The Last Dragonlord Page 12

  Until tomorrow.

  Linden cut off the contact, leaving a part of his mind to “listen” for the bard’s next call. No sense making this any harder on Otter than it had to be.

  He was alone in the council room now, undecided about his next move. Sherrine had other plans again this evening. He shouldn’t complain; he saw far more of her than her other lover did, and her absences only made their meetings sweeter. Still, he was excited by Otter’s arrival and frustrated that he couldn’t visit with his oldest truehuman friend that moment. He wanted to be about doing something.

  Inspiration struck. What was the name of those Thalnian merchants? Erdon! That was it.

  He went to the small side table that held parchment, ink, quills, and sealing wax for the use of the council members. Gathering what he needed, he sat down and scribbled a hasty note:

  Sherrine,

  The friend I told you about on our first afternoon together has arrived in Casna. As I warned you then, I plan to spend most of my free time for a while visiting with him, as we haven’t seen each other for a few years. You’ll like him when you meet him, I think. Until then—

  Linden

  He folded the parchment and heat-spelled a stick of sealing wax, dribbling it onto the note and pressing his thumb into the cooling puddle.

  Well enough; he’d find a servant to deliver this to Sherrine and then go home to change into some old and comfortable clothes. Since he couldn’t go visit Otter, why, he’d go look at the ship Otter came in on. A moment later he was on his way.

  Fifteen

  The oxcart lurched along the ruts of the country lane. Nethuryn, sitting beside the driver, braced against the jolting. From the throne of his master’s lap, Merro surveyed the country around and purred.

  “Think ’ee likes it here,” the driver said, nodding amiably at the cat.

  “Yes,” Nethuryn answered. “And so do I,” he continued with some surprise.

  It was true. Though the journey was hard on old bones, the air here was sweet and the colors bright and new, from tiny wildflowers nodding by the road to the towering pines. Birds sang and everyone they passed called a greeting whether they knew them or not.

  The old mage looked over his shoulder at the two small bundles that held his few remaining possessions. They looked pathetically small tucked among the sacks of wheat. He’d never been so poor; he’d never felt so free.

  He was certain that somewhere ahead would be a refuge for them and the thing he could not leave behind.

  The cart rumbled on. Nethuryn stroked Merro’s head and was content.

  There were far too few workers. Maurynna swore as the barrels piled up on the dock faster than the dockhands could get them onto the carts. Much longer in this sun and she’d be selling palm wine vinegar.

  Bloody damn. She needed more workers.

  She said to Jebby, “After we unload this barrel, I want you to scour every dock for extra hands. Don’t worry; you’ll get your usual wages. You’re still working as far as I’m concerned.”

  The Cassorin woman nodded her grizzled head. “As you wish, Captain. But I don’t think I’ll have much luck. The docks have been busier than I’ve ever seen ’em lately.”

  “Do what you can.” Maurynna wiped her forehead. “Ready?” she called out.

  “Ready!” came the answer from the hold.

  She, Jebby, and the two sailors working the line with them lowered the great barrel tongs into the hold. At the call of “Set!” they hauled in the line foot by foot, Maurynna flaking it out upon the deck behind them. A barrel appeared, secure in the grip of the tongs. It swung gently in the air.

  They paced the deck, walking the yardarm until the barrel hung above the dock. Then they paid out the line until another dockhand could snag it with the boat hook and guide the barrel down. Others freed the tongs and rolled the barrel beside the others sitting on the dock.

  Jebby trotted down the gangplank and set off. Maurynna peered into the hatchway. Three faces looked up at her.

  “I want to stop unloading for a bit. It’s cooler down there than out here; the wine will be better off in the hold. We need more help to load barrels onto the carts.”

  One by one the men climbed out of the hold. They followed her down the gangplank. She stared at the barrels in dismay. If she lost this shipment, there would be someone back in Thalnia screaming for her captain’s bracelets.

