this! If we can somehow get this Kyrtian on our side, it will make all the difference!:
Keman's face showed no expression, but there was nothing but glee in his thoughts. :It's what we've needed all along, re¬ally—what Shana has needed—: he amended.
:Oh, we dragons have thrown our lot in with the Wizards now, no matter what some of us think,: Dora said cheerfully. :It's what we need, an ally and a person inside the ranks of the Elvenlords.:
Keman thought a chuckle. :It wouldn 't hurt the Trader clans to discover they've got some competition, either.: He was be¬ginning to resent the casual way in which the Traders had as¬sumed that the Wizards were totally at their mercy now when it came to things that the Wizards couldn't produce. His persis¬tent fear was that the Traders would learn that the Iron Folk most valued and needed the metal that gave them their name, and would find a way to supply it in quantity, thereby giving the Iron People no reason to continue their alliance with the Wiz¬ards. That could be a disaster; without the Iron People, the Wiz¬ards didn't have a lot of fighting-types if it came to real combat.
:But if we can get this new commander on our side, we won't need any fighters!: Dora reminded him excitedly.
:I wouldn't want to abandon the alliance, though,: he replied with caution, as he took her tin plate and his own, and scraped coals into both of them to burn off the remains of their stew— the most common way any of these humans here cleaned their dishes when they were done with them. Even the cooks cleaned their great pots this way sometimes. Especially lately, with Kyrtian moving the army from dawn to just before dark, chas¬ing the Young Lords' army.
:Well, do you think you've sufficiently calmed down enough to help me reach Shana?: he teased, as he sat down across the fire from her.
Her reply was not translatable, but was rude. He almost cracked his disguise with a grin, then they settled into their task—looking from the outside as if they were two middle-aged, weary men dozing by their fire.
Shana had hardly been able to believe what Keman told her; in fact, the moment he'd told her what Lord Kyrtian was plotting with his aunt Morthena, she'd asked him to wait for a moment. Then, her blood singing with excitement, she ran to get Lorryn so that he could hear and verify it before it actually sank in as truth.
She pounded down the rough stone corridors, red hair streaming behind her, from her chambers to the common-room, where he was sitting with Zed and one or two others, practicing working in concert and using gemstones to focus and amplify their powers. These were the skills that the younger wizards had developed that enabled them to do so much more than their elders—abilities which Caellach Gwain and his cronies re¬sented without actually troubling themselves to learn.
"Keman has some news," she said breathlessly, as the little group looked up with some surprise at her hasty entrance. "I'd like to hear what you think about it, if you can spare the time, Lorryn."
"Certainly; we were just about finished anyway." Lorryn stood up, and handed the basket-full of baby chicks he'd been cradling in his lap to Zed with a grin. "I never thought that I'd find myself purloining chickens with magic when I ran off to join the Wizards!"
"Hah. Can you think of any better way to practice the 'safe' transportation spell?" Zed countered, with his own wide grin splitting his tanned and swarthy face. "If you flatten a chick or two, it's no great loss."
"But they're so—well, cute—I'd feel guilty," Lorryn protested, looking down at the yellow balls of fluff while they cheeped sleepily.
Zed only grinned wider. "All the more incentive, then," he pointed out.
"Let's take a walk," Shana suggested—a good excuse to get away from the others. She didn't want to raise hopes that might be crushed; Lorryn could be trusted to consider all possible out¬comes and not just the most desired. Together they could dis¬cuss possibilities—grim as well as hopeful.
Which is just another reason why I'm glad he's with me. She'd fallen into the habit of considering him as a partner so quickly it was almost as magical as any spell. How not? She knew she could depend on him to do something when she asked him to, but even more importantly, she knew she could depend on him to do something he saw needed doing even if she didn't ask.
After a quick walk up to one of the concealed exits on the top of the hill covering their cave-complex, the two of them were out under the stars. It wasn't likely that they'd be overheard, but Shana related what Keman had told her mind-to-mind anyway. Just because something wasn't likely that was no reason to as¬sume it wouldn't happen.
