Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

XVII

Despite his determination the night before, the new day found Cabe ensconced in his study, his mind a raging maelstrom of doubt and contradiction. He had been there since his return from tracking down the assassins. Neither Gwendolyn nor the children had been able to stir him from the emotion that bespelled him, and they had finally resigned themselves to allowing him to find his own way back.

Cabe could not explain to them, not without revealing what he felt should not be revealed. There had been enough tragedy and violence already; the knowledge . . . the suspicions . . . he entertained were enough to start a new war.

The damning box sat on the table before him, a dark thing both revealing and mysterious. No one knew it was here; he had cast a cloaking spell around it at first opportunity. Since no one here had known of the box in the first place, the few moments it had been unshielded had not mattered. Besides, there were so many other concerns already being dealt with that it was doubtful anyone else had had the time to even notice the brief existence of the foul artifact.

“What do I do about you?” Cabe muttered not for the first time. He prodded the box ever so slightly. “I should destroy you now, that’s what I should do.” Destroying it was not truly the answer, however. That would only leave the incident unresolved, possibly forever. The box was proof.

He knew that, but the warlock could still not bring himself to take it to its former owner. This could set kingdom against kingdom . . . create civil wars. . . . Cabe wondered if the one responsible for the box had foreseen that. Had they actually wanted that?

Cabe? The voice that suddenly echoed in his head made him grateful he had also taken the precaution of shielding part of his mind. Despite the fact that she was now linked to her husband, Lady Bedlam would not be aware of the thoughts running through his head. She, especially, could not be told just yet.

It was possibly the first time he had kept something of such importance hidden from her. Cabe struggled with the shame as he responded to her mental summons. Yes?

At last! came her response. I was beginning to fear for you, you know! This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to contact you.

He grimaced. Cabe did not even know how long he had been sitting here, save that the small breakfast he had forced down no longer was enough to sustain him. At present, his stomach was sounding much like a volcano preparing to erupt. I’m sorry.

Where are you?

In my study.

The surprise was almost vocal. Still? Darling-

Before she could ask the question that he would again be forced to ignore, Cabe interjected, What is it? You sound as if you have some news.

I do. It was clear that she did not like her questions being shunted aside again, but knew better than to argue at this point. For that, the frustrated mage was happy. This morning there was a missive from the Green Dragon.

He straightened. “What does he want?” he asked out loud before recalling the link. Fortunately, asking the question was the same as framing it in his mind.

The master of Irillian by the Sea is demanding to see Kyl sooner than we’d planned. In fact, the missive clearly indicates that we can expect him to leave his kingdom tomorrow or the day after.

Of all the things that the missive might have contained, the meeting between Kyl and the Dragon Kings’ chosen representative had been the only matter the warlock had not worried about. Yet, it should have not been so surprising. Of course the Dragon Kings would know almost instantly about the botched assassination; they would be justly concerned about the state of affairs at this point. This alteration in the schedule was as much to assess the change the attempt might have had on the heir’s mental state as it was anything else. Cabe could not blame the drake lords, but he certainly wished that they had not reacted so. It meant one more terrible concern to add to the mountain already looming before him.

Is the meeting place still the same or has he changed that, also?

That’s what makes this even more important. The Blue Dragon is coming here.

Cabe grunted. There really had been no reason to think that the Blue Dragon might have wanted to change the location of the meeting, but the warlock had wondered. Now he was being rewarded for the curiosity.

There is no stopping the Blue Dragon. Therefore, Lord Green would like one of us to come see him. There are some details that he would like to go over; things we might have to do differently now that the Manor is the location. I think he might have some concern about Penacles and its stability, too. The Dragon Kings might be anxious about the Gryphon resuming control. That may be one reason that Blue will not wait. I know that doesn’t quite make sense, but the message indicated such a fear.

Toos only died the other day, the somber mage noted to his wife. Does the entire continent already know? There really was no reason to be concerned about the return of the lionbird to the throne of Penacles; the policies of the general and his former commander were of a like nature. If the Dragon Kings had not been overly fearful of the regent’s rule, then the return of the Gryphon should not be bothering them that much. They could certainly not be thinking that the monarch of Penacles had war in mind. Cabe found the Green Dragon’s fears questionable.

Will you go or shall I, Cabe?

He realized that he had drifted away from the silent conversation. The warlock tapped a finger on the arm of the chair. He knew what he wanted to say, and he also knew it was the coward’s way. After some deliberation, Cabe finally sighed and replied, I’ll go.

There was a still moment as she obviously waited for him to continue. When it evidently became clear that he had finished, the enchantress returned, All right. I hope everything goes well.

