Part 29 (1/2)

Dain bared his teeth. ”The pendant is mine. I want it back.” ”Why?” Sulein asked him. ”So you can run away from Thirst for good? You had to return today, of course, for your property. You were foolish to forget it the first time, but then your temper is fierce, I think.”

”I did not run away,” Dain said angrily. ”If you are as wise as you claim you would know this.”

”Don't be impertinent,” Sulein replied. He placed the bard crystal back in his strongbox and closed the lid.

Dain reached out, but Sulein carried the box across the room and placed it on a shelf alongside numerous bottles and small clay pots. ”No,” he said, dusting off his long slender hands and returning. ”Let us sit and have our talk.”

Dain scowled, p.r.i.c.kling with unease, and swung away from him. ”What do you want in exchange for my property? I have no secrets to share.” ”Oh, but you do. You are a treasure trove walking among us.”

Sulein smiled. His dark eyes shone through the gloom. ”What do you fear, boy? Why will you not answer my questions?”

”I have no knowledge of the dark ways,” Dain answered. ”I can tell you nothing about them.”

Sulein laughed, throwing back his head so far it was strange that his conical hat did not fall off. ”Ah, so that is it! I do not seek ways of the darkness or the forbidden. This do I a.s.sure you, boy. Have you never studied?” ”Studied what?” Dain asked suspiciously. Sulein seated himself on a stool. He gestured for Dain to do the same, but Dain remained standing, ready to run for the door if he had to. ”Studied knowledge, for its own sake,” Sulein replied, lighting several candles.

Their flickering glow reduced the gloom, driving back the shadows. The room was cluttered as always, filled with stacks of old scrolls that looked so brittle with age they would probably have crumbled to dust if anyone tried to unroll them. A dead vixlet, embalmed and mounted, snarled at Dain from atop the shelves. Its eyes, made of colored gla.s.s, reflected the candlelight in an eerie fas.h.i.+on, almost as though the thing were possessed. ”Can you read, Dain?” Sulein asked.

”Of course.”

Sulein picked up a sc.r.a.p of parchment and held it out. When Dain kept his distance, Sulein rattled it impatiently.

”Oh, come, come, boy, what have you to fear? Take the paper and tell me what it says.”

Dain stepped closer reluctantly and saw small, strange characters drawn across the page. Anger flared inside him. ”Another game!” he said impatiently. ”I have no time for this. Give me my bard crystal!”

”No, Dain,” Sulein replied softly, his tone quite firm. ”Not without Lord Odfrey's order.”

”Then I have other things to do.” Turning about, Dain headed for the door. ”You lived among the dwarves,” Sulein said after him. ”Presumably you learned to read and write in runes.”

Dain glanced back. ”I have orders to report to Lord Odfrey. I cannot dally here, talking of runes and such.”

”Lord Odfrey is busy with what has transpired during your absence. I believe he is praying in the chapel now for the souls of the men who died in this day's battle.”

Some of Dain's annoyance faded into concern. Some of those dead knights were surely men he'd liked.

He wanted to know their names, and yet he dreaded finding out.

”There is a little time,” Sulein said. ”You know this, or you would not have come here on your way to his lords.h.i.+p.”

Dain frowned, but Sulein was right. ”Are there many dead?” he asked.

”Since when do you care about the fate of Mandrian serfs?”

Dain's frown deepened. ”I meant, are there many dead among the knights?”

”You care for them, then? As comrades?”

”Of course!” Dain said hotly. ”What do you think of me? Why does everyone think I had something to do with-” ”You have changed while living here among us,” Sulein said. ”You have begun to think more like a Mandrian and less like a dwarf.”

”I am neither,” Dain said flatly. ”That is correct. Were you born in Nether?” Sulein asked.

The sudden change of subject threw Dain for a moment. ”I know not.”

”Krogni da vletsna ryakilvn yla meratskya. Do you understand those words?”

Sulein asked.

”No,” Dain said, but uneasily. Though the words meant nothing, their cadence had a familiar rhythm and lilt. Thia used to sing a child's song of nonsense words. She taught him to sing it too, but neither of them knew what the words meant. That little song was similar to what Sulein said. Dain felt cold inside.

