Hatchling (Tameron and the Dragon) (17 page)

Tam wiped the tears that flowed down his face, and let the warmth of the ale in his belly ease the tight kno
t inside. He finished the cup, and accepted more gratefully. Aylar helped him into bed next to Jorry.
If only I can remember where I came from,
he thought before falling asleep.
It can't be any worse than this.

He felt dizzy when he woke up the next morning, his bladder nearly bursting from the night before. Tam dressed, found relief in the privy,
and fetched wood from the rick. He made as much noise as he possibly could near the barn. It was petty revenge, but it was all he could come up with. Then he thought of what Jarrett and Marysa would likely do as soon as they awoke.

Tam looked out into the falling snow. If he packed up now and left, who would know? Who would care? He was only in the way.

Then he saw movement in the trees near the cabin. Were Tigran's men out there again, seeking revenge for yesterday? He checked the area around the barn for tracks. His own careless steps had destroyed any sign, save for one large paw-print he recognized. The happy couple inside could fend for themselves, but the horses and cows deserved protection.

"Tam!" Dorena cried. "Where are you?"

She stood at the cabin door and peered into the woods. "There you are!" she cried, as he returned from around back. "Don't run off like that so early. It's almost breakfast time. Bring in a bit more kindling and come eat."

Tam gave her a hug once he set the wood near the hearth. The old woman was like a mother to him even now.

His happiness faded when he saw Marysa and Jarrett in the cabin, acting as if they ruled the place. He tried to remember his manners as he ate, but didn't succeed. The nutmeal cakes and syrup tasted like wood chips, though he usually loved them. Eating made him feel worse, not better. Every sound had a sharp edge to it and his head hurt, though no new memories had come. Tam wiped sweat from his forehead and pretended he was fine. He wasn't going to let the loving pair sitting next to him have the satisfaction of seeing him sick.

The wind died down and the sun came out a little. Tam gathered the cattle and led them off to pasture. Jarrett followed him. For a moment, Tam wished he'd brought his sword.
I'm probably better off without the temptation,
he thought.

The other man persisted in being friendly as Tam ignored everything Jarrett said. Though he would rather
march the cows all the way to Lochil, Tam chose a clearing near the cabin. His stomach was twisting inside, and he didn't want to walk far. The more Jarrett talked, the worse he felt. Tam suddenly ran behind a tree and vomited.

"Too much ale last night?" Jarrett asked.

"I didn't feel so bad this morning, just a little dizzy," Tam said as he wiped his mouth with fresh snow. He couldn't look the other man in the face. What a fool he'd been!

"Reminds me of one time I sat up drinking with the other caravan guards on the way to Warding," Jarrett said. "The hangover didn't hit me till a couple of hours past noon!"

Tam glanced carefully at the man, and saw only sympathy. That was almost worse than being laughed at. "I never drank that much before," he said softly.

Jarrett bowed his head. "I wanted to be a hero to her, too. I should have gone after that whoreson mage myself, but I thought this way was better."

The truth gripped his belly worse than last night's drink. "You were probably right," Tam said, forcing the words out. "You saved my life yesterday. I ought to thank you."

The other man laughed harshly. "No wonder you couldn't hold your breakfast down with
that
comforting thought inside!" He held up a flask. "Take a sip from this, lad. It'll settle your stomach. And once you feel up to it, eat some of the food Dorena sent with you. An empty belly is a terrible thing at your age."

Tam still hated him, but it was worth trying. He drank some of the fiery brew in the bottle, gagged it back when it threatened to make him spew again, and leaned against a tree as the medicine did its work. Once he stopped sweating
he did feel better, and ate part of the bread Dorena had packed for later.

"I can see how all this looks to you," Jarrett said sympathetically. "It must be rough not to know where you're from, and even worse, not know where you're going. I know what it's like to be alone in the world. Cheer up, it's not that bad."

"I'll get by," Tam said. "You don't need to worry." He didn't need anyone's pity, let alone
this
man's!