Her concern, her love, was quite genuine, as it always was, and knowing that only served to make him feel even more guilty for hiding what he knew from her. Not for the first time, he was amazed that she still loved him so after all these years.

It’ll be fine, he promised.

Please hurry back.

“I won’t stay any longer than need be,” he promised out loud. A breath later, the link was broken. Left alone once more, Cabe at first resumed his pensive staring, but then guilt forced him to sit up. Guilt and the glimpse of some figure at the very edge of his vision. Using his body to shield the box from the newcomer, he quickly cast a spell that sent the artifact to one of the chests in which he stored objects. The chest was protected by other spells, so Cabe knew that the box would be secure there.

That left the intruder to deal with. The warlock finished turning around. “Who is-yes, scholar? Did you want something?”

It was indeed the form of Benjin Traske, but the huge man was acting in a peculiar manner. First, he did not respond to the mage’s question. Second, the tutor appeared obsessed with the books just to the side and above where Cabe presently sat.

“Scholar Traske? I asked you a-”

Through the massive girth of the man the warlock could see the opposing wall.

The Benjin Traske before him was nothing more than one of the Manor’s ghosts. Even as the realization sank in, the bearded figure, hand outstretched toward the shelf of tomes that Cabe kept in the study, ceased to be.

Knowing that the tutor had been in the study more than once in the past, Cabe’s interest in the phantom dwindled somewhat. Out of habit, he located the notebook in which he kept track of all sightings and wrote down this latest addition to the parade of images. Cabe eyed the list, briefly wondering if he would ever discover the pattern or reasons for any of the ghostly intruders, then replaced the tome among the others. His gaze rested on some of the titles.

Aurim was still not free of Toma’s spell. Cabe knew that he would not rest easy until that problem was also dealt with, but he had run out of ideas . . . of his own. It occurred to him now, though, that he had not consulted any of the books in his small collection here. Perhaps there was something he could quickly thumb through. It would but take a few minutes of his time to decide whether the books would be of any use. The Green Dragon could wait that long. Certainly Cabe could, if only for his son’s sake, he told himself.

The master mage scanned the titles. To his disappointment, he knew almost immediately that he could eliminate virtually all of them. There was, however, one volume that he decided might offer some hint of what he sought. Cabe reached up, but as he took hold of the tome, the notebook, several volumes to the left, suddenly slipped and fell onto his desk. The book flipped open before him, revealing the page upon which he had just recorded his sighting of the Traske ghost.

Cabe took the book he was holding and set it aside. Then, with more care than he had apparently used the last time, the annoyed mage returned the notebook to the shelf, this time making certain that it would not slip again.

A quick glance through the book he had chosen revealed that it held no clue to a swift and safe manner by which to unbind the spell Toma had cast. In point of fact, it held nothing of use. Disgusted, the warlock rose from his chair and returned the tome to the shelf. As he pulled his hand away, Cabe happened to notice that the notebook was now a good third of the way over the edge. Quietly cursing himself for the carelessness with which he had undoubtedly returned the last book to the shelf, the warlock pushed the notebook back into place.

That took some doing. It was like trying to squeeze a watermelon into a wine goblet, but at last he managed to accomplish his task. I’ll have to transfer a few of these to the Manor library. This shelf is far too overladen.

Giving up his quest for the time being, he turned from the shelf and mentally prepared himself for the journey to the Green Dragon’s domain. It was not a meeting he looked forward to for many reasons, but Lord Blue’s sudden decision made it necessary that alterations in the plan be made and made with swiftness. Gwendolyn had too much to contend with already; Cabe could not place this on her shoulders, too.

Steeling himself, the warlock pictured the lair of the lord of Dagora . . . and vanished.

Had he not been so engrossed in his thoughts, had he looked back even for a moment, Cabe Bedlam would have perhaps noticed one peculiar thing. The notebook that he had so carefully returned twice now was already slightly over the edge of the shelf . . . and moving.

“I have been thinking, Grath,” announced Kyl. The heir to the dragon throne was visibly calmer than he had been previously-a good sign. For Kyl to fall to pieces this late in the game would have been tragic. Everything that had been planned depended upon his ascension to the throne. Grath had been ready to drag his brother to the throne if that was what it took to see the coronation done. After that, the younger drake would take his just due. That was fair enough, he thought. Grath deserved much for enabling things to have gone this far. Even his mentor had praised his efforts.

“What’ve you been thinking about, my brother?” He hoped that Kyl had not devised yet another insane plot for dealing with invisible assassins and the like. Kyl put on a devious front, but he lacked Grath’s depth in cunning and subterfuge. Besides, the heir had a hidden ally who was working even now to prevent a reoccurrence of the travesty perpetrated in the regent’s arena.

