The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2) Page 10

“Oww —” Seagryn grunted, for despite ducking low he evidently hadn’t stooped quite low enough, and he skinned his forehead.

  “You see what I mean?”

  “No,” Seagryn grumbled. “I told you, I can’t see anything. How far are we from where we’re going?”

  Merkle had a ready answer. “Four bisfults.” Long before Seagryn fully understood what bisfults were and how they related to aboveground measurements, Merkle whistled musically and Seagryn heard a door open in response.

  “Who’s this, then?” a tiny female voice demanded.

  “He’s an outlaw wizard from above we found stumbling about in the new shell,” Merkle told her. “He’s hungry, and I am. too.”

  “Get in then.” Her response was muffled, for the woman was now moving away from them.

  “My wife Mickle,” Merkle explained. “You’ll have to stoop still lower.” Seagryn obeyed and followed Merkle inside.

  He would have loved to have shined a little light into this home, just to see if it looked the way it felt. He sat at a low table in a chair designed for a child, aware that Merkle had sat down across the table from him and that other, still smaller diggers scuttled about in the darkness, watching him and commenting to one another. “You have children?”

  “You’re surrounded by them.”

  “How many?”

  Rather than count them, Merkle called the roll. “There’s Mackle and Muckle, Micheal and Meekel, Muskel and Markle and Minicle and — others.” Someone — Mickle, Seagryn supposed-set dishes in front of them.

  “Eat,” she said. With some trepidation, Seagryn ate.

  The food proved to be the same as that found in any Lamathian market — although some of it Lamathians preferred to eat cooked. He’d seen no sign of the use of fire among these people, which made sense; flames would have hurt their terribly sensitive eyes, besides filling an enclosed area with smoke. There was no meat — mostly fruit and nuts, as well as dried beans that hurt Seagryn’s teeth. But how did they come to have these things if they had no contact with the light-loving villages in the shafts above? “Where does your food come from?”

  “Up there,” Merkle grunted, still crunching.

  “They give it to you?”

  “We trade for it.”

  “Trade what?”

  “Jewels. Water.”

  “Water?” Seagryn asked.

  “There’s water running all through this rock. We know how and where to tap it to take it to where they want it to flow. We’re their plumbers.”

  Seagryn nodded. “And I remember all the jewels in the throne room —”

  “We find a lot of those. Can’t understand what they want them for, since they’re just rocks. But they’re always asking for more.”

  “They give off a beautiful sparkle!” Seagryn explained, adding a bit lamely, “In the light, of course.”

  “Can’t understand the attraction,” Merkle said frankly, “but they send us a lot of food for those particular rocks, and we’re careful to keep all we find.”

  “How do you tell that you have one?” Seagryn asked. “I mean — you can’t see it, can you?”

  Merkle chuckled. “When you work with the rock all the time you come to understand it. We can see it, much better than you can, but we can also feel it, and all rock has a different feel. These gemstones the light-lovers care so much for tend to be very hard. They’re easy to find.”

  Mickle was trying to feed the children, but they evidently found the large stranger in their dining room too fascinating to concern themselves with eating. “You’d better eat,” she scolded, “because if you don’t, that wall over there will open and the —”

  “Don’t even say it!” Merkle called to her.

  “What?” the woman asked, confused. “Why not?”

  “Because I know things about the megasin I never knew before. This man has talked to her!”

  Seagryn heard gasps all around. A moment later he had to smile, because he could now hear the earnest crunching of a number of childish mouths.

  “How long have your people been down here?” he asked, but he realized it was a foolish question before he even got it out of his mouth. Any answer he could understand would be based on cycles of a sun these people had never seen and hoped never to see. Even so, Merkle tried to answer.

  “This is where we live — where we’ve always lived. We’ve worked with you light-lovers ever since you came into the rock, and I’ve been told it’s been good. Better for our people than it was before, anyway. My mother’s mother’s mother’s father once told me what he’d been told: That we’ve traded gemstones for food forever. Now, of course, our biggest work is cutting the new shells. The one we found you in is almost finished — they’ll come down to take it over soon, and we’ll move on to start another.”

