Dragon Stones (26 page)

She decided to try something different, turning into any corridor she found that was larger than the one she was in.  This seemed to work better; she soon found herself in a hall that she thought she recognized.  Hadn't she come through here the day she'd arrived?  The stone floor was covered with dried mud, tracked in by people entering from the rain-soaked courtyard.  The mud grew thicker to her right, so she went that way, eventually coming to a large door, half-open, letting the light of early morning trickle in.  Guards stood on either side, looking sleepy and bored.

To hesitate would be to invite scrutiny.  She marched right past them, unchallenged, into the courtyard.  She had made it out of the keep, but the outer wall of the castle still stood between her and freedom.  The large gate remained closed against those who would intrude in the night; no tradesmen or villagers came or went at this hour.  She would have to speak to the guards to be let out through the postern, and without the ability to tell lies, she would have difficulty talking her way past them.  She hesitated, and then headed for the stable instead, staying close to the castle wall.  The men stationed at the outer gate watched her, but said nothing and issued no challenge.

Entering the darkened horse barn, she relaxed a little.  She was out of the open now; perhaps she could find a place to hide until the outer gate opened and traffic began to flow.  By then, though, they would no doubt be looking for her; perhaps she could waylay a groom, steal his ragged garments, and escape in the guise of a boy.

She made a quick circuit of the stalls, peering through the slats at the spaces within.  Most were empty, and many of the ones that were occupied contained horses that seemed old and thin, not likely to survive a hard day's ride.  Certainly she found nothing suitable for a rapid flight across the plains with Dunshandrin's men in pursuit.  At the far end of the stable she came upon a large sliding door, held shut by a hasp and padlock.  She could see daylight around the edges.

Might this be a way out?

She jiggled the lock, but it felt very sturdy.  She doubted she could break it even with leverage, and the noise of such an attempt would bring guards to investigate.  She let it fall and it clanked against the door, provoking a chorus of squawks and screeches from the other side.  Startled, Tolaria pressed her ear against the crack and listened.  Birds, definitely birds, but they sounded oddly loud and throaty.  She thought of Qalor's talk about eagles.  Was this where he kept them?  She put her eye to the gap and squinted through it.  She saw large shadows moving, much bigger than any bird she had ever seen, but could make out no details.

Suddenly Tolaria became aware of voices approaching from the direction of the entrance.  She looked around for a place to hide, spotted a stack of baled grass teetering against the wall to her right, and darted behind it.  Through gaps in the bundles she could see two young men coming toward the rear of the stable.  One was loudly describing a chambermaid who had evidently pleasured him the night before.  "Her tits were this big!" he said, mimicking breasts with his hands; if he were telling the truth, which Tolaria doubted, the unfortunate woman probably couldn't stand without assistance.

The other youth said, "Have you seen the wench the twins put in the Queen's old room?"

"No, but I heard about her.  They say she's an oracle."

"Oracle!"  The second groom snorted.  "Oracles are old crones.  I saw her the day she came in, she's a whore if there ever was one."

"She never comes out of the royal wing."

"Of course not, she's busy servicing the twins.  I'd like to get a piece of her, let me tell you!"

"The princes would have your balls."

"They wouldn't know what to do with balls, since they've got none of their own."

The boys laughed, then opened a nearby stall.  One stood back, holding the door, while the other coaxed out an aged horse that had been quartered inside.  They led it toward the sliding door, its hooves falling silently on the soft earthen floor.  One of the grooms produced a shiny black key and undid the padlock, then opened the hasp.  Grasping the iron handle, he slid the door to the side.  The bird noises got much louder; now Tolaria could hear great wings fluttering as well.

The groom strained to hold the door open as his companion led the horse inside, then ducked through himself; the door began to close on its own, rolling along a track in the floor.  She hurried over and caught it just before it shut.  Its momentum pulled her off balance, but she braced herself against the wall and managed to stop it, then dragged it open enough to slip inside.  She found herself in a short hallway that ended in another sliding door, this one made of metal bars.  It had already closed, but didn't appear to have a lock on it.  She approached it slowly, staring through the bars at the open space beyond.

It
was
an
aviary; but where other kings might keep exotic, brightly colored birds from distant lands, Dunshandrin had a flock of monstrous hawks and eagles ranging from the size of a large dog to bigger than a horse.  They hopped and fluttered around an enormous cage made of interlocking wooden beams, forming a dome that rose above high walls of bricks and mortar.  The area looked like it had once been part of the courtyard, and she guessed it had only recently been converted to its present use; the wood looked fresh, not yet weathered by winter storms or bleached by summer sun.  Within the confines of the bars, the ground had become a morass of churned mud and chalky white droppings, littered with the picked-over carcasses of animals.

The two young men led the quaking horse toward the center of the aviary.  The birds swarmed around them, screeching and carrying on.  A blade flashed in one groom's hand; Tolaria turned away, feeling sick.  She fled back to the panel, wrenched it open, and stumbled into the darkness of the stable.  The door banged shut behind her, stifling the sounds of the chattering eagles, the screaming horse.

She heard the iron gate crash closed beyond the door, and hurried back to her hiding place just as the grooms re-entered the stable.  The one with the knife still held it out, the horse's blood dark on the gleaming surface.  He came over to the pile of hay, scant feet from where Tolaria crouched in the darkness, and wiped the blade clean on the dry grass; the other, who had earlier been boasting about his prowess with a serving girl, now seemed pale and shaken, and very, very young.  "I liked it better when we were taking care of horses, not killing them," he said, no trace of bravado left in his voice.

"Do what you're told."  The groom checked his knife, then sheathed it.  "Otherwise they'll be feeding
us
to those things."

