long line of torchlit city wall. Finally he spoke. “What do you mean to do, my lady?”
“I mean to win my way to the city and kingdom with the weapons I bear in my hands.” She spread out her empty hands to show him, and met his eyes calmly. “Your daughter could aid me.”
“No!”
“She has helped me already. She is stronger than I was. She is brave and gallant, and old enough to choose her own path. I could teach her much that she would want to know.”
Andiene heard the echo of the dragon’s words in her own voice. He taught me much, but I will cheat him of his prey, she said to herself. She did not realize how fierce her look was, how closely Ilbran watched her.
He saw her pale hair shine in the dim light, cropped short like any gatherer’s, not like Malesa’s long dark lusterless braids. Her skin was dusky in the dim light, not pale; her voice was clear as ice, not soft like clouds of campfire smoke. There was a bright beauty about her, like flames or clear water, and yet he heard Malesa in every word she spoke.
He had known three sorcerers in his lifetime. The grizane had befriended him but died soon. Six years had gone by before Malesa showed herself in all her darkness. And here was the third one, powerful and arrogant. He looked down at his drowsing child, Malesa’s daughter too, drawn by the scent of magic, drawn by Andiene with her plans for power, born of a long line of killers.
He glanced from her to Kallan. Seen in this starlight, the two could be brother and sister—the light bones, the pale eyes, and hair more pale, a breed of killers. Ilbran thought of what he had said once, what he had believed. What do I care if lord kills king till the end of time?
And yet, she had endangered her cause by waiting many days till his wounds had healed and he was strong enough to travel. He had traveled at her side joyfully. She had forgiven her foe, Kallan, and won him to follow her trustfully. She could not help her birth.
Ilbran looked down at Kare again. “What she did, I could not control, but this I can. She is too young to choose; she is barely past her first naming. She will not aid you in your endeavor.”
For all that he said, his relenting was written on his face for anyone to see, even before he spoke. “But if you still wish it, I will go with you to Mareja.”
At that moment, her smile was all the reward he needed, before she turned to Kallan. “And what of you?”
The last to be questioned, he had had much time to think and prepare his answer—if she asked him. He knew what he wished to say: Lady, I would follow you over the whole wide world. But she had spoken to him last; he had seen the betraying joy in her eyes, a moment before. Instead, he said, “It seems that I am fated to serve one of your family.”
“Do not say that!”
“Judge your actions,” he said. “Judge your actions and remember that you are blood kin to the one you hate.” He looked up at the high unclimbable walls of the city. He had been in many of the ruling cities up and down the land, all alike, all alien to mankind.
Then he turned to face her again, and spoke bitterly. “I will go with you because you need me. No one has gotten the throne without leaving a trail of blood behind. Your father did not, nor will you, no matter how great your power may be.”
Chapter 20
At dawn, they went in between the dragon’s paws. The guards laughed and did not challenge the small bedraggled group. Andiene walked slowly and looked from side to side. “This is the pattern of my own city,” she said in wonder.
“No,” said Kallan. “This is a wider city than Mareja. They built this more grand. Look at the houses, the palaces we pass.” He gestured to the buildings around them, long and low to the ground, built of many-colored stone. “These lie empty, and there are not people enough to fill them. The old ones built mightily in this southern land.”
“You speak with pride,” Lenane said merrily. “Show us the source of that pride.”
“Did you plan a time like this?” he asked in annoyance.
“What better time? Come, show us