Song of the Dragon

she’s looking for me? Where did you hear such a tale?”

“Oh, of course,” the Chief of the Day nodded with sage understanding. “My poor skills in the telling of the story would diminish it, and I will not do such a fine tale this injustice. Would it not be better if Drakis-ki heard it from its source?”

Drakis look at the gnome with a frown, his awareness sharpening as the words sank into his tired mind. “It would. Is this storyteller near? I may have some questions. .”

“Not near,” The Chief of the Day shook his head. “Here. The woman herself is here.”

“What? Here?” Drakis blurted out.

“What is it?” Mala asked, concerned at the look on Drakis’ face. She and the Lyric were walking up the ramp toward Drakis with Belag, RuuKag, Jugar and Ethis behind them.

Drakis did not answer her but continued speaking to the orange-clad gnome. “She’s here? Where?”

The gnome grinned with all his wide-spaced teeth. “Why, Drakis-ki! She is there behind you!”

Drakis turned at once, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword.

Above him, at the top of the ramp, stood a tall, slender woman the likes of whom Drakis had never seen before. Her skin was a deep black-as deep a black as the middle of the night and as smooth and unblemished as pure silk. Her thick, black hair was pulled back from the high forehead of her oval face and gathered into an explosion of curls at the back of her head. Her large, brown eyes gazed at him above her pronounced cheekbones, their eyelids shuttered languidly in disdain. Her lips were thick and plump around her smallish mouth-drawn slightly up at one corner as though being amused by some secret thought. She stood with casual confidence, the long fingers of her right hand resting on her hip as her head tipped upward slightly atop her long, slender neck.

“So,” the woman spoke in a deep, husky voice, “this is what a prophecy looks like.”

“Who are you?” Drakis asked, his eyes narrowing.

The Chief of the Day, still standing behind Drakis, thought that was his cue for a formal introduction. “Oh, I sorrow over my lack of honor! Drakis-ki. . I present to you Urulani-ku, Warrior of the Sondau!”

“Urulani will do,” she replied with an amused smile. “I suppose Drakis will do for you. . or do you have some rather more exalted title you prefer as the living fulfillment of a legend.”

“How do you know who he is?” Mala demanded, moving smoothly to Drakis’ right side and wrapping her arm around his. Drakis muttered a curse; she was holding his sword arm.

“How do I know who he is?” Urulani said through a hearty chuckle. She stepped toward them down the ramp, her athletic figure moving with ease. She wore an outer vest of cured leather over a loose, sleeveless shirt of homespun cloth. Drakis noted that she wore soft buckskin breeches laced tightly up both legs as well as matching boots that made no sound as she stepped. “How is it possible not to know of Drakis-the bolter from House Timuran-who is the professed harbinger of doom and salvation now sprung to life? It’s a story that’s being told and retold all across the Vestasian Savanna by every Hak’kaarin gnome with a tongue and, it now seems, by every Dje’kaarin opportunist looking to find you and turn you in for more Rhonas coin than they can possibly carry.”

Urulani stopped just in front of Drakis, her eyes fixed coolly on him though her words were aimed at Mala. “No, I tell you, little slave princess, I’d be surprised if there were a blade of grass or a stone under all the sky from the Southern Mountains to the Nordesian Coast that doesn’t know who this Drakis is by now.”

Drakis could hear Belag’s low growl rising behind him.

Urulani looked up at the manticorian warrior. “I’m not your problem, big cat. In fact, I’m here to help you all, so you might think again before you decide you’d like to try and eat me.”

Drakis drew in a breath to speak, but Mala interrupted, gripping Drakis’ arm tighter and pulling him possessively toward her. “I don’t see how you can possibly help us.”

Urulani turned her gaze on Mala for the first time and took her in through a long stare before she replied. “You may have weathered a bit on the road, princess, but your little cherry tan and cracked lips don’t hide you. I see that the Rhonas pigs still prefer to stock their households with cloud-white, dainty human slaves who can blend in so invisibly into their marble walls.” She turned her look back to Drakis. “Until that fashion changes, the Imperial hunters have no need to bother with us. We’re ‘the Forgotten Ones’ and we prefer to keep it that way. As long as we’re forgotten. . well, you’ll have a chance.”

“Why should we trust you?” Drakis asked.

“Don’t, if you’d rather not,” Urulani said with a tilt of her head. “I just happen to be the first to find you. If you like, you’re welcome to refuse my help and wait for some bounty-crazed fool or an Iblisi to find you, although I suggest that they might not present terms quite as good as I have to offer.”

Drakis shook his head and smiled. “And, uh, just what are your terms?”

Urulani took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. “Drakis. . I don’t believe in you. I was raised on the stories and the legends, and I gave up on believing in them years ago. No human is going to rise up and free us from the Rhonas oppression with a wave of his mystical fingers. The only freedom we’ll ever have will be what we take for ourselves.” Urulani shrugged. “But. .”

“But?”

“But the Clan Elders do still believe,” Urulani continued. “They sent me here to find you, hide you from the eyes of the Rhonas hunters, and bring you before the Elders to answer their questions about you.”

Drakis nodded, his hand slipping slowly from the hilt of his sword. “And if they don’t like my answers?”

Urulani looked up at the ceiling as she spoke. “You know, it’s a hard thing when you’re confronted with a legend and you discover that he’s only a man after all. The faithful who are disappointed in their gods can be so unpredictable in how they will react.”

“No,” Drakis said. “I disagree. They are entirely too predictable. Very well, but you have to. .”

“Drakis!” Mala said turning toward him. “You aren’t actually considering going with this. .”

Drakis ignored her. “But you have to take all of us. You must promise to extend your protection to all of our group, or we’ll just continue on our own way.”

Urulani nodded. “Done. Anything else?”

“One last thing.”

“Yes?”

“Tell me that your clan is to the north.”

CHAPTER 36

RuuKag

The mud city of the Hak’kaarin usually bustled with activity regardless of the time of day. The only exception was on the night of arrival, when most of the mud gnomes, exhausted from the day’s journey, retired to their newly occupied warrens and slept through the night, leaving only a few hundred or so of their number to keep watch over the city and keep the fires stoked until the mound could properly be brought back to exuberant life the next morning.

The enormous central space of the city was, therefore, nearly deserted as RuuKag moved with contemplative, heavy steps onto the main floor space. His great head hung down from his hunched shoulders. The field pack-completely provisioned once more-did not weigh him down nearly as much as the burdens of his soul.

The manticore looked up. The open dome of the mud city was lined with the cavelike warrens of the gnomes almost to its very summit, lit now only dimly by the flickering flames in the great central pit that had earlier been a roaring bonfire. The curling smoke rose up to the full height of the chamber, escaping through the