“Benjin Trassske.”

“And what about our tutor?”

The two of them were in Kyl’s chamber. Grath had been reading while his brother, becoming more daring since yesterday, had wandered to the balcony. Granted, the Manor was the one place where even Grath was certain nothing could happen, but the hours just after the assassination had left his elder brother in such a state that he had secluded himself in his bedchamber, not even deigning to eat his meals with the Bedlams, specifically Valea. The younger drake had been annoyed by such cowardice, for it had ruined a perfect opportunity to play on the beautiful witch’s sympathies.

Kyl turned from the balcony, every inch the dazzling emperor-to-be he had been trained from birth to become. The improvement was remarkable and could easily be traced to the visit by the very person the heir now spoke of. “We have known Ssscholar Trassske for many yearsss, from the day he firssst came to educate us. How many yearsss isss that?” He waved aside the response that Grath was about to make. “I do not need the exact count. What I mean isss that throughout ssso long a period, the man hasss tutored usss well and guided usss as much asss any other. Hisss knowledge isss great and hisss ssskillsss many. Yesterday, I know that I sssaid he could not underssstand all that I face, but today I sssee thingsss in a new light. Asss ever, he hasss been a steadying force.” Kyl eyed his brother. “You ressspect him greatly, do you not?”

“More than you could ever know,” replied Grath, suspecting where this was going but afraid to reveal his enthusiasm.

Unseen by the smiling Kyl, Faras and Ssgayn exchanged brief, unreadable glances.

“Asss I thought. My own admiration for him isss alssso very high. That isss why I think that I shall apologize to him for my earlier wordsss and asssk him quite sssincerely if he will join me after I become emperor and . . . and become a trusssted advisssor, sssecond to you, of course, brother.”

Inside, Grath was fighting back the urge to cry out his triumph. The seed he had planted long ago had finally taken root: Kyl wanted his former tutor as a counselor. Keeping his voice properly restrained, Grath nodded his approval and replied, “I could not have made a better suggestion myself, Kyl.”

“The only trouble may lie in whether he will accept.” The heir paced back and forth, a habit that his brother secretly found very irritating. Kyl finally paused and looked again at Grath. “You have much influence with our dear teacher. Perhapsss if you presssented him with the offer, he might be more willing to agree. He isss human and a sssurvivor of Mito Pica, which definitely will be wallsss needing to be ssscaled-”

“No wall is too high for a dragon.” It was an old drake saying, one which his mentor had taught him long ago. “I think that I can do it, Kyl. I think that he might be interested.”

His brother’s eyes drifted from his to fix upon the empty air. “It’sss almossst time, Grath. Only the confrontation with Lord Blue remainsss asss a ssstumbling block.” A hint of nervousness tinged his words. “That will prove an interesssting meeting.”

“But one not to be fearful of.” Grath put down the book he was reading and rose. He met Kyl’s glare with a confident expression. “I am not insinuating that you are afraid, Kyl. Simply that you will so impress Lord Blue that none of the others will question him when he gives you his support. The rest will fall in line then, especially when they learn that the daughter of Cabe Bedlam follows you to Kivan Grath.”

“Valea . . .” The look in the heir’s emerald-gold countenance made it clear that the elder drake had completely forgotten about the enchantress he had been courting. “She may not come.”

Grath walked over to his brother and straightened the narrow collar of Kyl’s tunic. “You’re wearing one of her favorite outfits. She finds you almost irresistible in it.” He pretended as if an idea had just struck him rather than had been simmering since earlier in the morning. “You should look for her. Lead her to a place where the two of you can be alone. Now would be the best time to strike, to ask her to be yours.”

Kyl looked uncomfortable. “She’ll be expecting marriage. Asss emperor, I could only take one of our own kind asss a mate. You know that.”

“Do you have to mention the word? A bonding is all you need talk about, Kyl, if you don’t wish to lie. She will be bonded to you.”

That brought a hiss of anger from the heir. “I would rather that she came willingly. I am not ssso loathsssome that I mussst resssort to a ssspell, am I?”

“Of course not, but we are rushed for time! When your position as emperor is more secure, then you can release her from the spell if you so wish.” By that time you will dare not, brother, and we both know it, Grath silently added. Again, he knew that Kyl would tire of her as a female and see her only as a tool. The bond would allow her to keep her personality, but prevent her from disobeying her masters. Valea Bedlam would still need comfort . . . and giving that comfort would link her with Grath in a way that would grow stronger as the spell grew weaker. You’ll bring her with you for my interests alone, if nothing else. After all of this, I will have my rewards, too, and she will be my most prized!