  Seagryn doubted that. The food he ate came ultimately from the outside, borne here on the backs of Paumer House packhorses. Now that Vicia-Heinox sat in the Central Gate, how long would it be before the food stopped coming down to the diggers? “Can you get me to the outside?” Seagryn asked suddenly. “I mean, tunnel up to near the surface of the mountain and let me break on through it?”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  Seagryn never had the chance to explain. A whistle beyond the door caused Merkle to rise and go to open it. When he did, light flooded into the tiny home. The children shouted in pain, and Merkle quickly closed it, but in that brief flash Seagryn had a glimpse of this place he would never forget — a simple, homey dwelling decorated not much differently from homes above, except that the emphasis here seemed to be on coordinating a variety of textures rather than colors. He would remember those tiny, childish faces that sat surrounding him — faces of children who would die, he feared, if he didn’t help the Remnant resolve the dragon problem. But how was he to do that if they wouldn’t listen? And how was he to do that while under arrest, for those outside were obviously torch bearers who had tracked him to this place. Merkle now negotiated with his neighbors through the door.

  “But the man is a guest!”

  “They have lights out here, Merkle! And they’re not going to go up without him.”

  “He hasn’t finished eating!” Merkle pleaded.

  “So let them feed him up there!”

  Merkle shifted to a whisper. “He knows the megasin!”

  That drew silence from the diggers on the other side of the door — a pause that aggravated the warriors’ impatience. Someone began pounding and shouting for Seagryn to come out. There really seemed to be no choice. He liked this little man and his not-so-little family, and he didn’t wish to cause them any further trouble with the authorities. “I’m coming!” he shouted back, and the pounding stopped. Then he turned in what he thought was Merkle’s direction and thanked him for his hospitality and help.

  “Come back, Wizard,” Merkle invited. “Tell us more about the megasin.”

  Light from the torches beyond drew an outline of the door, and Seagryn followed it out. As he held his hands up against the glare, he expected to be grabbed and wrestled toward the rampway; but instead, the torch bearers seemed to step back from him in respect. He guessed his reputation as a powershaper had preceded him.

  “I told you not to get lost,” Garney said, and Seagryn struggled to focus his eyes on the little man. From the sound of his voice, he was smiling.

  “I was being chased.”

  “Only because we have need of you in the throne room.”

  Seagryn could see more clearly now, and he gazed at Garney hopefully. “Really? Are you ready to listen?” Now he could tell; that wasn’t a smile on Garney’s face — it was a grimace.

  “When a dragon is burning your Outer Portal, you must do something,” Garney said, trembling. “Come!” The column of torch bearers left the little people to their darkness and their dinner.

  *

  “Is the fire out?” the king demanded as soon as Garney led Seagryn back into the throne room. Garney immediately
fell to his knees and answered.

  “My Only King, as I told you before- — we have managed to put out the fire, but not without cost. We lost three good men to the blaze — plus, of course, the warrior the dragon ate.”

  “Did the warrior talk to the beast?” Seagryn asked Garney quietly.

  “Yes! Hush!” Garney hissed.

  “Big mistake,” Seagryn muttered, and Garney shushed him again. “What did the dragon say?”

  “He was looking for you!” Garney whispered fiercely. “Now will you shut your mouth and let me deal with my sovereign?”

  “Who is that man with you?” the king demanded. This came as a surprise to Seagryn. Hadn’t it been only hours ago that he had been formally introduced in this very room?

  “As I’ve told you, my Gracious One, this is Seagryn, a magician from the outer provinces who has had some dealings with the dragon before —”

  “Wilker should be handling this,” the enraged king roared. “But where is Wilker? Garney, where is he? I’ve assigned the two of you full responsibility for what takes place among the outer peasants, and yet here we are, faced with this nuisance of a dragon, and Wilker’s not even Inside!”

  “My Everything,” Garney pleaded, “it’s obvious that Wilker has foreseen this difficulty and is out among the peasants even now, trying to find a resolution for this problem from amongst their ranks —”

  “Ridiculous. The outer peasants cause problems, they don’t resolve them. Where’s the Keeper of the Annals?”

  “Right here, King Over All that Is and Has Been.” The gray-haired old gentleman from the library stepped forward, making a point of not looking in Seagryn’s direction.

