Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [118]
Norgaard waited until the others had left; then he drew his son aside and regarded him shrewdly. “Torval appeared to you in a dream?” he said.
“Yes, Father,” Skylan answered. He was pleased with himself. He had gained the Chiefs’ admiration and respect.
Norgaard’s brows came together. He fixed his son with a troubled gaze. “You never dream, Skylan. You always boast of that.”
Skylan’s tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He did not know what to say. The truth was, he had dreamed no dream. Skylan had been wide awake when he concocted his plan to go to Hammerfall; he’d lied when he said the god had commanded him. He had been quite proud of his own cleverness. As a Priestess, Draya would have to honor the god’s wishes and let Skylan go. And by traveling to Hammerfall, Skylan could escape his wife’s loathsome presence. He’d forgotten all about the blasted voyage to the Dragon Isles. And he’d forgotten all about the fact that he always boasted of never dreaming.
“There is a first time for everything, Father,” Skylan said at last.
Norgaard eyed him, then let the matter drop.
“You did well with the Chief’s meeting, my son. I am proud of you.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Skylan, grimacing.
His lies gnawed at him, tearing at his insides like carrion crows feasting on a corpse.
“Is something wrong?” Norgaard asked, concerned.
“I did not get much sleep last night, that is all,” said Skylan.
He abruptly changed the subject, calling upon his father to admire his new horse, and asking for advice on how best to care for the beast. Norgaard said he had never seen a finer animal, and their talk centered on horses all the way to the beach.
They arrived at the Venjekar to find the Torgun ready to sail. The warriors were already on board, their colorful shields lining the bulwarks. They grinned when Skylan came into view and shouted the customary crude remarks regarding his prowess and staying power that always greeted a new bridegroom the morning after.
Treia had not yet gone aboard. She was still onshore, the gods alone knew why. She looked dour and grim as always, and she said nothing to Skylan, though he greeted her politely. He wondered where Aylaen was, assumed she was on the ship. Just as well. Seeing her now would be too painful.
He cast a swift glance about for Garn and did not see him either. Skylan gave an inward sigh of relief. He could lie to all the world and get away with it, but he could never lie successfully to his friend and brother.
“You truly intend to go to Hammerfall?” Norgaard asked.
“Torval has given me so many blessings, I would be lacking in duty and respect if I disobeyed his command,” Skylan answered glibly.
“What does Draya say to your leaving?”
“My wife”—Skylan had to work to speak without gagging—“supports me in my decision. Where is Garn?”
“He went into town hoping to meet you,” Norgaard replied. “We must have missed him—Ah, look.” Norgaard gestured. “Here he comes now.”
Skylan turned to see both Garn and Aylaen hurrying across the beach.
“Here you are!” Aylaen called. “We went in search of you. Draya said we should find you here.”
Skylan looked at her in dumb agony. Aylaen was radiant. Her hair glittered like red gold in the sun. Her emerald eyes danced and sparkled. Her creamy skin was sun-kissed, with a smattering of freckles across her nose. He thought of Draya, her flabby breasts and wrinkled skin, her hands stained with Horg’s blood fondling his groin.
Skylan felt dirty, as though he had wallowed in muck. He did not like to think of Draya speaking to Aylaen, of being anywhere near her.
“What do you think of my new horse?” he asked.
Garn barely glanced at the animal. “I hear you are traveling to Hammerfall,” he said in wonder.
“To thank the god for my great happiness,” Skylan said tersely. He was sick and tired of everyone questioning him.
He rubbed Blade on the nose and praised the horse. “He has a warrior’s heart. He jumped a creek as wide as the dragonship.