Michael A. Stackpole - Dragon Crown Saga 2 - Fortress Draconis

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Book Information:

Genre: Epic Fantasy

Author: Michael A. Stackpole

Name: Fortress Draconis

Series: DragonCrown Saga 2

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THE NORRINGTON PROPHECY

A Norrington to lead them, Immortal, washed in fire Victorious, from sea to ice.

Power of the north he will shatter,

A scourge he will kill,

Then Vorquellyn will redeem.

Will shivered in the wet and rain, but clenched his jaw so his teeth would not chatter. The drops came

down big and fat; colder, too, than he expected even so late in summer. They splashed against the tiled

roof, spattering him and pockmarking the shifting surface of the puddles down on the street. The

threadbare scrap of a blanket beneath which he huddled shielded him from their buffets, but let their cold

soak straight into him.

The youth had no question that being elsewhere would be preferable—certainly warmer, if nothing

else—but he refused to move on. Though he risked catching his death of cold by remaining, running away

would kill him as well. I do this, and everything will be okay again.

He raised the blanket a mite and shook his head, letting water spray off his long brown hair. Leaning

his head to the right, he let some water drip out of his ear and listened. The drumming of the raindrops hid

most all sounds, but little bits of laughter drifted up from the public house’s common room down on the

ground level. He shifted slightly to his right, making no more noise than a squab might scrabbling for dry

amid the roof’s red tiles. Peering down from the roof’s ridge, he could no longer see yellow light peeking

out from behind the attic room’s shuttered window.

Will couldn’t help but let a smile blossom on his face. ‘Bout damned time. Throwing off the blanket,

he began to unwind the knotted rope from around his waist. As he coiled it on the roof, he nodded

slowly and whispered to himself.

Damn the Vorks,

Damn their eyes.

Let them drink,

I’ll have their prize.

As poetry went, he knew it wasn’t much, but felt the little verse was the seed of something larger. It

would be a piece of the great saga minstrels would sing about his life. And sing they will, of Will the

Nimble, King of the Dimandowns. I’ll make them forget Marcus, Scabby Jack, and Garrow; I’ll

even make them forget the Azure Spider.

He crawled out along the roof’s beam to where a piece overhung the alley. He looped the rope over

the end of it, then snugged it tight. Tugging on it twice to assure himself it would hold, he started down it,

letting the rope slide between his toes until he could rest his weight on a knot. Little by slowly he

descended, reaching out to touch the building and kill any swing on the rope. Finally he hung there, right

in front of the attic window.

The dagger he drew from the sheath at the small of his back slid neatly into the gap between shutters.

Will worked it up, and between two rusty nail heads, his blade met the latch. Lifting easily, he slipped it

and the shutters sagged outward, opening with a lazy sigh.

The thief shook his head as he resheathed his dagger. Stupid Vorks deserve to lose their prize. As

anxious as he was to get his hands on it, he didn’t reach for the shutters immediately, but waited a bit

more, listening. No time for mistakes now.

He’d been pleased with how well the plan had come together, and he was fair certain Marcus and

Fabia would be, too. He’d woven it together from things he knew they’d forgotten, like Fabia talking

glowingly about the Vorquelf Predator, leader of the Grey Mist, as if he were King Augustus warring

against the north. Predator would tell all that he hated men, and he’d only ever showed Will the cold side

of a sneer and the fast-hard of a fist; but to hear Fabia tell it, he loved the warmth of a woman. He’d

favored her with his attentions forever ago, when she wasn’t so fat that only Marcus would have her.

She told tales of his having a treasure that she’d never seen, but she knew it was there. Once she’d

awakened deep in the night, still drunk, and had seen his face backlit in the glow of something he cupped

in his hands. Fabia said he smiled wider than he ever had in her arms. When she asked him what it was,

he said she was dreaming, and in telling the tale to the younglings she’d allowed as how she likely was

dreaming, since Predator would have long ago drunk up anything so precious.

Will always had believed her telling of the story as a dream until there came a time he thought on it for

a while. Then he sought out the woman Predator was currently using. Lumina laughed when Will clowned

for her, and cooed over the little things he’d steal and give her, be they bits of pastries or a bright button.

She’d reward him with a kiss, clearly assuming that he had a crush on her. The fact that he did didn’t

keep him from his mission, and eventually she was coaxed into revealing a tale close enough to Fabia’s

that Will knew the Vorquelf was hiding something valuable.

