Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [4]
Skylan had often dreamt that his soul went to Torval’s Hall of Heroes. As he stood among the valiant warriors who had died with swords in their hands, his hands and feet were bound by chains. Torval and the other heroic warriors had roared with laughter, driving him from the Hall. He would constantly awake from that terrible dream in a cold sweat.
Skylan now watched the carpenters. He had to admit, grudgingly, that they knew their business. He turned to Wulfe, who was digging holes in the sand.
“I asked you a question. Where has Raeger been keeping himself?” Skylan said. “I would think he would be hanging around like he did at first, gloating and jeering at us.”
Wulfe shrugged. “He is probably somewhere rutting with Treia.”
Skylan stared at the boy, incredulous. “Treia? And Raegar? Treia may be a venemous snake, but she is Vindrasi. She is loyal to her people and to her gods. Raegar betrayed her as he betrayed the rest of us. She would scratch out his eyes if he came near her.”
“I saw them,” said Wulfe. “In the temple. Rutting.”
“What do you mean, you saw them in the temple? What temple? Where?” Skylan demanded.
“The temple here,” said Wulfe. “The temple with the big statue of a dragon inside it.”
Skylan frowned. “This isn’t another of your stories, is it? Like claiming you can talk to satyrs and dryads.”
“I do talk to satyrs and dryads,” said Wulfe. “And I did see Raegar and Treia.”
Skylan was dubious. He believed the boy lied, but his lies had the value of being entertaining. “Tell me what they said. And keep your voice down.”
An armed guard, looking hot and bored, paced about the sandy shoreline.
Wulfe leaned a little nearer, keeping a wary eye on the iron clamped around Skylan’s wrists and ankles, as though he expected it to leap up and bite him.
“You remember when the dragon goddess came to you?” Wulfe asked. “Right before you fought the giants?”
Skylan remembered that encounter only too well. He gave a brief nod; his lips tightened. “I remember. Go on.”
Wulfe continued. “The dragon goddess scared me and I ran away. I found Garn, but he was holding a sword and there were more men with him holding swords, and that scared me more than the dragon, and I ran away from them, too. That’s when I saw Treia. She was tearing her hair and wringing her hands and talking crazy to herself, all about how Raegar was dead and no man would ever love her.”
Skylan nodded. Wulfe’s story fit with what Garn had told him, about how the distraught Treia, grieving over the supposedly drowned Raegar, had gone off by herself. No one knew where. The Torgun had been going to search for her, but then the giants had attacked them and they were fighting for their lives.
“I didn’t know where you were or how to get back to camp,” Wulfe said. “I thought Treia would know the way so I followed her. But she didn’t go back to camp. She went into the temple with the dragon. And there was Raegar, alive, lying on the floor. His clothes were all wet.”
“Of course they were,” said Skylan. “He didn’t fall off the ship. He jumped overboard and swam ashore.”
“Maybe.” Wulfe shrugged. “Raegar told Treia a god had punished him. Treia was so glad to see him she began to rut with him then and there. Afterward she asked why he was being punished. He said it was because he was keeping your secret. And then he told her your secret, about how you and Draya murdered someone named Horg. Did you murder someone named Horg?”
Skylan sighed and was silent for long moments, gazing out over the clear, waveless sea. At length, he shook his head.
“But someone named Horg was murdered?” Wulfe asked.
“Yes,” said Skylan.
“But you didn’t murder him?”
“No. I fought cleanly. As Torval is my witness!” Skylan said vehemently. “I did what I believed to be right. Why is it,” he asked in frustration, “that every time I think I am doing right, it turns out to be wrong?