The Dragon of Trelian (4 page)

The final card of the arc showed beams of light streaming through an open window into a dark room. The room itself felt close and dangerous, except where the light touched it. A heavy curtain obscured part of the window, and a hand was reaching toward it. Calen felt that it was desperately important for the hand to pull the curtain the rest of the way open, but there was no way to tell its intent in the image — it was just as likely that the hand was about to draw the curtain completely across the window, shutting out the light once and for all.

“The chain is about joining forces, or of separate things coming together to make something new and stronger,” he told Serek. “The tunnel is a journey, but I can’t tell whether the important thing is the light at the end or the journey itself. And the window —” He paused, considering the image. “No. The light, the light is what’s important. It means truth, I think.”

Serek nodded, and Calen turned over the final card. It showed a silver coin, spinning on its edge. He waited, expecting more of the meaning to come to him, but finally looked back up at Serek.

“I can’t tell what the coin means,” he said. “Only that it’s about to fall, heads or tails, and either side would mean something drastically different.”

Serek stood silently for a moment, apparently thinking all of this over, and Calen waited, strangely exhausted. And also strangely exhilarated. When he looked at the cards now, they seemed only static images. But during the reading it had been different — they’d been like living things, flush with meaning and power. They’d been . . . almost talking to him. It had been frightening in parts, true — but he wanted to experience that feeling again.

“Well, Calen,” Serek said, finally. His voice had lost its soft cadence and was back to its normal brusqueness. “There’s no doubt you’ve got a talent for this. I saw some of the same things in my earlier readings, but not nearly so completely. Once we’re done with potions, we’ll come back to divination in your studies, beginning at the beginning this time, of course, and start to explore your ability more thoroughly. Well done.”

Calen tried hard not to stare. He did feel he had done well, but Serek hardly ever admitted that anything his apprentice did met, let alone exceeded, his expectations. Calen felt the beginnings of a smile touch his lips.
Well done,
he thought. Then he realized that Serek had scooped up a few books and started for the door.

Calen twisted around the chair. “But — where are you going? Aren’t you going to tell me what all this means?”

Serek seemed surprised by the question. “No,” he said. “I’m not. If you’re so thirsty for knowledge, get back to work on your potions assignment. I should be back by late evening, and you can show me your progress then.”

“What?”
Calen heard his tone edging toward what he knew Serek would consider disrespectful, but he couldn’t help it. “After everything I saw, you’re going to walk out and not give me any idea what it means or what’s going to happen? You just said I saw more in the cards than you did, and now you’re not even going to —”

Serek turned slowly back around, and Calen knew he had gone too far.

“Listen,
Apprentice,
” Serek snarled. “You would do well to remember who is the master here and who is nothing but a willful boy who yearns to rise above his station but lacks the discipline, drive, and quite possibly the intelligence to ever do so. The meanings of the cards are for me to discuss with King Tormon and Queen Merilyn and are none of your concern. Yes, you might have a talent for divination. Yes, you managed to read the cards this afternoon. But that doesn’t mean you have anything close to the wisdom or maturity to translate those meanings into a useful context, and I am not going to waste my time explaining things to you that you don’t need to know. Certainly not when the kingdom would be far better served by my quick progress to the royal chambers so that men and women of knowledge and power can make the necessary decisions to avert impending disaster.”

After a final contemptuous glare, Serek stalked out and slammed the door behind him.

Calen stared sullenly after him. “
That
seemed uncalled for,” he muttered. After seeing all those cards about danger and death, it didn’t seem unreasonable for him to want to know what it all meant, did it? Stupid mages and their arrogant tempers. For a moment Serek had actually seemed pleased with him, but Calen should have known that would never last. He sighed angrily and pushed back from the desk. He lacked discipline and drive, did he? And
intelligence
? Fine. He’d do his stupid potions assignment. He’d do it right now, and let Serek try to find one thing wrong with it, just one —

Calen’s thoughts broke off as his eyes fell across the Erylun book, still sitting open on the desk.

Sitting open, in fact, to a chapter on spirit cards.

Calen sank slowly back into the chair and smiled. Perhaps it was time for a little independent study. Perhaps Serek would discover that his apprentice had a little drive after all.

STUPID, STUPID, STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!

Meg kicked open the wooden door at the top of the stairs, slamming it back against the wall, not thinking until too late that someone might be on the other side. But that was exactly like her, wasn’t it? Not thinking until too late. Or just not thinking at all.

The doubt had blossomed within her almost as soon as she had turned her back on Calen and started down the hall, growing in intensity and quickly becoming self-directed fury as her stupid words echoed in her incredulous mind. “I’ll share a secret with you,” she repeated angrily under her breath in the singsong voice she usually reserved for mocking her sisters. “I just met you. You’re basically a total stranger. Let me tell you the one thing I shouldn’t be telling anyone, especially not the mage’s apprentice, who could tell the mage, who could and would tell my parents without a second thought.”

She was an intelligent girl, wasn’t she? She always did well at her lessons, held her own at dinner-table discussions of policy and trade, and routinely trounced Maerlie
and
their father at games of turn-stones. She outwitted Nan Vera on a daily basis, as well as an assortment of castle guardsmen assigned to keep an eye on her. She was smart, she knew she was. Why, then, was she being such a gods-cursed idiot?

Even now, Meg could feel her secret pulling at her, demanding her attention, pulsing and clutching at her like a physical thing.
No,
she thought.
Not like.
It
was
a physical thing. She had to stop pretending otherwise. In the beginning, perhaps, it had only been something she thought about a lot, but there was no denying that it was getting worse. It was there, in her head, in her body, all the time. Real. And she didn’t know what to do.

