Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [11]
“The Legate has returned,” Raegar said. “I must take you back.”
Treia grabbed her wet chemise from where she had dropped it on the floor, and he took her back to the storage room.
“I am sorry I have to leave you locked up in here,” said Raegar. “When you summon the dragon for me, perhaps I will be able to prevail upon the Legate to release you.”
“I would do anything for you, Raegar,” she said. “You know that. But I am afraid for you; the Dragon Kahg will view you as a traitor. He might take out his fury on you.”
Raegar smiled. “The dragon has no power to harm me. I don’t have time to explain now. I will come back to you this evening.”
He shoved her into the storage room and shut the door.
“My love! Raegar!” Treia pleaded. She heard him drop the bar that locked the door, heard him turn the key in the lock, heard him walk away.
She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the door. She had no choice. Somehow she had to find a way to do what he wanted. She could not lose him. She turned and fell over an amphora she had not been able to see due to her poor eyesight.
She caught herself and waited until her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light that filtered through the chinks in planking of the ship’s hull. When she could see well enough, she groped her way through the storage room to where Aylaen lay, fast asleep.
“Aylaen, wake up!” Treia said urgently. “Aylaen. I have to talk to you. It’s important.”
“What? I’m awake.” Aylaen sat up, staring about in confusion. “What is this place? I don’t—”
Her voice died. Her eyes darkened. “I remember. Raegar! We’re prisoners—”
“Listen to me, Aylaen,” said Treia sharply. “This is about Raegar. I need the spiritbone. You must give it to me. Now.”
Aylaen looked puzzled. “But I don’t have the spiritbone, Treia. It fell into the sea when the Dragon Kahg was wounded. You know that. You helped me search for it.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Treia flatly. “I think you are lying to me. You have the spiritbone. You’ve had it all this time, hidden away. You want to keep it for yourself.”
“Treia, you’re wrong. I swear to you—”
Treia slapped her across the face. “Give it to me!”
Aylaen put her hand to her stinging cheek. Tears flooded her eyes, and she turned away from Treia and lay back down.
Treia fell on her, grasping her, holding her close. “I am sorry, Aylaen! So sorry! Please forgive me. I am frightened of what might happen to us. You know what men do to captive women! Give me the spiritbone, and I will summon the Dragon Kahg to come save us!”
Aylaen rolled over and looked up sadly at her sister. “I wish for your sake and mine and for the sake of our friends that I had the spiritbone, Treia. But it is lost. You must believe me. I’m not even sure the Dragon Kahg is still alive. He was badly injured. He may have gone away to die. . . .”
“Don’t say that!” Treia said fiercely. “He is alive. The dragon is alive!”
“You believe me, don’t you?” Aylaen said wearily.
“I suppose I have to,” Treia said churlishly.
“I think I’d like to go back to sleep now, Treia. I’m not feeling well.” Aylaen lay back down with a sigh.
Treia walked away and tripped over a sack of something and hurt her toes. Behind her, she heard the sounds of Aylaen shifting her body about on the hard floor, trying in vain to find comfort.
Treia sat down on a pile of sacking and calculated how long she had to wait until Raegar returned.
Raegar came to her that night, as he had promised. Treia stood by the door. She’d been standing there since the last rays of the sun vanished and left the storage room in pitch darkness. He lifted the bar, opened the door, and drew her out into the corridor, which was as dark as the hold. He had not brought a light; he spoke in a whisper.
“You’ve had time to think, Treia. Will you summon the dragon for me?”
Treia braced herself for his displeasure.
“I can’t. Hear me out, my love,” she said, feeling his body grow rigid with anger. “I don’t have the spiritbone. Aylaen has it and she is keeping it from me!”
“Aylaen,” Raegar repeated, startled.