Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [21]
“I don’t know why you’re treating me so badly,” said Treia.
Aylaen sighed. “If I had the bone, don’t you think I would use it? I would summon the Dragon Kahg and tell him to carry me to Garn . . . ”
Treia regarded her uncertainly, then said slowly, “So you really do not have the spiritbone?”
“I’ve told you time and again, Treia, the bone was lost at sea,” Aylaen said wearily.
“But then . . . what I am supposed to do?” Treia asked, dismayed. “Raegar expects me to summon the dragon tomorrow morning.”
Aylaen was so startled, she sat up. “Why would Raegar expect you to summon the dragon? If you did summon Kahg, the first thing he would do would be to kill Raegar.”
“The dragon won’t kill anyone.”
“How do you know?”
“Raegar says Aelon has been victorious in battle against our gods. He holds Vindrash hostage—”
“That’s not true,” said Aylaen sharply. She was about to say she had seen Vindrash in her dream, but she feared Treia would scoff. “Even if it is, it doesn’t matter. The spiritbone was lost—”
“I’ve been thinking,” said Treia. “When a wounded dragon heals, he returns the spiritbone to the priestess. The Dragon Kahg may have hidden his bone somewhere on board the ship. We have to look for it.”
“If the dragon wanted you to have it, why would he hide it from you?” Aylaen asked, perplexed.
Treia glared at her. “I’m trying very hard to be patient, Aylaen, but you make it difficult. The dragon would not hide his bone from me. He would hide it from our enemies.”
Aylaen had to admit this made sense, more sense than anything else Treia had said. There was something more to this desperate need for the spiritbone, something Aylaen did not understand. But she loved Treia and she wanted to please her and, above all, she wanted her to leave her alone. And so she helped Treia search.
The sisters lifted the lids off barrels and fished about inside. They shook out blankets and empty sacking. They opened the lids of all the sea chests except one, which was locked, much to Treia’s ire. The chest was heavy and gave off a metallic clanking when Treia kicked at it in frustration.
“Raegar ordered his soldiers to lock our weapons in here,” said Aylaen.
They had taken away her sword, a gift from Vindrash. She had found the sword in the Hall of the Gods back in Luda. The sword had been an offering to the dragon goddess from some long-ago warrior. It had been stashed away with other gifts and forgotten.
Aylaen had been proud of it. The blade was old, but Skylan had assured her the workmanship was very fine, the steel good quality. Skylan and Garn had taught her to use a sword, back when they were children playing shield-wall.
Tears filled Aylaen’s eyes at the memory. She hurriedly wiped them away. If Treia saw her crying again, she would be annoyed.
“The Dragon Kahg wouldn’t hide the spiritbone in a locked chest,” Aylaen pointed out.
“Here is my sea chest!” Treia exclaimed, astonished, from where she was groping about in a shadowy corner behind the ladder.
“Well, what of it?” asked Aylaen.
Treia dragged the chest out from beneath the stairs. “I searched for it after the storm, but could not find it. I assumed it had been washed overboard. I searched in exactly that place. It wasn’t here. I’m positive.”
“It’s hard to see down here,” said Aylaen. “Everything was so confused then. You probably just overlooked it.”
“No, it was not here.”
There was no mistaking the chest, which had been a parting gift from the Kai Priestess, Draya. It was the only sea chest with a rune, the symbol of Vindrash, carved on the lid.
Treia lifted the lid and gave a glad cry. “Here are my clothes, clean and dry.”
Reaching in, she drew out a dress for herself and another she handed to Aylaen. “You can stop pretending to serve the Goddess. You no longer need to dress like a man.”
Aylaen shook her head.
“You might as well,” Treia urged, thrusting the dress into Aylaen’s arms. “We both know why you made that vow to be a man-woman. You didn’t really intend to become a Bone Priestess. You wanted only to be with Garn.”
Aylaen smoothed the fabric of the