The Dragon of Trelian (19 page)

Calen nodded.

Meg bit her lip, staring at the ground. “That’s not exactly good news.” She picked up a stick and poked at the dirt. “Any thoughts on what direction Trelian might be from here?”

He shook his head for what felt like the thousandth time that afternoon. “I could figure out which direction is north, but that won’t tell us which direction we need to go to get home. And, Meg . . .” He thought she must already know, but he still didn’t want to say it.

“Yes, Calen?” Her voice was soft. She was still poking the dirt with her stick.

“Even if we picked the right direction to travel — if we’re outside Trelian, and we are, I’m sorry, but I know we are — there’s no way we’d make it back before the wedding. Not on foot.” And if what they had overheard was still the plan (and why shouldn’t it be, now that they were out of the way?), Wilem and Sen Eva were going to kill Maerlie on her wedding night.

By the time they made it back — assuming they made it back at all — Maerlie would be dead. Meg was never going to see her sister again.

IN THE END, THEY TOSSED MEG’S
stick in the air and started walking in the direction it pointed. It seemed as good a way to decide as any. They both knew it hardly mattered whether they were headed toward Trelian or not. But walking felt better than sitting. Besides, it was cool in the forest, and moving helped them stay a little warmer.

Meg picked up the stick again before they left and was using it to strike at the tall thin plants that grew in patches between some of the trees. Calen followed silently behind her. She thought he had been about to speak several times, but so far he hadn’t said anything since they made their decision to start walking. She hoped he wasn’t too angry with her. She was angry enough for both of them. Of all the stupid times to lose her self-control! If she had only remained silent, they could have waited until Wilem and Sen Eva left the room and then gone and told her parents what had happened. They could have saved her sister and the prince and ensured that the traitors were stopped and punished and possibly tortured for their intended crimes. She could have seen to Wilem’s torture personally.

She struck out at another of the tall plants with her stick, slicing off the wispy tendrils at the top of the stalk with the force of her blow.

Wilem’s false affection for her was nothing compared to his plans to murder Maerlie, but somehow Meg couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was stupid, but she couldn’t help it. How could it be so easy for someone to lie that way? Was she just especially gullible? But her sisters had been fooled as well. Everyone had. But no one as — as
personally
as Meg herself. She flushed with shame at the thought of how she had enjoyed kissing him, how she had daydreamed about doing it again, and again. She had liked him so much. She had
trusted
him. And just as he’d apparently intended, she’d given him the information he needed to carry out his mother’s terrible plan. He had seemed so good, so strong and honest and true and kind, and he had made her feel special and warm and all the time he was
using
her, laughing at her behind his sad, dark, beautiful eyes.

She wiped angrily at her own eyes, hoping Calen couldn’t see that she was crying. Weak. She had been weak and stupid, and now Maerlie was going to pay the price for her failings.

“Meg?” Calen asked softly. He was right beside her. When had she stopped walking? She shook her head, refusing to turn and look at him. Couldn’t he leave her alone? Couldn’t he see that she wanted to be left alone? She opened her mouth to tell him that but instead she said, “He had been courting me. I don’t know why I never told you. We went walking together that first night after dinner. He came often, after that, to walk with me or talk, and he told me that he cared about me. And then, last night, he kissed me. And I didn’t know how to tell you; it just seemed hard to talk about him with you, and so I never did. And he was just a liar. A liar and a traitor and now he’s going to kill my sister.”

“You couldn’t have known, Meg.” His voice was still soft. She was facing away from him, so she couldn’t read his face. “He’s obviously well practiced at deceiving people. No one saw him for what he truly is.”

“But I spent so much time with him! I thought I was getting to know him so well. And he was just lying! Lying and lying and lying.” She shook her head, bewildered anew. Why hadn’t she been able to tell? “How can I ever trust my own judgment again? How will I ever know if I can really trust someone?”

He was silent for a moment. Then: “You can trust me.”

Meg’s mind tried to question that; for the briefest second she wanted to ask herself,
Can I? Can I really?
But she wouldn’t allow it. Calen had risked trouble and worse for her more than once; he was helping her with Jakl and keeping her secret and hadn’t ever asked for one thing in return. He had just saved her life, for gods’ sake! She turned to look at him and even now she could see the difference. Wilem’s eyes had been beautiful, and she thought the sadness in them had been real, but they had never been as clear and true as Calen’s eyes were.

“I know I can,” she said. And she did. She tried to force the truth of her words into her eyes, the way his eyes always shone with truth, so he would be able to see and believe her. “Thank you, Calen.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say back. He gave her a tentative, awkward smile and then made a show of looking around, studying what little of the sky they could see through the trees above. “We should probably keep walking while we have the light,” he said after a moment, “but before too long we’ll need to stop and think about making camp.”

“Camp,” she repeated, looking around at the surrounding forest. “It’s hard to believe that we’re really going to sleep out here in the woods and the dark, with the animals, and . . . who knows what else.”
No.
She refused to consider what else there might be.
Just animals. Little ones, probably. Squirrels and things.
But then an alarming thought struck her. “Do you even know how to make a fire?” Meg had a vague idea of rubbing sticks and stones together to make a spark, but had no real sense of how one would actually go about that sort of endeavor.

He smiled at her, a real smile this time. “Fortunately, that’s something I happen to be pretty good at. I’ll show you when we stop.” They started walking again, side by side. “Serek and I had to sleep on the road a few times when we made the trip up from Eldwinn.”

“Was it just the two of you? That must have been, uh, pleasant.”

