The Royals

Chapter 44

pleasantly, and without rancor. His brother responded with the horror of having been addressed by an outcast. Too shaken to make an appro priate retort, he flew beyond easy contact range.

'Anything to avoid the appearance of sanctioning a

renegade,' Grosik said to his back. 'Parasites are all the

same, regardless of species.'

The interchange left a sour taste in his mouth, like the raw meat left too long in the sun and that was considered everyday fare here. He'd foolishly hoped for a few serene breaths, where he might enjoy the surroundings before his first unpleasant encounter.

On second thought, Grosik decided it was just as well that he was reminded of his place among his own. His brother would not have welcomed him in any case; and Grosik had not come to seek out cowards. He relaxed. He did not expect another challenge for

some while yet. Most would prefer his brother's course

of avoiding him. The dragon did not search out anyone he knew to be of his blood-line. Instead he went looking for, the female who laid his children. She had not treated him any better than the rest when he left, but she alone had consented to letting him fertilize her eggs. She alone had once thought him worthy of continuing his line.

He made no effort to announce himself or to rush. The former was accomplished the instant he reached the border, and the latter only on the direst occasions. The terrain was all cliffs of red sandstone and millennia

old rock formations. Slowly the wind wore down the rock,

but not so slowly that the oldest dragons couldn't remem

ber when boulders toppled or the sculptures reshaped

themselves.

It took hours to unearth his one-time mate. Barik's taste for sunny outcrops had not changed - but her interest in companionship had.

Family as the two-legged beasts knew it was not relevant here. As soon as Grosik could fly, his mother had left him just as her mother had done. There was no danger. Dragons ruled this realm more thoroughly than any other creature claimed its den. Only the great beasts of the sea had as much freedom.

He found her accompanied by two young adults. Men of any two-legged race would find this an unremark able, small group. In traditional dragon terms, she was

utterly encircled. No dragon volunteered for such a pos

ition. None that Grosik knew, anyway.

His instincts had guided him to her and now a plan began to take shape.

The servant set down the bowl of warm stew and took away the cold dish the nce had barely touched that morning. Henry nodded his thanks, and the man left him to his isolation.

He speared a piece of meat and examined it. It turned his stomach just to look at it. Too bad the old goat gave up her life for me,' he said to his fork. 'Poisoned or not, I can't swallow it.' He wondered if the current cook had met another mishap or whether there simply was no other food to serve. He'd have to see that his rations were sent to the refugees. Someone should benefit from them.

He might as well work off the food he didn't eat. Maybe a little swordplay would loosen his foul humor.

No good. He needed Maarcus - either of them. The younger was unreachable and the elder might as well be. He couldn't trust anyone else in the castle not to run him

through. Henry decided he was just looking for something to

talented gnaw at and worry over. He fretted for Kate, first and foremost. Maarcus concerned him as well a man, but too soft of heart for this business.

Then there was Ceeley, who'd become as dear to him as she had to the others. That she had been compelled to leave was bad enough. That she could slip away and out of The Cliffs without their knowledge was worse still, and not just because it pinpointed the glaring weaknesses in their security. Imagining her safe did little to salve the guilt.

The dwarf girl inevitably reminded Henry of the goatboy. He longed to know the fate of the elf who had nursed him when he was still a malformed dragon, who had risked himself when the elfwitch closed in. Henry hoped she hadn't killed the boy, that she had found a use for him.

But even this was cold comfort. Being useful to Alvaria hardly seemed a fitting way for such a fine elf to live. Henry would have to rescue the boy if he could find him. The old Mut never would have become attached. Personal crusades were foolish and often deadly in the midst of battle. But there it was, one more person to

fret over.

The prince rubbed his thumb across the dragon coin in his pocket. The elfwitch had drawn them together. Henry could not leave the boy's fate in her hands. Sisters help him, he just couldn't.

Any more than he could ignore Ginni's fate in the grip of the Forty-nine mages.

'A knock would have been appreciated,' Henry said to Abadan as the magician silently closed the door behind him.

'I didn't want to alert anyone in the hall to my presence."

'Not even the guard?"

'He seems to have deserted his post.' *Ah.' Henry studied his lunch, thinking, It's just as

well I have no appetite. You're back so soon. You have news, I take it? Then get on with it.' Henry felt a rare fit of temper growing on him. He seemed completely unable to affect anything that mattered.

The man who brought you back from the battle

field

'Is dead?' He tried to feel sorry for him and couldn't.

The soldier, if indeed he was one, was of the lowest

sort.

'No, sire. He's missing.'

