Part 13 (1/2)

He fell to his knees as Jehal approached. He kissed the speaker's feet and struggled to rise again.

'Having trouble?' Isentine listened for the mockery in Jehal's voice but it wasn't there. Instead the speaker reached out a hand and helped him up. Jehal flashed Isentine an empty grin laced with pain. 'I know the problem all too well now, you see. Your last queen did that to me. A lesson I could have done without. The first of rather too many.'

'Your Holiness.' Isentine met Jehal's gaze at last. He looked worn out, almost defeated. Broken.

'Eyrie-Master Isentine.' Jehal put a hand on each of his shoulders. 'I've been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time. I imagine no one knows more about raising dragons than you. My uncle, I know, was greatly disappointed that you couldn't come to my wedding.' The sorrow in the speaker's face had to be real, didn't it? But this is the man who ruined our realms.

The eyrie-master bowed again, a little dip from the waist. 'I live to serve Your Holiness. If there's anything you would like to see while you are here, I'll be happy to show you.' He put on his best smile. 'Does Your Holiness desire something? We are poorly staffed with so many of our dragons away, but we are not devoid of pleasures. Baths scented with oils, a feast of delicacies from around the realms, men and women who desire nothing more than to serve Your Holiness. You must be tired after your flight . . .'

'I want my wife back, Eyrie-Master. I want my son. That's all. I've flown from the Adamantine Palace to Sand in a day, and then from Sand to here, and I barely feel it.' His brow furrowed. 'No, wait. Now I mention it, I do feel it. I'm tired. Yes. Baths, feasts and so forth. All of that. Whatever you have. And then I'll take your dragons.' Jehal gave a bleak chuckle. 'Are the wh.o.r.es good here? We always had good wh.o.r.es near Clifftop, and the brothels around the Adamantine Palace are the best in the realms. I don't see any here, though. Cows and fields surrounded by sand that seems to go on for ever that's all. Where are your women, Eyrie-Master?'

Isentine bowed. 'Where they belong, Your Holiness. Kept inside out of harm's way, or else far far away. You'll find Sand more to your taste, perhaps, but I can send you whatever you desire.'

'No, you can't.' Jehal's smile snapped to a sneer in the blink of an eye. 'I desire my queen. Whatever you've got will just be a disappointment, but I suppose it'll have to make do. Send a few wh.o.r.es later. It might amuse me to watch them frolic together. Who knows? If I manage to drink enough to numb how much it hurts, I might even enjoy myself.'

'I will have my servants show you to your rooms right away. The women will await your pleasure.'

Jehal waved him away. 'Master Isentine, I jest with you. I have half a dozen riders and my pot boy with me, that's all. I don't need your rooms or your women.' He gestured at the huge emptiness around them. 'We're to have a wedding, after all. I dare say we'll all p.i.s.s in our pants and pa.s.s out where we sit. No, we'll wait in your halls for your queen to grace us with her presence.' They walked across the entrance hall, a gloomy cavern of ochre stone that was the lower level of Out.w.a.tch. 'You might have a few men standing by ready to throw blankets over us while we snore, though. I imagine it grows cold here at night. You should do something about this place. Put some windows in. How do you live in such dreary gloom?' He paced restlessly about. 'You know, this is probably bigger than the Chamber of Audience in my palace. Perhaps I should move my throne here. I certainly don't seem to be very welcome anywhere else any more. Actually never mind the men with the blankets. Let the Night Watchman's soldiers do that. They might as well make themselves useful.'

'Yes.' About that . . . 'I hear you mean them to stay, Your Holiness. It is most unusual.'

'They're here for their own reasons, Eyrie-Master. Please don't imagine that I have any say over their comings and goings, let alone their doings. I am merely the Speaker of the Realms, their lord and master. No, don't imagine that they answer to me.'

Isentine bowed and nodded and pretended to listen. You deserve your bitterness, he thought. That's all you ever brought for the rest of us. I hope you choke on it. Servants brought drinks of scented water. The speaker's riders filed in behind him. They were subdued. Scared even. Before Isentine could eavesdrop on their conversation, though, Hyrkallan was back, and Queen Jaslyn with him. Isentine hadn't seen his queen for days; she looked terrible. Her face was drawn and haggard. Her eyes didn't quite focus on him. When he looked, he could see the skin on the back of her hands, on her knuckles, was hard and flaking. Hatchling Disease, despite all his efforts.

She walked straight towards him. Didn't exactly meet his eyes, but more looked past him, through him, as if she was looking at something from another world that none of the rest of them could see. 'Morning Sun,' she said curtly. 'Have him saddled and ready to ride. Every other dragon here too.'