Silent now, the two of them locked the sliding door and left the stable.  Tolaria stayed hidden for some time, until she was sure they were gone; then she crept out from behind the bales and moved to the door of the stable.  She saw activity in the courtyard now; the postern  stood open, townsfolk arriving to spend their day working in the castle.  The large gates remained closed, but would likely open soon, to admit carts and wagons and traders on horseback.  When that happened, the stable would no longer be a good place to hide.

She adjusted her hood, then walked purposefully to the postern.  She kept her pace even, unhurried, trying not to look like a person fleeing the castle.  The guards paid little heed; if her escape had been discovered, word had not yet reached the perimeter.  She passed into the shadow of the wall, through the opening, out the other side; and then she was standing outside of her prison, on the downward slope of the hill, with the road curving away toward the town below.  She started down the road, moving at a brisk pace, maintaining a balance between prudent speed and obvious flight.  She crossed the stone bridge without incident, eventually reaching the outskirts of town, where the rock and scrub gave way to low, drab buildings and cobbled roads.

Now what?

The fastest way out of town would likely be by boat, which meant she would need to go to the lake.  She had no idea how she would buy passage; she carried no money, and could hardly sell her skills as a shipman.  She could imagine, though, what other sort of services a woman might be asked to barter in exchange for a berth on a vessel.

Well, she would worry about that when the time came.  For now, she needed to concentrate on reaching the docks.  When last she had traveled the city, it had been as a passenger in a carriage; she had not paid a great deal of attention to the route, never expecting to have to retrace it on foot, under the threat of pursuit.  All she knew was that the lake would be downhill.  She began walking along the main road, a continuation of the track that led up to the castle.  This part of town consisted mainly of mean one-story houses, with splotchy, muddy yards overhung with stunted trees.  The spaces between homes in most cases lay fallow, but she passed several community gardens that supported meager crops of autumn vegetables.  In one, a harvest was going on, old bent-backed women collecting squash about the breadth of large tomatoes.  Tolaria knew the variety, having grown it herself in the past, but she would have dismissed specimens of this size as hardly worth picking.  If she'd needed any further proof of the poverty of the soil here, there it was.

At length she entered a town square, where the cobbles gave way to flagstones surrounding a dry fountain.  She recognized this area; it had been the one time in her trip from the docks that the carriage had not jounced unpleasantly.  If she remembered correctly, the carriage had entered from the street to her left.  She headed for that avenue, moving through the throng of pedestrians and shoppers, ignoring the cries of the hawkers who sold fabric, food, and other sundries in a makeshift bazaar.  She felt a hand fumbling in her pockets; as she carried nothing of value, she pretended not to notice the attempted theft.  If she confronted the cutpurse, she would only draw attention to herself.

She exited the square, moving quickly down the road toward the lake.  It descended at a sharp angle, as she had recalled.  This neighborhood was less residential, more business.  She passed a clanging smithy that smelled of fire and iron, a stable, an inn, a bakery, none looking particularly prosperous.  The street curved off to the right, then back to the left, bringing the lake into view, the muddy waters glimmering crimson in the early light.  She could see the docks below; several boats were tied up, their holds in various stages of emptying or filling.  She quickened her pace, hurrying along to the waterfront, then moving up and down the wharf eyeing the vessels, trying to figure out which were preparing for departure, and of those, which was closest to being ready.

"Would you be inspecting cargo, sir?"

Startled, she whirled.  A short, portly, and rather dirty man stood nearby.  He looked as if he had swum through the muddy water to shore, crawled through the muck, and then shimmied up the pilings to gain access to the pier.  "No," she said.

At the sound of her voice, one of his eyebrows went up.  "You're a woman?"

"Yes."

"You don't look like a whore.  What is a woman who is not a whore doing here at the docks, alone, looking so hungrily at the ships?"

"I'm hoping to find passage out of Dunshandrin."

"If it's passage you want, I may have room on my vessel," he said.  "Though some say having a woman aboard is bad luck, I haven't much truck with such superstitions.  Where would you be headed?"

"The Crosswaters."

"Ah, yes, the oracles," he said.  "We're sailing to Achengate with food and equipment for my Lord Dunshandrin's salt mines.  We will be passing by the Crosswaters."  He eyed her.  "How much would you be able to pay?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?  Why not?"

"I have no money."

"No money?  You won't have much success booking passage if the first thing you say is that you have no money.  What do you think the oracles would say if you asked for a prediction, then told them you could make no offering?"

"If one's need were great, a true oracle would advise and predict anyway."

"And you think that's what they will do for you?"

"No.  I think they're all dead, except for me."  His eyes widened at that; she needed to end this conversation before it strayed further into dangerous territory.  "Can you find room for me on your boat?  I must get away from here."

After a moment, he said:  "Who
are
you, my lady?"

"My name is Tolaria."

"And you claim to be an oracle, unless I misunderstand you."  He reached up, rubbed the back of his neck.  "Why would an oracle have need of
my
poor old boat?"

"Dunshandrin has been holding me prisoner in his castle."

"What!  Holding an oracle prisoner?  I've never heard of such a thing!"  He gave her a narrow, appraising look.  "Are you having me on?"

"No."

"And why should I believe that?"

"Because of what Dunshandrin has done to me, I am compelled to answer all questions truthfully; even if I wanted to lie to you, I could not."

His eyes narrowed.  "You're saying you cannot lie?"

"Yes."

"Well, that
is
quite a story."  The man studied her, sucking on his lower lip.  "What was your first impression of me, then?"

"That you were small and dirty and probably a ruffian."