one of the elves, ever, that had been worth anything at all—and it was all too apparent from everything she had learned, then and since, that Valyn had been an anomaly among his kind, an elven lord with a conscience and a heart.
'I be damn glad t' hev that, lady,' Collen breathed, fervently. 'An' that be a fact.'
She nodded, pleased. At that point, they reached the mouth of the cavern-complex; the entrance was quite impressive, being about three stories tall, opening into the side of the hill and surrounded by heavy woods. Neither the wizards nor the dragons had done anything to alter the entrance, and from here, there was no sign of the mage-lights or the smooth path deep within. Kalamadea conjured a hand-light, and continued to lead the way; Shana called up a light of her own and brought up the tail.
The ground was a bit uneven here, and the traders stumbled now and again. Their footsteps echoed in the vast darkness as they descended, and a couple of the children whispered nervously to their parents as they paced nervously into the cool and gloom. Shana smiled to herself: they were in for a surprise.
The pathway down made an abrupt curve, doubling back on itself, and that was where the mage-lights began, out of sight of the entrance.
The dragons had placed their lights with care, illuminating not only the pathway, but the most impressive of the cave formations as well. For the first time, Shana heard the voice of someone other than Collen in this group, as first the children, then the adults, began to talk quietly to one another, pointing out this or that formation in tones of awe and wonder.
But the best was yet to come, as the cave narrowed, and finally widened out again into the Great Hall. Mage-lights were everywhere, in globes along the walls, and even in the cluster at the top of the ceiling. The humans blinked as they emerged into the spacious Hall, and stared about with as much shock as surprise.
Denelor had been as good as his word; he had arranged for tables and benches, lights and plenty of food— and a good number of the wizards to share the meal, including Parth Agon. The eyes of the children and adults alike went wide at the sight of all the people, but Collen seemed to take it all in stride. He left Shana and went to the head of the group, made a nice little speech of gratitude to Denelor, and then ushered all of his people to the seats awaiting them. Very clearly, no matter what he had claimed earlier, he was not 'just' the scout for the traders, he was their real leader.
Well, that tallied with the glimpse she'd had into his memory.
With customary tact, Denelor had seen to it that not only was Parth Agon seated with himself, Shana, and Kalamadea at the strangers' table, but so were several of the human children Shana had rescued and brought to the old Citadel. The sight of other full humans seemed to reassure Collen's folk; they relaxed, and so did Collen.
They were hungry, but not starving; they ate well, but did not bolt the food nor stuff themselves—except at the sweet course, when their greed was frankly shared by the wizards as well. The trader children and the former slaves began eyeing each other halfway through the meal, shyly, and there were signs of tentative overtures on the part of the strangers' children as well as Shana's brood. She didn't get much of a chance to watch the children, however, for as soon as Collen's appetite was satisfied, he cleared his throat in a significant manner, and got the attention of all of the Citadel adults at his table.
'I tol' these three, down by river, we be outlaws, traders,' he began, taking it on himself to repeat what the others might not yet have heard. Clearly, he was not assuming that they all had the same ability as Shana to speak mind to mind. 'Some on us be freeborn, some on us be 'scaped. We trade, lak, wit' collared that be workin' fer th' cat-eyed.'
Parth Agon, the only one at this table other than the children for whom this really was new information, considered it and nodded. 'So long as you keep them from following you—which, presumably, is not difficult if you travel by water—you should be safe enough. So—I take it that you trade whatever odd things happen to come your way, and they in turn take the goods back to their overlords?'
'Summat lak that,' Collen agreed. 'We got an unner-standin', lak. We—we're willin' t' chance risks they ain't. We bring in thin's th' cat-eyed don' see much. Furs, mostly, but now an' agin' it's summat odd. They tell th' cat- eyed 'twas they went an' fetched the things, an' they keep quiet 'bout us.
We get what we can' make, can' grow, lak. Now, we ain't 't only freeborn out here—
'You're not?' Parth Agon's eyebrows rose, though it was obvious to Shana. How could you be a trader with no one to trade things to?
