The Last Dragonlord Page 21

  “At first I didn’t pay them any mind, not really. Why should I? They were commoners. I didn’t bother about them until the younger man talked—he sounded familiar. He said something about wanting to see shadow puppets or some such thing. But he kept his face turned away so that I almost didn’t recognize him. After all, I’ve never seen him when he wasn’t wearing the formal regalia. He wasn’t even wearing his torc of rank.

  “They all talked a bit more with the merchant, something about a feast, and they were all laughing together.”

  Niathea stopped and heaved a great breath as if she’d run through her entire tale without breathing once. She looked down, folded her lips over a smile, and said, “I’m so sorry, Sherrine dear.”

  Sherrine nearly laughed aloud. This was Niathea’s great tale of woe for her? She smiled at Niathea and thought how pleasant it was to disappoint the poisonous little bitch.

  Sherrine raised her eyebrows. Letting her amusement color her voice, she said, “My dearest Niathea, I already knew about Linden’s bard friend and that he would be spending time with him. He spoke to me of him some time ago. So you see, there is nothing in your little story for you to be … upset … about.”

  But who are the women—especially the Thalnian? I don’t like the way Niathea looked when—Sherrine cut off the thought. She continued as if instructing a particularly simple child: “The bard is Otter Heronson, as you would have known if you—”

  Gone now was any pretense at sympathy. “She—the sailor—called him Linden,” Niathea said in triumph. “They all did, but you could hear the caress in her voice when she said his name. And he didn’t stop her—oh, no. When they were outside the shop, he held her back a moment and kissed her before they went off down the street after the others. And he put his arm around her shoulders.”

  Niathea’s lips curled in a cruel smile. She pushed the sweaty curls back from her face and leaned forward, her face only inches away.

  Sherrine pressed herself back into the cushions.

  Niathea’s eyes blazed and venom poured forth from her tongue like a river that had been dammed for too long. “All along you’ve been gloating because Linden Rathan chose you, lording it over the rest of us, bragging how he was yours alone. Not anymore. You’ve been thrown over for a great horse of a Thalnian—a sailor, no less—as sunburned and calloused as any peasant behind a plow.

  “I saw the way he looked at her, Sherrine. You’ve lost him—forever.”

  She had no memory of leaving the solar. Only of mocking laughter chasing her.

  Tandavi found her stumbling through the halls. The servant’s slim arms caught her, held her tightly.

  “My lady! What’s wrong?” Tandavi cried.

  Sherrine wiped her eyes. For a moment she stared at Tandavi without recognizing her. Then she collected her wits and whispered, “What answer did Linden Rathan give you?”

  That answer would tell her whether Niathea lied—or whether she had indeed lost him. When Tandavi didn’t speak right away, Sherrine shook her. “Tell me!”

  “H-he—he looked annoyed, said he had another engagement, my lady, the friend he’d told—Ow! My lady!” Tandavi clutched at her wrists.

  Sherrine numbly watched the blood well up in the furrows her nails had dug on the girl’s arms. The pattern of red against white skin fascinated her.

  “Oh, gods, Tandavi—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …” She came to herself abruptly. Oh, gods indeed—she must be more shaken than she thought, apologizing to a servant.

  Tandavi gulped in surprise. “It’s no matter, my lady,” she sniffled. “But what’s wrong—?”

  “Nothing. Be quiet. Let me think.” Sherrine leaned back against the cold granite wall of the narrow hallway, glad that few people came to this older section. The fewer who saw her like this, the better. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, willing herself to calmness.

  She would not give up Linden without a fight. That was unthinkable; her pride would not allow it. Even if her rival had been noble-born, she would not have stood meekly aside. But that she should be cast aside for a commoner!

  And there was her mother. Sherrine could already hear Anstella gloating: “Little fool—can’t you do anything right? He threw you over for a sailor?”

  An image of calloused hands, brown against Linden’s fair skin, came to her mind. She saw them running down his back … . She ground her hands into her eyes, banishing the picture. She must think this through.