  “Let’s get to work!” She bent to a barrel. Three men jumped to help her.

  Before long, she was soaked with sweat. Her patched linen tunic and breeches clung to her, chafing with every motion. To add to her misery the westering sun shone in her eyes, making her squint and giving her a headache.

  She groaned as once more she and her team of workers gently laid a barrel on its side, rolled it to the waiting cart, and bullied it up the ramp to the bed of the cart. She urged the work crew mercilessly, sparing neither herself nor them.

  “Look out! Look out!”

  Maurynna looked up. The boards of one of the ramps had slipped and a barrel teetered on the edge of the cart. Two men struggled to hold it steady.

  “Help them!” she cried, and sprang to help. She caught the end of the barrel and pushed.

  It was no good. Bit by bit, the barrel pushed her down and back. The wood dug into her cheek. She could hardly breathe. If she didn’t jump out of the way now, she’d be crushed when it went.

  A deep voice said, “I’ve got it. Let go,” and the weight miraculously disappeared.

  Maurynna staggered and fell. She sat on the dock, watching open-mouthed as a tall blond man steadied the barrel on the tailgate of the waiting cart, then rolled it to rest against its mates.

  By himself.

  The others muttered their astonishment. Maurynna blinked. Where had Jebby found this one? Gods—she didn’t care! He was easily worth any three men. She scrambled to her feet.

  He was one of the biggest Yerrins she’d ever seen. His clothes were of good quality, though not new. But why was a Yerrin horseman working the docks?

  No matter. The man was as strong as a bull. She hoped he was smarter than one, though. In her sad experience, that kind of strength and brains rarely went together.

  The new man’s head turned as if he’d been called, but Maurynna heard nothing. He smiled at her, saying, “Were you hurt? No? Good. If you’ll excuse me, then.” He walked away.

  “You!” she yelled. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back here. We’re not finished.”

  He stared at her, looking puzzled. He looked around, then pointed to himself.

  Oh, gods. Big and stupid as the day is long. “Yes, you! Get your ass over here and earn your pay!”

  An odd smile played across his mouth. Then he stripped his tunic off, tossed it to one side and trotted back.

  “What do I do?” he asked.

  “What do you think?” Maurynna said, exasperated. “Load barrels. And hurry!”

  “Then let’s get to it,” he said, grinning.

  She wasn’t sure how it happened—or even when—but she soon realized that the new man had claimed her as his partner. They worked together rolling the barrels and pushing them up the ramps.

  She carried very little of the weight—and had a sneaking suspicion that the man didn’t need even that token bit of help. His strength was frightening. Still …

  She admitted to herself that she enjoyed working with him. It felt right somehow, as if they’d worked as a team for years. She studied him from the corner of her eye.

  His clan braid was done in a noble’s pattern; Raven had shown her the different plaitings once. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the white, blue, and green cords tying it off were Snow Cat clan’s colors. She wondered if she could get him to tell her his story. She smiled as she came up with one absurd plan after another to get him alone.

  He saw her smile and answered it with one of his own—and a wink. She looked away, embarrassed.

  He’s nothing but a common dockhand, sh
e scolded herself. Maybe even an outcast.

  No matter. Her eyes slid back to him.

  He had a thick, ugly scar running from his left shoulder diagonally down across his chest. It disappeared under the breeches at his right hip. She was curious to know how he’d gotten it. She wanted to know everything about him.

  She thought, Gods, but he’s handsome. I even like the birthmark, and wondered at the intense attraction she felt.

  From the look in his eyes he felt it as well. She wondered if there was some way she could see him after this without her family finding out. They’d be furious if she took up with a dockhand.

  At long last they finished unloading the wine. Maurynna thought they’d gotten it to the warehouse in time—thanks to the new man. She called for a break. She sent one of the men to the warehouse with a message for Danaet, the Erdon’s factor in Casna. He soon returned, followed by clerks bearing pitchers of ale, mugs, and bread.

