Fool's Quest - Страница 157

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Rapskal’s glare met Reyn’s flat stare. I sensed a power struggle in which, perhaps, we were no more than pawns. General Rapskal would not be the first military leader to believe he could rule better than his king. After a moment, Rapskal replied, “Of course I will.” His words said one thing, his tone another. Quietly he added, “I will be proved correct,” and preceded us into the room.

Reyn’s facial expression did not change. He stepped aside to allow the general passage and then with a sweep of his arm gestured that we should enter. I heard a swift tapping of boots behind me and risked a quick glance. Lant and Per were hurrying down the corridor. Both were red-cheeked and smiling. They’d enjoyed their outing in the wintry streets of Kelsingra. I could not stop them from running into the same snare that held us.

I spoke calmly to Amber. “Ah, here are Lord Lant and young Perseverance come to join us. They look as if they’ve had a lively morning.”

“Oh, sir!” Per was gasping from his excitement as well as his pace. “The magic of this place is everywhere. The things I’ve seen this morning!” His grin widened. “And Motley is fine! I was worried for her, but she came and landed on my shoulder. She would not stay. The city makes her uncomfortable, but oh, sir, it’s wonderful!”

“Later,” I warned him in a kindly voice. “Compose yourself and show your best Six Duchies manners, boy. Just as Foxglove taught you.” They both gave me puzzled looks. Puppies. Little more than puppies. I could do nothing to make my warning plainer, and neither Lant nor Perseverance wore a blade, I noted. At least not one I could see. I had two small knives concealed on my body. I hoped we would not be searched.

Rapskal’s guard fell in behind us as we entered. King Reyn had gone ahead of us and was already speaking to Malta while General Rapskal stood nearby, scowling and shifting. I took in the details of the hall as quickly as I could. There were rows of the false windows down both sides of the chamber. No escape there. Not many folk were gathered. I estimated there were fewer than twenty Elderlings and about the same number of folk who bore the marks of dragon change without the beauty the Elderlings possessed. The serving man who had escorted us was moving hastily about the hall, gathering other servants and escorting them out. I led my small party down the center of the room. Malta was already seated in a tall chair on a modest dais. She regarded me with a tentative, hopeful smile. To the right of Reyn’s chair but not on the dais, Ephron sat on a simpler chair. He grinned at us. Among the onlookers, a child coughed and then began to cry noisily. I heard a father trying to comfort it. All fell silent as the doors closed behind us with a thump. We were the only humans left; all around us Elderlings lined the walls and looked at us. Reyn hastened to take his place. This was our formal welcome to Kelsingra, and as one who had seen many royal occasions, I did not find it especially impressive.

“I cannot see,” Amber reminded me in a soft whisper. Her hand on my arm was trembling slightly. I wondered what she imagined. A horde of armed guards ready to sweep us off to a torture chamber? I was not entirely certain that would not happen. At her words, Spark began a hasty and whispered description. I was grateful.

At what I considered a respectful distance from the dais I halted our party. “Now we make our courtesies,” I told them in a low voice.

“Not too deep a bow. You are a prince,” Lant reminded me. A useful thought.

“Welcome to Kelsingra,” King Reyn greeted us. “My friends and fellow traders, before us stand emissaries from the distant Six Duchies: Prince FitzChivalry Farseer and Lord Lant. Accompanying them is Lady Amber, known to some of you as a friend and to others by reputation. You will remember that her loaning of funds was instrumental to the rebuilding of Bingtown and the resettling of the former slaves in Trehaug. Prince FitzChivalry comes to us as not only an emissary but also a healer. Last night he kindly shared his ability to aid my son Ephron. All of you know that Phron has suffered badly from a breathing blockage. Now he can breathe, talk, and once more eat and drink and move freely. For this, both Malta and I offer thanks.”

“And I!” Ephron injected with a smile. There was a scattering of laughter at his irreverence, and I perceived that this was more like a merchant guild’s meeting than a royal reception.

“King Reyn and Queen Malta, good morning,” I began. “We are here, as you invited us to be. I was very glad to be of service to you yesterday. It is our hope that the Six Duchies and Kelsingra can remain trading partners and firm friends.” A general enough statement that I hoped I had not compromised any treaties Dutiful had in mind. “The wonders of your city have astounded all of us. Such a grand and wonderful hall! I see that there are other Elderlings in attendance here, their children with them.” I smiled and let my glance sweep the hall. I wondered if the Fool’s dragon-sense could tell him how many there were.