  First, she had to find out her rival’s name. But how? She could hardly search the docks looking for a Thalnian woman who captained a ship.

  How, how, how?

  “Gerd Warbek.” Sherrine dropped her hands. Surely the merchant knew who the captains were or knew how to find out. It might take him a few days, but Warbek would find out for her; the man would do anything to keep the patronage of the Colranes.

  She pushed herself off from the wall. “Oh, yes; he’s the person to ask. Come along, Tandavi. I’ve business with Master Warbek. And then with a certain Thalnian sailor.”

  Thirty-one

  “It’s wonderful up here!” Linden said. “You can see for miles.”

  Maurynna smiled wryly at him from her own perch. They sat on the topmost yard, on either side of the mast; each had an arm wrapped around it to steady themselves against the gentle sway. It was one of her favorite places to sit and think whenever the Sea Mist was at dock. “Stop teasing. You know you can get much higher than this yourself and see much, much farther.”

  He grinned back, looking like an unrepentant and utterly wicked little boy. “True. But the company isn’t as good. Or as beautiful.”

  “Linden!” Pure pleasure suffused her. But blast it all, judging by the sudden heat in her face, she knew she was—

  “Especially when you blush like that.”

  “You are even more of a tease than Otter is, do you know that?” she demanded. Then, more softly, “But thank you, anyway.”

  He stroked her face lightly with the fingers of his free hand. “Maurynna-tove—I meant that. Truly. Every word.”

  She kissed the palm of his hand, thinking, This is a dream. It has to be a dream. This can’t be happening to me.

  But the hand that now caught her free one was big and warm and strong. He laced his fingers through hers. She was content.

  They sat together without speaking for a long time. It was a comfortable silence, with a closeness in it that Maurynna treasured, hoarding memories against the time this idyll ended with his return to Dragonskeep or her departure for her next port.

  Then Linden sat up straighter and pulled his hand away. “Look—there’s one of the royal barges sailing up the river.” He pointed.

  Blast. Her fingers felt lonely already. Stifling a sigh, Maurynna shaded her eyes against the evening sun and looked.

  Sure enough, she picked it out immediately from all the other vessels plying the Uildodd. Banners of the royal scarlet fluttered at its bow and stern, and the wood of the rails and cabin was gilded where it wasn’t painted scarlet. To her eyes it looked both dumpy and gaudy, like an overweight and overpainted whore.

  Still, the thing was solidly built. Gajji must have been wrong … . Following the thought, she mused aloud, “That must have been some storm that day.”

  Linden picked up her meaning as though he read her thoughts. “You mean the day Queen Desia drowned? No, it wasn’t. At least, that’s what I was told.”

  Frowning in puzzlement, Maurynna said, “I was told the same—and by another sailor. So why did that barge sink?”

  Linden looked at her and shrugged. “Even that was too much for it? The water came over the back end, I heard.”

  “Stern,” Maurynna corrected absently. She shook her head. “No, Linden. I know ships. Those barges wallow like pregnant cows in the water, but even they shouldn’t dip their stems low enough to founder in a small following sea—and that’s all it was, Gajji said.”

  “Then why? …” Linden asked. He t
urned his head to watch the barge once more, as if he might find his answer there.

  “I don’t know,” Maurynna said. “But it’s very, very odd.”

  Linden started to say something, but a shout from below interrupted him.

  “Hoy, up there! Did you two forget we’re to have dinner tonight with Almered and Falissa?” Otter stared up at them, hands on hips. Even foreshortened as her view of him was, Maurynna could see the toe of one boot impatiently tapping the deck.

  She clapped her hand to her mouth; she had forgotten about dinner. “Oh, dear.”

  She looked down at herself. Patched tunic and breeches, and Linden not much better; they’d worn their oldest clothes to clamber about the Sea Mist’s rigging while she taught Linden what was what. Though he still said “rope” more often than not, he was learning fast.

  No, these clothes wouldn’t do at all. “I must go home and change,” she said.

