Dragon Sword Series - Dragon Sword Part 12

" "Tis said you can buy anything in Bandon," said Marrget. He gestured with a wide sweep of his arm. "The road from Bandon runs straight to Kingsbury, as it should. To east and to west the river is a road . . . that is, until it reaches the Great Dike that separates Gryylth from Dremord territory."

"From Corrin?"

He lifted an eyebrow at the name. "It is so. They call their country that."

"So the Corrinians hold the seaport, then."

"Aye, but that is of small consequence. We do not trade by sea." Cvinthil had said that the world ended in mist. She had 112.

dismissed his words as superst.i.tion, but now she recalled them. "What about ... uh ... other countries?"

"There is Gryylth, and . . . Corrin," said Marrget. "There is nothing else."

His beliefs were a little too absurd. "If there's nothing else, Marrget, then where did the Corrinians come from?"

"From . . ." He pursed his lips, stared oif into the east. "From across the sea."

"So there's got to be something on the other side of the ocean, right?''

"s.h.i.+ps, I think, were dispatched to find the Dremords' home. Once. They did not return."

It did not make sense. Nothing did. "So there's nothing out there?"

"Nothing."

"So how can you-" She caught herself. She was pus.h.i.+ng again, and Marrget, though he did not meet her eyes, was frowning. "Sorry, Marrget. I'm being rude."

"It is well, Alouzon Dragonmaster. It takes a brave tongue to admit an error, and yours seems to be . . ." He glanced at Dythragor, who was giving orders to the wartroop regarding camp. "... braver than most. I must tell you that I am but a soldier. My king gives me orders, and I obey them. It is not my place to ask questions about the land. Rather am I here to give advice regarding battle and war." He smiled thinly. "I am sure you understand."

"Has anyone asked questions like these before?"

"No one."

"Dythragor?"

He shrugged. "No one."

Crazier and crazier. "What about to the north? What's up north? "

"There is no road to the north, Dragonmaster. The Heath is there. No one goes to the Heath save fools." Hi smile took the edge off his words, and he left her with a nod and went to supervise his men.

The wartroop camped outside the town walls, bivouacking on thin blankets that did not provide much of a 114.

cus.h.i.+on against the hard ground. Alouzon was philosophical as she unrolled her bundle: she was so tired that she could have slept on a slab of granite.

A short distance away, Marrget and Dythragor were talking to a man who had arrived from the town. Gravely clad in black, he would have seemed something of a cleric, or a judge, were his eyes not as hard and bright as a new-minted piece of money. His words did not carry to Alouzon, but his tone and gestures conveyed a sense of the official.

Exhausted, she paid little attention until she noticed that he was gesturing at her. Dythragor was scowling and shaking his head, but Marrget, as usual, seemed to be objective, as though whatever problem now lay before him was merely another question of proper tactics and the right kind of force.

In another minute, the captain was walking over to her. "Will it please you to enter the town with us, Dragon-master?" "What's up?"

"The Council of Bandon wishes to pay its respects to us." He laughed. "But I think that maybe the councilmen wish us to pay our respects to them. Either way ..." "Dythragor doesn't want me along." "Has he changed?" The captain was in a good humor, as though he enjoyed seeing important people make themselves ridiculous over questions of status and protocol.

Despite her fatigue, Alouzon joined the others. Senon, the man from the Council, regarded her with a mixture of distaste and fort.i.tude. His expression was that of a man who had just bitten into a sour cherry-who had, in fact, expected it to be sour and had bitten anyway. Relys, who accompanied his captain, watched Aiouzon sardonically.

In Bandon, Alouzon was once again the object of interest, though, if there was hostility, it was a little more tempered than had been the case in Kingsbury. As a market town, Bandon was used to the unusual, and more concerned with commerce than with custom.

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"What do they trade in here?" she asked Marrget.

"Almost everything, lady. Grain from the towns to the east. Across the mountains, the men are fine metalworkers, and they bring their wares across the pa.s.ses once every six months or so. Gold, silver." He eyed her. "Slaves."

"Female, right?"

