A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [127]
The moment she was settled, Telgaert threw the bolts and pulled the door open.
Meleira was standing in the dark passage outside, with Talace peering over her shoulder.
"Well, they didn't get very far," Talace said, sounding disappointed. "Perhaps they were just talking about his grandda-"
Meleira elbowed her Hush!" she snapped. "This is serious." Shooting a glance at Telgaert, she added crisply, "My apologies, Master. We've no intention of making a habit of disturbing you two-but this once, there's something my mother must know." She looked straight at Orathlee without waiting for his reply.
"Yes?" Oradilee asked softly, setting aside her tankard again-and already suspecting what was to come.
"I laid out tanthor," Meleira said, her eyes very large and dark, "and Doomdeath came up, over the Great Serpent. Twice I cast the cards- and twice, the same. One thing more, both times: Dragonfire."
"The Dragon has slain the Serpent," Orathlee whispered, and her face was suddenly awash with tears.
A silent flood of streaming tears, out of nowhere. "The last thing my mother ever said to me…" Orathlee managed to choke out through them, before real weeping took her. Her daughters stared-and then ran to her.
Telgaert awkwardly reached out an arm to comfort her, and then drew it back to let Meleira and Talace embrace her instead.
"Mother, what is it?" Meleira asked anxiously, holding her tightly. If I thought it was a curse, or a way of telling me 'never,' " Oradilee struggled to tell her, and then threw back her head to draw in a shuddering breath. Her daughters saw that hers were happy tears, and some of the fierceness went out of their embrace-enough to let their mother reach out over Talace's shoulder for Telgaert.
"Mother told me I'd find my true man, my soul mate," she told him with a watery smile, "when the Dragon slew the Serpent."
Blackgult and Flaeros stared around the Throne Chamber of Flowfoam, at ruin everywhere.
It was now entirely open to the sky above them-and from what could be seen through the doors to the south, most of the palace in that direction was now rubble. Hawkril was grimly swording the last few Serpent-priests, and many more scaled men with forked tongues drooping from slack mouths were already draped dead over tumbled rocks in every direction. Flies were swarming thickly above the rest of the shattered room, where armsmen and armaragors lay heaped head high, and the stink of cooked flesh was strong. Raulin was wandering rather dazedly among the dead, silently mouthing names of those he recognized, trying to see and remember who had fallen here-as a good bard should.
Nearer at hand, Craer stood watchfully, with a dagger ready to throw, and beside him the Talasorn sorceress was kneeling over Embra Silvertree, one of her hands on the Dwaer glowing on Embra's breast-and the other pointing right at the new arrivals, in case it would prove swiftly necessary to blast them with magic.
A smile quirked the edge of Blackgult's mouth. "You didn't take very good care of the place," he commented, waving a hand at all the devastation.
"Father!" Embra cried, rolling over hastily. "Father, Sarasper's dead, and Brightpennant, too! I know not how to use the Dwaer to bring them back! Help us!"
She held out the Dwaer towards him, a tendril of glowing mist swirling up from it, but Blackgult shook his head sadly as he went to her and knelt to caress her cheek, and then gently wipe away the tears that started to trickle down it.
"From this sort of death," he said gently, lifting a hand to indicate the ruined room around them, "with magic surging through everything, there's no coming back."
Someone sobbed above him, and the Regent of Aglirta glanced up. Tshamarra Talasorn stood with her fists clenched at her sides, trembling. There were tears streaming down her face, too-but her glare down at Blackgult was like a lance of fire. There was a needle-bladed black dagger in one of her fists, but Craer had hold of that wrist, and his own dagger