Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [181]
“What do you think of when you think of the number five?” Skylan asked abruptly.
“Five?” Garn repeated, startled.
“The number five,” Skylan repeated.
“Every person has five fingers and five toes,” said Garn.
Skylan considered this and shook his head. “The number has something to do with the dragonbone game.”
Garn reflected. “There are five Dragons of Vektia.”
“Five Dragons,” Skylan repeated. “Anything else?”
“To do with the number five? No, not offhand.”
“The Five Dragons. But if that’s true, what’s she trying to tell me about them?” Skylan wondered, frowning.
“Who’s telling you? Owl Mother?” Garn asked.
“Owl Mother? What about her?” Skylan glanced at his friend. “Oh, I see what you’re saying. No, not Owl Mother. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Skylan, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Something important.”
“Yes, what?” Skylan asked. He was preoccupied, thinking about the Five Dragons.
“I want you to leave me here when you go to war. I’ll remain with Norgaard and those who stay behind to guard the village—”
Skylan stared at him, wondering if he’d heard him right. Then he broke into laughter.
“You are joking with me.” Skylan clapped Garn on the shoulder. “A good jest. You fooled me completely. I actually thought you were serious. Now, I need to talk to you, and this is serious. I’m trying to convince Aylaen that she must become a Bone Priestess. She’s being stubborn, as always, and I was thinking you could talk to her—”
“Skylan, I’m not joking,” said Garn quietly. “I don’t believe in this war. I don’t want to be a part of it.”
“I don’t think I understand,” Skylan said in dangerous tones.
“I think you do,” Garn said gravely. “You and I both know that story you told about the giants and the Dragon Isles was a lie. The people believe you because they are eager to go to war. I don’t, and I don’t want to be a part of it. Men will be needed to guard the village. I will serve you better if I remain here.”
“Old men like my father serve me by staying behind to guard the village,” said Skylan angrily, ignoring the accusation that he’d lied. He could deny it, probably should deny it, but the truth was he had been lying and Garn knew it, so why go to all the bother? “Young, strong men stand by my side in the shield-wall! Or else they are cowards!”
Garn blanched at this, but by the expression on his face, he did not mean to back down.
“My friend,” Skylan said, softening, “you must go. Not for me. For yourself. People will say you are afraid.”
“Let them say what they want,” Garn replied, but Skylan could see he was troubled.
“And there is another consideration,” Skylan continued, seeing he’d found a chink in Garn’s armor. “I speak frankly because you are my brother and because I want to help you. You are an orphan, Garn. You have lived for years on my father’s charity. Norgaard loves you like a son. I love you like a brother. But you have nothing—no silver, no property, no cattle. Someday you will want to marry, and no father would seriously consider allowing such a worthless bastard as yourself to wed his daughter.”
Skylan tempered his words with a grin, but Garn had gone very pale.
“Go on this voyage with me, Garn,” Skylan said. “Your fortune will be made! The ogres’ lands are rich, my friend! We will sail home with our ships stuffed with gold and silver and gems. You will be a wealthy man. Fathers will be parading their daughters naked before you. As for you not believing in this war, I don’t believe it. You know that we must recover the sacred Vektan Torque. We cannot leave it in the hands of the ogres. You agree that is true, right?”
“Yes,” said Garn.
Skylan had a sudden flash of insight. “There is some other reason you want to stay behind, something you’re not telling me.”
Garn swallowed and licked his lips and said huskily, “I tried to keep this from you—”
“It’s my father!” Skylan interrupted. “Now I understand. You want to stay behind to help Norgaard.”
Garn stared at him dumbly, unable to speak.
Skylan shook his head. “It won’t do, my friend. My father would be