Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [25]
“You have to come, Aylaen!” said Treia insistently. “Please!”
Aylaen sat up, her arms on her knees.
“I don’t see why. . . .”
“Because sometimes the Dragon Kahg doesn’t come when I summon him,” Treia said, her face strained and tense and glistening with sweat.
“The dragon will come, Treia. You are the Bone Priestess.”
Treia’s lips tightened. She was holding the spiritbone in her hand, and suddenly she thrust it in Aylaen’s face.
“The Dragon Kahg gave the spiritbone to you. You are the one who found it. That means he wants you to have it.”
“But I don’t want it,” Aylaen said, shocked. She stared at her sister in dismay. “I don’t want anything to do with this!”
“Then our people are doomed,” said Treia coldly. “And you have doomed them.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Aylaen took the spiritbone from Treia’s hand.
On the war galley, Acronis walked the deck, trying to find the most advantageous position from which to see what was happening on board the Venjekar. He could hear Raegar summoning the women. There appeared to be some sort of problem, for there was a momentary delay, but then they appeared, one wearing what looked to be ceremonial robes and the other dressed like a man. According to Raegar, this female had taken some sort of vow to her barbaric gods to become a “man-woman.”
Acronis found this practice curious, and he had made a note of it. He had been disappointed to find that Raegar could not provide him with more details.
“I have not lived among them for years,” said Raegar dismissively. “Thank Aelon I’ve managed to forget all their savage ways.”
Poor Raegar. An ambitious man, he could capture all the dragons in the world and he would never gain what he sought—acceptance in Sinarian society. He would always be an outsider. Acronis had once tried, kindly, to explain to him the facts of the matter. Raegar had flown into a rage, yelling and cursing—merely confirming what everyone knew. He was, beneath his fine clothes, an uncivilized barbarian.
The two women stood close together. They were sisters, though Acronis found that difficult to credit, for they did not look much alike. The one who dressed as a man had green eyes and a crop of red curls. The other had long blondish hair and dark eyes. The red-haired woman was a beauty or would have been if she had combed her rampant curls and washed her face. Her older sister might have been attractive, but for the fact that she squinted and walked with the slight stoop one often saw with those who had poor eyesight.
The ritual to summon the dragon was apparently about to start, for the older sister had hold of an object that must be the vaunted spiritbone. She lifted the bone in front of her and began speaking to the wooden head of the dragon.
Acronis was too far away to see the bone or hear what the priestess was saying and he regretted that he was not present on the Venjekar to observe and take notes. He had considerd it, but had at last agreed reluctantly with Zahakis that the Legate’s place was on his own galley, ready to order his men to take action should the dragon attack.
Raegar had promised he could control the beast—or rather, Aelon could control it. Acronis was dubious and, frankly, at this stage, after sweltering in the sun listening to Raeger drone on and on, Acronis was rooting for the dragon.
The Vindrasi prisoners were silent, watching their Bone Priestess. The blond, young hothead named Skylan sat by himself.
“He is undoubtedly praying to his savage gods that his dragon will kill us all,” Acronis remarked to his scribe, who was by his side. “I don’t suppose I can blame him.”
The priestess quit speaking. Holding the spiritbone, she placed her hands into a bucket of water, scooped up seawater, and held it and the spiritbone in her cupped palms.
The Torgun warriors rose eagerly to their feet, ignoring the soldiers who angrily ordered them to sit down. Raegar glared at all of them and demanded silence.
The water in the priestess’s hands dripped onto the deck. Nothing happened.
Acronis glanced