The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [144]
‘Lady Death?’ Salamander said. ‘Do you mean Alshandra?’
‘Of course not!’ Rori rumbled with laughter, then spoke in Deverrian. ‘My Lady Death, my own true love, she whom I served all my years as a silver dagger and a warlord both. They’re the same, truly, aren’t they, my brother? A warlord talks and talks and talks some more about his honour, but in the end, doesn’t it always come down to death? He’s merely paid in a different coin than the silver dagger.’
‘Well, that it does. But why do you—’
‘Don’t you see?’ Rori raised himself up on his front legs. ‘If I don’t serve my lady, she’ll never take me. I’ll live a dragon for hundreds of years. My only hope is to send her tribute.’
Salamander took an involuntary step back. The dragon rumbled and lowered his bulk to the ground again.
‘What about Raena, then?’ Dallandra returned the conversation to Elvish. ‘I suppose your Lady Death demands her, too.’
‘No. I’m the one who wants her dead, and Tren as well.’
‘Tren?’ Dalla said. ‘Who’s Tren?’
‘Matyc’s brother. The one I killed in front of Cengarn.’
Salamander’s bewilderment deepened. The only Matyc he knew was Branna’s young nephew. Rori seemed to sense his confusion.
‘Matyc was a traitor lord I killed in a trial by combat,’ the dragon said. ‘His brother Tren tried to avenge him, but I killed him during the battle in front of Cengarn.’
‘Oh,’ Dallandra said. ‘I do remember that, just vaguely.’
‘He’s returned to torment me as well. They’re like the wound, those two. They eat at me. I’ve been searching for them. I forget them for a while, but then I remember, and I have to search for them. If I kill Sidro, maybe the wound will heal. I don’t know Tren’s new name, but he’s a shapechanger, and he’s cursed me.’
‘No, he hasn’t!’ Dallandra snapped. ‘Killing her won’t heal you, either. Rori, I’m willing to wager high that they don’t even remember you. They’ve died and been reborn since then. For all I know, they may even have had two new lives. Do you remember the talk we had, standing in Cengarn’s dun? I told you then that most people become someone new when they return.’
‘They’re still my tormentors.’
‘No, they’re not.’ Dallandra strode up next to him and laid a hand on his massive jaw. ‘They are no longer who they were. Why would they torment you? Please believe me!’
Rhodry looked as if he would speak, then lowered his head and rested it upon the ground to allow her to reach his face. She stroked him as if he were a pet dog, and slowly his mad fit eased. Salamander felt tears rising beyond his power to stop them. When he caught his breath in a sob, Rhodry’s eyes flicked his way, cornflower blue and shaped like human eyes, with their round irises and dark dot of pupil, not dragonish at all. Through them, despite their size and the taint of madness, he saw his brother looking back at him.
‘Go fetch Calonderiel, would you?’ Rhodry’s enormous voice became oddly gentle. ‘I’ve much to tell him.’
Salamander glanced at Dallandra, who mouthed a single word, ‘go’.
‘I’ll do that, then.’ Salamander turned and shamelessly ran before they could change their minds and call him back. After a few hundred yards he was gasping for breath. He slowed down to a trot. Around him the grass blurred and shimmered through tears.
By the time he reached the camp, he’d managed to stop weeping. He found Calonderiel, gave him the message, and saw him on his way, then sat down on the ground in front of the banadar’s tent. The smell of dragon lingered on his clothes, or so he felt, like a poison, forcing him to remember his brother’s misery. Clae found him there some while later—how long a while, Salamander was unsure—with a summons from Tieryn Cadryc.
‘His grace wants to send letters home while he can.’
‘Well and good then.’ Salamander hauled himself to his feet. ‘That gladdens my heart.’
Clae shot him a puzzled