  “Isn’t that true? Haven’t all problems been resolved from Inside?”

  “Of course it’s true,” the Keeper of the Annals snapped. “I taught you that myself, years ago.”

  If there was any rebuke in the words, the king missed it. “So then, Garney, can you explain why it is that Wilker would choose this day, of all days, to absent himself?”

  “My Gracious King,” Garney began with heartfelt respect. “You are absolutely right in every regard. Wilker chose a poor day for it, departing against my personal advice. But neither of us could have known that such a catastrophe would pick this day to occur. As I told you before, we did have some indication from this visiting magician that trouble was afoot — evidently this beast has been a growing problem out in the provinces. So I’ve enlisted the magician’s aid — not to try to solve the problem for us, which would be foolish — but to make suggestions. After all, Seagryn the magician has built up quite a reputation in the world outside.”

  That much is true, Seagryn thought to himself. Quite a reputation.

  The king was not impressed. “He hasn’t shown me anything.”

  “Nevertheless, he has had conversations with this dragon and perhaps could share insights that would —”

  “He’s a spy.” The Keeper of the Annals sniffed.

  “A spy!” The king gasped, sitting up on his throne. “For whom?”

  “Oh, you know,” the old man muttered. “Negative elements. The riffraff. The occasional collection of criminals who band themselves together out there, thinking that they might somehow gain our attention. Naturally, the first place they come is the library, to see if we’ve made any reference to their existence. He’s just a spy.”

  “Hmm,” the king said thoughtfully.

  “We had another spy Inside several months ago,” the librarian continued. “Claimed to be a relative of that peasant we often trade with — what’s his name, Garney?”

  “The boy?” Garney asked.

  “No, the father.”

  “Oh,” Garney said, nodding. “Paumer.”

  “Yes, Paumer.” The Keeper of the Annals remembered. Then he continued to the king. “The lad claimed to be Paumer’s son and spent several days rooting around in the book stacks before we found him. He was a spy, like this one. We expelled him, of course — just as we should do with this so-called ‘magician’!”

  “Yes, expel me!” Seagryn called up to the king. “Let me go talk to the dragon for you!”

  An embarrassed gasp greeted his outburst. “Didn’t I tell you,” the mortified Garney whispered, “that you may not address the king directly?”

  The King of the One Land looked down his handsome nose at this impertinent magic-maker from the outside and sniffed with annoyance. “Let a spy speak for the One Land? How ridiculous.” Then he glanced around. “Where are the other members of the Royal Advisory Board?”

  “There was some announcement of a magic show to be performed shortly,” a rather tall man to Seagryn’s left announced. Seagryn wanted to ask what he was Keeper of but thought better of it.

  Garney had evidently gathered his shattered wits about him, for he now spoke up again. “Might I make a suggestion, my King?”

  “Why do you think I employ you, Garney?” the king grumbled. “Speak up!”

  “I realize he is not qualified to represent us, and certainly he is as rude as any country bumpkin who ever set foot inside this august court. But there may be merit in letting this Seagryn address the dragon.”

  “What?” The king frowned.

  “He has spoken to the dragon before, which is apparently a rather dangerous task, as one unfortunate member of my staff has already demonstrated. Rather than risk the lives of any more of our people, let us send him out to request of the beast that he go elsewhere.”

  “Ridiculous.” The Keeper of the Annals snorted. “Send an outer peasant to parlay for us? It’s never been done before. Never.”

  “We’ve never before had a dragon at our gate!” Garney exploded. The little man had finally lost his temper.

  An argument ensued between the Keeper of the Outer Portal and the Keeper of the Annals, but neither the king nor Seagryn listened to it. The king appeared to be thinking; from the pained look on his face, this was evidently something he didn’t often do. Suddenly he stood up and shouted, “Silence!” The argument ceased. All eyes in the room turned to the top of the dais to see what the king would say.

  “I have the solution,” he announced. “We’ll neither send this peasant out to speak to the dragon for us, nor will we risk any more of our warriors in conversation with the beast. Instead, we will mobilize the army of the One Land to do battle with it and destroy this beast forever.”