  The workers hurried to collect their food. A clerk brought her her share. She carried it onto the ship, intending to examine what was left in the hold.

  The gangplank shook behind her. She turned, somehow not surprised to see the big Yerrin behind her. After a moment, she realized that she still didn’t know his name; she asked him.

  He seemed not to hear her. His gaze roaming the ship, he said, “Where are you going?”

  “The hold. I want to see just what’s left, decide what must be unloaded before full dark.” She bit into her bread.

  He did the same with his, washing it down with some of his ale. “Can’t you use torches?”

  She smiled. “Too expensive. And the moon’s far from full tonight, so there’s no help there. You’re new working the docks, aren’t you?”

  He came close to choking at that. “Yes,” he said, an odd note in his voice. “I—I was a mercenary at one time. I’ve only sailed two or three times—short journeys.”

  She could see he was struggling not to laugh. She wondered what was so funny. But since he didn’t seem to be laughing at her, she said, “Would you like to see the hold?”

  He nodded. She set her mug and bread down and crossed the deck to the hatchway leading to the hold. She was down the ladder in a moment. He followed close behind.

  Maurynna rubbed her eyes, grateful for the dim light. “Ahhhh,” she breathed. “It feels good not to squint anymore,” she said as she turned.

  And stepped right into his arms.

  Part of her was surprised; another part had known that this would happen. One of his arms encircled her waist. The other hand brushed her cheek.

  I fit just under his chin, her mind said. Then, I shouldn’t let this happen. He thinks I’m just another dockhand. I don’t even know his name!

  She was surprised that she had no fear of what he might do. She trusted him—and somehow this felt right.

  His lips brushed hers, at first tentatively, then firmly. She sensed a hunger that should have alarmed her. Instead it awakened an answering need deep within her.

  He ended the kiss before she wanted; she stared up at him, speechless, her eyes wide. Somehow her hands had come up to meet at the back of his neck.

  Sounding a little breathless—and surprised—he began, “I hope I didn’t fright—”

  He broke off with a startled gasp. All at once he turned her face so that the light from the hatchway fell full on her. He stared into her eyes and began trembling.

  “Gods help me,” he whispered, his voice tight. “My lady—your eyes … This is the first time I’ve really seen them—they’re … they’re two different colors.”

  Confused, Maurynna tried to pull free, but he held her against him with absentminded strength. She saw that he’d paled.

  That made her angry. He’d be making the sign against the evil eye in a moment. She said, “It runs in my family. My mother had them and one cousin here in Cassori does as well. If you think they’re ugly, you needn’t—” She pushed against him.

  “Ugly! The gods as my witness, you’ve the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen!”

  He was shaking now, not just trembling, and had the look of someone who’d been given a gift by the gods themselves.

  “I don’t understand … .” she said, uneasy. “What—?”

  He placed a finger across her lips. He smiled, saying, “If I’m right, I’ll explain soon, my lady, and then—”

  Footsteps booming across the deck above their heads interrupted him. Maurynna instinctively sprang back; if that was Danaet, the factor would lecture her about dallying with a dockhand until the waves ran backward. And the gods only knew what would happen if Danaet told her aunt.

  The Yerrin let her go.

  One hand on the ladder, Maurynna, fumbling for words, said, “We’d best … I mean—”

  He nodded. “You’re right.” His voice said he wished the opposite. “Up you go,” he said, and boosted her to the top of the ladder.

  She popped out of the hold like a cork from a bottle. Mustering her dignity, she strode across the deck, ignoring the speculative looks some of the sailors slid her way. Without looking she knew the Yerrin was right behind her.

  She had to clear her throat twice before she was sure her voice wouldn’t tremble when she spoke. “Back to work!”

  Once again the Yerrin was by her side as often as the work permitted. She didn’t dare look at him; she was afraid of what the others might read in her eyes.

