King's Dragon (Crown of Stars 1)

“Hanna,” said Mistress Birta, recovering quickly, as any good innkeeper must, “help him with the horses.” Hanna nodded and hurried after the young man.

Liath tried to stand but could not. In an instant, Hathui had an arm around her. “I’ll help her inside,” said the young Eagle.

“Upstairs,” said Mistress Birta. “In bed, with a bit of dinner in her. She needs to rest.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Wolfhere genially, “I see I can trust you to take best care of her. Marshal Liudolf, shall we finish our business?”

Liudolf’s reply was lost to Liath as she entered the warm confines of the inn common room. She barely made it up the stairs, even with Hathui’s support, and when she collapsed onto the bed, she simply laid her head down, shut her eyes, and let herself be overcome with the exhaustion of hope fulfilled.

She was free of Hugh. She still had the book. She was an Eagle. All that she needed now was to get her strength back. She could scarcely believe it was true. She slept.

3

LATER Mistress Birta brought her a bowl of bean soup and good dark bread. Hunger brought her fully awake and she wolfed down her food. She hadn’t realized she was famished. Mistress Birta retreated as Wolfhere entered the little attic room. He sat on the edge of the pallet and held out a simple brass ring engraved with the seal of the King’s Eagles. He smelled of rain and of damp wool. She took the ring gingerly, and while she held it, not sure what to do, she heard the patter of rain on the roof. Cloudy light slanted through the closed shutters. She had slept most of the day. “This ring represents the seal of our bargain,” said Wolfhere mildly, “that you will offer your name and lineage to the Eagles as payment for your service with them.”

She was afraid to look at him. “My name is Liath,” she said, but her voice sounded false to her own ears. “My father’s name was Bernard.”

Wolfhere sighed heavily, whether disappointed or sad she could not tell. “Liath, you must either trust me or else it is of no use that I have freed you and brought you into the Eagles. I knew your mother. I have been looking for you and your father for eight years now.”

Like a rabbit frozen in the sight of a wolf, she stared at the ring. Outside, the rain slacked off, fading to intermittent drips.

“Had I found you sooner,” he added sternly, “then perhaps your father would not now be dead.” He lifted a hand, and she flinched away from him. “Ai, Lady!” he swore under his breath. “Now listen you to me, young woman. Listen and heed me well. I will not compel you to enter the king’s service as an Eagle. You are free, whatever you choose next, and you may go your own way if you so choose.”

“Where else can I go?” she asked bitterly, “but back to Hugh? And I’ll never go back to him.”

“I will not compel you,” he repeated. “But neither will I take you into the Eagles unless you trust me with your full name and lineage. Which will it be?” He took the ring out of her hand and weighed it, such a light thing as it was, in his palm. “To ride with the Eagles, you must give your trust wholly to your comrades. Otherwise it is worth nothing. If you do not trust me in this small a thing, then you are too dangerous, to weak a link, for us to trust you in our turn.”

“Names are not small things.”

“That is true.” He bent his head, acknowledging her point. “That is why we ask for them.”

“Why did you free me?”

“Because I knew Anne.” She started. It was so strange, almost frightening, to hear that name from any voice except her father’s. Wolfhere smiled wryly. “I knew you as well, when you were still a babe.” “I don’t remember you!”

“Nevertheless,” he replied, as calm as ever, “Anne asked me to watch over you, should anything ever happen to her.”

She wanted to trust him, but after Hugh she dared not trust anyone. As he studied her, looking more patient than amused, she studied him in return. Advanced in age he certainly was, but vigorous still and with the natural authority that comes to any man who has lived long years and survived hardship. An old scar traced a line down his neck, missing the throat vein by a finger’s-breadth. He sat with the steady imperturbability of a man equally used to the councils of kings and the gossip of farmers in a local inn. It would be so easy to just give in to his request, but that was not what he asked of her. What he asked was infinitely harder.

Maybe, just maybe, it was safe to open the first, the lowest, gate in the city of memory. Maybe she could learn to trust him, to trust the other Eagles, as comrades. Her hands shook as she took the ring out of his open palm. “Liathano is my true name,” she said, her voice scarcely more than a murmur. “I am the daughter of Anne and Bernard. I know nothing more of my lineage.”

So was it done. She was shaking so hard she could barely slip the ring onto her finger, the seal of their bargain. He stood up at once, and though he was not a particularly tall man, he was, without question, imposing. “Welcome, Liath,” he said somberly, “into the Eagles. You will find your service hard, but I do not think you will ever regret choosing it. When I return from Freelas, we ride south.”

So he left her. “We ride south.” This morning, those words had filled her with despair. Now those same words held all the world of possibility in them.

She lay down, but although she was still exhausted, she could not sleep. The straw ticking stuck her in new places every time she shifted on the pallet. The rain had started to pound again, a new shower, and the damp air brought the scent of mold creeping out from the wood. She sneezed.

A scratch came at the door and Hanna peeked in. She, too, wore a ring, symbol of her new status. “I thought you would want to know,” she whispered, sitting on the bed next to Liath, “that it’s back in the hiding place. You’re free, Liath.”

Free.

Liath was too tired to reply, so she simply laid her head against Hanna’s arm.

Where was Hugh now? Getting farther away with each step, please the Lady. And yet was Wolfhere any better or just another one who wanted to imprison her in a cage of his own making? How had he known her mother? Had he known Anne was a sorcerer? Why had he sought and how had he found Liath over such a long trail, pursued for so many years? Why had Da never spoken of such a man, and why did she herself not remember him, from those old dim memories of the fine cottage and the bright garden?

Yet what was it Da always said? “No use regretting that you’re going to get wet, Liath, once you’ve closed the door behind you on a rainy day.”

ere sighed heavily, whether disappointed or sad she could not tell. “Liath, you must either trust me or else it is of no use that I have freed you and brought you into the Eagles. I knew your mother. I have been looking for you and your father for eight years now.”