The Dragonbards

Chapter 18

I watch the sky for dragons that will never come. My king knows my pain; he knows that Tirror is dying. He knows the empty faces of the young.

*

Garit and the two soldiers bent heavily to the oars, pushing the raft through shallow surf toward Dacia’s wooded shore. As Kiri leaped to the bank to make fast the line, the dark branches above her shivered and a big winged shadow burst out, to dive straight at her. She ducked, laughing, as the big owl flashed dark, gleaming feathers in her face. “Red Unat!” She held out her arms, and Red Unat dropped into them so powerfully he nearly knocked her over. He clacked his red beak, and shook his big ears. His yellow eyes blazed fiercely. His manners were as abrupt and crusty as ever. But he was a true friend—a skilled spy and messenger for the underground. She and Papa had worked with him here in Dacia, and Teb had known him in Nightpool. The big owl snapped his beak again. His voice was coarse and gravelly. “About time! About time you got here! Tired of waiting! Thought that dark continent swallowed the lot of you.”

“It almost did,” Kiri said, stroking his dark, sleek wing.

“The wagons are waiting,” Red Unat said. “Hitching up now, to take the children.” As he looked up at the sky, now growing bright, the pupils of his eyes narrowed to slits.

Teb stood up, leaning on Garit’s shoulder. “Red Unat! What brings you? Has Sivich attacked Nightpool?”

Red Unat shook his feathers. “Sivich’s warriors gather for attack. Every traitor the dark can muster is camped at the Palace of Auric.” He stared at Teb. “You look terrible—all scars and bruises. I’m glad to see you are alive, Tebriel.”

“So am I,” Teb said. “What is Sivich’s plan of attack?”

“He means to destroy Nightpool just at dawn, then go straight up the coast to burn Ebis’s palace. He waits only for additional troops.” Red Unat smiled, a wicked smile. “Sivich doesn’t know the otters sank his courier boat, so his plea for troops didn’t get through.” He clacked his beak in an owlish laugh. “He’s furious at being tricked by animals, his horses taken, half his supplies gone, half his soldiers dead. Our owls have spy holes in every nook and attic of the palace; we hear everything.” The big owl stretched his wings, then snapped them closed. “But we cannot be overconfident. Sivich is a pawn of the dark powers—they will not let him lose so easily again.” He looked around the little group. “Another owl will come when Sivich is ready to move. Tell me what word has reached the dark leaders at Aquervell.”

“We don’t know,” Teb said. “We . . . were lucky to get out of there.”

“That I can see. Well, no matter. I have sent owls on, to Quazelzeg’s palace, to find out. Let’s get these children onto the wagons. Did you get the bard children out?”

“The girl has gone on, with Marshy,” Teb said. “The boy is here.” He drew Aven to him.

Red Unat stared at Aven. “Fine boy!” he shouted. “Hair as red as my beak!”

Aven blushed.

“We lost two brave owls,” Teb said. “The jackals killed Theeka and Keetho.”

Red Unat’s feathers bristled. His glare was terrible.

“Neeno and Afeena are badly hurt,” Teb said. “They’re in Kiri’s pack, warm and as comfortable as she could make them.”

The big owl poked his face at Kiri’s pack and murmured to the small owls. He remained talking to them until the wagons came rumbling out of the woods.

The children were bundled in among blankets. Teb and Kiri rode with them, while Seastrider and Windcaller swept off toward open sea to feed.

By the time they reached the palace, Kiri could think of nothing but food. She took Teb’s hand, and they headed for the kitchen. Garit carried the little owls into his chamber to doctor them, calling for raw meat. Red Unat rode on his shoulder, giving instructions.

In the kitchen, two townswomen were frying wheat cakes and lamb. They shouted when they saw Kiri, and hugged her. Both had fought beside her. The younger woman was a crack shot with bow and arrow, the thin, older lady had run the candle shop where the resistance hid weapons and food. Kiri kissed them and stood with Teb at the stove, eating as fast as they served up the food, blowing on each piece of lamb or wheat cake as it came out of the pan. Nothing in her life had ever tasted so wonderful. There was all the milk they could drink, and all the bread and cheese and fresh fruit they wanted. It took her a long time to get filled up, much longer than Teb. He soon pushed his plate away, looking tired and pale.

They stayed in the bustle of the kitchen, at the big table, as platters were carried out to the hall for the children. Teb was morose and silent.

“It’s all over, Teb. We did it—we got the children out.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s over, Teb.”

“I should have fought Quazelzeg harder. I . . . kept dropping into blackness, where I thought there was nothing to fight against. I—I wanted to belong to him, Kiri.”

“I know. The dragons and I sensed your battle.”

His eyes searched hers, sick at what she had seen.

She took his hand in both of hers. “I’m glad I was with you.” She tried to see his strength, see the old rebelliousness in his eyes, but she didn’t quite find either.