Slowly, the emperor-to-be agreed. “You are correct asss usssual, Grath. With you and Ssscholar Trassske to advissse me, I will make the throne of the Dragon Emperor once more the ultimate power in all the Dragonrealm!”

It will certainly have the proper flair for the dramatic! the younger drake decided, stepping away. “Speaking of our tutor, if I am to persuade him to join us, I must first talk to him. The sooner the better. You should do the same with Valea, Kyl.”

“Yesss, you are correct, of course.” As Grath started for the door, Kyl turned away from it. “But firssst, I should make certain that I am my very bessst. Then, she will not be able to help but be ssswept off her feet, asss the humansss sssay.”

Grath held back a groan. There was, it had to be said, something for the way Kyl was behaving, but over the years he had grown weary of his brother’s preening. Grath knew that he himself was considered quite fascinating to both human and drake females, but his role did not allow much time for making full use of his charms. It was Kyl who was supposed to be the mark of perfection.

But, in the end, she’ll be mine. That’s what matters. I will have the sorceress and I will be the true lord of all the land!

In only a matter of days. . . .

Only a matter of days left and I still haven’t talked to him, Valea thought morosely as she walked the halls of the Manor. The ancient structure seemed so cold, so oppressive to her. She had not seen Kyl since he had retired to his chambers after the attempt on his life. Grath and Benjin Traske had both said that he was well, but clearly the botched assassination had had some effect. The young Lady Bedlam wanted dearly to go to Kyl and see if there was any comfort she could give him, but that would be throwing herself at him. She had her pride, after all.

That was all she would have if he left without speaking to her. While on one hand it was clearly ridiculous to think that he would remain in his rooms until his ascent to the throne, Valea could not help imagining that it might be so.

Ursa had been of little assistance in assuaging her fears, mostly because she had hardly been around. The female drake and Aurim were up to something in his room. Nothing romantic, of course. The two might as well have been brother and sister as far as Valea was concerned. They got along better at times than Valea and Aurim did. No, the young enchantress suspected that they were attempting to find the key to releasing her brother from the spell on his mind. Valea would have been worried if Aurim had tried to do this on his own, but with the more pragmatic and patient Ursa to guide him, it was possible that the two would succeed where even the Gryphon had so far failed.

Which still meant that she had no one to talk to about her situation. Mother was busy with some preparations and, as far as she knew, her father was still ensconced in his study, being moody over who knew what. She could not have talked to either of them, anyway, not about this.

Valea sighed and abstractedly created a flying ring of roses that she then made spin slowly around and around. She bored of the sight very quickly, however, and changed the flowers to paper birds, which fluttered about and danced in some sort of aerial ballet her subconscious had decided upon.

There was only one person that she could turn to, only one person who would understand: Benjin Traske. She had tried to avoid disturbing him, for he, too, had seemed pressed since returning from Penacles. Twice Valea had tried to talk to him, but both times he had seemed preoccupied with something else.

I can only try. I have to talk to someone.

She turned down a hallway that would take her toward the scholar’s chambers, the paper birds vanishing in little puffs of smoke as the young Lady Bedlam’s concerns turned to what she would say to her tutor. He might not even have time to speak with her, but Valea had to try. She was fairly bursting. She needed someone close to talk to, and Scholar Traske had already more than proven himself in that regard. Had he not been the one to tell Valea that Kyl loved her? Had she not discussed her quandary with him several times since then? If he could just give her a minute, it would at least make Valea feel a little better. Perhaps he would even have a solution.

It certainly could not hurt to ask.

There were times when the Manor seemed larger on the inside than it did from the outside, but Valea was fairly certain that the feeling was an illusion more than any magic inherent in the ancient edifice. There was no denying that the unknown builders had been great craftsmen. The enchantress did not even mind the long walk this time, for there were still things that she had to resolve with herself.

Along her path she met few others. Most of the people were outside, either working or enjoying the weather. The Manor itself was a surprisingly easy place to care for; it practically cared for itself. Valea had often thought that the true purpose of the many servants in the house was to give it some life. Granted, this had been her home since birth, but the Manor could seem very lonely when no one else was about.

She hated to think what it would be like if she was left behind after Kyl headed north to his throne.

Valea turned down yet another corridor and, because her mind was engrossed in her terrible problem, she did not at first see the figure at the other end of the hall. Only when she heard the sound of boots did she stir from her contemplations.

To her surprise and pleasure, it was Benjin Traske himself. The scholar had evidently not been in his room after all, but the direction in which he was heading indicated that he was likely on his way there now. The young woman wanted to call to him, but she had been raised not to do such mannerless things as shout across halls, so Valea had to content herself with increasing her pace and hoping that she might attract his attention before he entered his chambers.

