The Dragon of Despair (70 page)

She gestured.

Firekeeper nodded.

“Is this at right time?” she asked. “Not an earlier buy? We know she—he—like candy.”

“It is the right time,” Wendee confirmed. “The seller noticed the bundle the boy carried. That’s why she looked after him, to make certain he hadn’t pilfered anything.”

Firekeeper frowned, but she gestured with her head in the direction of the indicated street.

“We can only see if his nose,” she thumped Blind Seer on the skull, “is as sharp as he boasts.”

Briefly, she filled Wendee in on the little they had learned.

“Go back and tell the others,” the wolf-woman suggested. “We will track from here. Is Elise come home again?”

“Not yet,” Wendee said. “Maybe the boy has gone to her.”

She brightened at the thought. Firekeeper, however, thought this optimistic. She was beginning to doubt her own initial conclusion that Citrine was off to the rescue. If Citrine had been planning to use the sewers then she should have gone to the same entry they had used the night before. That she had been seen in Aswatano was not a good sign.

Blind Seer had come to the same conclusions.

“I’ll track Citrine as far as I can,”
he said,
“but I’ll lose her on some busy street. Best then that we go directly to the walls of Thendulla Lypella. I’ll give up blood-hot meat should we not find her trail there.”

“Shall we go directly?”
Firekeeper asked.

“No, I wish to learn if anyone joins her, speaks to her, steers her. It could tell us if she chose this trail alone or was forced to it.”

“Wisdom,”
Firekeeper said.

“Running feet do not prove choice,”
the wolf quoted,
“only speed.”

Though the proverb was usually quoted to remind young wolves that they could steer a stampeding herd, it made sense here. Firekeeper wondered how much wolf wisdom could be adapted to human ways—and what that might mean should the Beasts choose to war against humankind.

She put that thought from her as she had a dozen dozen times before. They padded along the cobbled streets, moving slowly until at a busy crossing Blind Seer lost the trail in a wash of ox piss.

“Not deliberate,”
he said, waving his head to clear his nose,
“and Citrine was alone to here. Very well. Let us go to Thendulla Lypella.”

They did this. By carefully checking the quiet spots across from the thick stone barrier, they found trace of Citrine once again. The girl had stood in several doorways out of the crush of traffic, where she could study the scene before her.

“Recent, too,”
Blind Seer reported with satisfaction.
“There is the scent of fresh ginger mixed in with her own spoor. Does it taste better than it smells?”

Firekeeper, who had little taste for sweets—though she appreciated the quiet rush of energy they granted—didn’t deign to reply.

“Can you tell which gate she went to or shall I ask at each?”

Blind Seer cast along the ground, growling to himself in annoyance at all the muddling scents, apparently unaware of the grumbling of those who were forced to detour around him. Firekeeper, hanging back in order to avoid being asked to control “her dog,” watched with amusement.

“I am not certain,”
the wolf said at last, padding over to her,
“but that gate seems most likely. What did Bee Biter tell us it was called?”

“The Petitioner’s Gate,”
Firekeeper replied promptly.
“For those who wish to grovel to the Ones. Yes, that makes sense. Wait here, sweet hunter, and guard my back. It occurs to me that in our worry for Citrine we have come to our enemy’s hunting grounds while there is yet daylight. If Melina has watchers like Peace she will know of our interest.”

“What of it?”
the wolf said.
“Melina would wonder more if we didn’t hunt.”

Firekeeper crossed to the Petitioner’s Gate. There were two lines and both were short. She had been to market frequently enough to know that she was supposed to wait her turn, but it made her feel like the tiniest of pups to do so. By the time she reached the head of the line she was irritable enough to wrestle three times her weight in bears.

A round-faced man in blue-black robes blinked at her, looking her up and down with that supercilious expression that the New Kelvinese managed with such ease.

“Yes?” he said in New Kelvinese.

Already short-tempered from her wait, Firekeeper couldn’t manage the right phrases in New Kelvinese and decided to try Pellish.

“I am looking for a boy who come here earlier today. Maybe,” she held a hand toward the sky, “when the sun was some fingers younger.”

The man blinked, but her guess had been correct. Those who guarded this gate spoke other languages than their own. How else could they deal with those petitioners who might not be New Kelvinese? And how else could they keep looking so superior?

“A boy,” the clerk said, his accent quite heavy. “This tall?”

He held his hand to Citrine’s height.

Firekeeper nodded.

“Wearing a headband?” the man continued.

Firekeeper nodded.

The man paused, seemed to consider.

“No such boy was here.”

The stress on the word “boy” was unmistakable.

Firekeeper nodded.

“A girl, yes?”

The man frowned, considered, made a gesture with one hand.

Firekeeper studied him, remembered some of Derian’s stories about how he had gotten some good deal, thought the man might want to be paid for his information. She, of course, carried no money, disdaining it. Strong wolves took what they wanted.

“If this we speak of is the girl I think,” she said, “her mother would be so very angry at what you just try.”

The man jerked back his hand as if burnt.

“Then there was no boy and no girl either,” he said haughtily and pulled back into his booth.

Firekeeper wanted to shake him, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. She’d learned what she wanted and without giving the clerk anything but another story to sell—and that was unavoidable. Her feet suddenly light, she crossed to where the blue-eyed wolf waited.

“Citrine was here,”
she said.
“And the man know she was girl not boy and who her mother is.”

“A good end to a bad trail,”
Blind Seer said, wagging his tail once in satisfaction.