It hadn’t been hard for Will to convince himself that whatever the treasure was, it was meant to be his.

For as long as he could remember—which went a bit further back before Marcus and Fabia had taken

him in, but not much—he’d hated the Vorquelves. The exiled elves had long ago claimed the Downs as

their own domain in Yslin. As hard times hit, the area around the Downs began to decay. Beggars and

thieves, whores and the halt—most all men—came to live in the shadows of the city heart. Their

neighborhoods became called the Dim, and Hightown folks dismissed the whole area as the

Dimandowns. The Vorquelves constantly fought against the growing human population, and the only time

human officials came into the area was to press-gang the unwary into crewing on galleys sailing the

Crescent Sea.

Will’s hatred for the Vorquelves found an ally in Marcus. Will could remember how the man had

brought him into their home, a big building in the Dim, and had housed him with other children. Marcus

taught them about thieving and worse, then sent them out into the city. In return for bringing back spoils,

the children were fed and clothed and not beaten too often. Those who were especially good were taken

to the Harvest Festival in the autumn, though the recent affairs in no way matched what Fabia talked

about in her stories of festivals past.

Marcus and Fabia had always done for Will, but he did remember that they’d not always done so for

everyone. The girls, when they reached a certain age, were trained for other things. Lumina hadn’t been

one of them, but plenty of Will’s sisters plied the liftskirt trade. The boys, when they reached what

Marcus called “willfulness,” went away, never to be seen again.

Over the years, the age when willfulness manifested seemed to get younger. Beatings and kids getting

vanished seemed to come more frequently with every new cycle of songs devoted to the master thief, the

Azure Spider. Will could remember the days when Marcus used to claim with pride having been the

Spider’s mentor, but of late he’d been bitter and resentful. He took those feelings out on his male

charges—many of whom, Will suspected, Marcus believed would betray him and leave* for glory as the

Spider had done.

Will had no intention of doing that, and hoped pulling off a job like this, which would have been worthy

of the Azure Spider, would impress Marcus. He knew that planning and executing this theft would likely

brand him as willful, but he hoped that by bringing the treasure to Marcus, he’d show how loyal he

intended to be.

He’ll have no excuse to send me away, none at all.

Confident that nothing lived or breathed in the darkened room, Will opened a shutter, grabbed the

inside of the casement, and pulled himself in. He kept hold of the rope with his toes, so it slithered in after

him. Crouching by the window, water dripping into a puddle beneath him, Will studied the room

carefully. He dearly wished his heart would stop pounding so loudly in his ears, but the tumult of drunken

conversation from below would have hidden the approach of a dragon.

Staying low, and spreading his weight out on his hands and feet, Will scuttled across the floor.

Lamplight from below bled up through cracks between planks, striping chairs, bed, and wardrobe with a

soft yellow glow. Small and light though he was, he knew the uneven boards would be creaking with his

passage, but he felt certain those sounds went unheard.

He made his way to the wardrobe and carefully felt around the base molding. Lumina said she’d seen

Predator kneeling there, his body washed in silver, but had thought nothing of it. Tracing his fingers along

the baseboard, Will sought a catch or lever to reveal a hidden compartment. He found nothing so

sophisticated.

His fingers caught against a piece of the base that jutted out just a hair. Hooking his fingernails into the

gap, he teased it free without so much as a squeak. A little block of wood as long as his hand came free.

In the cavity behind it he found a leather pouch heavy enough for a silver or two, and a lighter velvet

pouch. The latter had something in it, but he couldn’t tell what.

He slipped the leather pouch beneath his belt and knew he should head out before examining his other

find, but he needed to make certain he really had gotten his hands on Predator’s treasure. Slender fingers

unmade the knot holding the bag shut, then peeled the velvet away, letting a blinding argent light shine

forth.

Will squinted against the brilliance, at once entranced and puzzled. The treasure looked like a leaf—he

knew it was from a tree, but what kind he had no idea since trees were few in the Dimandowns. The leaf

blazed with a silver light and appeared to be metal, but had none of the heft it would have had if cast in

silver. More impressively, it had the supple texture and flexibility of a living leaf.

Don’t know what it is, but it is a treasure! For the barest of moments Will considered tucking it

back in its hidey-hole. Just having disturbed it felt somehow wrong—and the idea that taking something

that didn’t belong to him was wrong had seldom occurred to him before. At the same time, it also felt

wrong for this leaf to remain shut up in a little hole. He sensed another purpose to it, as if there was

something he was supposed to do with it.

