movements of the air. “If you knew how, you could kindle a fire that would burn this world to ashes.”
She stood and listened, in the endless fog and twilight, the flowerless meadow, the land where there is no land. And as she listened to dragon-thoughts and dragon-voice, the use of power became evident and easy.
Fierce thoughts brought flames, subtle thoughts moved the air. She learned thoughts of callings, thoughts of shapings, thoughts to hold and warp men’s minds. They came to her easily. Words were unnecessary, gestures only toys.
She questioned him only once. “And what of healing?” she asked.
A sound that could have been a laugh came from the dragon’s throat. “You have no gift for that in you. No seed nor root of it, nor could seed grow in that barren soil.”
So she turned away, and did not ask again. She wove shapes of mist and fire on the high sea-cliffs, and gave no thought to the passing of time.
Chapter 9
Ilbran had half-forgotten his own danger, as he knelt in the dusty roadway. So compelling had been the grizane’s need, to pass the message and the burden on. For a moment longer he stared at the ragged gray robes, the arrow feathered with purple and red. Then he raised his head and saw the archers, a pair of them on horseback, far down the dusty road and seeming in no hurry to come closer.
They fear the grizane, he thought, but as he turned and ran, they gained courage and galloped after him. While they rode, they could not aim well, the only thing that might save him.
No time to waste in useless grief. Saliswood trees grew along the river, but they were too far away. If he ran straight, the archers would ride him down long before he had reached their shelter. He swerved from the road and plunged into the thick blaggorn straw, burrowing into it. Even sitting high on horseback, they might lose him in the tall-stalked field.
The broken blaggorn stems would leave a trail that anyone on foot could follow, but once inside the field, he found a maze of animal trails. He ran half-crouched along the little paths beaten in the tall grass. They twisted and turned, but he followed the ones that led downhill. When he paused once to glance back, peering between the long grass stems, the horsemen were quartering and casting about like hounds on an unclear trail. He heard a horn blowing, calling others to the hunt.
He was close to the trees now. They gave no cover, but the tall thin trunks were set too thick for a horse to pass. If his pursuers had been wiser, they would have begun their hunt there, and gradually driven him back to the road, the open places.
But the kingsmen were still behind him. Ilbran sprang to his feet and dashed toward the trees. He heard the shouting behind him, the swish and thump as arrows struck the ground—in front of him. He had badly misjudged the distance, to show himself so close within their range.
He did not look back; it would only slow him down. He crouched and ran, dodging through the slender trees. A blow on his back, a sudden hot pain, an arrow trembled in his shoulder, tearing at his flesh as he pushed his way between the trees. He reached up and snapped off the feathered shaft, without breaking stride. The arrowhead twisted in the wound; now he would leave a blood-trail that they could follow. No time for a bandage, no time for thinking. A steep cliff, but not high, ran down to the wide streambed. He plunged down it.
The saliswood grew more thick and brushy in the stream bottom. The branches plucked even at the stub of the arrow shaft, as he forced his way through the trees. But he had outdistanced the hunters. Time to run wise, now.
On the far side of the stream, the brushy hills began to rise up. Though Ilbran had never seen such a land, he knew that it was fugitive country, outlaw land.
The brush was tall enough to hide him, but it grew sparsely on the dry hills. He could choose any of a myriad of trails. Slowing a little in his flight, he tugged off his tunic and bound it around his shoulder to stop the blood. Now he would leave no marks on the stony ground.
The hill was steep. The bushes were sweet and fragrant as he clung to them,