Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [90]
With her help, he could, but the effort left him gasping. The thin and leathery Jorn insisted that Rhodry sit in the best chair, all propped with pillows, since it was a low thing indeed for a man of his height, while they drank yet another toast and Jill packed up her supplies.
“Never did I think I’d live to see the day when an elf would do me a favor,” Otho said at last.
“Ye gods,” Jorn snarled. “Will you mind your manners? It’s that kind of talk that nearly got you sliced into shreds and snippets by the late and unmourned Matyc.”
“He’s got a point,” Garin said. “Apologize.”
“None needed,” Rhodry broke in. “I’ve known Otho too long to expect courtesy.”
Otho actually smiled, a quick and quickly over draw of his lips.
“Good. Don’t.” Otho raised his goblet in Rhodry’s direction. “All right, silver dagger. Name your debt price. I know you’ve got one, and I know it’s going to be high.”
“Of course. Look, Otho, I don’t want gold or suchlike. I need help in finding somewhat up in the northern mountains, and I’ve got to find it fast. It’s summer now, but winter does tend to come before you want to see it.”
Otho groaned and rolled his eyes ceilingward.
“What is it?” Jorn said. “A vein of metal? Jewels or suchlike?”
“Naught like that. A dragon.”
Jorn sputtered. Garin whitened. Mic sat down hard on the floor. Only then, seeing their terror, did Rhodry believe that a dragon truly existed for him to find. When he glanced Jill’s way, he found her watching him with a certain admiration.
“Worms and slimes!” Otho spat out. “Why don’t you ask for the moon, silver dagger? We could make a ladder long enough for you to climb to the heavens and fetch her down.”
“I’ve always heard that the Mountain People pay their debts. Isn’t that true?”
There was a beat of silence in the room as loud as any drum. Rhodry had attended enough royal courts to know that he’d committed a discourtesy and a major one, but whether he’d thrown a challenge or simply been insulting he couldn’t tell. At length Garin looked daggers at Otho, snapped a few words in Dwarvish, then turned to Rhodry.
“I’d ask you not to judge us all by my kinsman.”
“Now, here, I meant no insult. I was just speaking offhand.”
“There’s naught offhand about debt and the paying of debt.” Garin paused for another significant glance Otho’s way. “And since we owe you Otho’s life, then the dragon you shall have in return.”
“It’ll take us a while to raise the army,” Jorn put in. “I hope you’re not in a hurry or suchlike.”
“I don’t need an army,” Rhodry said. “All I’m asking you is to help me find the beast. I’ll do the capturing and suchlike.”
The dwarves all looked back and forth at one another for a long moment, then stared at Rhodry. He didn’t need dweomer to hear them thinking “half-witted dolt” and “madman.” Garin turned to Jill in mute appeal.
“If anyone can tame the beast,” she said. “It’ll be Rhodry.”
“Oh,” Garin sighed. “Well, then. If anyone can, you say? If. Well, then.”
“Humph.” Otho considered, combing his beard with nervous fingers. “I’m sorry now I didn’t let Matyc cut me into pieces. It would have been a faster and a lot more pleasant way to die.”
“Some of us have been having similar thoughts,” Jorn remarked absently, as if to die ceiling. “But kin is kin, and debts are debts, and there we are and here we are.”
“Just so,” Garin said. “We’ll have to go to Enj.”
“Where’s that?” Otho broke in.
“Not a where, a who.” Garin nodded in Otho’s direction. “He was born some years after you—er, well—left us so sudden, like.”
“The where’s not such an easy thing, either,” Jorn said. “The trip to Haen Marn’s somewhat of a trial in itself.”
“We’ll have to suffer it, then.” Garin shot him a dark glance, as if in warning. “No one knows more about dragon lore and fire mountains than Enj. If anyone can find this beast, it’ll be him.”
“But he’s mad,” Mic wailed. “Stark raving.”
“Oh, splendid!” Jill laid her sack on the floor and turned toward the dwarves. “That’s all Rhodry needs, a madman for a guide. And what do you mean, volcanoes?”
“That’s where they live,