Authors: James V. Viscosi
"This is where you lived?" Diasa said, eyeing the structure.
Tolaria nodded.
"My mother thought Klem would give you a place of honor, based on the recommendation in the letter she sent with you."
"I think the letter is what prompted him to put me here," she said. "It made him angry and envious. Anyway, it wasn't so bad. I planted a garden."
"I see nothing but weeds."
"Clearing it will help pass the time."
"Word will spread that an oracle has returned," Diasa said. "You'll soon be too busy to putter around with flowers."
Diasa was probably right, but Tolaria hadn't given much thought yet to how she would handle being the only oracle at the Crosswaters. "Petitioners will have to learn patience, I suppose," she said, as they moved along the path through the remains of the garden toward the front door of the hut.
"Perhaps you can start your own school here."
That hadn't occurred to her. Headmistress Tolaria. She supposed it was a possibility, although it might be difficult to be an administrator when you were compelled to answer all questions truthfully. "Well, first the sanctuary needs to be rebuilt. That alone will take years." Then: "You
will
stay and help, won't you?"
"I told you, I must return to Flaurent."
"But why? What's there for you?"
"There are still … beings living in the ruins," Diasa said. "One of them told me we would meet again."
"And that means you have to go back?"
Diasa shrugged. "I need to find out a few things."
By now they had reached the entrance of the hut. The door stood partly open. Tolaria gave it a push and it swung inward, revealing an interior in disarray: The spartan furniture had been upended, the rough cabinets emptied, the bedding strewn across the floor.
"Looters," Diasa said in disgust.
"I'm sure they left disappointed." Tolaria stepped inside. Windblown rain had caused water damage in the vicinity of the door, and it looked like an animal had nested in the hearth. "I suppose I'll have to get this cleaned up, too." She proceeded to her writing desk, against the left wall. It had been emptied, her papers spilled and then spread by the breezes. In the damp, some of them had stuck to the walls and even to the ceiling. She didn't remember having this many scrolls before she left. She picked up a few, looked them over. Mediation requests. Klem must have been piling up petitions for her to review upon her return.
Turning to Diasa, she said, "What do you think I should do with—" She broke off, realizing that her companion was no longer there. She hurried to the door, looking across the grounds, and spotted Diasa some distance away, moving toward the front entrance. Just before disappearing from view, Diasa paused, looked back, waved goodbye. Tolaria waved back uncertainly, then watched Diasa vanish through the gates.
She went back into the hut. Diasa had promised to see her safely back to the Crosswaters, and had done so; but still, she might have stayed a little longer; she might have said goodbye. Feeling abandoned, Tolaria shut the door, and went to clear the hearth for a fire. What wood she could find was damp, and burned smokily.
Not long after, a tentative knock on the door brought the first of many petitioners that day, coming to see the oracle.
SECOND EPILOGUE
After dropping off Tolaria and Diasa, Adaran and Pyodor Ponn took their stolen boat downriver to the port of Kilkarat, east of Astilan. The town was largely empty; it turned out that most of the able-bodied men had gone to join Laquin's forces, who were harrying the remnants of Dunshandrin's army as it tried to retreat from Barbareth. Laquin, it seemed, had recently been freed from captivity during a nighttime raid on the Dunshandrian general's encampment, and had rallied his troops to drive out the invaders.
With neither the wizard nor the earth elemental at their disposal, their supply lines destroyed, and unable to replenish their weapons with Qalor's alchemy, the Dunshandrians could not hold Astilan. Everyone they spoke to in Kilkarat agreed that surrender was imminent, that when the battles were over, Dunshandrin would be an unimportant province of Barbareth, presumably with a new name. Tolaria's final prophecy for Torrant had already started to come true, it seemed.
Through a deceased friend, Ponn had minor connections in Kilkarat—Adaran wasn't sure what sort of connections they were; Ponn referred to it as covert shipping, which obviously meant smuggling, much to Adaran's astonishment—and he managed to get them passage on one of the last trading ships of the season, heading southeast along the coast to Enshenneah. Adaran's work had never taken him on an ocean-going vessel before, and he quickly discovered that he had an unfortunate predisposition to seasickness.
The ship docked briefly in Astilan to unload supplies for use in rebuilding the city; it docked again in Dyvversant, taking on cargo. Ponn vaguely remarked that it would be a good idea if they stayed aboard the ship and out of sight instead of going into either city.
After Dyvversant, they sailed around the mountainous outcroppings to the south, giving a wide berth to a region of smoldering volcanoes. Adaran had never seen such a thing before and, in between bouts of vomiting, scanned the peaks for signs of eruption. Unfortunately, he had to be satisfied with a few steaming vents in the distant black rock.
At length the mountains and palisades gave way to the jungles of Enshenneah. Now Ponn began to spend more time at the ship's rail as well, Prehn at his side or on his shoulders, watching the wild tangle slowly slide past. Sometimes, when he wasn't feeling particularly nauseated, Adaran joined them; when he thought he was likely to throw up, he stayed away.
The third day out from Dyvversant, when Adaran limped to where Ponn stood, the Enshennean glanced at him and said: "Nearly there."
Adaran said nothing. He had accepted Ponn's invitation to work at his inn for a while, but had no idea what his duties would be. He suspected that Ponn was planning to give him some sinecure, out of gratitude or pity or both. He thought he was unlikely to enjoy a stationary life in the steamy wilds of Enshenneah, but it was something to do while he recovered from his injuries; although he was able to walk unassisted now, his injured hand was still useless, as Tolaria had said it would be. He might not be good for burglary anymore, but he still needed to eat.