“Good in that we know,”
Firekeeper said, beginning to walk more rapidly,
“bad, I think, in what we now know Citrine has done.”

However, nothing Firekeeper could do would change what had happened. Dutifully recalling her promise to Wendee, she slapped Blind Seer on the shoulder and darted through the crowd at a run, disregarding anything but the need to report to the others.

XXVII

“
DARLING
,” said Melina, fixing Toriovico with her brilliant gaze, “how nice of you to come so quickly.”

The Healed One stared at her blankly, wondering what she was talking about. He hadn’t seen her since that morning over breakfast.

She had been late coming in the night before, but he had very carefully neglected to mention this fact in obedience to orders she had given him after she had slipped between the sheets, orders that took for granted that his will was still enslaved to hers.

Had he forgotten some other command? Panic touched Torio’s soul. It was so very important that she not realize that he was free of her. Columi might know the truth, but could an old man be trusted to act independently, especially when his own life would be at risk?

But apparently he had not forgotten, for Melina was looking at him with puzzlement to match his own.

“Didn’t you get my note? I sent messengers around to your studio and to your office as well.”

Toriovico hid his relief in a brilliant smile. Then he crossed to her, caressing her silk-clad shoulder affectionately—an act that not only demonstrated his continuing devotion, but took him out from under the direct gaze of those enchanting eyes.

“No, my dear, I did not,” he said. “I was at the cobbler’s having slippers fit for the coming festival. The last pair pinched my toes dreadfully and didn’t give nearly enough support to my instep and ankle. Don’t you remember? I mentioned it at breakfast.”

Melina had been very distracted at breakfast, breaking shell into her soft egg, and scolding Tipi for some minor infraction.

“I remember now,” she said, all apologetic sweetness. “Now you are here like an answer to a wish.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her head.

“I came hoping to find you,” he said.

Or rather hoping to find where you’ve been
, he corrected mentally.

“Then we both have had our wishes granted,” she replied, and her tones were so affectionate that Toriovico nearly forgot everything he had learned these past few days.

Then Melina drew him to a seat on a long couch and pulled his feet into her lap. Rubbing his tired arches with strong fingers that had rapidly picked up the trick of what felt best, she said rather hesitantly for her:

“Torio, I have something important to tell you.”

He tried to remain casual, the perfect servant to whom his mistress’s least wish is law.

“Yes, darling?”

“Torio, yesterday afternoon a visitor arrived for me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, darling. Someone from Hawk Haven.”

Torio frowned.

“Can’t they leave you alone?” he asked, doing his best to sound indignant on her behalf. “Haven’t they troubled you enough? You belong to me and to New Kelvin now.”

Melina sighed, a deep, wistful sound that would have torn his heart if he hadn’t believed it as false as his own indignation. Lots of problems would be solved if Hawk Haven desired to reclaim their wandering noblewoman. But such a request would have come to him or to Apheros—or would it?

“I thought you might feel that way, Torio,” Melina said plaintively. “I know you always have my best interests at heart.”

“I do,” he said fervently. “Always, darling.”

Melina paused and for a moment Toriovico thought he might have overdone his adoration. Then she went on:

“This is a visitor I welcomed, once I adjusted to the shock. It was a member of my family.”

Torio thought quickly. Melina had left several brothers behind, one of whom was a reigning duke, another who was a soldier. Or did she mean one of her children? He felt an unexpected flash of jealousy as he thought of the five children she had borne to another man.

Easy, Torio,
he counseled himself.
She still has claws in you, even if they’re not as deep.

Still, he thought that jealousy was probably an appropriate reaction, for she had not as much as mentioned her Hawk Haven family for a long time now.

“Go on,” he said stiffly, making as if to draw his feet back from her caress.

Melina held his feet and massaged with even more enthusiasm. Torio felt his mind slipping into patterns of relaxation and fought against them. With sudden insight Toriovico realized that she could use more than her eyes to work her charm. Anything that relaxed the subject so his will could be reached unguarded was a tool.

One of his hands was hidden from her view by the couch. Now Torio drove his nails into his palm, seeking to distract himself from her soothing touch. His mind cleared sufficiently for him to listen with true alertness as Melina went on.

“You know I left my little ones behind when I came here,” she said.

“Yes,” Torio agreed. “Three girls and a youth.”

He didn’t include the Crown Princess Sapphire in his count, for her mother denied the young woman’s existence unless she was very angry.

“The youngest of these girls was quite small,” Melina said, “only nine.”

“Citrine,” he said automatically, his tones rather flat.

He had a nagging feeling that there was something he should remember about Citrine, but the information belonged to the days when Melina had clouded his mind and he could not remember.

“Yes, little Citrine,” Melina said. “She’s been cruelly treated since I went away and finally she ran away. She made her way to Dragon’s Breath and yesterday came trembling to the Petitioner’s Gate.”

From the slow, wonderfully relaxing circles that Melina was kneading into his instep, Toriovico felt pretty certain that he was to accept this explanation with asking any of the questions that had sprung so readily to mind. Run away? How had she managed that? And how had she managed to make her way this deep into New Kelvin without arousing suspicion? How had she even known of the Petitioner’s Gate? Why had they had no forewarning?

He suspected that Melina knew the answer to all these questions. Even so, he didn’t ask, just smiled lazily and thrust his foot a little deeper into her hand.

“You said you welcomed her,” he said. “How nice for the poor child. You did say she had been cruelly treated, didn’t you?”

“That’s right,” Melina acceded. “The child is troubled in mind as well as body. She needs me, and I need her.”