"Aye, Dragonmaster. And male too. Though if a man cannot find a wife any other way he is ent.i.tled by law to buy one. And sometimes a troublesome woman is stripped of her legal protections and finds herself on the block."

"That doesn't make me feel real good, Marrget."

"You are ent.i.tled to know the truth, lady. I am sorry if it grieves you."

Dythragor and Relys were speaking in low voices and laughing at something. Alouzon thought that she caught her name, but could not be sure. She s.h.i.+vered, but though the sun had dipped below the thick walls of the town, the air was warm.

Shadows were growing deeper when Senon brought them to a dark hall that was not made much brighter by a miserly use of torches. The ceiling was high and lost in echoes and the whispers of scuttling rats. At one end was a long table where the Council of Bandon was a.s.sembled, waiting for them.

Like Senon, the men were pale, their eyes hard and usurious. They glanced at Alouzon with suspicion, as though she were a contract with a blank left in it, but they ignored her for the most part. Relys they nodded to as though he were an underling. Only Dythragor and Marrget received any marked respect: the Council actually stood when they entered, and their murmured greetings blended with the indistinct scratching of the rats.

"They'd better be nice to us," Dythragor whispered to Alouzon. "We're the reason they're safe enough from the Dremords that they can concentrate on their gold."

"I'm impressed. Are these the nice little bureaucrats you were telling me about at UCLA?''

He glanced at her, annoyed, then went forward to the 116.

Gael Baudlno .

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long, dark table and shook hands all around. Relys waited with Alouzon, plainly irritated that, in this case, he was considered no better than a woman.

"Did you and Dythragor have a good laugh?" she asked him under her breath.

He s.h.i.+fted uneasily. She decided to pry.

"Alouzon Dragonmaster sold as a slave," she said. "Hey, nice fantasy, huh? Betcha she's got a hot little body under that armor."

His reaction told her that she had guessed right. "I heard that you killed a Dremord your first night here," he returned.

"Yeah."

"Very good. Very good indeed."

He could not have hit back with a more painful blow if he had tried. And he had actually attempted to be complimentary.

Dythragor seemed at home with the councilmen, exchanging news, asking about trade and commerce. Again, Alouzon was reminded of politics. Here were the smoky back rooms of Gryylth, and here also were the vested special interests, the businessmen and the rich merchants who, doubtless, had turned the endless war to their advantage.

How much money from the coffers of Bandon, she wondered, had gone into the deaths of young men? By what insane logic did the universe allow a frustrated, bigoted scholar to live out his fantasies on an entire world?

The head of the Council suddenly leaned over to Senon and spoke to him as he jabbed a finger at Alouzon. "You, woman," said Senon as though translating, "step forward and explain yourself. What are you doing here?"

With the authority of the Council behind him, Senon's tone was arrogant and surly. She had heard it before, but she had grown no more used to it. She took a step forward. "I'm Alouzon Dragonmaster."

Again a whispered interchange. "You bear arms," said Senon.

The head of the Council brooded at the end of the table. In the dim light, he looked like a rat. Alouzon found herself hating him. Have you bought your death for the day? Have you sold your slave? "Dragonmaster," she said, addressing him directly. "Get it?"

He glared at her, returning hate for hate.

"Show some respect to the head of the Council of Bandon," said Senon.

"How about the head of the Council showing some respect to me? I thought hospitality was a virtue hen."

Dythragor broke in. "Don't pay any attention to her, Kanol. She's just that way."

"Teach your woman some civilized ways, Dythragor, if you would, then," said Kanol. His voice was thick and suety, "Your woman, Dythragor?" said Alouzon.

He sidled up to her. "It's easier that way. It's something they understand."

"Understand nothing. I heard you talking to Relys. What do you think you're going to do now? Claim you own me and then sell me off?"

"Will you keep quiet?"

"h.e.l.l, no, I won't keep quiet." She stepped forward, bowed curtly. "Gentlemen," she said, forcing out the politeness, "I'm sorry that you've been misinformed. I said that I was a Dragonmaster. I meant that. I'm armed because I'm here to help Gryylth."