  There was a long pause before anyone ventured to speak. It was Garney who was at last brave enough to break the silence. “And — how shall we do that, my King?”

  “How shall we do what?”

  “Pardon,” Garney pleaded, dropping again to his knees, “but I am asking what is to be our plan of battle?”

  “Oh,” the king murmured thoughtfully. “Well, we’ll — we’ll all just charge the thing!”

  After another moment’s pause, the throne room burst into activity. The king had spoken. The One Land was going to war.

  Chapter Seven: CONSPIRING MINDS

  NEBALATH’S decision to follow Paumer’s spy paid off immediately. The journey through the Marwilds took most of a day, but they finally came out of the forest and onto fields Nebalath thought looked familiar. They soon were within sight of a small mansion the wizard thought he’d visited before. This was a Paumer palace — he was certain of it. He followed the man to the gate, slipping inside easily when it was opened for the spy. Yes, it was a Paumer palace without question. Red and blue garments everywhere. The house steward listened to the man’s whispers with a reassuring nod, then ushered the fellow up the stairs into a large, well-furnished library. Yes — Nebalath remembered being in this place before. The “bush house,” Paumer called it. This room had been fitted out much like this for a meeting of what Paumer persisted in calling the Grand Council for Reunification of the One Land. What luck! Nebalath thought. He’d stumbled onto the meeting of the Conspiracy Uda had mentioned several days before! Circling a highly polished table were a dozen chairs, the back of each dra
ped ceremonially in the colors of one of the six Fragments.

  That was a bit surprising. When Nebalath had served on the “Grand Council” only five Fragments had been recognized. Paumer had refused to acknowledge the Marwand, despite the fact that young Dark kept showing up and claiming to be its representative. The lad had never been invited to a Conspiracy meeting, but his knowledge of the future was so thorough that he always knew in advance where the Council would meet and invited himself. Paumer had tried everything to dodge the boy; Nebalath smiled his invisible smile at the memory. Of course, Dark wouldn’t be present today, nor would young Uda. Nebalath was curious to see who actually did attend Conspiracy meetings nowadays.

  This had once been a truly “grand” council, a world cabinet with integrity and purpose and real power. But Paumer’s greed had ruined it. When an exceptionally fine old member from Pleclypsa had suddenly taken sick and died, Paumer had installed his ill-mannered son as a member. But Uda had mentioned some sort of feud within the family. Would that boy be present?

  “To another subject,” Paumer was saying to his agent, who apparently had finished his report of the secret society meeting. “Have you heard anything about Ognadzu?”

  Ognadzu — that had been the boy’s name. Nebalath leaned forward to listen carefully to the conversation.

  The messenger hung his head. “Sir, I’ve talked to people all over Lamath, but, apart from those rumors that he was seen months ago in the far north, I’ve heard nothing new.”

  Paumer sighed and ran his fingers through his silver hair. “Where is that boy? No one can just disappear like that!” Nebalath raised an unseen eyebrow and thought to himself. Wizards can. As if he’d heard the thought, Paumer continued, “Unless he’s become a wizard!”

  Now, that was a truly frightful thought. From what Nebalath remembered, young Ognadzu possessed all the charm and tact of Sheth himself. What a terrible thought, to have two such power-shapers in the world!

  “And yet I’ve heard nothing from any source about a new shaper,” Paumer muttered as he paced around the table, more to himself than to his servant. Suddenly he wheeled on the man and shouted at him. “Your agents are positioned in every part of each of the Fragments! My mercantile empire stretches from those frozen wastes beyond northern Lamath to south of the spice islands in the southern sea! Between us, we know everything there is to know about everybody! You tell me how my son could just vanish.” The spy shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, obviously embarrassed at his own failure. Paumer continued to pace around the table; at one point, Nebalath had to lean well back into the corner to prevent the merchant from bumping against him. He might be invisible, but he was still as solid as ever. “Could it be,” Paumer mused aloud, his finger to his lips, “that rather than disappearing from my organization, Ognadzu has somehow hidden himself within my organization? Is it possible —” Here he stopped and looked at the spy piercingly. “ — that certain agents of the House of Paumer are now working for Ognadzu?”