Collen shrugged. 'Tothers, 'tis th' odd clan, family, all farm folk, lak; couple herders, couple hunters, trappers, an' we trade wi' 'em all. They bin here since there was dirt. Got nothin' th' cat-eyed want t' go huntin' after, not no kinda threat, wouldn' know one end uv a spear from 'tother, so they ain't gonna fight. Them cat-eyed pointy-ears, they got to figger us traders is bad, since we got runaways 'mongst us, so we don' let 'em know we's here. But them—nay, they ain't no threat, an' cat-eyes don' care if they be out here. So figger we make same deal wi' ye as we got wi' them. An' ye can find summat t'trade, we take it downriver, an' get what ye canna make nor grow. Tell us what ye need. We get some, ye get some.'
'Fairly standard offer, fairly made,' Parth Agon said at last. 'Denelor?'
'Oh, I've been in favor all along,' Denelor replied quickly. 'The—ah—storerooms won't stay full forever.' He said nothing about the complete lack of crafting or farming ability among the wizards; he didn't have to. Parth Agon knew that lack as well as he. Eventually the wizards were going to have to learn to work with their hands, but the longer it took to come to that eventuality, the better off they would all be.
The more time we have, the more time we have to get some practice in. I'd really rather not trust my soup to a wizard's first pot.
'A very good point.' Parth Agon actually turned to Shana before he checked with Kalamadea. 'Shana?'
'You could—if you want—ask him mind to mind,' she said forthrightly. 'Collen has the human mage-craft, and you know he won't be able to lie mind to mind. But I don't think that will be necessary. He has a great deal to gain by dealing fairly with us, and a lot to lose if he doesn't.'
'The only question is—what have we got at the moment that we can trade that wouldn't be traced back to wizards?' Parth Agon mused aloud.
Shana's mind ran to the metals and gems that Keman said lay in these mountains—would the dragons be able to get enough out at this short a notice to make it worth the traders' while? And would it be wise to divert them from the important work of shaping the Citadel? It took a long time to bring up gold, and longer to extract gems; that much she recalled from her years of living among them. How much of the dragons' precious time could they all spare?
Keman coughed shyly, and they all turned to look at him. 'You know,' he said, ducking his head a little, 'you could say that our troubles started over that bit of—of hide that the elves called 'dragon-skin,' the stuff Shana's tunic was made from when she was taken captive. The elves wanted that stuff, they sent out all sorts of expeditions looking for the source of it—and we have more of it right here.'
'Dragon skin?' Collen looked very puzzled. 'Can ye show me what 'tis ye be callin' 'dragon skin'?'
'Just a moment—' Keman slid out of his seat and ran off, returning in a few moments with a strip of his own shed skin, wide as a human's palm and about as long as a man's arm. Since it was Keman's, it was a brilliant blue, overlaid with a shimmer of rainbow hues. Collen bit off an exclamation, and reached out involuntarily to touch it, then pulled back.
'Go ahead,' Keman urged, handing it to him. 'It's pretty tough.'
Collen took the strip of skin gingerly, testing the strength and suppleness, and running his hands down the smooth scales. 'Where ye get this?' he asked, his eyes filled with wonder.
Evidently, although he had heard of the second Wizard War, he had not heard of the existence of real dragons. Had the elves decided they were illusions? Or had they made up their minds that the dragons had been constructs, artificial creatures made by some of the strongest wizards?
If they had, that certainly eased some of Shana's guilt about the situation. She still felt bad that the dragons had been forced to abandon their long-held secret to help her and her friends. She hadn't wanted the elves to know about the dragons, any more than the dragons had, and for good reason. The elves would never tolerate a race as powerful as the dragons or allow them to continue to exist in the same world—and as Keman had said, they wanted the dragons' skins. They would quite happily kill every dragon alive for the sake of the skins.
:He can't know about you, Keman,: she told him. -:Make something up, quick.:
'It's from a lizard, and we use magic to make it prettier,' Keman lied blithely. 'We can make a lot of it, and we have quite a bit on hand now. It's very useful.' He glanced over at Kalamadea, who nodded agreement 'It's tough,