They reached Ponn's village the next morning. This proved to be a collection of small, round buildings nestled about a rocky lagoon. A tall wooden fence ran off into the lush green jungle that reared up behind the structures, verdant and shaggy; the stockade held it at bay, though it looked as if the surrounding creepers never stopped trying to reclaim the territory. The helmsman carefully steered the ship between jagged arms of black rock; Adaran braced himself, expecting the vessel to run aground at any moment. It had a shallow draft, though, and even though both sides of the hull scraped against the encircling shoals, they entered the broad, placid water of the harbor afloat and intact. The ship cut toward a series of docks made of lengths of round, hollow wood lashed together with fibrous vines. The sophistication of the structure belied the impression of Enshenneah he'd gotten from the headmistress and others; this was hardly the work of savages.
After the ship tied up, Adaran followed Pyodor Ponn down the gangplank to the pier, then to the black sand beach. The Enshennean had grown quiet, overtaken by excitement and anxiety that were evident in his face; Prehn, on the other hand, jabbered endlessly about nothing, pointing at things and naming them, pointing at people and naming them, too. All the people here seemed to know Ponn, and he constantly had to stop to exchange greetings, explain his long absence, and introduce his strange-looking companion. He began to grow visibly impatient with all the questions and started to ignore them, hurrying through the winding village paths as fast as Adaran's injured feet allowed.
But he was still too slow; word of his return must have reached his wife before he did, because a woman appeared in front of them and Ponn stopped short. Prehn squealed and scrambled away from him, running up and leaping into the woman's arms.
"Plenn," Ponn said, taking a step forward.
She slapped him, pivoted on her heel, and stalked away, carrying Prehn with her.
Ponn stood there for a few seconds, apparently stunned; then he ran after her, leaving Adaran to hobble along after and hope he wouldn't get lost.
THIRD EPILOGUE
Ponn caught up with Plenn at the door to the inn and followed her inside. He waited as she set Prehn down and sent her into the back room, inducing squeals from the other children who waited there. He followed Plenn again when she went into the kitchen. Finally she turned, pointed at him, opened her mouth, closed it, started to cry, and crushed him with a hug.
At last she let go of him, stepped back, and said: "Pord?"
The boy hadn't returned, then. Ponn slumped back against a wooden table and shook his head.
"No," Plenn said. "No, no, no."
"He wanted to come with us to the islands; he must have been hiding on the ship when the dragon sank it." The homecoming tasted bitter suddenly, a loaf of bread that looked perfect but had been burned on the bottom. "He was always so stubborn."
"But with a good, strong heart," Plenn said. "He would have grown into a brave man." Then: "Did you say a
dragon
sank the ship?"
"Yes, in the islands, after we had moored in a lagoon. I did ask her if she had seen a child in the wreckage, and she said no, so I thought perhaps—"
"You
asked
her?"
"We became companions, of a sort, after she rescued me. Gelt had abandoned me on the volcano, and—"
"That's not what
I
heard," Plenn said, interrupting, her amber eyes narrow. "
I
heard you were in Dyvversant squiring some fancy lady about, and Apperand had you arrested and thrown in jail."
So that part of the tale had made its way back here; gossip was an illicit cargo that needed no smuggler. "The woman was T'Sian, the dragon," he said. "She could take on human form. And Apperand did have me arrested, but it had nothing to do with her. Gelt had reported us to the authorities; Apperand threw Parillon and me in jail to save his own skin. T'Sian freed us, but she accidentally killed Parillon after we escaped."
"This dragon sounds careless," Plenn said, "
accidentally
killing Pord, then Parillon. What was her interest in you?"
"Her hatchlings had been butchered by the same man who sent Gelt here. She thought I could help her find them." She looked dubious, so he quickly gave her the whole tale, from being carried off by T'Sian until his arrival back at the village earlier that morning. Plenn folded her arms and listened, her face betraying increasing skepticism as he spoke of the attack on Astilan, the flight to Achengate, the destruction of the castle. As he talked, he heard the door to the inn open, the clunk of a cane on the floor, and then Prehn's squeal and giggle. Adaran must have arrived. "Come into the common room with me," Ponn said, taking Plenn's arm. "There is someone you must meet."
Plenn made a token resistance, then allowed him to lead her to the kitchen door. He opened it a crack so that they could see Adaran sitting at a table near the door, Prehn in his lap, regaling the other children with her own version of their adventures. Plenn put her hand on Ponn's shoulder and touched a finger to her lips, telling him to wait. The two of them stood there, listening, as Prehn described being carried off by the eagle, being rescued by Adaran and then by Diasa, flying on the dragon's back. Ponn noticed that Plenn had begun crying. He closed the door and turned to her; she crashed into his arms, crushing him with a powerful hug.
"I'm sorry I doubted you," she whispered.
"It's all right. I would doubt a story like that too."
"I thought you were all dead, you and Pord and Prehn. I thought they had dumped your bodies in the sea. I tried not to show my fears, but the children kept asking—"
"Hush," Ponn said. "It's all right. We're home, we're safe."
Still sniffling a little, Plenn stepped back, holding him at arm's length, looking at him. Wiping her eyes, she said: "There'll be no more adventures now, will there, Ponn? You'll stay here and be a simple innkeeper?"
"Of course," Ponn said. "At least, until I replace my ship. There is still one thing I must do."
"What?"
"Return to the islands, and see if I can find Pord," he said.
"But you nearly died there!"
"This time I will have my own crew," he said, "and a small boat that can better navigate the shoals."
"And if you meet another dragon?"
"Then I'll see if it knew T'Sian," he said, "and we can swap stories about her."