Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [195]
Raegar did not back down. His eyes locked with Skylan’s like shields in the wall, both men shoving at each other, testing each other’s defenses.
Treia smoothly intervened. “Raegar did not mean for you to harm the boy. But you must keep watch on him . . . lord.”
She placed a subtle emphasis on the word, and Skylan suspected her of mocking him. He had to swallow it. He was the one at fault. Busy with preparations for sailing and worried about Aylaen, he had paid scant heed to Wulfe. He had assumed that the boy would not want anything to do with a ship sailing off to war. He remembered, too, that he was responsible for keeping peace on his ship, not an easy task when so many were forced to live together in a confined space. Above all, he could not afford to quarrel with his Bone Priestess.
“I apologize, Priestess,” said Skylan stiffly. “I did not know the boy had sneaked aboard. You are right. I should have been keeping better watch on him. And now, you need to tell the dragon that it is time we made landfall.”
Treia spoke to the Dragon Kahg, who presumably relayed the information to the other two dragons, for all the dragonships changed course and began to sail toward the land.
Once this was done, Skylan seized hold of Wulfe by the arm. “You should thank Aylaen for saving your ass.”
“I had to come,” said Wulfe defensively. “You are my geas.”
“Whatever that is,” Skylan muttered.
“I saved your life. I have to watch over you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of watching over myself.” Skylan glowered at him. “Keep out from underfoot. Don’t bother the men, and stay away from Treia. Understand?”
Wulfe gave an emphatic nod, then added, grinning, “It’s a good thing I came. You forgot your dragonbone board. I packed it up and brought it with me.”
Skylan sucked in an irate breath. “I left the game behind on purpose!” He gave Wulfe a shake. “I didn’t want to bring the draugr aboard this ship!”
“Owl Mother said you would try to get rid of the draugr,” said Wulfe, wincing, “but that it wouldn’t work. The draugr would come anyway. She said you need to find out what the draugr wants you to do. Only then will she stop coming.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Are you going to throw me overboard?”
Skylan drew in a seething breath and waited a few moments for his rage to cool.
“I should,” he said. “But Akaria would probably throw you back. As for the draugr”—he tried to shrug it off—“I have more important matters to worry about.”
“Not according to Owl Mother you don’t,” Wulfe said.
“Now that you are aboard,” Skylan continued grimly, ignoring that remark. “You must make yourself useful.”
He paused, then said, “You will oil my sword.”
Wulfe stared at him, horrified, and tried to pull away.
“I mean it!” said Skylan, keeping fast hold of the squirming boy. “You brought this on yourself. You will have duties while you’re aboard, and one of them will be to oil my sword and keep the rust from forming. You will do this every day.”
“It’s iron!” Wulfe whimpered. “I can’t touch it!”
“You should have thought of that before you sneaked aboard a warship,” said Skylan coldly. “Now go.”
He gave Wulfe a shove that sent the boy sprawling onto the deck. Wulfe picked himself up and looked at Skylan with pleading eyes, to see if he really meant it. Skylan glowered, and Wulfe turned away, smearing his nose with the back of his hand. He walked with dragging steps over to the sea chest where Skylan’s armor and weapons were stored.
Wulfe glanced over his shoulder. He saw Skylan watching to make certain the boy obeyed his order. Treia was right. He’d let Wulfe run wild. The boy needed to be taught a lesson. Wulfe sniveled and gulped on his tears, then, squatting down, he reached out his hand for the beautiful embroidered sheepskin scabbard Skylan had purchased for Blood Dancer. Lanolin from the sheepskin would help keep the sword free from rust. Oiling the sword daily was also requisite. Rust was the bane of a warrior’s existence. As Wulfe’s hand closed over the scabbard, the boy’s thin body