  Maurynna never knew when he left, only that it was sometime around sunset. She quartered the dock looking for him and even went back to the hold in case he’d hoped to meet her there alone again.

  But her Yerrin had disappeared.

  Bewildered, she kept the workers on long after she would have normally dismissed them for the day. Hang the expense of torches; maybe he would return … .

  But now the empty ship rode high in the water and there was no sign of the man. And no reason to stay at the dock any longer. The work was done. She was tired and heartsore, and wanted the comfort of her family around her.

  Maurynna found her cousin waiting in the street before the warehouse. The younger woman was mounted on one of the family’s horses and held the reins of another in her hand.

  “Thought you might be too tired to walk, beanpole,” her cousin called cheerfully. “Your friend the bard told us that you had to help with the unloading.”

  “Bless you, Maylin,” Maurynna said as she swung into the saddle. She was weary, far beyond what her aching body could account for. “You’ve no idea. How is Otter?”

  “He told us about the storm you went through. He looked so exhausted that Mother sent him straight to bed—and he was so tired he went.”

  “With no argument? Otter? Gods, that storm must have taken more out of him than I’d thought. I’m glad he’s resting.” Maurynna rolled her neck trying to ease her shoulder muscles.

  She listened with only half her mind as Maylin told her about how pleased the family was that she’d made port safely and the cold supper she’d find waiting for her. Instead she wondered how many docks in Casna she’d have to search before she found her Yerrin again.

  Sixteen

  “Linden? Linden?”

  Linden looked up. “What? I’m sorry; I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Kief said dryly, “all evening. You’ve been miles away tonight.” He sat back to allow the servant to clear the plates from the table before him.

  “Daydreaming about Sherrine?” Tarlna said. Her grin was pure wickedness.

  Linden shook his head, smiling. “No; I met someone today.” He felt a bit disloyal saying that, but if his surmise was correct …

  “Oh, my,” she mocked. “Sherrine has a rival? I don’t believe it.”

  Linden pushed away from the table. “Shall we have our wine in the gazebo? It’s a beautiful night.”

  He continued in their minds, And away from the servants. There’s something I need to talk about with both of you. He let a brief touch of his elation f
low through the contact.

  The others exchanged brief glances. Kief said, “Of course we could.”

  Tarlna rose from her chair, goblet in hand. “A lovely idea, Linden.” She took the hand that Kief offered her.

  They didn’t speak as they passed through the halls of the riverside estate given over to Kief and Tarlna’s use. As they approached the many-paned doors leading to the gardens, Linden shook his head.

  He said, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. When I was with Bram and Rani, glass was rare. Now people have pane after pane of it set in doors or windows from floor to ceiling.”

  “I know what you mean,” Kief said. “I didn’t see glass—other than some small beads—until well after I’d Changed.”

  They passed through the doors to the warm darkness outside. One of the servants followed, carrying a flask of wine.

  “No need, Harn; we’ll serve ourselves. Just give me the wine,” Kief said.

  The man stood on the threshold, clutching the flask. A smile crossed his square, blocky countenance. “Your indulgence, Dragonlords; it would be my—”

  Linden took the wine from him. “We don’t wish to interfere with your regular duties, Harn. Don’t worry about us.” To himself he thought, Lazy wretch. I daresay serving wine in the garden is indeed easier than what he usually does.

  Harn licked his lips. “But—”

  “No,” Kief said. His voice was gentle but brooked no argument.

  Harn retreated.

  They started down the brick path to the gazebo. Linden stooped and snapped off a branch from the lavender hedges bordering the walk. He sniffed the grey-green leaves, wishing for the scents of salt, tar, and sweat.

  Kief chuckled, shaking his head. “While I admire dedication in a servant, there are times …”

  “Dedication, my ass. He didn’t want to polish silver or whatever he’s supposed to do,” Linden retorted, laughing.

  “No,” Tarlna said. “You’re both wrong. Did either of you see the look on his face when he went inside?”