Dragon Blood (Hurog #2)(51)

"Who sought prophecy and gave you a chance to meddle in my business?" I asked.

The old woman's mouth smiled, though her eyes remained blank. "Meddle? I suppose that is as good a word as any." The sound of the young girl's voice in the old woman's mouth made the hair on the back of my neck rise. "Your dragon worried that you were not as he believed. He asked for my wisdom and then flinched at the cost. I gave you the opportunity to break through the barriers that had been placed between you and your magic."

I was Shavigborn and served no gods but Siphern, He whose justice ruled the Northlands. Though Aethervon was being helpful now, I didn't like Him.

My lip curled. "You used Oreg's wishes to punish him. He asked for reassurance and you took my sister, whom he was sworn to protect, forcing him to endure the pain of his broken oath. Oreg had enough pain, you didn't need to give him more."

"It reminded him who he was - your slave and not your master."

"Oreg belongs to no one," I snapped. "And never should have."

The god's voice was a deep rumble, larger than the old woman. He sounded irritated. "Oreg is yours as much as Hurog is yours. If he had not been reminded of it, your will would have bowed before his as the sapling bows before an ancient wind, and the evil that twisted the world would yet remain."

"You play games with people's lives," I said, remembering my sister's eyes, blank like the old woman's, and Oreg writhing on the ground at the base of the stone wall she'd stood upon. "You forget that they are fragile."

The god laughed, soft as thistledown in the night, and answered me with the rich velvet of a whore's trained voice. "Fragile does not describe you, Guardian of the Dragon. Thrice forged in fire you are and the stronger for it - as is the king who shall be. As the boy he was, he had no chance of outfacing his brother. But with the strength of his forging at Jakoven's hands, he shall carve a path through the bodies of his foes - or shatter like a blade that has been hardened too much."

The woman got up and bowed shallowly, as Stala taught me to bow to my opponents. Then she turned and disappeared into the foliage.

I swore and then turned to Kellen. "Do you see what I mean? Siphern save me from the whims of Tallvenish gods."

Kellen gave me a wry smile touched with real amusement. "I don't feel strong," he said. "But, unlike you, I'm not in the habit of arguing with the gods. So I'll wash up and see if I feel better in the morning."

That's it, I thought. Give yourself time to reinvent yourself. And if that fails, do it again. Just like I had.

Just as I was.

Resolutely I pushed back the sick, formless fear that welled up from my time in the Asylum.

"My lord," I said. "I'd appreciate it if you would keep my dragon a secret for now. Hurog's already had one power-mad man attack us hoping to find dragon bones - no telling what they would do to find a real dragon."

Kellen raised an eyebrow, but nodded. When he had scrubbed as well as he could, he put his head low in the water and began swimming. I kept a watchful eye on him because he was in no condition to do much, but he stopped after one lap when Rosem and Oreg, carrying clothes and toweling, entered the clearing.

I dried quickly and dressed, leaving Kellen with his man. It looked as though they had a lot to talk about. Menogue wasn't so big that they'd have trouble finding the rest of us when they were ready.

Late as it was, there were few people sleeping at camp. The story of what we were attempting had traveled through our men and sponsored a great deal of discussion, though no dissent. King Jakoven was not much liked among our men since Erdrick had died at his hands. My own capture, it seemed, had cemented the feeling.

When I approached the central fire where Duraugh was holding court, Tisala brought me a cup of tea. She ran her eye over me as if to make sure I wasn't missing any parts, and then strode back to the fire without saying a word.

Kellen and Rosem came not long after I did. Dressed and clean, Kellen looked better, but my uncle made sure that he had a wooden platter of travel bread and cheese as soon as he sat down.

"So you think Hurog is the best place to store me?" Kellen asked. Obviously Rosem hadn't wasted any time when I'd left them.

My uncle nodded. "Even if Jakoven knows that we're the ones who got you out, he'll expect us to take you to my own Iftahar or to one of the Oranstonian lords who are supporting your uncle."

"I've seen to it that Alizon knows where we take you," Rosem said. "He'll probably be there before us."

Kellen's eyebrows lowered as he stared at Rosem. "I may go to Hurog, Rosem. Indeed, it sounds as if, for the moment, that would be for the best. But if I go, it is not because I have been taken there." The frightened prisoner shaking in the water had given way to a man who had been raised as royalty.

Forged indeed, I thought, pleased.

"There are problems with Hurog," said Tosten. "You ought to know that the keep is in the process of being rebuilt. If the king discovers where you are, the walls will not hold him out."

Or at least the gates won't, I thought, remembering how little time it had taken Jakoven's men to open them.

Suddenly Kellen smiled. "I have to admit that part of the reason I'm inclined to go to Hurog is to see it for myself." He turned to me. "Rosem kept me informed about things, and I heard much of what happened when you brought the walls down on the Vorsag."