”Never go into Nether” Jorb had warned him and Thia most solemnly. ”Seek not the eldin who live there.”

”Did Jorb your guardian ever speak to you in Netheran?” Sulein asked.

”No.”

”Did he tell you where you came from?”

”I am eld,” Dain said harshly. ”That is enough to know.” ”You are highborn, and you know it,” Sulein persisted. ”Are you afraid to accept this? Why? It is to your advantage to be educated, to know how to read and write in more than one language. To have knowledge of cla.s.sical learning so that you can converse with others of your station.”

”Station?” Dain repeated. ”I have no station except beggar! I am fostered here on charity, with the superst.i.tions of Lord Odfrey to thank. That is all I am.” ”Nether has been missing its rightful king for sixteen years,” Sulein said. ”King Muncel rules there, and it is Gant he allies himself with now, not Mandria. It is said that King Tobeszijian is surely dead, but that his son, the rightful heir to Nether's throne, lives hidden in exile.”

”What do I care about Nether?” Dain said impatiently.

”Save that many eldin live there-or used to, before King Muncel drove them out.” Sulein leaned forward, his eyes boring into Dain. ”The rightful heir's name is Faldain.”

He seemed to be waiting for something. Expectancy hung on him like a cloak. Dain laughed incredulously. ”You jest, surely. Or do you think me a knave stupid enough to believe such nonsense?”

”It is not nonsense,” Sulein said. ”This is most important. You could be the missing prince.”

”I am not,” Dain said. ”My name is not-”

”Dain and Faldain are names almost identical,” Sulein said eagerly. ”You are the correct age.”

Dain stared at him with pity. What foolishness was this? ”Dain is a common suffix to many eldin names,”

he said. ”Faldain, Sordain, Landain, Cueldain ... What of that? Oh, you paint a pretty dream. I would love to be a king, with a great treasure in my storehouse and the life of a fable, but I am simply an eld, orphaned and without family. I must live where I can, and keep myself alive.” ”You wear king's gla.s.s,”

Sulein said, but his voice had dropped to a whisper. Dain sensed how desperately the man wanted his idea to be true. For an instant Dain allowed himself to dream as well, but it was too impossible. He couldnot even imagine it. In that unguarded moment, Sulein's usual protections seemed to have vanished. He sat there facing Dain, his hope plain to read in his face. Dain could tell that this man wanted the reward and honor of finding the missing heir to Nether's throne. Sulein might bury himself in this workroom with his studies and his experiments, but he was an ambitious man. He wanted too much. He wanted from Dain what Dain did not have to give him.

”The pieces fit. Besides, only royalty may wear king's gla.s.s,” Sulein said. ”In Mandria, yes,” Dain said, deliberately making his voice scornful. ”But such is not the custom elsewhere. As a man foreign-born, you should know better than to think the custom of one land is the same in all.”

Sulein's face reddened. He drew back as though he'd been struck. ”Perhaps,” he muttered.

”How many refugees have fled from Nether in recent years?” Dain asked. ”Families have been divided and lost. I could belong to anyone. I have proof of nothing.” ”Prince Faldain's mother, the Queen Nereisse, was true eld,” Sulein said. ”King Tobeszijian was half-eld himself. It is allowed in Nether, to cross blood this way. The old gifts of seeing are valued there, unlike here, where the church has reformed much ... and caused much more to be lost.” ”I must go,” Dain said.

Sulein jumped off his stool. ”You disappoint me. I thought you would have more ambition for yourself.”

”To reach too high is to be struck down,” Dain said bitterly. ”I cannot even vie for the position of Lord Odfrey's squire. How would you make me into a king?” Sulein drew in a breath, his brow creasing with pity. ”Ah, yes. Perhaps it is so, and my ideas are only foolishness. Well, then, talk to me instead of eld magic. You may trust me not to share what you say. I know that it is not always safe to reveal too much knowledge of the old ways.”

Dain frowned, backing up a step. ”There is no magic.” ”I know differently.” Sulein picked up a stick and held it out. ”If you hold this in your hand, will it sprout leaves and return to life?” Dain held his hands at his side and glared at the physician. ”No.” ”I have talked to Nocine the huntsman,” Sulein said. ”You cast a spell and turned him into a tree to save his life.”