Henry braced his arms against his desk and pulled himself up as slowly as an old man. He opened a drawer, searching for something his mind had yet to inform him about. The drawer was empty. Kate's knife was gone. Naturally. The man had stolen it from Henry yesterday.

Abadan waited for the prince to acknowledge him. The

prince did not.

'Sire?"

Henry bit his lip so hard that it bled. 'You're still here?"

'Sire, there's more."

'Later.'

'Now, sire.' Abadan stood his ground.

Henry would have to remove him bodily. 'Guard!' No one came. The prince would have to throw out the magician himself. He couldn't picture himself lifting the man up- or rather the vision it created was absurd. Henry laughed aloud. 'It seems you win. Tell me."

To his credit Abadan did not smile. 'Rumors have begun. A tale goes around that you sacrificed your army to the elfwitch in order to save yourself.'

'How bad is it?'

'Few believe, but many will become convinced if you

can't find a way to quell their fears." Henry stormed across the room and stopped within inches of Abadan's face. In that moment, he seemed to tower over him. "Unless I can find a way! What exactly do you expect me to do?" 'Sire, the Ash Kingdom will crumble to nothing if you...

Everything we've worked for ...

*Correction, Abadan. Everything you have worked for. By the Sisters, I was just an infant manipulated and reshaped into someone's image of a liberator!' He pulled the dragon coin from his pocket. This is what I think of my heritage and of you!' He flung the token into the blazing fire. He stared into the flames, keeping his back to Abadan.

'You can't deny it, Henry, any of it. It is who you are, whether made by man or the Sisters. You can choose to lead or follow, but you can not choose to leave it behind. The magician stepped across the wood floor and closed the door behind him with more force than was necessary.

Henry waited many minutes before he turned to be

sure Abadan had gone. On impulse, he bent and snatched

the dragon coin from the flames. As he'd expected, it

remained undamaged. Though he held the fiery metal in the palm of his hand, he felt no pain. The skin remained pink and intact.

Abadan was more right than he knew. It was not simply impossible for Henry to ignore his fate. He would have to decide to lead or it would force him to.

Goatboy hated the audiences with the One. Though he knew in his heart she was evil, still he tried to please her, still he was proud when he seemed to succeed and

downcast when he did not. He knew himself for a fool and yet he couldn't stop himself.

Alvaria's dreadful grin chilled him to the bone. When she smiled at him, he knew the worst was coming. A day or a week, later, she would degrade him or make abhorrent demands that would twist his insides and fill him with self-loathing as he performed the task.

And he would always carry it through. This was her true talent - twisting others to wickedness by making them behave so abominably that they come to believe their actions were justified, rather than admit they themselves were villainous.

Those who resisted her met exile, t*****e, death. She broke many. The few who had the strength to rebel outright met her most cunning fate. They were transformed into the troll slaves who wreaked such havoc against their own.

Goatboy felt sure he was destined for such an end. The

warmth and comfort were part of a darker plan. He would

not accept her gifts.

He would reject her.

Notti woke, beneath a mound of blankets. He tossed them off. If the quilts came from Alvaria, he would rather sleep n***d on the cold ground.

A woman entered carrying a bowl of broth. "Notti, you'll catch your death.' She pulled up the covers. 'Here, sit up.'

She was not the One, but his mother.

She had denied the One.

He allowed her to spoon in the rich broth. Belly full, he drifted back to sleep while she stood guard.

He felt her hovering and tending, jumping at each sign of movement from him. He kicked off the blankets only to have them instantly replaced.

starving It was nurturing to the point of stifling. He was not accustomed to so much attention. He felt like a man being force-fed a banquet and choking on the heaps of food. He could swallow only so much, no matter how these elves meant well.

With a great effort, he shoved the entire pile of bedding to the floor. He looked up to see his mother rising from her chair in alarm. It's all r-right,' he told her. 'I'm n-not used to s-such s-s-soff-tness. F-forgive me.' He arranged the blankets on the floor, curled into the mound, and pulled up exactly one to cover himself. She settled back on her seat.

He gave her a reassuring smile, and closed his eyes so as not to see her hurt expression. He wasn't being altogether honest with her. He would have enjoyed the bed if not for the constant attention. Finally, he lay still long enough that she relaxed her

vigilance. Notti in turn let his body unwind. Warm, fed,

and protected as he hadn't been in as long as he could

remember, he fell into a sleep that was more trance

than sleep.

Voices swirled above him. He was not sure if he should

stir or not.

'I never expected him to get this far,' said a high voice,

heavy with the lilt of hope and music. His mother? 'No. Nor I.' This one was deepe

pessimistic.

'But it's good that he has, yes?"