Valea reached the intersecting corridor and followed after the scholar, but despite his immense girth, Benjin Traske was a swift man. Already he was nearly to the door of his chambers. She tried to hurry more, feeling somehow that to disturb him after he stepped inside was a greater inconvenience to the tutor. Benjin Traske had been so kind to her, she wanted to be as little trouble as possible to him.

Concentrating on reaching the scholar, Valea paid no attention to the side corridors and alcoves. There was no reason to do so. That was why when the draconian figure stepped out from around a corner she did not at first notice him. Only when he rushed silently toward Traske’s unprotected back did she pay him any heed.

Only then did the enchantress see the curved blade rise.

Her reaction was instinctive, the memory of the regent’s death and Kyl’s near assassination still fresh. She raised a hand in the direction of the would-be killer and cried, “Nooo!”

The assassin hesitated, obviously surprised to have been discovered. Valea was never able to unleash her spell, however, for with reflexes surprising even for Benjin Traske, the heavyset scholar whirled around to protect himself. The two figures became tangled together. Uncertain as to the effectiveness of her spell, she dared not use it for fear that the tutor would also suffer. Hoping for a better opportunity, Valea rushed forward. If the two separated for even a moment, she wanted to be ready.

Traske and his attacker spun about. For the first time, Valea saw the countenance of the assassin-saw it and stumbled to a halt as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

It was Ssarekai. As difficult as it was for most humans to recognize individual drakes from a distance, she knew the stable master too well not to know it was him now. Dear sweet Ssarekai, who had helped train her to ride her first horse and, later, her first riding drake. Ssarekai, who listened to her stories and told fascinating ones of his own about the days of the Dragon Emperor. Servitor drakes saw much that their superiors did not realize.

Dear sweet Ssarekai was trying to murder Scholar Traske?

She remained where she was, caught up in her confusion. Valea could think of no reason for the drake’s behavior at first, but then her chaotic thoughts happened to touch upon the spell that Toma had woven into the minds of both Ssarekai and her brother. Was this attack the result of that?

The two hissing combatants seemed not to recall her at all as they spun back and forth, the blade dangling between them. Ssarekai still held it, but Benjin Traske had his wrist and was trying to push the blade toward the face of his adversary.

“I know you again!” Ssarekai suddenly hissed. “I should have sssmelled your foul . . . foul ssscent and recognized it! You were alwaysss ssso certain of yourself!”

Traske did not reply, but his bearded face had taken on a most-evil, was the only word Valea could find that fit-look, and as he pressed his counterattack, he appeared almost inhuman. His eyes seemed to blaze. His lips curled back in what reminded her of the toothy reptilian “smile” of an angry drake.

She still did not know what to do. Somehow, the young sorceress could not bring herself to try to bring down the drake, no matter that he had tried to murder her teacher. There was something about the desperation in Ssarekai’s voice and the increasingly dark visage of Benjin Traske that prevented her from doing what should have seemed obvious. Summoning aid did not even enter her mind, so ensnared was she in the situation. Two of those who had been a part of her life from the beginning were fighting to the death, and she could not decide which one to save.

The blade inched closer to the drake’s half-concealed face. Ssarekai evidently saw the inevitability of its path, for suddenly he released the knife, sending it clattering to the floor. At the same time, Valea felt a tug on the powers from which all mages drew, a sign that a spell of great magnitude was being formed and executed in rapid order.

Ssarekai opened his mouth as if to scream, but no sound emerged. The drake froze in place and his entire form turned a mottled gray.

It was Benjin Traske who had released the spell, the novice sorceress realized: Benjin Traske, who was supposed to have barely enough ability to raise a feather a few inches from the ground.

It was Benjin Traske, a man who, still engrossed in crushing his opponent, was also beginning to melt.

More and more he looked less human. His mouth was open in a triumphant smile, but the teeth within were noticeably jagged even from where Valea stood. The scholar’s skin had taken on a peculiar coloring, one that was faintly . . . green? He looked taller, thinner, and beneath his robes it seemed as if he might be wearing armor. Even the blade he always wore on his belt had changed, for now it gleamed as if it had become a source of light itself.

Benjin Traske was a drake.

He could be only one drake, but Valea tried to deny it. Tried and failed, for too many things were falling in place, many of them involving her.

The stern but understanding man who had taught her and the others over the years was in reality the most hated creature in the Dragonrealm. He was Duke Toma, the renegade.

He began to turn her way. His face and form were again solidifying into the one she was so familiar with, but it would be impossible for Valea to ever believe that what she had just witnessed had been some illusion.