Isentine bowed as best he could. 'Yes, Your Holiness. But nearly every dragon is already at Sand or at Southwatch.' So you're going then. Almiri didn't mean enough to drag you away from the horror you've created for us, but Lystra does. Good. We'll have an end to it then.

'Now. Every dragon I have. All of them. I want them ready to fly. At once.'

He nodded. 'You mean to fly to war, your Holiness?' At least she was lucid. There were days now when the potions he gave her to keep the disease at bay left her babbling like a madwoman. On days like that he took care that no one else saw her.

'I do. Do you have food and drink for these riders?'

'It is being prepared, Your Holiness.' Another bow. She hardly noticed.

'Make sure we have plenty of wine. Get them all drunk. You too. Get me so drunk I can't stand. I don't want to remember any of this.' She s.n.a.t.c.hed a bottle from the nearest table and swallowed deeply. 'Hyrkallan! My Lord! To me, if you please!' She cast her eyes wildly around the hall and then back to Isentine. 'Get the Viper,' she hissed. 'Him as well.'

By the time Isentine had found Jehal, already half in his cups, Hyrkallan was standing at Jaslyn's side. His face was a mask of stone.

'Marry us,' snapped Jaslyn.

'I must call a priest.'

'Not you.'

Jaslyn pointed a finger at Jehal. 'You. Marry us. You can do that. Then put a crown on Hyrkallan's head and call him king.'

Jehal sniffed. He wrinkled his nose. 'I'm not sure I should. Do you consent to this, My Lord?' He gave Hyrkallan an arch look. 'I'm not sure I would advise it. This one looks like she has the makings of a cuckold. You never know; you might yet do better elsewhere.'

Hyrkallan clenched his fists. Isentine wondered, briefly, if he should be looking for that knife again. The only person who seemed unmoved was Jaslyn. She looked at Isentine. With the same stony mask as her mother, he thought. Hiding the same sorrow underneath.

'You will witness this, Eyrie-Master. You and every rider present.'

Isentine nodded. Jehal raised his eyebrows and then shrugged. 'Fine, then you're married. Congratulations.' He leered at Hyrkallan. 'If she's like her sister, go easy on the Maiden if you want any sleep.'

Hyrkallan's hand shot out and grabbed Jehal by the throat. He squeezed. 'When we're done with this, you and I will have a reckoning.'

Jehal choked. 'There's a long queue,' he gasped, 'and there might not be much left by the time you get to the front of it. Do you want your crown now, King Hyrkallan?'

'Oh let him go.' Jaslyn turned away from them both. 'Is that all? Aren't you supposed to say more than that?'

Jehal rubbed his throat. 'Oh, you could do the whole staying up all night for the dawn vigil and then the standing still waiting for the sunlight to strike your face, and then the speeches and the feasting and the endless witterings of the priests and so forth, but really what's the point? I've done all that and I can't say it had much to recommend it. You're married. Sorry that I don't have a present for you. Go f.u.c.k and make an heir. And then can we get on? I'm not nearly drunk enough for this and my leg is killing me.' He hobbled away.

Hyrkallan shook his head. 'Will your dragons be ready?' he asked. Isentine nodded. Hyrkallan looked back to Jaslyn and held out his hand to her. 'Come, my queen. Come with me.'

She didn't move. Isentine saw a muscle in Hyrkallan's jaw twitch.

'Must I drag you?' He reached for her.

Jaslyn neatly batted him away but then pressed her cheek against his and whispered in his ear so only he and Isentine could hear: 'Touch me without my permission and I'll cut your hand off.'

'We have a duty, my queen. To our realm.'

'Will you get me back my Lystra. From both of them?'

'I will do what I can. If I cannot, it will be because I am dead.'

Jaslyn took his hand and pressed it against her thigh. 'Then if you will do your duty, I will do mine. Leave me. I will come to you shortly.'

Hyrkallan lingered, unwilling to move. Jaslyn had almost to push him away, and then slowly he went, in long strides across the hall towards the one hundred and twenty steps that led to the Queen's Rooms and beyond. Jaslyn stood very still, watching as he climbed them. She didn't move until her was out of sight.

'Zafir has my sister,' she said as if that explained everything. Then, all of a sudden, she led Isentine out of the cavernous hall full of riders and servants. As soon as they were alone, she took his hands and rested her head against his chest. 'I have to go and save her. You have to look after my Silence.'

She's mad. Isentine stumbled away. 'Your Holiness. You are my queen, but . . .' But you cannot be seen like this. Not by anyone. Never like this.

There were tears in her eyes. 'Then, as your queen, I command you to look after my Silence. You must feed him yourself. I've told him you'll do that. You have to make the kill and then bring it to him. If you don't he'll know.'

He bowed. 'Yes, Your Holiness.' Lying to her was like sticking a knife in his own eye. But what else is there to do? The dragon is an abomination. It cannot live to grow.