He laughed at that, and she laughed, too, hearing him. “It certainly was. You know what charming company my master can be. And of course, we had Lyrimon with us, as well.” He began relating stories from the trip, incidents she suspected were far from humorous at the time but that sounded quite funny now. As she listened, Meg glanced at the stick she still held in her hands, then let it fall to the ground beside her. She left it lying there as they continued on their way.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” Meg said, keeping her eyes fixed on Calen’s outstretched hand. He’d told her she wouldn’t be able to see anything, but she wanted to try anyway. A second later the kindling burst into flame. He was right. She hadn’t seen a thing.

“But you can see it?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s not exactly ‘seeing,’ though,” he said. “At least, not the same kind of seeing as when I look at a tree, or a person, or whatever. I used to have to sort of squint and look at it out of the corner of my eye, but lately it’s been getting easier to see without even trying.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that mean you’re getting stronger in your ability?”

Calen shrugged. “I suppose so,” he said. He leaned over and fed some larger pieces of wood into the fire. “The truth is, I don’t know what it means, really. Serek has never talked about this aspect of magic with me. He’s never even mentioned it. I guess he doesn’t want me to use it as a crutch, that he wants me to learn casting without relying on seeing the colors. But it’s strange that he’s never once brought it up. I don’t understand it.”

“You’ve never asked him about it?”

He shook his head and sat back. “No. He’s not the easiest man to ask questions of. And I guess I was worried about how he’d react.” He was quiet a moment, staring into the fire. “Seems sort of stupid now, doesn’t it? I should talk to him about it. He’s my teacher, after all. I’ll talk to him when — when we get back.”

“When we get back,” she echoed quietly. They
would
get back. They had to. Calen had asked her earlier if the king and queen wouldn’t postpone the ceremony once they realized Meg was missing, but she didn’t think so. The wedding was too important to both kingdoms. Probably her parents would create some fiction to explain her absence and then quietly try to find her without raising suspicion. It would be difficult for them, she knew, but she also knew they would put the welfare of the kingdom before their personal feelings. The kingdom could do without her more than it could do without this union with Kragnir. Except, of course, that if she didn’t get back in time, the union with Kragnir would be destroyed by Sen Eva and Wilem. And poor Maerlie. . . .

No. She couldn’t think about that now. Crying again wouldn’t help anything. And there was still hope, after all. Maybe her parents would find her and Calen, somehow. Or maybe they’d discover Sen Eva’s plot some other way. Or maybe Sen Eva and Wilem would fail during the attempt to kill Maerlie, and Prince Ryant would kill Wilem instead. And then her parents would hang Sen Eva in the courtyard. And her limp, dead, evil body would dangle there, picked at by crows and rats, until Calen and Meg returned safely home.

“What are you smiling about?” Calen asked, startling her out of her reverie.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” Back to business. “Do you think Serek might be able to help them find us?”

“I don’t know,” Calen answered. “I’ve been wondering about that myself. He might have discovered we’re gone by now. I contacted him, just for a moment, before Sen Eva began casting.”

She turned to stare at him. “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looked at her sheepishly. “I forgot.”

“Calen!”
Gods,
he could be exasperating. “So tell me now! What happened?”

“I had been trying to reach him. Magically, I mean. That’s what I was doing when Wilem stopped me, but when you distracted them, I was able to get through for a second and I heard him answer me, which he always told me wasn’t possible, that you can’t actually really
talk
that way, but clearly you
can,
because —”

“Calen.”

“Uh, yes. Sorry. Anyway, all he really said was my name, and he started to ask a question, but then everything happened and the connection was broken. I’ve tried reaching him again, but I can’t. Maybe we’re too far away now. Or maybe I’m just not strong enough.”

Hope warred with disappointment within her. “Are you sure? Maybe you should try again.”

“Meg, I’ve been trying, believe me. I can’t reach him.”

“Do you think he might be able to reach you?”

“That’s what I’ve been hoping. But I can’t help thinking that he would have done it by now. He knew something was wrong. I’m sure I got that much across, at least.”

They both fell silent. The fire was crackling merrily, in counterpoint to their own sorrow and frustration.

“Well, look,” Calen said finally. “There’s nothing else we can do tonight. We might as well try to get some sleep. Maybe we’ll have some new ideas by the morning.”

Meg nodded. Sleep definitely sounded good. Except that she wanted her own soft bed, and some hot tea, and her sisters down the hall. She looked at the hard, cold ground and tried not to think about how unpleasant it was going to be to sleep on.

Calen seemed to guess what she was thinking. “I’m sorry, Meg. I’d conjure you a blanket if I could.”

She snorted. “If you could, I’d get you to conjure me a whole bed.”

“And some food, while I was at it.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” she said. It was hard trying to ignore the rumblings of her stomach. She was merely uncomfortable now, but soon enough it would get much worse.

Meg tried to push all such thoughts out of her mind as she looked around for the likeliest spot to lie down. Someplace close enough to the fire to be warm but not close enough to get burned in her sleep, someplace without too many rocks. . . . She looked over to see Calen already spread out on his back, his head resting against a thick tree root. He was watching her, grinning. “You’re just like a dog, turning round and round before settling in,” he said. “Do you do that at home, too?”

She tried to give him a frosty stare but spoiled it by smiling back. It
was
a bit funny, she supposed. “How did you find a good spot?” she asked him. “There are rocks everywhere!”

He shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it. Just lay back where I was and tried to make the best of it.” He paused, then added, “Here, wait, let me try something.”

He looked around, then pointed the fingers of one hand at a nearby tree that had lots of long, thick leaves. The branches shook as though being buffeted by a gust of wind, and several bunches of leaves floated free to the ground. Calen got up, gathered them together, and then laid them out like a small sort of blanket.