Traske/Toma fixed his gaze on her. “Valea-”

She transported herself away without even thinking of where it would be best to go. The hallway before the tutor’s chamber door became another corridor. At first, the enchantress was uncertain as to where she had chosen to flee, but slowly Valea recognized her location. She was near Kyl’s room . . . only a few yards from his door, in fact.

It was impossible to move. The realization of what she had just witnessed was finally catching up to her. Valea stood where she was, gasping for air and shaking. Only now did guilt touch her; guilt for leaving poor brave Ssarekai to Toma. It mattered not that she could have done nothing, but the weary sorceress felt that she should have been able to do something.

Ssarekai must have recalled what it was the spell Toma had put on him had made him forget. That suppressed memory had probably concerned the horrible truth about Benjin Traske. Something had stirred the stable master’s memory enough to break the spell. Why Ssarekai had chosen the path he had, a daring assassination attempt, she did not know, but it likely would have succeeded if Valea had not chosen to be there at that moment.

I have to warn everyone. Stirring, she tried to recall where her mother and father were. Father had been in his study. Perhaps he was still there. Valea tried to focus on the blue-robed figure. Father would make things right; he had always managed to overcome what she had often considered impossible odds. He would save them all from Toma.

Perhaps he would have, if he had been in his study. Valea called to her father, but sensed only that he had been in the Manor but recently, which helped her not in the least. Toma could only be moments behind her. Valea knew what sort of chance she stood against the renegade. Toma was a spellcaster on a par with her parents. Aurim, whose skill and power were greater than hers at the moment, had easily fallen victim to the drake.

She was almost ready to begin an attempt to contact her mother when the door to Kyl’s chambers swung open. The scarlet-tressed woman paused as the tall, elegant figure of the heir stepped into the corridor.

“Valea?” Kyl’s mouth broke into a dazzling smile, making Valea almost forget what was happening. “Thisss isss a pleasssant sssurprise, I mussst sssay! I wasss jussst-”

The sound of his voice stirred her to action. She seized him by the arms and cried, “Kyl! Toma’s in the Manor! Toma, he’s right behind-”

Confusion and dismay spread across the drake’s exotic visage. He looked at her close. “What’sss that? What are you sssaying?”

Before she could answer, however, an armored drake stepped out of Kyl’s chamber. Whether it was Faras or his counterpart Ssgayn, Valea could not at that moment have said. “My lord! We heard her ssspeak of Toma!”

“She sssays that-”

The guard did not wait for him to finish. He took hold of each of the two by an arm and began to steer them inside the room. “Bessst not to talk out here, my lord! What Toma cannot see he may not find! Hurry!”

Valea wanted to protest, but Ssgayn-she had recognized his voice at last-already had them through the doorway. As he led them through, Faras, standing nearby, closed the door and bolted it.

“We can’t simply wait here!” the sorceress finally shouted. “Toma will come here before long!”

“I agree.” Kyl hissed in obvious nervousness. “Toma! I was jussst ssspeaking of him, wasss I not?”

The two guards nodded solemnly.

Valea had no time for this. Again she took hold of Kyl. Another time, such close contact would have thrilled her, but now what mattered was their lives. “Listen, Kyl! I tried to contact my father, but I couldn’t find him. I’ll try my mother, but you have to know something first. He’s Benjin Traske, Kyl! Benjin Traske!”

The heir apparently misunderstood her. “Toma hasss the ssscholar? Where? How?”

“No! Benjin Traske is Duke Toma! I discovered it by accident. He caught poor Ssarekai, who tried to kill him.”

Kyl simply stood there, as if unable to accept what he was hearing. “Ssscholar Trassske isss Toma?”

The two guards said nothing, but both had grown very tense. Valea could hardly blame them; how many times had they left their lord with the tutor, not realizing the truth? “I have to try my mother. Everyone is in danger! I think he dares not hide any longer, Kyl! He had to fight Ssarekai and he knows that I saw him!”

“No more talk, then, my enchantress! Do what mussst be done.” He gave her an encouraging smile.

Strengthened by that, Valea put as much will as she had left to muster into the magical summons. She had no idea where her father must be, but her mother was usually in the same place at this time of day. If she failed to contact Lady Bedlam, Valea then planned on trying a scattered call, which, theoretically, would send her message to all parts of the Manor. Valea had trouble with that method, though, which was why she hoped that she was successful with her first attempt.