  For a moment a startled look filled Linden’s eyes. Then he blinked and said, “Oh! Of course. So must I. We’d better hurry”

  She was already swinging down from the yard and clambering down the rat lines as fast as she could. “Indeed.”

  Moments later her feet hit the deck with a thump. She sprang aside to make room for Linden, who was right behind her. Otter, she saw, was already properly dressed.

  He’d also had their horses brought right down to the dock. “Hurry,” he urged them, running for his own horse.

  Linden tossed her up into her saddle and vaulted into his own. He leaned over and gave her a quick, hard kiss, then wheeled his horse away. “Otter, come with me, why don’t you? Tell me how Rann was when you left him.” His ugly pied gelding danced under him, impatient to be off. “I’ll be at the house soon,” he called to Maurynna. “Until then, love.”

  “Until then, Linden,” she said, her heart singing at the caress in his voice. He smiled and rode off, Otter close behind.

  She watched him a moment before setting heels to her own horse. She hadn’t much time.

  Maurynna paused halfway down the stairs, Maylin and Kella a few steps behind her. She cocked her head at the noise outside. Horses—was Linden here already? True, he’d said he’d hurry, but this was faster than she’d expected. Her heart beating faster in anticipation, she gathered up her skirts to run the rest of the way.

  The door burst open and one of the apprentices, Gavren, dashed in, forgetting to shut it again. His face was white. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and waved his hands at her. “Go back,” he gasped, then disappeared into the back of the house.

  “What? Isn’t that Linden? Maylin, what—,” Maurynna stopped in confusion.

  Maylin pushed past her. “Wait here,” she ordered.

  Maylin ran down the stairs and peeked out the door. Whatever she saw there made her pull hurriedly back, using language Maurynna didn’t think her cousin even knew. She dashed back up the stairs. “Not Linden,” Maylin puffed. Her eyes were wide with fright. “Rynna, go—”

  “If you kneel, you can see out the door,” Kella whispered. “Not very well, but enough.”

  Maurynna joined the little girl in peering between the banisters. Maylin fluttered for a moment then settled beside them.

  From her vantage point Maurynna could see Aunt Elenna’s back. Her aunt had one arm raised; Maurynna guessed she held a torch.

  Just beyond Aunt Elenna was a woman on horseback. Of her, Maurynna could see only her skirts and hands. One hand held a riding whip, tapping it incessantly against the pommel of the saddle.

  The courtyard was brighter than could be accounted for by one torch. Maurynna remembered the other horses she’d heard, the ones she’d assumed were Linden’s escort. By the jangling of harness they were still out there. Add to that the fine fabric of the skirts she could see and this must be a noblewoman and her escort, the latter carrying torches among them.

  Maurynna heard the woman say, “Once again—where is this Maurynna Erdon? Send her out, or I’ll have my guards look for her.” Her low, husky voice was menacing.

  Maurynna had a sinking feeling that she could guess which noblewoman was asking for her. She asked Maylin, “Lady Sherrine?” At Maylin’s nod, she continued, “And she wishes to … speak with me?”

  “Yes.” Maylin’s voice was barely audible. “Get back up the stairs, Rynna. She hasn’t seen you; Mother’s keeping the torch between her eyes and the door. She can’t see beyond it.

  “Go on; we’ll get rid of her—tell her you’re at the docks. A fine lady like her won’t go there, especially at night. Hide until Linden comes. This tangle is of his making; he started it when he dallied with her. Let him sort it out.”

  Outraged at the suggestion, Maurynna began, “I’ve done nothing wrong that I should hide like a thief. And I certainly won’t run from—”

  Maylin, cuddling the frightened Kella against her, snapped, “Oh, don’t be an ass, Rynna—you don’t know what she’s like. The Colranes are chancy to cross. And Lady Sherrine is a bad one—Mother hates it when she or her mother the baroness come into the shop. She says their business isn’t worth it.”

  Maurynna raised her eyebrows. That her practical aunt was so ready to do without a baroness’s patronage told her much about the Colranes. She wavered, not sure of what she should do: retreat or confront this woman? If only her rival for Linden’s affections weren’t noble … . She cursed softly, wishing this were happening in Thalnia. Her status as a member of House Erdon wouldn’t help her here in Cassori—not against a noble.