I paused to draw breath, and in that moment General Rapskal stepped out from the gathering. “My friends and fellow dragon-keepers, I beg you to be wary. Malta and Reyn are too trustful of these travelers, blinded by parental gratitude. They are here not as emissaries, but as spies and thieves!”

I did not miss that he did not accord Malta and Reyn royal titles. Amber’s grip on my forearm tightened. I kept the dignity of a still face and wondered if Reyn or Malta would defend us or if I must cobble together a quick riposte.

A tall Elderling with lavender-and-black scaling stepped forward. He carried a small boy in his arms. The child looked to be about three, but his head lolled weakly as if he were a newborn. The man’s violet eyes were very large in his pale face and he blinked them at me slowly. His lips were dark. No wonder or alarm showed on his face, only weariness. “Enough words. I came here for my boy’s sake. Rapskal, I don’t care if they’ve stolen Icefyre’s back teeth. Help my child. That’s all I care about just now.” The woman at his side was far more human than Elderling but still obviously marked by dragon contact. Her jaw was fringed with dangling growths like a sun-lizard’s. She clasped her hands under her chin as if praying, and a line of silvery scales showed in the parting of her dark hair.

“Nortel, I understand that you feel—”

“No, Rapskal! You don’t understand. You don’t have a child, let alone a child who is slowly dying. So you can’t understand and you don’t understand. You don’t need to be here, all dressed up like soldiers. Neither does Kase or Boxter. You should all leave.”

“Hey!” One of Rapskal’s guardsmen was clearly insulted. His copper eyes flashed and the color in his bronze-and-orange scaling heightened. “I’ve got a child. I understand.”

Nortel rounded on him. “No, Kase, you don’t understand. Skrim dotes on your little girl. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t see her climbing on his tail or sitting on his leg. He’s scarcely been gone for a week since she was born. But my Tinder left when Maude was still pregnant and hasn’t returned. He’s never even seen Rellik, let alone shaped him. And we can’t wait any longer for my dragon to come back and do right by my son.”

“Not conducted like any monarchy I’ve ever encountered,” Amber observed under her breath. But Amber could not see what I could. Nortel marched toward me, his listless child jouncing in his arms. The child’s eyes were dull and uninterested in his fate. Maude followed him, her hands over her mouth now. “Please, sir, if you can help my boy, help him. Help him now. Please.” He tipped the boy away from his shoulder and held him out to me. The boy’s head and legs dangled, and I did not even think as I reached out to support his lolling head.

I shot a questioning glance toward Reyn, but it was Malta who was nodding like a toy, her hands clasped as if in supplication.

“I cannot make any promises …”

“I don’t ask any. Do what you can, for he grows weaker with every passing day. Please. Help my boy, and anything within my power is yours.”

“The lives and health of children are not to be bartered,” Amber said clearly. “What he can do, he will. But it may take a toll on the child as well. His body will heal him; the prince will but guide the process. It can be taxing. I speak from experience.”

The parents did not hesitate. “Please,” begged Nortel. I looked around at the clustered Elderlings. Some held children. If I failed, I had no idea what would befall us. I set my other hand on the boy that his father offered to me.

I lowered my walls.

The Skill immersed me, as if I had stepped into a surging wave. It filled and flooded me and then connected me to the child I touched. I knew this boy, this Elderling child, and knew how he should have grown, and saw what his body needed to do to correct itself. The Skill that flowed through me diverted to flow through him. The lure of the Skill, the terrible danger of that heady magic that every Skill-candidate is taught to block and suppress, shone before me in all its glittering, surging beauty. We dived into it and swam through it. His own body opened what was constricted, loosened what was too tight. It was a perfect alignment of purpose and solution. I guided the power as if I were tracing the lettering on a precious scroll. Perfect. He would be perfect. He smiled at me and I smiled back. I gazed at him and through him and saw what a marvelous creature was this child.

“I, I felt him heal!” Someone said this, at a great distance, and then he took from me the beauty of what I had mended. I opened my eyes, wavering on my feet. Nortel held his son. The boy was weak but smiling. He held his head steady and reached up a thin hand to touch his father’s scaled cheek and then laughed aloud. Maude gave a shriek and embraced them both. They stood, the three of them a weeping, smiling pillar.

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