Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [138]
Tubbi led the warriors to several houses. They kicked in the doors and, weapons drawn, barged inside. Skylan heard sounds of breaking furniture. The men tore up beds. They tossed blankets and linens out the doors and flung clay pots and dishes out the windows. They emerged, shaking their heads.
“No silver or gold, lord,” called Tubbi in disgust. “Nothing. Not so much as an iron stewpot!”
“You will find no metal of any kind on Apensia, lord. Precious or otherwise,” said the druid. “We have no use for it.”
Skylan had never heard anything so ridiculous. Raegar had said there was wealth in abundance. The druid was lying.
“They must have buried their gold and silver somewhere, lord,” said Tubbi, coming up to him. “Or maybe it’s hidden in a storehouse.”
Skylan seemed to remember Raegar mentioning a storehouse. He was determined to find it.
“I think you lie,” Skylan said harshly. “Tubbi, you and the men, set fire to the houses.”
“No, wait!” cried the druid, his mild and gentle demeanor shaken. “We can discuss this, lord. Perhaps we can come to some arrangement.”
“Perhaps we can,” said Skylan, grinning. He winked at his men. “We are hungry. Give us food and drink. The best you have to offer.”
“Of course, lord. You will be our honored guests,” the druid said humbly.
“Tell them we want to see their women,” said Tubbi in a low voice.
Skylan laughed. “And bring your young women out of hiding to serve us,” he added. “We want to feast our eyes as well as our bellies.”
The young men laughed, well pleased. They liked Skylan, who was proving himself a worthy Chief, and they crowded around him, vying for places of honor at his side.
Skylan was pleased with himself. There were riches to be had here. He did not expect any resistance. These druids were, as Raegar had assured him, a cowardly lot.
Speaking of Raegar, Skylan wondered if his cousin had abducted Draya yet and, if so, how long it would take him to smuggle her off the island. Skylan would wait for evening before he went back to the ship, he decided. When he discovered Draya missing, he would have to institute a search, and he did not want to take the chance of accidentally finding her.
Skylan made no complaint, therefore, when the druid said apologetically that the grove where the feast would be held was some distance away. The walk would be a long one.
The druid led Skylan and his men deep into the forest. The journey through the dark and gloom-ridden forest was not only long, it was also hot and tiresome. The air was damp, hard to breathe, the ground muddy and squishy underfoot. Tree branches creaked; leaves whispered. The path was narrow, forcing the warriors to walk single-file. Insects bit them, raising itchy bumps on their flesh. Their laughter and talk ceased. They could see things moving in the shadows. They were a long way from their dragonship.
Skylan was starting to grow uneasy, and he was about to tell the druid sharply that he should hand over the silver and gold now or find a hole in his belly.
The druid, seeming to read his thoughts, smiled at him. “The walk has been long, as I said, but it has ended now. The festive grove.” He made a sweeping gesture.
The grove was the strangest Skylan had ever seen. At first he thought it was formed of a great many trees. Then he realized to his astonishment that it was only a single tree with an enormous trunk and long, branching limbs. The limbs were so long, extended so far out from the main trunk, that they needed smaller trunks to support them. The leaves were broad and green. It seemed to Skylan that he had entered a vast hall with living support beams holding a green, leafy roof. He stood and gawked at the astounding tree, and the young men with him did the same.
“The tree is called a strangler fig,” said the druid. “The fruit is quite delicious.”
“What magic is at work here?” Skylan demanded, frowning. “Such a tree is not natural.”
He touched the amulet of Torval to keep himself safe.
The druid chuckled. “The tree is as natural as the oak