her instincts rather than any set path. The night was bright, but even without the moonlight she would have found what she was looking for. Before long she came to a large clearing where Dranymire and the demon-meld rested, still in dragon form. He opened his eyes at her approach and studied her quizzically.
“You said you would call for me.”
“Things got a bit out of hand. I had to call on Kaelarn.”
The dragon shook its massive head. “That is beginning to develop into a dangerous habit, Your Highness.”
“Don't worry, after being dragged through the ocean on the back of a water dragon, I'll think twice before I call on the gods again,” she assured him.
“Your mission was successful, then?”
“Very. Now I need your help again.”
“I live to serve, Your Highness.”
R'shiel frowned at the dragon, certain he was mocking her.
“Can you get a message back to Greenharbour? To Kalan?”
“The High Arrion? Not directly. But we can speak to Glenanaran, and he can pass on your message.”
“Tell her where Damin and Adrina are. Ask her to send a carriage. Preferably one that's closed, so that they can return to the city without being seen.”
“And you?”
“I don't think the answers I need are here in Hythria, so I want to get back to Medalon, and the only way I can do that is make sure Damin's throne is secure. I'm going to find the elusive Tejay Lionsclaw.”
The dragon closed its enormous eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Your message is being delivered as we speak, Your Highness. If you would like to climb on, we can be on our way.”
“How can you have sent the message already?”
“Not all the te Ortyn demons are part of the dragon meld. I have sent Polanymire to Greenharbour on my behalf. Did you expect me to deliver your message personally?”
“No, it's just... I thought...”
“You thought what?”
“Nothing... I just haven't worked out this demon-meld thing yet, I think. Do you suppose Brak has had any luck with Hablet in Fardohnya?”
“The demons say not.”
“Damn,” she muttered impatiently. “This is what I get for thinking everything was starting to go according to plan.”
“You actually
He was definitely mocking her now. “As a matter of fact, I do. But first I need Damin confirmed as High Prince. And I need to make sure Hythria is allied with Fardohnya. After we've tracked down the Warlord of Sunrise Province, I suppose we'll have to go to Fardohnya. Anyway, I've a feeling I'll need Brak's help once I get to the Citadel.”
“Then that is what we shall do.”
“But what about Damin and Adrina?”
“Staying with them now will serve no purpose if they do not get the aid they need, Your Highness.”
She nodded, aware that he was right, but feeling a little guilty for abandoning them, nonetheless.
“Can you send a demon to check on them? To see if they're all right?”
“They are in no danger here. But I suppose we can ascertain that they haven't killed each other.”
“That's very big of you, Dranymire.”
The demon did not appreciate her tone. “I could just as easily
“I'm sorry.”
“As you should be. Now, unless you plan to spend the night in this insect-infested swamp, I suggest you climb aboard and we shall find your lost Warlord.”
With some misgiving, R'shiel pulled herself up and settled herself between the dragon's massive wings. As Dranymire and the meld lifted into the sky, she wondered if she should have told Damin and Adrina that she was leaving. She decided it wouldn't matter. Help was on the way, and Dranymire's demon would keep an eye on them until it arrived.
Besides, they probably wouldn't even notice she was missing.
She found Tejay Lionsclaw just on dawn. From her vantage on the dragon's back, R'shiel could make out the dying fires of her campsite. Her column was camped for the night on a plain some thirty leagues from Greenharbour. Dranymire saw them and swooped downward so swiftly that R'shiel almost lost her seat.
The dragon landed in the middle of the camp, scattering cook fires and startled Raiders with equal contempt. Tejay Lionsclaw emerged from her tent, clutching a sword that R'shiel doubted she could even lift. Tall and well muscled, with thick blonde hair, the Warlord of Sunrise Province was a handsome woman. Behind her emerged a boy of about fifteen, clutching the hand of an even younger girl, who was rubbing her eyes sleepily.
“Who are you?” Tejay demanded belligerently.
“I am R'shiel te Ortyn. I am the demon child.”
Tejay studied her for a moment then held up her hand to halt the suddenly nervous troops who were advancing on them.
“The demon child? That's a legend we tell to frighten children.”
“It works pretty well on grown men, too,” R'shiel noted, glancing around at the men who were staring with undisguised terror at the dragon.
Tejay planted the sword on the ground in front of her and stared at R'shiel for a moment before glancing up at the dragon. “I suppose I must believe you, considering you arrived on the back of a dragon.”
“I thought it might save a lot of explanations.”
“Then you are sadly mistaken, demon child. Nobody lands in my camp in such a fashion without providing an explanation.”
“I come on behalf of Damin Wolfblade. Cyrus Eaglespike has laid claim to the High Prince's throne.”
“That doesn't surprise me, somehow. I've had a great deal of correspondence from him lately.” Suddenly the Warlord smiled and sheathed her sword. “I've so many of his damned pigeons in my roosts that I was tempted to throw them into the cooking pot. Come, let's talk inside.”
She led the way to her tent, where the boy and girl stood wide-eyed at the entrance, staring at R'shiel's dragon. Dranymire was quite enjoying the effect he was having, R'shiel decided, although she wasn't sure if his smug expression was real, or if she was simply imagining it.
“Divine One, this is my son Valorian and his wife Bayla.”
R'shiel thought the pair too young to be out alone at night, let alone married. She looked at Bayla curiously, but could see nothing of her father, Cyrus Eaglespike, in her. The youngsters bowed hastily as she passed them, following Tejay into the tent.
“Can I offer you refreshment, Divine One?” the Warlord asked, indicating with a wave of her arm that R'shiel should sit. She sank down onto the scattered silk cushions gratefully, her thighs still quivering from riding the dragon.
“Thank you. And you don't have to call me Divine One, my Lady. My name is R'shiel.”
“Very well, R'shiel. You may call me Tejay. Bayla!”
Her daughter-in-law's face appeared meekly through the embroidered hangings on the tent. “My Lady?”
“Make yourself useful for once and fetch us some breakfast.” When Bayla disappeared behind the curtain, Tejay sat down opposite R'shiel with a sigh. “If there is one thing I cannot abide, it is simpering females. And that girl has it down to a fine art.”
“Then why did you let her marry your son?”
“Because she came with a dowry that not even I could ignore. In hindsight, I suppose it had more to do with Cyrus Eaglespike's plans for the throne, than any great love for his daughter.”
