Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [58]
Marching after the Knights were several thousand footmen. And then, to the great delight of the crowd, the sky above the city filled with dragons—not the dreaded flights of red and blue the people had feared all winter. Instead, the sun flashed off wings of silver and bronze and gold as the awesome creatures circled and dove and pivoted in their well-organized flights. Knights sat in the dragonsaddles, the barbed blades of the dragonlances sparkling in the morning light.
After the parade, the citizens gathered to hear their Lord speak a few words in honor of the heroes. Laurana blushed to hear it told that she alone was responsible for the discovery of the dragonlances, the return of the good dragons, and the tremendous victories of the armies. Stammering, she tried to deny this, gesturing to her brother and to the Knights. But the yells and cheers of the crowd drowned her out. Helplessly Laurana looked at Lord Michael, Grand Master Gunthar Uth Wistan’s representative, who had lately arrived from Sancrist. Michael only grinned.
“Let them have their hero,” he said to her above the shouting. “Or heroine, I should say. They deserve it. All winter they lived in fear, waiting for the day the dragons would appear in the skies. Now they have a beautiful heroine who rides out of children’s tales to save them.”
“But it’s not true!” Laurana protested, edging nearer Michael to make herself heard. Her arms were filled with winter roses. Their fragrance was cloying, but she dared not offend anyone by setting them aside. “I didn’t ride out of a children’s story. I rode out of fire and darkness and blood. Putting me in command was a political stratagem of Lord Gunthar’s, we both know that. And if my brother and Silvara hadn’t risked their lives to bring the good dragons, we’d be parading down these streets in chains behind the Dark Lady.”
“Bah! This is good for them. Good for us, too,” Michael added, glancing at Laurana out of the corner of his eye as he waved to the crowd. “A few weeks ago we couldn’t have begged the Lord to give us a crust of stale bread. Now, because of the Golden General, he’s agreed to garrison the army in the town, provide us with supplies, horses, anything we want. Young men are flocking to join up. Our ranks will be swelled by a thousand or more before we leave for Dargaard. And you’ve lifted the morale of our own troops. You saw the Knights as they were in the High Clerist’s Tower—look at them now.”
Yes, thought Laurana bitterly. I saw them. Split by dissension among their own ranks, fallen into dishonor, bickering and plotting among themselves. It took the death of a fine and noble man to bring them to their senses. Laurana closed her eyes. The noise, the smell of the roses, which always brought Sturm to her mind, the exhaustion of battle, the heat of the noonday sun, all crashed over her in a stifling wave. She grew dizzy and feared she might faint. The thought was mildly amusing. How would that look—for the Golden General to keel over like a wilted flower?
Then she felt a strong arm around her.
“Steady, Laurana,” said Gilthanas, supporting her. Silvara was beside her, taking the roses from her arms. Sighing, Laurana opened her eyes and smiled weakly at the Lord, who was just concluding his second speech of the morning to thunderous applause.
I’m trapped, Laurana realized. She would have to sit here the rest of the afternoon, smiling and waving and enduring speech after speech praising her heroism when all she wanted was to lie down in some dark, cool place and sleep. And it was all a lie, all a sham. If only they knew the truth. What if she stood up and told them she was so frightened during the battles that she could remember details only in her nightmares? Told them that she was nothing but a game piece for the Knights? Told