However, a peculiar thing happened when she tried to reach out and make contact with her mother. Valea felt the summons stretch forth from her mind, felt it building in strength, but when she tried to reach out beyond Kyl’s chamber, it was as if she had run into a mental wall. She tried to push harder, but still could sense nothing beyond the room. Valea tried again, but the results were the same. Try as she might, she could not have contacted her mother even if the emerald enchantress had been standing on the other side of the door to Kyl’s suite.

Toma knew where they were. It was the only answer.

“What isss wrong? Why are you shivering?”

Shivering? Valea had not even noticed that she was shivering, but under the circumstances, she did not think that she could be blamed for doing so. Quickly, Valea explained what had happened.

After she was done, Kyl glanced at his two guards, but their faces betrayed nothing. Valea simply assumed that they would follow whatever command he gave them. She had never been close to either Ssgayn or Faras, but then, they had never tried to be more than what they were. It was as if they had been born to be bodyguards all their lives.

“Perhapsss . . .” Kyl began. “Perhapsss if we pool our abilities, Valea. I have alwaysss thought that between the two of usss, we could accomplish mossst anything!” He gave her a brief smile. “But talk of that can wait. What do you think? If your power and mine were combined, we might be able to contact one of your parentsss or, if need be, even deal with the renegade.”

This at last caused the two guards to move. It was clear that they did not relish the idea of Kyl fighting Toma.

“My lord-” Faras began.

“Sssilence! Well, Valea?”

Someone rapped on the door. A moment later, a familiar voice hissed, “Kyl! Let me in!”

Grath! Valea had completely forgotten about Kyl’s brother. She had simply assumed that he was in one of the connecting rooms. If Grath had been elsewhere all this time, then he, too, had been in danger. In fact . . .

The heir hissed. “I sssent him to talk to Benjin Trassske! Thank the Dragon of the Depthsss that he isss safe! Open the door! Quickly now!”

Faras had almost unbolted the door when Valea called, “No! You can’t!”

The drake paused, then looked to Kyl for guidance. “My lord, your brother isss in danger while he is out there. You know that your chambersss are alssso spelled against intrusion by sssorcery.”

Kyl waved aside Valea’s protests. “I know my own brother’s voice . . . and his mind.” He turned to face the door. “Grath! Did you ssspeak with Ssscholar Trassske asss I asked you?”

“No!” returned the voice. “I-Kyl, you would not believe what I have to tell you! Let me in!”

“Let him in,” whispered the emperor-to-be to Faras. “But I want all of you ready. Even Toma would not think to take the four of usss on, now would he?” The last was obviously for Valea’s benefit. She was certain that he was making a mistake, but there was nothing that she could do. Besides, it was cruel to let Grath remain out there. If he was alone, each second he was forced to wait left him vulnerable.

Faras unbolted the door and peeked around it. Ssgayn and Kyl stood ready, the guard with a sword and Kyl with a spell of some kind. Valea readied a crude but powerful spell of her own. If Grath was the puppet of Toma . . .

Slowly, Faras swung the door back just enough for a single person to slip through. Grath, or at least someone who looked exactly like him, did just that. Once the figure was through, the draconian guard immediately shut and rebolted the door.

“There isss sssome reasssonable concern that you might not be who you look like, Grath.” Kyl’s tone was incredibly apologetic. “I hope you will forgive usss for having to determine the truth.”

Grath stood still, his arms hanging at his sides. “I am me, but if you need to verify my honesty, please do so in whatever way you feel most suitable, Kyl.”

Kyl looked at the guards. “Are you ready, jussst in cassse?”

The two nodded. Satisfied, the dragon heir stepped in front of the one who might be his brother. He carefully reached out and put one hand on Grath’s shoulder.

Valea felt the power that passed between them. All those with even the most minor tendency for sorcery had a special magical signature, a particular touch, that other mages could sense if they knew how. For two with as strong a bond as the brothers, it was virtually impossible to fool either one of them with a false signature. Even Toma would be hard-pressed to mask his own magical pattern as that of Grath.

Kyl exhaled as he removed his hand. “You are Grath.”

“Of course I am.”

“We could not be certain. We could not trussst that it wasss you, brother.”

Grath eyed him, an enigmatic expression on his face. He glanced Valea’s way very briefly, then returned his gaze to Kyl. “Do you trust me, Kyl?”

The heir was surprised by the question. “With my life!”

“And you should know that I want nothing more than to see you on the throne. That is why you must trust me now.”

Valea did not care for Grath’s tone. She took a step toward him, not quite certain as to why he was making her nervous. “What do you have in mind, Grath? Do you have some sort of plan in mind for dealing with Toma?”

He looked at her. “You have tried to contact your parents?”

“I couldn’t find my father and something prevented me from contacting Mother.” Grath’s calm was annoying her. Did he not realize how dire a situation they faced?

