He fell silent after that. It was as if the dull light of this dusty passage leached out his vitality, or his memories of what had once been. I asked him no more questions but only found Rwyan’s hand and walked beside her in silence.
Bellek brought us to chambers along the way. Three, set at intervals down the corridor. Each had a door of black wood banded with golden hinges. Clean and uncorrupted by time: as if held in readiness. He ushered Rwyan and me into the first.
He said, “I trust you’ll be comfortable here. Do you need me, I shall be in the hall. Am I not, I’d suggest you wait for me there-this is a large place, and somewhat mazeish. Also, do you wander outside, beware the bulls.”
We entered the chamber. I was surprised to find it clean. There was no dust on the smooth stone floor, nor any webbing about the arching bands of stone that shaped the roof and walls. Wide windows of unsullied glass looked over the valley, and when I peered down, I saw a veil of distant smoke rising, as from farms or villages. There was a massive bed, set with clean linen, and a vast armoire. Behind a door of polished wood was a cubicle that held a bath and such other offices as I’d seen only in the grandest keeps.
Rwyan said, “There’s magic here.”
I surveyed the room and said, “At least it’s clean.”
She said, “That’s magic at work. Bellek’s more talent than he admits.”
I said, “And yours?”
She closed her eyes, as if in thought, then smiled and told me, “Returned in full. There are no constraints any longer.”
I said, “Save that we’re now his … guests. Or his prisoners?”
She laughed and took my hands, “looking” up into my doubting eyes. “Daviot,” she said, “he saved us. Were it not for him, we’d be dead now. That, or worse.”
I said, “Yes; I’ll not argue that. But now? Must we live here the rest of our lives, whilst all the world falls down in bloodshed? By Ennas Day, Allanyn claimed. I’d not stand idly by to witness that war.”
She kissed me on the cheek. “Think you I forget that date? Or those dreams you spun in Durbrecht? I’ve not, but nor do I forget that now we have a future-thanks to Bellek and the dragons. Think on that.”
I did, murmuring agreement even as my mind raced. I’d spoken then of riding dragons in defense of Dharbek. Might we now, Rwyan and I, make that dream flesh? The dragons had seemed only fancy once, and I the only Trueman who thought of them at all. Now I knew them for creatures of flesh and blood and bone-and more!-and so perhaps that other dream might be made reality. But not now in defense of Dharbek alone; rather, as instruments of peace betwixt my people and Tezdal’s, betwixt Truemen and Changed. Excitement flared: I smiled as old hopes grew new flesh.
To Rwyan, I said, “I’d speak of this to Bellek.”
I’d have found him there and then, but Rwyan held me and said, “Aye, but tomorrow, eh? Likely the dragons destroyed all those skyboats moored in Trebizar, and it must take the Sky Lords time to rebuild that navy. We’ve a breathing space, I think, and now I’m weary. Shall we sleep?”
I ducked my head. I was truly tired: we left our clothes scattered and found the bed.
I woke to an unfamiliar sound: the beat of rain against glass. I rose, careful not to disturb Rwyan, and padded barefoot to the windows. It looked to me that we’d slept the day away, or most of it, but it was hard to tell. We were close to the sky here and a long way north, and the darkness might have been only the clouds that now hid the peaks and hurled their watery burden at the land. The valley was lost in brume, but I stood a long while staring, thinking of such a downpour over the drought-parched fields of Dharbek. I pressed my face against the glass, unanswered questions flooding anew into my head.
Was all this truly the weaving of a pattern? If Rwyan was correct in that, then what might we four do?
I doubted not that we should learn to ride the dragons. But to what end? That Bellek have company in his lonely castle? I was not entirely sure but that we had exchanged one prison for another. Nor was I by any means certain Urt would agree to remain. He held that fear of dragons inherent in his blood under tight control, but could he bring himself, willingly, to ride the creatures? I thought perhaps he’d sooner find a place with those other Changed Bellek had spoken of.
And Tezdal? He had sworn to defend Rwyan-and held true to that vow. But now might he not consider Rwyan safe and look to rejoin his Kho’rabi brothers? Did he become a Dragonmaster, then might he not seek to ally dragons with skyboats, form such an armada as must surely be invincible? If not-likely Bellek could prevent it- then would Tezdal deem Rwyan delivered safe from harm and he freed to take his Way of Honor? That thought I liked not at all: I was vaguely surprised how fond I’d grown of the Sky Lord.
I started as a peal of thunder dinned over mountaintops suddenly revealed by the brilliance of lightning. I wondered if dragons flew in such weather. I wondered … the list was too long, and I turned away to find Rwyan stirring.
She tossed aside the sheets, deliciously immodest, and came to join me. “It’s been so long,” she said, “since I’ve seen rain.”
I nodded and held her as great rolling drumbeats of thunder beat over the castle and lightning flung spearing tongues of pure fulgence at the peaks.
“This is a wild place,” I said.
“A place fit for dragons,” she returned, and laughed, and folded herself against me. “An old world that perhaps shall make a new.”
I said, “I’d find that out. And ere Ennas Day.”
She smiled agreement and cupped her hands about my neck, drawing my face down. Our kiss was fierce: a commitment.
“So,” I declared when at last we tore our lips apart, “do we find Bellek and the others and set this dream to flight?”
But I must curb my impatience a while.
In the days that followed we found Bellek a somewhat furtive host. Oh, he was friendly enough and gave us answers to the questions we hurled at him, like some bombard from those war-engines dead Gahan had ordered built. But there were always things left unexplained, or hints of doubt in answers that seemed honest and clear.
How old he was and how long he’d lived alone, he would not say. He gave us to understand that certain of the female dragons-my lovely Deburah, Kathanria, Anryale, Peliane-had dreamed of us as long as we had dreamed, unwitting, of them. I think he could not explain this clearly, any more than an ordinary man (and Bellek was by no means ordinary, or any longer quite sane) can explain the substance of his night fancies. They, I gathered, rather than Bellek, had been the manufacturers of our rescue-it was they had sensed our presence in Trebizar and the danger we faced. Bellek had followed their instincts, when he brought them to us.
He showed us the lairs-natural caves dug deeper into the stone by the bull dragons-where the broods lived. Each bull lorded a harem of some five or six dams, which he guarded with ferocious jealousy, and each dam guarded her nest with no less enthusiasm.
The caves were warm and filled with the scent of the dragons, which was akin to leather drying in the sun, a hint of raw meat. I came close to soiling myself the first time Bellek led us in, past that same huge bull I’d seen caressing Deburah, his hide all yellow and black mottlings, not unlike the mountain cats that inhabit the forests of the massif.
He sat proud on the ledge before the cave, talons and teeth busy as he preened. He was vast, far larger than the dams, and as we approached, he fixed us with his yellow eyes and spread his wings and opened his jaws in rampant display of sword-blade teeth. He hissed. I felt his suspicion and halted as Bellek raised a warning hand. I heard Rwyan gasp in naked wonder, and from behind me Urt’s small cry. I looked back and saw Tezdal clutch the Changed’s shoulder. The Sky Lord did not flinch, only met the dragon’s stare with his own.
Communication with dragons is not verbal, and their minds do not follow those tracks ours take. Bellek did not speak, but I found my head filled with … emotions, images-I can tell it no better. The Dragonmaster urged the bull to calm; he radiated a plea that we be granted entry to this magnificent place, that we might marvel at the bull’s harem, which was irrevocable proof of his greatness. From the dragon came a sending of pleasure, of pride and agreement: we were allowed entry.
We walked under the shadows of his wings. His breath was hot and meaty. I looked into his eye and shaped