And the Old Whiners are just as like to set someone to spy on us as not, she thought resentfully. The fat would be in the fire if they even thought that I was going to open negotiations with an Elvenlord!
:Ancestors!: Lorryn exclaimed, .-This is fantastic news! I would never, ever have anticipated this!:
While Shana went to get Lorryn, Keman had been waiting patiently; now she sat down on a rock and concentrated on the focus-stone in her hand, contacting him once again.
:I have Lorryn,: she told him, opening her thoughts slightly so that Lorryn could sense what Keman was telling her. :Can you go through all that again for both of us?:
Keman was only too willing to; Shana sensed both Lorryn's growing excitement and that of Dora behind Keman's carefully controlled thoughts. But Lorryn sobered immediately after the first burst of incredulous enthusiasm, and didn't interrupt any¬more while Keman concluded his report to Shana. It was diffi¬cult enough for them to maintain contact at such extreme distance, and Shana appreciated that he kept his own thoughts quiet while she and her foster-brother finished their business.
But Keman had an idea of his own for their situation, that he voiced before they broke off contact.:Shana, why don't you ask Mother and Kalamadea to find iron for you ? Oh, I know it in¬terferes too much even with our magic for them to bring it to the surface, but surely they can find it, and once it's been found, you can work out how to mine it. Surely the Iron People know how!:
.7 can ask,: she replied.
:Good! The more claws we have sharpened, the better,: was his final reply.
"That's not a bad thought," Shana said aloud, as a mental si¬lence filled the place where Keman's word-thoughts had been. She headed back down into the caverns, with Lorryn following beside her. "But I thought the dragons didn't much like being around iron—"
"They don't," Lorryn agreed, "But Father Dragon and your foster-mother Alara are likely to agree to do just about anything within reason that you ask them to, don't you think?"
"Hmm. Somehow I can't believe that it's going to be that easy," Shana told him, skeptically. "Still, there's no harm in asking."
"And no time like the present," Lorryn agreed. She was not at all displeased when he took her hand and squeezed it encourag¬ingly, then didn't bother to let it go as they descended once again into the Citadel corridors.
And when they found the two dragons who (next to Keman) had most closely aligned themselves with the Wizards, she put the question to them.
They had made themselves real lairs here, which was no great difficulty for a dragon, a creature who could shape rock and earth to its will. The two of them were in Alara's lair, re¬clining in their natural forms in smooth hollows filled with the soft sand that dragons preferred to rest in. Father Dragon— Kalamadea by actual name—was not at his full size in here, for dragons never really stopped growing as long as they lived, and Father Dragon was very, very old and his size was immense. He would hardly have fit in one of Alara's hollows if he hadn't shifted part of his bulk into the Out first.
Even so, both of them were huge, dwarfing the two half-bloods next to them. Alara's scarlet-scaled torso could have served as a hut if it were hollow.
"I thought what you needed were gemstones and precious metals to trade with," Alara responded to Shana's question, her bobbing head indicating her confusion. "That's what we've all been looking for. That's what you asked us to find."
Shana grimaced. "I know; that was my mistake. I thought so, too—actually, I didn't really think, not even when Shadow told us how nervy the Iron People were getting without any new source of metal for their forges. Two mistakes, then. I suppose, if I had thought about it at all, I just assumed that now that the Iron People were settling, they'd find their own iron. So, can you find it?"
"More or less," Kalamadea rumbled, lifting his head from his foreclaws. "Remember, after all, that we use magic to find things, and since the Rotten Metal interferes with magic, its very presence is going to interfere with locating it. We'll actu¬ally have to do some roundabout reckoning on where the inter¬ference is strongest to find veins of ore."
"I knew it couldn't be all that easy," Shana muttered to her¬self, but at least Father Dragon seemed to think that there was a way to work around the problem, and that was more than she had expected.
"We also won't be able to bring it to the surface the way we can the silver and gold," Alara sighed regretfully. "So once we find it, you'll still have to dig for it, and it'll be ore rather than the nice, pure nuggets of other things we can bring up."
