Song of the Dragon

“Yes,” Ch’drei nodded, her face thoughtful. “Great tragedy, that. Never happened officially, of course, but the explosive collapse of the Aether Well is still of considerable private concern-especially to the Occuran.”

“You know, then, that one of the bolters is a human male by the name of Drakis?”

“Yes. . what of it?”

“The second truth I have discovered is that this human named Drakis also hears the Dragon Song.”

Ch’drei looked up in disgust. “Oh, by all the gods! Do you actually believe this human to be the fulfillment of the Desolation Prophecies?”

“Of course not. . what kind of a fool do you take me for?” Soen snapped, his voice echoing off the walls of the domed chamber. The Inquisitor stood up quickly and moved closer to the Keeper. “One out of every ten human males of the Seventh Estate hear that same song in their heads-and since the humans still teach that prophecy to their young before they’re impressed for Devotions, it seems hard to find a male child who hasn’t been named ‘Drakis’ by their sires. Those prophecies are nothing but the cooling embers of a dead faith.”

Soen’s hand reached out, grasping the arm of the Keeper’s throne and pulling him closer to her. “He may not be the Lost King come to destroy Rhonas and bring honor back to humanity. . but he could be the one or, worse, mistaken for the one. We’ve got to find him before any of the ministries do. . before the Legions and their generals. . before the Emperor or any of his minions have any idea of his existence. We are the Keepers of Truth, Ch’drei, and this is one truth we would want within our control.”

“You think he might be useful to us,” Ch’drei nodded, her voice barely audible over the rushing waters behind her.

“He doesn’t have to be the One,” Soen smiled, his sharp teeth showing. “But in the right place he could pass for the One. He did cause the Aether Wells of nearly every House in the Western Provinces to fail-think of it, Ch’drei! To fail! The Well of House Timuran utterly destroyed: a feat beyond even the Grand Wizard of the Occuran, and yet this Drakis did it. In the wrong hands he could threaten the foundations of the Empire.”

“And in the right hands.” Ch’drei asked.

“In the right hands,” Soen replied, “the Empire might still fall-but in a direction that could be to the right people’s advantage.”

“You propose a most dangerous game, my Inquisitor.”

“But it is my game, Keeper,” he replied, his lips parting into a wide smile revealing his pointed teeth. “The stakes are high-perhaps none higher-and yet in the end you know that you risk nothing at all.”

Ch’drei nodded slowly and smiled back through her translucent, needlelike teeth. “I always liked you. I’d hate to have you killed.”

“It might prove a difficult task to carry out, my Keeper,” Soen nodded. “It’s been tried before.”

“Stay with the subject at hand,” she snapped. “All of this might have proved useful. . if you actually had this Drakis slave,” Ch’drei pointed out, her long fingers uncurling into an open palm. “But as you have already said, this bolter is a guest of the vast kingdom of Murialis. Even if we flush this bird out of the forest, he could reappear anywhere along a thousand leagues of Murialis’ border. . back into Hyperia, Aeria, Chronasis. .”

“This Drakis is currently about seventy-three leagues inside the border of Murialis,” Soen said, standing upright and folding his arms across his chest.

Keeper Ch’drei eyed Soen in astonishment, momentarily unable to speak.

“And he will emerge in Vestasia to the north,” Soen finished with a smirk.

“Are you a wizard, Soen,” Ch’drei frowned.

“You can believe that if you wish, my Keeper,” Soen said, reaching into the folds of his robe. “But the source of my knowledge is more mundane-and it is my third truth that I have brought to you.”

He pulled out his fist, opening the fingers into a loose bowl. Cupped in his fingers were five round stones, each entwined with twigs or blades of grass.

“Beacon stones!” Ch’drei sighed in wonder.

“I found the first of them before the fold gate near the Timuran ruin,” Soen said, his eyes wandering lovingly over the stones in his hand. “Once found, it was a simple matter to align my staff to their Aether emanations and follow them-and other signs-through each successive gate.”

“The gods favor you, Soen,” Ch’drei chuckled.

“If so, they did not see fit to favor me with the lives of Qinsei and Phang,” Soen replied, closing his fist around the small stones.

“Do you think the other bolters know?” Ch’drei asked, her question merely curiosity.

“That they have a traitor among them who is giving away their every move to us?” Soen pondered for a moment. “No, this is a truth that is known to only three of us. . you, myself. . and the wretched creature that will deliver these slaves into my. . forgive me, Keeper. . our hands.”

CHAPTER 27

Pretending

Drakis awoke with a start, sitting upright so quickly that he felt three vertebrae in his back crack back into place. He drew in a great gulp of air and then held it for a moment, his eyes blinking as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

The walls of the circular space were a dark, rich brown color. The curve of their surface showed slick and glistening in the thin light that spilled down through a woven grating that capped the room ten feet or so above his head.

At length he let out his breath and stretched slowly. Every muscle in his body felt stiff and aching. It was to him as though he had slept for a thousand years, and yet he still longed for the bliss of unconsciousness. He rubbed his hand quickly over the bristles of his emerging hair and was surprised at how long it had gotten.

How long have I been in here? he wondered. For a while, he fingered the matted animal furs under him. He remembered running into the woods. Then something about Mala finding him. . leading him somewhere. .

He frowned at the thought of her, his mind tumbling through a cascade of memories. He loved her- had to love her-and yet the things he had done to her, had suffered because of her were shameful, painful, and unforgivable. .

A small, quivering voice cut through his dark musings.

“Drakis?”

He turned at once toward the sound. He sat on a slab of stone about the size of the tombs where the bones of the Rhonas dead were so often placed. There were two more of these slabs set around the floor of the curved room, but only one of them was likewise occupied.

“Mala,” he replied as evenly as he could manage. “I’m here.”

Mala sat with her legs pulled up tight against her chest as she rocked nervously back and forth. “Please, Drakis. Is it you?”

Drakis smiled ruefully, gripping the edge of the stone bier with his hands as he leaned forward. “I might ask the same of you. Are you all right?”

“I. . I don’t know.” She raised her face toward the light. Her eyes were red from crying and still filled with tears. The beautiful shape of her head was now covered with a bristle of rust red hair, nearly obscuring the dark stains of the House tattoo. But there was something in the heart-shape of her dirt-streaked face and her wide mouth that called to his heart. And her eyes. . those emerald eyes. . called to him still.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“I. . I don’t know that either,” she said, her voice quavering. “I’m frightened.”