Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [171]
As if he’d heard his nephew’s words, Norgaard rose and called for silence. “We are all glad our clansman has returned home,” he said. “I trust he will not soon leave us. This night has been long, starting in sorrow and ending in joy.” He raised his drinking horn. “A toast to Raegar, who has come back from the dead.”
The Torgun grinned at Raegar and lifted their drinking horns and drank.
Norgaard raised his horn to Skylan. “To our Chief of Chiefs and his safe return.”
The Torgun drank this toast and then refilled their horns, all of them waiting eagerly for the toast they knew was coming.
“It is far too long since the Vindrasi have gone to war.” Norgaard lifted his drinking horn high in the air. “To Torval and the destruction of our foe!”
The Torgun roared, “To Torval!” and drank.
“We have much work to do to prepare,” said Norgaard, placing his empty horn on the table. “This meeting is ended.”
Moving slowly and painfully, leaning heavily on his crutch, Norgaard limped over to Skylan and rested his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You have been through a terrible experience, my son,” Norgaard said. His eyes were moist. “You handled it well. I am proud of you.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Skylan. His throat closed, choking on his lies.
People streamed out of the hall. Norgaard stood talking a moment with Raegar. Skylan made a hasty escape and plunged out the door. He nearly stumbled over Wulfe, who was squatting in the middle of the street, hunched over the bowl, shoveling food into his mouth with both hands. Skylan took down a flaring torch from the wall.
“Come with me,” he said, grabbing Wulfe, who grabbed the bowl.
“Where are you taking me? To the ship?”
“To my home,” said Skylan.
Wulfe planted his feet and stood firm. “I want to go back to the ship.”
Skylan considered. Perhaps it would be best if Wulfe remained on board the ship. He would be less likely to talk to people than if he lived with Skylan in the village.
“Very well,” said Skylan. “But you’ll have to stay on the ship by yourself. I can’t be with you.”
“I won’t be alone,” said Wulfe. “The dragon is there.”
“I didn’t think you liked the dragon.”
“I like him better. He wouldn’t talk to that woman.”
“What woman?”
“The woman who brought me.”
“You mean Treia? She was talking to the dragon? What did they talk about?”
“You,” said Wulfe, licking his fingers.
Skylan stopped, troubled and immediately suspicious. The only reason Treia would have to speak to the dragon would be to find out if Skylan was telling the truth. He glanced back over his shoulder. The Torgun were filing out of the hall, and some would be sure to come looking for him. Skylan doused his torch in a nearby bucket and ducked down a side street, hauling Wulfe with him.
“What did she say to the dragon?”
“I don’t know,” said Wulfe. “I couldn’t hear. It doesn’t matter, because the dragon wouldn’t answer her. That made her mad, and she came down into the hold. She scared me. I thought she was the draugr. She was dressed like the draugr. She asked me questions.”
“What questions?”
“Where I met you and where was I when I met you and who was with you and did I see the giants.”
“What did you say?” Skylan waited nervously for the answer.
“Nothing,” said Wulfe. “I don’t like her.”
“That’s good!” said Skylan, relieved.
Wulfe used a piece of meat to scoop up gravy, running it around the side of the crockery bowl. “What did she mean about you fighting giants?”
Skylan paused. He’d known this moment was coming. He hadn’t expected it to come so soon. He squatted down in front of the boy, looked him in the eyes.
“It’s a story I made up. Wulfe, if Treia or anyone else asks you, tell them I found you adrift in the sea, lost in the fog.”
“But you didn’t,” said Wulfe.
“I know. It’s a lie, but it’s a good lie, not a bad lie. Like the lie about the giants is a good lie. I told the lie because I want to protect the druids and your people on Apensia.”
Wulfe looked puzzled by this.