  “Go!” Maylin pushed her up the stairs.

  “You’ve no warrant from the palace guard or the Watch,” she heard her aunt say as she went up a step or two.

  “I need none,” was the reply. “Guards!”

  Maurynna heard the guards dismounting and turned without hesitating. She gently pushed Maylin to one side, stepped around Kella, and strode down the stairs to the door, her head held high. She’d not be dragged out like a common criminal.

  Maylin thumped down the stairs behind her, muttering, “Of all the pig-headed, stubborn …”

  Gathering her skirts in one hand, Maurynna, with Maylin treading on her heels, made a dignified descent of the three steps to the courtyard. She stepped around her aunt and crossed the few feet to stand before Lady Sherrine. “I understand you are looking for me, my lady,” she said.

  She waited in the pool of light cast by the torches. The darkness beyond was impenetrable. In the silence that followed she had time to notice how warm the night air was, the lingering sweetness of the roses that climbed the walls of the house. The cobblestones were hard and cold through the thin soles of her indoor shoes.

  Lady Sherrine said nothing for a long moment, then: “You are Maurynna Erdon, captain of the Sea Mist?”

  “I am.” Maurynna looked the noblewoman straight in the eye. Remember—you’re not in Thalnia. To this woman you have no rank.

  They studied each other in silence. Though she took care to give no outward sign, her first sight of her rival shook Maurynna badly. Even in the poor light of the torches Lady Sherrine’s beauty was astonishing.

  Look at her, sitting straight as a mast in the saddle, Maurynna thought. She’s like something out of a bard’s song made real, beautiful as a song of autumn. She looked at the delicate hands gripping reins and whip and thought of her own work-roughened fingers.

  She wondered what color Sherrine’s large, slightly tilted eyes were. No doubt hers will match, not like mine. She’s perfection, pure and simple, Maurynna thought with despair. No wonder Linden chose her for a dalliance—and how did I ever think that I might take him away from her? Now I know why he’s never even hinted that I stay the night with him.

  Maurynna felt like a fool. But she would never give this woman the satisfaction of knowing that. Even if Linden has been toying with me, she has no right to look at me as if I’m something out of the gutter. She stiffened her spine.

  “My lady, you asked for me and here I am. You have said nothing. Am
I to conclude then that you require nothing further of me? If so, I—”

  The whip snapped against the saddle and was still. The horse snorted in surprise.

  Lady Sherrine spat, “While I know you are nothing more than a diverting little amusement to him, I require you to stay away from Linden Rathan, you sneaking little moneygrubber. How dare you look so high above yourself?”

  Because I’m a starry-eyed idiot, Maurynna thought. Then she reminded herself that Linden had sought her out, not the other way around. A tiny flower of hope bloomed. She said quietly, “With all due respect, my lady, isn’t this up to Linden? He—”

  The horse leaped forward. Maurynna dodged to one side barely in time to avoid being knocked down. She heard Aunt Elenna and Maylin scream and the harsh cries of the guards. Hands—she thought they were her aunt’s—tried to catch her, but she stumbled from their grasp.

  Lady Sherrine raged, “You dare to use his name? He is ‘Dragonlord’ to the likes of you, gutter rat!” She brought the palfrey around in a tight, rearing curve.

  Time slowed down. Every moment stretched out forever; Maurynna saw everything with a terrible clarity. She was frozen in place just as in her worst nightmares. The scent of woods lily nearly overwhelmed her.

  The lash of the whip across her face broke her paralysis, the thin tip raking her eye. She screamed; it felt as though a dagger fresh from the forge slashed across her eye. She nearly fainted.

  Someone caught her as she fell to the hard cobblestones and lowered her to her knees. She thought it was Maylin. She cradled her face in her hands, fighting the faintness. Warm blood welled between her fingers and ran down her hands. Somewhere behind her Kella began crying hysterically.