Maybe that’s why she had said what she did. She just had to tell someone. She couldn’t tell her parents. She couldn’t tell Maerlie, which was hard to acknowledge, because she could always tell Maerlie everything . . . but this was too big, too frightening, and Maerlie would feel obligated to tell their parents. Oh, she wouldn’t want to — she’d hate it, she’d feel terrible — but she’d do what she thought was right. Meg didn’t want to put her sister in that position. Besides, this was supposed to be a happy time for Maer — she was getting married, to a man she actually might like, who was young and handsome and seemed to genuinely care for her — and Meg didn’t want to ruin all of that.

And of course she couldn’t tell her other sisters. Maurel was too young, Mattie was just a baby, and Morgan . . . Morgan was back to help with the wedding preparations, but she wasn’t anyone Meg could talk to about things. Meg had been only eight when Morgan was sent away to be married, and although they’d been close enough before, when Morgan came back to visit she was — different. Changed into a grown-up woman with no interest in children’s games or children’s worries. And so it had always been Maerlie who Meg went to with hurts and joys and questions. And secrets. Until now.

Meg pounded her fist along the stone wall on the last flight of steps, just hard enough to hurt, letting the scratchy pain of contact override the other, less manageable, pain. Nan Vera would scold her for scraping her princessy skin, but no doubt she’d have some salve or cream to apply and make her presentable by dinnertime. One more door, kicked open without thought, and Meg emerged into the noise and bustle of the main hall.

Stewards and serving girls ran about on their errands, trying to make sure everything was in order for the guests. One maid with her arms full of bedding glanced at Meg in passing and actually squeaked in alarm before ducking her head and hurrying on her way. Sighing, Meg made an effort to soften her expression. She’d need to pull herself together before she got back to the royal suites, in any case, unless she wanted to explain what was wrong. Which she did not. Or at least, could not. And of course that was the worst thing of all, really. The secret itself was troubling enough, but to have to
keep
it secret, to have to be afraid and alone and pretend that everything was perfectly fine . . .

No,
she thought, her inner voice a tiny whisper deep inside. The
very
worst thing was that despite how frightened she was about what was happening and how it made her feel, how strange and different and wrong and scared, sometimes . . . sometimes she liked it.

Sometimes she
loved
it.

Meg strode a little more quickly through the hall. That didn’t bear thinking about — not now. There wasn’t anything she could do about that. Not without figuring some things out, and she thought she had figured out everything she was going to on her own. She needed help. So she would tell Calen.

She smiled suddenly at the memory of his expression when he’d realized who she was. Maybe that was why she’d spontaneously decided to trust him. He seemed completely without guile, his face unable to disguise anything.
Probably not the best person to tell a secret to, in that case,
she pointed out to herself. She knew it was ridiculous to simply decide that she could trust him. But somehow it didn’t feel ridiculous. It felt . . . right.

Squaring her shoulders, Meg started up the south staircase.

“And as I have decreed, so let it be accomplished,” she said aloud, repeating the words she’d heard her parents say countless times at hearings and petitioner days.

“Let what be accomplished?”

Maurel bounced up beside her on the stairs. Meg reached over and yanked on the end of one of her sister’s slightly uncoiled braids. “My royal decree that all little sisters should wear bells around their necks so people can always hear them coming.”

“
You’re
the one who’s always disappearing,” said Maurel. “I think you should wear the bell. Where were you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual . . . having tea with fairies in the garden, shrinking down to mouse size and riding about among the flowers.”

“You never tell me.” Pouting, Maurel stomped several steps in silence before relenting. She could never stay angry for more than a few seconds. Meg envied her that sometimes. “Besides, fairies are stupid. If you’re going to make up stories, it should be pirates and sea monsters or something else good.”

“I’ll remember that for next time. And where were
you,
dear sister? You realize we’re both late, don’t you?”

“I’m not late,” said Maurel. “I was on an assignment. Nan Vera sent me to look for Mattie’s bear. You’re the only one who’s late. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Meg grimaced. “Wonderful.” She climbed a little faster. “Did you find the bear?”

“Yes,” Maurel answered proudly, holding the poor tattered thing aloft. “And also the sock she lost last week
and
Maerlie’s missing hair ribbon. Cook’s cat had the ribbon. It’s a little chewed.”

Meg solemnly examined the ribbon as Maurel displayed it for her. It seemed a
lot
chewed, in her opinion, but she kept that to herself. “I’m sure Maerlie will still be glad to have it back,” she said. “You’re pretty good at finding things, all right.”

“Yes, I am. And now I’ve found you, too!”

Meg laughed. “Yes, you have. Now let’s hurry so you can get the praise you deserve and so I don’t make Mother and Father any angrier than they already are.”

They ran the rest of the way, Meg only having to pull in her stride a little to let Maurel keep up. Breathless and laughing, they arrived at the sitting room of the royal suites. Father had been speaking, but he stopped as they staggered in. Everyone turned to look.

“Welcome, Meg,” said Father sardonically. “So nice of you to finally join us.”

“I found her,” Maurel announced. “Also I found Mattie’s bear and her sock. And your hair ribbon, Maerlie!” She bounded over to distribute the assortment of items. Grateful for the distraction, Meg slipped onto a couch beside Morgan, who gave her a neutral nod. Maerlie, meanwhile, flashed her a half-hidden smirk from across the room.

“Don’t encourage her, please,” Mother said, catching the exchange. “Really, Meg. Is it so difficult for you to be where you’re expected
when
you’re expected? This is not the first time we’ve had to wait for you.”