Jarrett leaned against a tree, and smiled as he threw his small dagger into a snow-covered stump near his feet. "I know just how you feel. I would have been my cousin's acknowledged heir years ago, if I'd been willing to kiss my hand to him the way he wanted me to. And he would likely have let me marry Marysa in the first place to save him the trouble of a woman in his bed. Don't let pride send you on
my road! Aylar means to do right by you, but this cabin's too dark with no one in it, and you don't have a family to make a match for you. I hate to think of you up here brooding over might-have-beens, when you should be getting on with your life."

Tam nodded. "Aylar said something about me scribing for the old man that buys his furs in Lochil."

Jarrett continued. "That's no life for you! Pent up in a room all day, with only a lamp for company? You'd run off in a month. Besides, Tigran goes there sometimes. If he saw you in the streets, who knows what he might do if he thought he wouldn't get caught?

"Now, these last few years I was a guard for a merchant
in Warding who trades shimmercloth for wine and moonsalt. I was good friends with his chief steward. Both of them are getting on, and have no sons. The merchant's saving his eldest daughter for a mage, and she'll probably get one with her looks. I love Marysa, but I'm not blind, either! But he's got two others to marry off, and with what he's spending on the first one, he won't have as much as Aylar does now to dower them with. They're both a bit young, but so are you. Anyone brave enough to think about killing a mage, and bright enough to cipher as well as Aylar says you do shouldn't have trouble making a place for himself."

"He hurt her, Jarrett. I had to do something," Tam said. "I still wish I had."

"Well, can I be grateful you wanted to try without you snapping my head off?" his rival asked, in a voice beginning to lose patience.

Tam bowed his head and sighed. "You don't have to thank me. I didn't do anything but get in the way yesterday."

"If Marysa had stood by your side instead of running to me, I probably wouldn't be happy either," Jarrett said. "But when we're all packed up, I can send you to the steward with a message from me. You'd make him a good apprentice. And you should beg lessons in swordplay from the watch-captain of the Warding guard station, too. No point in having such a fine weapon without knowing how to use it."

"Isn't Warding pretty far from here?" He knew the town was nearly on the western border of this land. "This is so stupid! Why can I remember that, and not my own family?"

The other man's face grew sober. "I wish it was on the other side of Wizardwall. You're too damned handsome for my peace of mind. If Dorena hadn't been so watchful, I don't know how fast Marysa would have come to me, no matter what she says now. And Midsummer's only a few months away. I'd rather you weren't anywhere this side of Fiallyn Mor. Nothing personal, lad, but I want her to myself for at least a year.

"But there's a bright side to it. Those two darlings in Warding will likely be chasing you before the first month is over. Why, one day you could be chief steward or chief guard in Alber's place and kin to a noble line on top of it, if the merchant finds a silk-robe lord for his eldest daughter."

Tam
bit his lip. He still loved Marysa! He always would! He ought to be insulted that Jarrett expected him to be so easily distracted. Of course, if he couldn't be with his beloved, the prospect the other man held out looked attractive. To learn how to use his sword the way it ought to be, to be trusted as a guardian by those in need, and to have a family that was really his and not on loan...he shook his head briskly and dismissed those longings as disloyal to his true love. He hadn't even thought about Midsummer. No law or other bond kept true lovers apart. Even Jarrett thought it was possible that Marysa might welcome him that night.

W
here else could he go, though? The other man was right about Tigran. The mage might not strike back against Aylar or his family, with the Guardian's letter to protect them, but Tam would be on his own. He shivered at Tigran's threat to burn him.

Something else bothered him. "Why did it take so long for you to come back for her?" Tam asked. "Aylar's books make it look like you've been gone for years. Marysa talked about you, but I thought you didn't care. She cried when she said how you left. Jorry still has bad dreams at night because of what Honnold did. Where were you then? I'm wearing Darin's clothes because he died up here. Did Marysa show you the scar that Tigran gave her because she refused to be a whore for
him?" Tam was surprised his voice got so loud. He turned away and looked out into the falling snow. "It doesn't matter. You're the hero.” Then he stared at his rival again.