Grath reached up and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “That’s what I wanted to know. Thank you.”

She wanted to ask him what he meant by such an odd response, but then she noticed the buildup of power within him. Too late did she realize that she had yet again been betrayed. As she tried to pull free of his grip, a grip suddenly tight and painful, her body refused to follow her desires. Instead, Valea found herself unable to move, unable to even speak.

“What have you done to her?” snarled Kyl, realizing too late that his brother had cast a spell on the startled witch.

Grath looked beyond his brother. “Faras. Ssgayn.”

She could still see, and so at the edge of her vision Valea was able to watch as Kyl’s two trusted bodyguards seized hold of their emperor-to-be and kept him pinned by the arms no matter how much he struggled.

“We are sssorry to do thisss, Your Majesssty,” Faras added with much anxiety.

Grath stood before his brother. “If you will calm down and listen, I can have them release you that much sooner. I am sorry about this, but you didn’t look as if you were going to wait for me to explain. Will you please do that now, Kyl?”

“I ssseem to have little choice in the matter, brother!”

“Actually, you have much choice. Do you remember our conversation just a short while ago? How we talked about the throne and the troubles it has brought? We talked about Toma, didn’t we?”

Grath’s transformation dismayed the frozen Valea. She had always known him to be a studious, somewhat shy person. He had always walked in the shadow of his brother, although even she would have been willing to admit that Kyl had always benefited from his advice. Now, however, Grath more resembled a smooth, cunning courtier, like some of those the young Lady Bedlam had met among the aristocracy of Penacles or Talak.

Kyl did not reply to his brother save to reluctantly nod.

“We’ve talked about Toma, our brother, before. You and I both know that he wasss loyal to our father and remained with him long after the other Dragon Kingsss had abandoned him. You know that he wasss there to rescue us from Lord Ice when we became caught between the machinations of the mad lord of the Northern Wastes and Master Bedlam. Among all the drakes, Kyl, you will have to admit that no one hasss been more loyal to the throne than he.”

That was not quite the history that Valea had grown up knowing. It was close enough to the truth, however, to disguise itself as fact. Her father would have been able to relate the entire tale, but she doubted that anyone but she would have listened.

“I remember the Northern Wastes, I think,” Kyl admitted with reluctance.

“Toma can never be emperor. You know that. I know that. He knows that. He has known that for years. Therefore, only one path was left open to him. Despite the need to hide, despite the enemies who have sought to kill him because he represents the might of the emperor, the duke has continued to work to see the day that a new, stronger leader will bring our kind back to the preeminence we once held.”

Slowly, Grath stepped back to the bolted door. He reached for the bolt. “No one is more regretful than he that all his work had to be done under the guise of another. He had hoped to present himself to you after your crowning. His life would have been yours to take or end there. At least the goal he has sought for the last several years would then be secure.”

Valea tried her best to break the spell that held her, but Grath had cast it too well. She doubted that even Aurim would have been able to escape.

Unbolting the door, the younger drake seized the handle. He looked so very apologetic to his brother that Valea wanted to spit in his face. “Kyl, I present to you one who isss not your enemy, has never been your enemy, but rather has been your most loyal servant . . . even moressso than I, I have to admit.”

The drake swung open the door. Valea’s heart sank as Benjin Traske entered.

“Ssscholar . . .” Kyl muttered, more awestruck, the sorceress was sad to see, than fearful.

“Not scholar, my lord,” said the massive figure, and even as he strode forward, he resembled less and less the bearded tutor and more and more something terribly inhuman. Then the scholar began to melt. The heavy girth became a river of glowing liquid that faded as it poured away. Yet, while Benjin Traske grew thinner, he also grew taller still.

Traske’s clothing also changed. Quickly the scholar’s robe became armor, scaled armor that covered the teacher from head to toe. His hands twisted and the fingers lengthened, becoming much like those of either of the brothers.

Kyl gaped and Grath smiled as the face also became something different. The stern, bearded visage pulled in and the head reshaped itself, at last forming a partial shell. The shell defined itself into a helm within which the last vestiges of Benjin Traske reformed into the flat, incomplete features of a drake warrior. Yet, unlike most drake warriors, the helm of this one had as elaborate a dragon head crest as any of the drake lords themselves.

Crossing the little distance that still remained between the two of them, the immense drake warrior stopped, then knelt before the dragon heir. Within the false helm, the lipless mouth curved into a toothy smile.

“Your Majesssty,” announced Grath as he shut the door and bolted it again. “It pleases me to presssent your mossst humble and loyal ssservant, Duke Toma of Kivan Grath.”