When they left the kitchen at last, to look for Marshy and the bard children, Kiri felt cold and disturbed. They found Marshy and Darba tucked up in bunks, under linen sheets and warm blankets, sound asleep. Aven lay awake, too filled with thoughts of Bluepiper to sleep.

“When will I see him? When will we be on Windthorst?”

“Soon,” Kiri said. “Very soon.” She straightened his covers and hugged him. They stayed with him, talking softly, until he drifted off. When they returned to the great hall, the children were still feasting, whispering softly, still too unused to their freedom to be loud and natural. Kiri wanted to gather them all in and care for them.

When she sat on the raised hearth, beside Teb, a thought kept nagging at her, that Teb might be much harder to heal than she had thought. She pushed the idea away. When she looked up, a big owl was hovering in the sun-filled doorway.

It was a brown barn owl with a face like a mask, its eyes squinting in the sunlight. When it did not see Red Unat, it dove straight to Teb.

He was smaller than Red Unat, but bigger than the little gray owls, brown as chocolate, with a creamy face. His voice was as deep as a drum.

“Sivich will attack tonight. He will ride straight for Nightpool.”

Teb sat up straighter, studying the owl.

The owl said, “Sivich was overheard to say he intends to sleep in the bed of Ebis the Black tonight— after a supper of roast otter.”

“He’ll burn in hell first,” Teb said.

“His armies wait for darkness, in the caves north of Auric.” The owl smiled a fierce hunter’s smile. “At nightfall, Camery’s troops will gather on the high ridge above them—where they can come down on Sivich like an owl on a tangle of mice.”

Teb laughed. “And we will be there. We will leave Dacia two hours before dusk, to arrive on the ridge just after dark has fallen.”

Kiri felt her heart ease with the return of Tebriel’s sure, uncomplicated strength.

“I will take the message,” the owl boomed. He swooped to the breakfast table, gulped down half a plate of lamb and wheat cakes, and with one wink at Teb, sped out the door, for Auric.

It was later, as Kiri and Teb knelt on the floor of the hall cutting out harnesses for Bluepiper and for one other young dragon, that she said, yawning, “I need sleep badly. So do you.” When she looked up, she was amazed at the anger in his eyes.

“What did I say?”

“I don’t need sleep. Don’t nag me.”

“I’m not nagging! Of course you need sleep!” She stared at him, crushed. He stared back, furious, but she saw pain deep beneath his anger, and saw confusion at his own temper. Yet when she reached to put her arms around him, he scowled and turned away, his thoughts closed to her. With a final angry glare he rose and left the hall.

She knelt there, staring after him, then followed. But halfway to the door she stopped and stood watching his retreating back. Then she spun around and ran—across the sunlit hall past the staring children, and out into the courtyard and across it. . . .

She burst into the cottage, startling Gram at the cookstove, and threw her arms around her.

When she was done crying, Gram sat her down and gave her tea and fresh bread spread with butter and honey. After finding Kiri a handkerchief, Gram said, “It was bound to happen. Be glad he is a bard.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t want to be in love with an ordinary man. Your father loved an ordinary woman. Life was hard for them. Teb’s mother loved an ordinary man. A king, but ordinary, not a bard. It must have been terrible for him when she left. You love a bard. Be glad.”

Kiri stared at Gram. Love had nothing to do with this; she was only concerned for Teb, frightened at the change in him, hurting at the terrible thing that had happened to him. She shivered and buried her face against Gram’s shoulder, uncertain how she felt.

“It will be all right, Kiri.”

“He’s so angry, Gram. So . . . different.” She didn’t want to say weakened. She didn’t want to say possessed, or remember Quazelzeg’s words . . . The bard is mine now. . . .

Gram held her and didn’t say anything, and after a while she was telling Gram all that had happened in Aquervell, all the terror of Quazelzeg’s terrifying invasion of Teb’s mind.

When she had finished, Gram held her close while she cried again. She had never been one for hysterics. What was the matter with her?

‘Tebriel needs rest, Kiri. Let him be awhile.”

Kiri shivered.

Gram held her away, looking hard at her. “Give Tebriel your faith. And your trust. He is still Tebriel! He fought beside you to save Dacia. He bled in the arena, nearly died there. Oh, Kiri, the terrible twisting of his mind, the pain, the drugs—it will take time for him to heal, but he will heal. Give him time.”

She looked steadily at Gram. “We leave for Windthorst two hours before dusk. To fight Sivich and the dark armies.”

Gram’s look went naked with fear. Then she smiled. ‘Tebriel will be strong. He will be strong, Kiri! And you will be strong, with him. Now, come, you need rest.”

Gram bedded her down on fresh sheets, near the wood fire. “Sleep for a little while. I will wake you in midafternoon.” She kissed Kiri, looking deep into her eyes, and left her.

But Kiri didn’t sleep. She lay awake thinking thoughts that would not let her sleep.