Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [114]
Skylan shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. First Raegar plots to kill me and then he tries to keep me from being killed. And then someone else tries to kill me! I wonder why I’m suddenly so valuable?”
Wulfe yawned a huge yawn, cracking his jaws. “I don’t know. Can I go to sleep now?”
Skylan nodded. Wulfe curled up in a corner of the tent and closed his eyes. Skylan started to leave him, then thought better of it, and lay down on the cot. It occurred to him that he could never leave Wulfe by himself again.
The light still flickered from the oil lamp. Skylan was too tired to get back up and blow it out. Besides, he didn’t feel like being left in darkness. Not after what he’d heard. He was closing his eyes when a voice softly calling his name sent a lightning bolt through his body.
“Skylan?” Aylaen said from outside the tent. “Are you in there? I need to talk to you.”
Skylan jumped to his feet and flung open the tent flap.
“I’m sorry if I woke you . . . ,” Aylaen said.
The sky was starting to turn gray in the east. She looked worn out. Her clothes were disheveled. Her hair was rumpled, her eyes sunken in her head.
“I wasn’t asleep. Look,” said Skylan. “It’s Wulfe. He’s back.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Aylaen said. She crept over to him, gently smoothed the hair from his face. “He’s so thin. Is he all right? Where has he been?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. What did you want to talk to me about?”
She stared at him. “You’re bleeding! What happened?”
Before Skylan could answer, she saw the bloody marks on his neck. “Did a dog bite you?”
“A wolf,” said Skylan.
“But you were at the Palace with the Legate. . . .”
“Again, long story. Please, tell me, why did you come?”
“I will get some of Treia’s potion,” Aylaen said, and she was out of the tent before he could stop her.
Skylan waited, his heart beating so rapidly he was having trouble breathing. When she didn’t return, he wondered if the potion had been an excuse for her to leave. He was almost sick with disappointment, when she opened the flap.
“It took me awhile to find it. Someone moved the chest it was in. Sit down. This will sting.”
Aylaen sat down beside Skylan on the cot. He was aware of her closeness, of her scent. Love and desire burned inside Skylan. She began to rub the potion on the wound. Her touch was chill, her fingers trembling. He felt her hand shake.
“I have to ask you something,” she said.
“You can ask me anything,” said Skylan. He turned to face her. “You know that.”
Aylaen flushed and lowered her eyes. “I need to know the secret for summoning the Vektan dragons.”
Skylan wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “What?”
“I know Draya told you the secret,” Aylaen said desperately. “You have to tell me. You have to!”
Her voice softened. She reached out to him.
“Please, Skylan!” she said tremulously. “Please tell me! You must! Or else . . .”
“Or else what?” Skylan asked, puzzled.
Aylaen bit her lip and shook her head. The flush had gone from her face, leaving her pale and shivering. “Nothing. I need to know. That’s all. You have to trust me.”
Skylan began to pick up the pieces. Raegar summoned Aylaen to the Temple and paid to have me killed. Raegar suddenly tries to stop his hired killers and is extremely upset when he’s told that it’s too late. Aylaen now comes asking me about the secret of the Vektan dragons.
“Raegar has one of the Vektia spiritbones,” said Skylan.
Aylaen gasped and drew back from him. “How did you know?”
How did he know? He saw again the Goddess Vindrash standing on the ship holding up her hand. The five fingers spread wide.
Wulfe stirred on his cot and gave a little whimper.
“Come outside,” said Skylan.
Aylaen ducked beneath the tent flap. She stood outside the tent, her arms tightly clasped, her face tense and strained in the pale light of the coming morning.
“Why does Raegar want to know the ritual?” he asked.
“He claims something dire is about to happen, an attack or invasion or something. He says he wants Treia to summon the dragon to protect their people.”
“You don’t believe that,