Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [170]
Someday he would show her.
The Torgun crowded around Raegar, exclaiming and rejoicing, clapping him on the back, offering him drink and food, rearranging the benches, giving him a seat of honor.
Raegar embraced Norgaard, calling him “brother,” and then asked, with easy good nature, “Where is my favorite cousin? Where is little Skylan?”
At this, everyone roared with laughter.
Skylan came forward. Raegar made a fine show of being astonished, proclaiming that this fine handsome young man could not be the scrawny little boy he remembered. He marveled to hear not only that this young man truly was Skylan, all grown up, but also that Skylan was now Chief of Chiefs of the Vindrasi nation.
Raegar embraced his cousin in a bear hug. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe!” Raegar whispered, his breath tickling Skylan’s ear.
Grinning, Raegar slapped Skylan on the back and turned away to speak to Norgaard.
Skylan didn’t find that very reassuring. All Raegar had done was remind Skylan that he had a secret and that Raegar knew it and could reveal it at any time. Skylan longed to go to bed, for the strain was exhausting. He couldn’t. He had to find a chance to talk to Raegar in private, discover why he had come to Luda.
Everyone wanted to know Raegar’s story, and he was glad to tell it. He related how he had been wounded and near death and how his captors had healed him in order to sell him into slavery and how he had made a new life in the Southland. He was in the middle of the tale, with everyone listening eagerly, when Treia appeared in the doorway, holding Wulfe by the hand.
“Skylan,” she said, interrupting Raegar’s flow of talk, “this boy claims to know you.”
Raegar stopped in the middle of a sentence. His mouth dropped open. He rose to his feet and took a step toward her, as though drawn by some invisible thread.
Treia blinked at him. He stared at her.
“I did not remember the women of the Torgun were so beautiful,” he said. “Or else I would have crawled home on my hands and knees.”
Treia’s cheeks were flushed from running. Her blond hair had come loose from the elaborate braids and cascaded down around her shoulders. Her eyes glistened in the firelight; her breath came fast. None would have called Treia beautiful before this, but seeing her through the eyes of a stranger, they wondered where their own eyes had been all this time.
Treia’s flush deepened. She blinked again at Raegar, trying to bring him into focus, and was about to reply to his compliment when Wulfe broke free of her grasp and made a lunge at the table. He seized a large bowl of stew, clasped it in both arms, and turned and dashed outside.
“What was that?” Norgaard asked, astonished. “An imp from the Nethervold?”
“The boy I told you about,” said Skylan. “The one I found adrift in the sea. I warned you he was a little mad.”
“More than a little, it seems,” said Norgaard dryly. “Well, you had better go catch him before you lose him again.”
“Cousin, I would first have a word with you,” said Raegar, plucking at Skylan’s sleeve. He drew him off into a shadowy corner.
“Yes, Cousin, what can I do for you?” Skylan asked pleasantly. Once they were out of earshot of the others, he glowered at Raegar. “What in the name of Hevis are you doing here? Why have you come?”
“I bring good news. I found a map that gives the location of the ogres’ lands,” Raegar said coolly, and he grinned. “Ah, I thought that would please you. The ogres are not far. A month’s sailing, perhaps.”
“That is good news,” Skylan admitted. “I am grateful.”
“There’s another reason.” Raegar glanced over his shoulder to the people laughing and