Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [231]
“Yes,” Kieri said. He did not believe the man was a dragon, though he was strange. Perhaps he was a Kuakgan. “I cannot heal this myself; I was hoping for a Kuakgan to help me.”
The man looked hard at the elves then back at Kieri. “Do you consider the consequences of your acts?”
“Yes,” Kieri said.
“And what did your Sinyi tell you about Kuakkgani?”
“They do not like them, for some quarrel I do not understand.”
“I do,” the man said.
“But the taig’s need is greater than a quarrel,” Kieri said.
“Quarrels are rarely just,” the man said. He glanced back down the road. “Those horses should be farther away.”
“Who are you?” Kieri asked.
“Who are you?” the man answered with a mocking smile. “Do you have authority to demand my name?”
“I am the king,” Kieri said. “If you are human, and in this realm, then yes, I do.”
“Well, king, I am not human, though I take this shape to cause less fear. My name belongs to me alone, but the Sinyin there was correct: I am a dragon. Over whom, I must inform you, you have no authority whatsoever.”
“Did you burn this?”
“No. I stopped it, but not alone.” The man tipped his head back and pulled something from his mouth—longer, impossibly longer. A blackwood bow. “The arrows you found came from this bow, and the woman who sent the arrows into the fire—”
“Died there,” Kieri said. It came out half gasp, half cry.
“No,” the man said. “She did not die.”
“She is alive? Where is she?” Kieri’s skin prickled up with a sudden chill.
“Coming,” the man said. He looked Kieri straight in the face. “She is a very brave person, but she is only half the song. Are you the other half?”
Arian alive—could it be? Arian alive! Cold vanished in a rush of joy that warmed. “Yes,” Kieri said. “I am.”
“She is wiser,” the man said. “But you are not unwise, and you know what she does not. Perhaps you are what the land needs … come near.”
“My lord, no!” his Squires said as he took a step forward.
“I must,” Kieri said.
“I will change, and offer you what I offered her,” the man said. “But those horses—I do not wish anyone to be hurt.”
“Dismount,” Kieri said to the others, “and lead the horses back.”
“You say you care for the taig,” the man said, as the others did as commanded. “What would you give to save the taig?”
“Whatever is necessary,” Kieri said.
“Have all your deeds been just?”
“No,” Kieri said. “And though I regret those that were not, it does not change what came of my injustice.”
“Perhaps indeed you are as wise as Half-Song. Abide there: I change.”
The man’s shape dissolved and then resolidified larger, larger still, darker, the faint smell of hot metal much stronger now. Then the dragon crouched before him, dark as old bronze, each scale distinct, the long snout, the great glowing eyes, the coils of tail.
“Come, now … touch your tongue to mine. Let me taste your justice, O king, and let you taste mine.” Kieri stared a moment as a long red tongue slid out of the dragon’s mouth. The air shimmered above it; the surface looked like red-hot iron, a few flakes of ash on its surface trembling from the heat.
What would you give for the taig? Arian, he was sure, would have risked this and more. He knelt, feeling the heat pouring off the dragon’s tongue; it took all his courage to force his tongue from behind his teeth and touch it.
To his tongue it was hard, barely warm, and tasted of iron and spices. The tongue was withdrawn; as he lifted his head, the dragon winked at him. “You are a man of justice, whom anger no longer rules. Half-Song has chosen well. You will prosper.”
Kieri had just stumbled to his feet when the dragon said, “They are come.” Kieri turned and saw the silvery light of the elvenhome kingdom moving toward them down the road, within it the Lady and many other elves. The light washed out around him; he felt its effect on the taig where he stood, like cool salve on a burn.
Kieri wanted to demand of the Lady where she had been, but the look of grief on her face stopped him. She came and knelt to him, as she had not before. In a voice like liquid silver, she