"Oh, Ancestors—" Lorryn said in mock dismay. "Think of it—one more reason for able-bodied folks to have to leave the Citadel, which means fewer servants to attend to the whims of the Old Whiners! They might actually have to learn to clean up after themselves once in a while!"
Shana had noticed that Lorryn had, if anything, less patience with Caellach Gwain than she did, although you would never have known it by the way he acted with the old wizard and his cronies. She smiled. "I wouldn't mind taking my turn on the end of a shovel," she volunteered. "Especially if it meant that you would take over dealing with them instead of me."
He groaned and shook his head. "Oh, Shana—all right. I sup¬pose that among the three of us, Parth Agon, Denelor and I can handle them. I've noticed a distinct improvement in Parth's atti¬tude ever since he's seen just what an idiot Caellach is being."
"And Denelor always was a dear," Shana said, speaking fondly of her former teacher and the "master" to her "apprentice."
Kalamadea snorted. "I would not have used that description," he said. "But he certainly is far more willing to adapt, accom¬modate, and change than any of the other older wizards. Well, I would say that we have something of a plan, then. Alara and one or two of the others should be the ones to go looking for Rotten Metal; when they find some that is not too far beneath the surface, you and a few hardy souls, Shana, can see about digging some up. Meanwhile Lorryn will advise Parth Agon, with the help of Denelor—and me."
Shana almost laughed aloud at that last. If Caellach was afraid of anything, it was of the dragons, and Kalamadea was the most imposing of his kind. Caellach had tried—and nearly succeeded—in undoing all of the reforms of the younger wiz¬ards once, when Shana had been away from the Citadel. As it happened, she had been the captive, at the time, of the Iron Peo¬ple, as had Kalamadea and Keman. So there had been no one in place to keep Caellach Gwain in check.
"You or I, Shana, will always have a presence here, and Lor¬ryn, too, I think," Father Dragon rumbled, confirming her thought. "At least, until the day when Caellach Gwain swells up with indignation and explodes."
They all laughed so hard at the images conjured up by that statement that a sleepy older wizard padded grumbling into the lair to lodge a protest at having her sleep disturbed, and went away muttering under her breath.
19
Kyrtian sat uneasily on his horse in the chill darkness just before dawn. He had brought in his troops just after mid¬night, positioning them as if this was going to be a real fight and not the sham thing that he and Moth had arranged. Af¬ter all, the only people that knew it was a sham were his own
people on both sides of the coming battle, all of Moth's people, and he and Gel. It was a given that some of his commanders (if not all of them) were reporting to one or more of the Great Lords. Kyrtian wanted them to report the most impressive vic¬tory yet—and the most decisive.
This would be enjoyable only if he was down there with his troops; he would have given a great deal to be able to leap out of his saddle and head up the men he knew so well. Well, the only reason it would be enjoyable is because I know how much of this attack is sham.
Ancestors, but it was cold! Armor and padded gambeson weren't doing a lot against the dankness, which penetrated everything. In fact, the armor was only making things worse; it sucked heat away from him instead of holding it in.
And—was there actually dew condensing on it?
A cold droplet sparkled for a moment just before his eyes, then dropped off the tip of his helm to splash onto his nose.
There was. He shivered and tried to stop himself; it only made his ridiculous, useless, over-ornamented armor rattle.
Not possible for him to join his men where they waited for the signal to attack, of course. The Great Lords who were his ultimate masters here would, one and all, have had him hauled up in front of them for recklessness and blatant disregard for his position.
So he had to sit on a horse on a hill—making an excellent target, incidentally, had his magic not been so strong—and di¬rect his fighters from afar. Never once dirtying his hands with actual combat, oh, no. That was beneath his dignity as a com¬mander, and damaging to the authority of Elves in general and the Great Council in the person of its designated commander in particular.
At least this time he would have something to do besides sit and watch and issue an occasional order. Moth's young rebels were going to be very visibly in the field today; they were also going to be wearing some of that bizarre jewelry she'd told him about. They couldn't work any magic while wearing it, but that didn't matter, since most of them didn't have that much in the first place. It would protect them from his levin-bolts; they