded. "Almost the way Hurog recognizes me when I come home."

He was quiet for a while and then said soberly, "Farson was the grandson of my half brother, did you know?"

It's one thing to know that Oreg is ancient. It's another to understand what that means. But with a little effort I managed to keep my jaw from dropping.

"He was stupid, unthinking, and angry at being part-blood dragon with nothing but a bit of magic to show for it," said Oreg. "He was the first born of Hurog who could not take on dragon form, and was obsessed with dragons because of it. Farson killed three dragons to make his toy, and bound their spirits to the blood gem for all eternity—I've always thought it was a variant of the spell that bound me to Hurog, but Farson wasn't as good a wizard as my father was. If I held that stone, I'd be worried about how tightly the spirits of the dragons were still bound into obedience." Oreg grinned nastily. "Maybe we won't have to worry about Jakoven long."

"Can you get Kellen out of the Asylum?" I asked.

Oreg nodded. "If he's not in the same section you were in, I'll be able to do it somehow. I told his man to meet us on the road near Menogue after he'd heard Kellen was out." He paused. "You know, he's going to have the same problems proving himself that you have had."

I laughed. "No. No one has ever accused Kellen of being stupid—just insane. It's not at all the same thing. A stupid ruler is much more of a problem than an insane one."

"We'll have to wait until you're fit to travel before we get him out," Oreg said. "That will give Beckram a chance to get Ciarra out of Iftahar."

"He'll have to get out more than Ciarra, Oreg," I said. "You'll have to tell Duraugh and Beckram about Kellen. Hurog is under snow by now, and it'll be a difficult place to besiege until spring. Iftahar, though, will fall to Jakoven as soon as he thinks to take it—which won't be long after he finds out Kellen has flown."

I thought a minute. "Tell them there's grain to feed a thousand people for six months at Hurog. If Duraugh thinks we need more, Beckram will have to bring it with him."

"I'll tell them," Oreg promised. "Since we're stuck here until you can travel, they'll probably beat us to Hurog. We'll have to send a messenger to Hurog and warn Stala to expect company."

"Right," I agreed. The thought of staying longer in Estian made my knees turn to water. I tried to hide my fear and come up with an alternative, but I had no greater trust in my abilities than Oreg did.

"The king will wonder if we send Beckram off by himself tomorrow," I said. "If we all leave Estian tomorrow, he won't know we've sent Beckram ahead. We can camp on Menogue instead. No one goes there, so unless Jakoven sends out someone to track us, Menogue should be safe."

Oreg's nostrils flared white even in the dim light of the room. His memories of Menogue were not fond. "What of Aethervon?"

"It was the Tamerlain who allowed me to face Jakoven without the effects of his mages' herbs. I think Aethervon will allow us refuge. The Tamerlain told me that there are a few people there now. It sounds as if Aethervon has been recruiting for some reason."

"Don't trust in the gods," said Oreg.

"No," I agreed. "I don't expect him to help fight off Jakoven, but that shouldn't be necessary. Jakoven will be planning a proper vengeance—pursuing us won't be a priority until we break Kellen out."

I yawned and Oreg shooed me back under the covers and I sent him to his own bed. I hadn't slept much since my imprisonment in the Asylum, and I was too tired to stay awake any longer.

The dream started innocuously. I waited in a large chamber more grandiose even than the one the dwarves had devised at Hurog. My feet rested upon a deep-piled rug that covered a malachite inlaid marble floor.

The door in front of me opened and a pale-faced Tallvenish nobleman whom I recognized vaguely from court entered and fell to one knee before me.

"Ah," I said. "So kind of you to answer my summons promptly. You told me once of a Hurog-born whore that you frequented."

"Yes, sire," he agreed. "She died a while back."

There was no servility in his voice, and I decided it might be necessary to teach him better—but for now I had a use for him. "She had a child by the old Hurogmeten."

"So she claimed, sire. The Hurogmeten certainly visited her a time or three, sire. I saw him there myself."

"A Hurog boy bred back to Hurog should concentrate the blood," I murmured to myself before turning my attention back to my informant. "How old would the child be now?"

The man looked blank for a moment. "I don't know, sire. He was ten, maybe, when I saw him last."

A boy, I thought, excellent I liked boys.

The thoughts that accompanied my words woke me and sent me dry-heaving into the chamber pot next to the bed. I sat on the cool floor and sweat ran down my back.

Jakoven. I'd been in Jakoven's mind. Though the scent was dissipating, I could still smell the magic that had overlaid my room when I awoke. Whose magic, I could not tell, but I decided it meant that I had dreamed true. Those thoughts could not have come out of my head, not from me.

"They did not," said the Tamerlain from the corner of my room. "You dream true dreams sent by Aethervon. They are meant to aid you."

Gods, I thought, Jakoven is after a child.

"I owe you thanks for your help," I said, wiping my mouth with a cloth lying on a small table next to a basin of water. "And for the dreams, if I can get to the boy before Jakoven does."

She purred and rolled over like a playful kitten. "No thanks are necessary. It is we who are the debtors."

She left before I could say anything in reply, and I stared at the place where she had been. I wanted nothing more than to slink back to Hurog and hide in the snow-shielded hills until the gods called me to my rest—but I would not leave a boy to Jakoven's clutches, nor would Jakoven leave me in peace.

It was a long time before I crawled back under the covers and tried to get more sleep.

I was troubled again with dreams, but these were more normal nightmares born of the Asylum. I dreamed of terrifying monsters that attacked me over and over while I tried to hide in straw that fell away from my fingers. But a soft voice that reminded me of green apples and clean rain drove the beasts away and guarded me while I hid in safety.

I dreamed of a gem that hovered in the air above me and dripped red blood on my chest. I tried to roll away, but I was restrained on the leather-covered table. The blood became a flood drowning me, and I awoke with a gasp.

"It's safe, Ward," said Tisala's voice from the darkness of the room where I slept. She shifted uncomfortably and I made out the outline of a wooden chair set against the wall opposite my bed. "Go to sleep."

Somehow, knowing that she was there allowed me to do just that.