next words troubled him anew. “I warn you though, by all that’s passed between us — this female is doing Sthenn’s work, and we will all come to grief if you let her live.”
Amero looked over his shoulder at Beramun. “Go to the hoist,” he said quietly. “Wait there for me.”
She obeyed immediately. The dragon’s eyes followed her every step.
“There are other dangers here,” Amero said, hoping to divert Duranix. “Tiphan returned yesterday by means of some kind of spirit power. He claims to have mastery over it.”
“I feared as much.” Now it was the dragon’s turn to tell Amero about his findings. He described what he had discovered on the plains — the remains of a bloody fight, the residue of power, the spirit stones, and the dead centaur.
Amero shook his head sadly at the loss of Miteera’s gallant warrior. “Tiphan’s changed — or been changed by these stones,” he said solemnly. “Even his appearance is altered.”
“He seeks to imitate the elf priests. He would become like Vedvedsica.”
“He must be stopped!” Amero declared. “That power is as wrong for humans as it is for elves. Just look at the evil done by Pa’alu all those years ago with a simple amulet!”
Pa’alu had been a nomad warrior who’d been in love with his chieftain, Amero’s sister, Nianki. When she failed to return his affection, he had made a deal with the Silvanesti priest Vedvedsica for an amulet to compel Nianki’s love. A terrible accident had occurred. The amulet had indeed caused Nianki to fall in love, but that love was directed along unnatural lines, toward her brother. Much sorrow had ensued, leaving Pa’alu dead, Yala-tene wrecked by the rebellious nomads, and Nianki driven into self-exile with her band of loyal followers.
“I’ll search for this Zannian,” Duranix declared. “You’ll have to deal with Tiphan for now.”
“Konza may still have some influence over his son. I’ll speak to him in the morning.”
Amero intended to say more, to smooth over their confrontation over Beramun, but it was not to be. Having spoken his mind, Duranix stalked to the rear of the cave. It was obvious he was still angry, and Amero’s heart was heavy as he returned to the hoist.
Beramun stood in the basket regarding him nervously. Somehow, his many burdens seemed to lighten when he looked at her, and he smiled.
“Is all well?” she asked.
“Well enough,” he said, climbing in and pulling the slip knot. The basket sank toward the ground.
She wrung water from her long hair. “It was brave of you to defend me,” she said quietly.
“I was in no danger. Duranix would not hurt me.”
“He’s a beast. A very great beast, but not human. Can you be sure of him?”
“Very sure.” Amero looked into her black eyes. More sure than I am of you. He kept that thought to himself.
The basket bumped into the pile of sawdust Amero used to cushion the landing. He climbed out first, then helped her jump down. His hands were still around her waist when she skidded in the sawdust. He held on to keep her from falling.
After a few seconds, she said, “You can let go now.”
Amero released her. He was thankful the dark night hid the blood burning in his face.
“Thank you, Arkuden.” She clasped his hand lightly. It was a simple gesture of gratitude, nothing more, but the fleeting contact set his heart racing.
By lamplight the stones looked very ordinary: mottled gray chips of varying sizes. A few had streaks of gold in them, but only a few. Konza sat at the table in his simple house, the pile of stones before him. Across from him sat his son, his appearance so strangely altered by his recent journey. Konza had begun to believe the alterations ran even deeper than mere appearance.
“You see, father, these stones are the key to power,” Tiphan said, running his hands over the dusty pile. “According to my elven manuscripts, they contain a portion of the power of a mighty spirit confined to the stone in ages past.”
“These bits of rock?”
“Yes. Here is a treasure greater than all the bronze in Silvanost!”
Tiphan was sorting the stones by size and weight. Even the bits that flaked off them were pushed carefully into a tiny heap. Konza watched this peculiar process with a plainly skeptical expression.
“How did Penzar and Mara die?”
“What?”
Tiphan’s blue eyes, seemingly all the brighter for the white lashes now framing them, lifted from his work to stare at his father. “Elves killed them. I told you that. We were set upon by more than a hundred Silvanesti warriors. Penzar was slain, then Mara, and the centaur. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t help them. The only reason I survived was because of the stones.”
“I see.” The older man drummed the tabletop with his fingers for a few seconds, then shook his head. “No, I don’t. How? How were you able to command the power of the stones?”
Tiphan smote the table with his fist, causing his father, the stones, and the small lamp to jump. “Questions, questions! What troubles you, old man? Aren’t you happy to have me back alive — and in possession of such enormous power?”
“Yes, Tiphan, I am.”
His tone was so sincere, Tiphan felt guilty. He sat back with a deep sigh. “Very well, father. I’ll show you how I was able to master the stones.”
Rising, he went and removed the loose stone that hid his secret cache. He poked his arm into the hole and felt around for his scrolls. He found the longest parchment roll, drew it out, and unrolled it a span.
“Here,” he said, showing the Silvanesti book to his father. “This is The Way to Bind the Sun, a book compiled by elf priests. It describes the stones of power and how a practiced artisan can use them.”
Konza didn’t even glance at the scroll. “You know I can’t read,” he said.
“You could learn! I’ve studied every scrap of Elvish script that’s come into this valley and talked to wanderers and traders who know the Silvanesti. This book tells of an ancient war among the spirits and how the victors and the defeated chose to remain on this mortal world, locked in stone for all time. Whole, these spirits are too willful for man or elf to control, but a small fragment can be called upon to release its power!”
Konza was plainly impressed with his son’s erudition, but his expression was troubled as he asked, “What will you do with this power?”
Tiphan gestured broadly. “Help Yala-tene, of course — in a hundred ways! The power is directed by my will, so whatever I wish can be done. Think of the deeds I could do! Instead of sweating long days to break stone and haul it to build the town wall, I might be able to command the stone blocks to rise and fly themselves into place! I could call forth rain in a drought, or sunshine during a deluge. If the harvest was poor, I could command the gardens to flower and grow heavy — ”
“Ah!” Konza struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. “The orchard! I forgot!” As Tiphan rolled up the Silvanesti scroll, the old man explained how the late icefall had ruined the spring planting.
“The villagers were very angry with you,” he said. “Amero spoke to the Protector, and he told the planters you had misinterpreted his words when you claimed he said winter was over. If you’d been here, I think they would’ve torn you to pieces!”
Tiphan smiled thinly. “But I wasn’t here. Isn’t that proof the power seeks me as surely as I desire it? Why else would I have had such an overwhelming urge to leave Yala-tene on that particular day?”
Konza was taken aback. Tiphan had always thought well of himself, but since his return he was acting as though he, and not the great dragon, was the protector of Yala-tene. He didn’t even grieve over the deaths of his acolytes. When he spoke of the Arkuden, his tone now was openly arrogant.
“Son, you must make amends,” the old man insisted. “Somehow you must help the planters.”
Tiphan had returned the scroll to its niche. Turning slowly, he said, “You’re right, Father. That’s a fine notion.” He scooped up a single stone from the table. “I’ll do just that!”
He draped a sheepskin robe around his shoulders and raced out the door. Konza had to scramble to catch up.
The night was bright, the air crisp and cold. Their exhalations formed clouds around their heads.
“If you want to see the orchard, shouldn’t we wait for daylight?” Konza panted, pushing himself to keep up