"Lord and Lady," Jarrett said hoarsely. He brushed snow off a stump, sat down on it, and pulled his dagger out. Tam began inching away. "I never meant to be gone so long or thought Honnold would hurt her. She's so beautiful! How could anyone ever harm her, or her family?

"Then again, my cousin's never liked women. You have no idea of what she went through with him before I came along. All I wanted to do was to bring her some happiness. I...oh, calm down, lad, if anything I'd use this dagger on myself before I went after you."

Tam relaxed a l
ittle, but stayed near a tree he could duck behind if he needed to.

His rival began talking again after a couple of moments. "It's hard to ex
plain why I was gone so long. I wanted to bring back treasure for her, and to show my cousin that I wasn't a thief. I meant to make all of us rich. I found some strange pathways, and I hope you never try some of them." Then Jarrett glanced around searchingly. "I've been outside the Wall," he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I'm not supposed to be able to talk about it, but when the mage in charge laid a spell of silence on us, I was too drunk for it to work. See, lad, I'm trusting you a lot here. Swear you won't tell anyone who told you this!"

"Of course," Tam said, though he resisted the temptation to
come closer. Jarrett might still be angry with him for his reproaches.

"We guarded a train of wagons full of shimmercloth and other mage-goods that left from Warding. The Western Guardian opened the Wall at the road near the river to let us through,
and then closed it again. I heard one of the guards that didn’t come with us tried to leave on his own through the Anchor Pool, but nobody knew if he made it or just drowned."

"Why do they take ordinary people with them?" Tam asked. He was too curious to be afraid now.

"Someone's got to tend the horses. Anyway, we traveled for half-dozen days or so down river into strange country. One of the mages watched us all the time, and made sure none of us ran off."

"What's it like out there?"

"The land is lower and wetter than here, but not much different otherwise. There's a swamp just north of Kelemath where part of the magic from the Old War is left over, and it’s stranger than anything on the other side of the Wall. Once we were Outside and near a town, the three mages with us traded for moonsalt, wine, and seeds. The other guards mostly stood around, but I took part of my pay in trade goods and made some deals on my own. Since the mages got their cut, they didn't care. You wouldn't believe the way people talk Outside. They sound like frogs strangling in a pond. I picked up a few words, though, and managed to get along. But those wizards would come and get me to this day if they knew what else I found out."

"Tell me! I swear I'll never betray you!"

The older man took a deep breath and went on in a low murmur. "Mages don't rule out there. There's only maybe one per town in the larger places. A city the size of Kelemath might have only four or five. I thought for sure the man was lying when I figured it out. There's even a place called Ramius where they drive anyone with magic powers out. I nearly deserted right then, but I remembered Marysa. But if you don't like it in Warding, you should work as a guard on a caravan Outside like I did."

Tam didn't like the drift of this conversation. "Still trying to get rid of me?"

Jarrett sighed. "Not really. If they suspect you wanted to kill another mage, though, no matter how much he deserved it, you're dead. Those poor bandits up in the hills think they can make a difference, but I know better. I've seen too many like you breaking their hearts and losing their lives trying to change things. Some of them still believe the Lost King will come again, the idiots!" His voice held sorrow as well as anger.

Did you believe it, too?
Tam wondered. His head ached, and not just from the ale he'd drunk the night before. Why did the small dragon tattooed on the other man's wrist bother him? He suddenly remembered a body wearing a cloak, which had a leather patch on it the shape of a dragon. And yesterday, when Tigran's men had come...Jarrett's arrows had white fletching. That meant something, too. "The Lost King..." he murmured, not sure where the words came from. "It won't do them any good until the Dragon sits on the Empty Throne. Only it's not really empty..."