The Emperor of All Things - By Paul Witcover Page 0,177
won’t.’
‘You will,’ the dragon said. ‘Whether you fight it or not, whether you believe it or not, you answer to me now.’
Before Quare could reply, the dragon flexed its muscular coils, and there was something irresistible in the movement, a sovereign directive that sank deeper than reason, right into the animal heart of him. Suddenly he was ejaculating with a force that nearly bent him over in the bath, wringing him like a sponge. There was nothing remotely sensual about it; it seemed more like an act of rape.
The next instant, Quare jerked upright, shivering in water that had grown ice cold. The Chinese screen stood where it had always stood; of Tiamat, there was no sign. Someone was knocking at the door to his room.
16
A Whole Different Order of Drowning
QUARE LOST NO time in rising from the bath. He wrapped himself in a towel and called to whoever was knocking at the door. A liveried servant entered the room.
‘His lordship requests that you join him downstairs,’ the man said.
‘I’ll not be long,’ Quare said.
‘If I may assist,’ the man began.
But Quare interrupted. ‘I’m capable of dressing myself. If you wait in the hall, I’ll be out directly.’
‘Very good, sir,’ said the man, and left a bow.
Quare rubbed himself dry, his thoughts racing. If anyone had told him that he would one day converse with a dragon, he would have called that person a lunatic, yet he did not for a second doubt what had just occurred. The experience had left him drained in every way. His hands trembled, and his legs felt boneless as he stumbled to a nearby chair and collapsed into it. The only illumination in the room was from burning candles; the windows had gone dark behind their curtains; it appeared that he had been in the bath for some hours, though it had not seemed longer than a few minutes.
The dragon – Tiamat – had said that the hunter had marked him. There was a small cut on his finger, where Master Magnus had jabbed him, spilling his blood, but he did not think that was the mark Tiamat had been referring to. No, the dragon had been speaking of a deeper marking, a connection binding him to the watch, and the watch to him.
It has tasted your blood and will tug at you no matter where it may be, the dragon had said. It will answer to you now, protect you … but do not imagine yourself its master.
He closed his eyes and tried to feel that connection. But, as with the link that Grimalkin had mentioned, he detected no tug, no hint of a presence pulling at him the way a lodestone might pull at a nail, or as the house had pulled at him when he’d stepped from the rooftop back into the Otherwhere. No, what he felt was weak. Empty. And afraid.
Whether you fight it or not, whether you believe it or not, you answer to me now.
And as if to prove that claim, Tiamat had demonstrated just how little Quare controlled his own body. What if, when the moment came – if it came – and he held the hunter in his hand, a similarly irresistible compulsion took hold of him, and, despite his intent, he called out to Tiamat, summoned the dragon to him and gave up the watch? He did not believe that the dragon intended to destroy so powerful a weapon. Nor was he at all convinced that the creature was not one of Doppler’s minions.
He was in over his head. That much was plain. Had been for some time now. But this was a whole different order of drowning. He was used to the idea that he could not trust anyone else. But now it seemed he could no longer trust himself. He had to tell Longinus. Explain that he could not accompany him back to the guild hall. It was too dangerous. Too risky. They could recover the watch only to lose it again, and everything with it.
He dressed and belted on his sword. The servant led him down to the same room in which he and Longinus had breakfasted that morning. As before, enough food for a feast had been laid out. There, too, his host was waiting.
‘Ah, Mr Quare,’ Longinus said as he was ushered into the room, which was ablaze with light from a chandelier that bristled with creamy white candles. ‘I trust you had a good rest?’