Kanol refused even to look at her. Senon replied for him. "We need no woman's help."

"Whether you need it or not," she said, flaring, "you're stuck with it. And if Dythragor is telling you that I'm his mate, or his slave, he's lying."

Dythragor went white.

Alouzon took stock of her position, and did not like what she found. She had a sword that she did not want to use, and she was outnumbered. She hoped desperately that she could bluff her way out of this, wished that she could simply burn the place to the ground.

"Enough," said the head of the Council. "Tend to your woman, Dythragor, and teach her some manners."

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He rose abruptly and left the room in a rustle of sable robes. The others filed after him, Dythragor whirled on her. "That was stupid."

"It was true, wasn't it?"

He did not reply. Turning, he stalked out of the room. Marrget shook his head. "A brave tongue, indeed, Drag-onmaster. But maybe a little rash?"

"I've had it with this bulls.h.i.+t, Marrget. I'm here, and they're going to have to deal with me. If they don't like it, tough. I'm not going to let some anthropomorphic pudding push me around."

Relys clapped her on the shoulder. "Come, Dragon-master. '' She could not tell whether he used the t.i.tle sarcastically or not. From what she had seen, Relys was sarcastic about everything, but she had a feeling that he actually admired her for her bluntness. "Your battle here is over."

They crossed the town through the falling shadows of evening. The streets were now deserted, the shops shut up with blank, wooden shutters. The fountain in the town square sounded forlorn and hollow. Alouzon found herself wis.h.i.+ng that she were back among the men of the wartroop, hostile though they might be. At least they were a known threat, and if Relys and Marrget were any indication, they were also open to a change of heart.

"This place gives me the creeps," she said softly as they went down an unlit alley.

"Fear not, Alouzon Dragonmaster," said Marrget. "We know the way well."

"It's not that, Marrget. It's like everyone here is out to make a buck, and they'd sell us for fishbait in a minute if they could turn a profit."

"You have characterized Bandon very well, Dragon-master," said Relys. "My congratulations."

"Relys," said Marrget as they rounded a comer and came within sight of the gate, "is from Bandon."

"Oops."

"Nay, nay, Dragonmaster," said Relys. He was almost laughing. "For once, I agree with you completely."

When they had pa.s.sed through the gate and were well out onto the fields surrounding the town, Alouzon noticed that they had been followed. Small, dark shapes crept along the gra.s.s at some distance, keeping parallel to their course. The sun was well set, the moon not yet risen, and she could make out no detail. She nudged Marrget, and the captain squinted into the night. "Children," he said.

"Girls," said Relys with some astonishment.

Alouzon thought that she understood. She told her companions to go on ahead to the camp, waited until they were out of earshot. "OK, kids," she said. "I'm here."

They came then-in defiance of custom, at risk of punishment-to see such a strange thing as an armed woman ... a Dragonmaster at that. Awkward with the onset of p.u.b.erty, yet graceful with the lithe beauty of girls, they approached her only to find themselves speechless, their questions frozen on their tongues, their forwardness turned of a sudden to abject shyness.

"Are you really a Dragonmaster?" said one finally.

"Yeah, for real. Scout's honor and all that." She sat down on the gra.s.s and the girls gathered round. "My name's Alouzon. What can I do for you?"

In truth, she knew. They wanted to watch her, to look at her, to both satisfy curiosity and kindle a dim hope. These were, by no means, all the girls of Bandon, only a small part. Only the ones who would risk a beating to see something they desired. "How ..." This one was tall, broad shouldered, with long red hair, that flickered with dull gold in the failing light. "How do you . . . live?"

' 'What do you mean?''

"Your father: did he let you . . . ?"

"My father let me do a lot of things." Alouzon wished now that there had been a few prohibitions against such things as stopping tear gas and witnessing murder.

"Oh ..." The girl seemed disappointed. She had little to look forward to, Alouzon knew. Maybe her husband would be good to her, maybe not. She would have no say in the matter. She was property, just like her mother, just like her sisters who, gathered around Al- 120ouzon Dragonmaster this warm summer night, stared hungrily at a banquet from which they were barred.