Suddenly shouting arose from below and something shattered against the floorboards. Ale sprayed up

through a crack. Wet as he was, he couldn’t really feel it hit him, but he could smell it. In an instant he

knew the silver light had been seen by someone below, and that the thundering came from feet on the

stairs leading to the upper floor.

Without a second thought, and with skill born of more than a decade’s thievery, Will stuffed the leaf

into the bag and tucked it in his belt. He darted toward the window, tumbling a chair in his wake, and

dove for the rope as the room’s door burst inward. The rope bumped and slithered, knot by knot, out

behind him, chased by the curses of a Vork, who hit the chair and fell. Out into the night Will sailed,

snapping his legs up, hoping he could loop his way back onto the roof.

Though his feet came up above the level of the roof, he couldn’t get far enough over to land there, so

he twisted around as he descended again on a short, tight arc. A waiting Vork smiled, reaching out for

him as he returned. Will kicked one of the shutters around, slamming it flat against the Vork’s face,

spilling him back into the room.

As quickly as he could, controlling his fall more than actually climbing, he let himself down, and

reached the alley seconds before a sword sliced the rope free from above. Will crouched, found a rock

with his right hand, and sent it flying up at the window. The pale face that had been leering at him

snapped back into the darkness.

Will darted off along the alley, hitting the street and cutting right. That route would actually take him

deeper into the Downs, which he figured would confuse the Vorks. He ran as fast as he could, splashing

through puddles, leaping over the dead bodies of animals, hoping the battering rain would aid him by

erasing all traces of his passage.

Aid him it did in some ways, for nothing could have tracked him by sight or scent as the rain washed

away his spoor almost instantly. Even so, the rain betrayed him in more important ways, which he slowly

came to understand as he raced past cloaked figures skulking through the streets, and close by soaked

curs that barked and howled at him. 77ns is not the way to go.

The Downs had been called the Downs because the city of Yslin sunk to its lowest level there. At high

tide some of the streets would flood, and although high tide lay hours yet away, the day’s downpour had

flooded streets into brown rapids thick with debris. The street along which he ran dipped into a raging

torrent.

His course blocked, Will turned north, dashing toward an alley mouth. He could hear his pursuers after

him and knew he should toss away his loot. The leather bag with coins he tugged free of his belt and

dropped behind him without a second thought. When his fingers touched the velvet bag, however, it felt

warm and dry and he knew he wouldn’t let anyone take it from him. Not them, not Marcus. Not

anyone.

Will put his head down and started running in earnest when the rain’s second betrayal occurred. He

sprinted through a puddle that hid in its murky depths a missing cobblestone. The youth caught his right

foot in the hole and stumbled, smashing his right knee into the roadway. The cobblestones, while soaked

by the rain, had not been softened, so the blow drove a jolt of pain up and down his leg. His ankle

twisted before his foot came free. He rolled over onto his back, clutching his knee in both hands.

Cold rain splashed his face, and colder laughter rang in his ears. A knot of Vorquelves towered over

him. The silver moonlight made them into ghosts, and what he could see of their faces indicated they were

most malevolent. One bled from a cut on his forehead—Will took some joy in knowing his rock had

flown true—and another’s nose looked to be swelling.

Predator leaned down and grabbed Will by the front of his tunic. “Should have known it was you. No

one else would have been so stupid.”

“Stupid was making it so easy.”

The Vorquelf, his sapphire eyes glowing in the moonlight, raised a fist. “I won’t be easy on you, little

Will. Give it back.”

It struck Will as peculiar that Predator didn’t just pull the bag off his belt. It was there in plain sight;

Will could feel its warmth against his right hip. He wanted to tell Predator to take it, but that idea died

quicker than a lightning flash.

“You’ll never find it now. It’s halfway to the sea.”

Predator screamed and his fist fell heavily. Will caught it on the right side of his face and saw stars. He

didn’t think he’d been hit that hard, but he found himself on the ground again, his face throbbing.

A rasped, edged voice cut through the ringing in Will’s ears. “I told you, years ago, if you ever

touched one of them, you’d regret it.”

Predator whirled to face a hulking human silhouette limned in silver, but before he could square

around, a fist flew and caught the Vork straight in the face. Predator’s nose cracked sharply. The

Vorquelf stumbled back and splashed down in the puddle. From the way his body bounced and his arms

and legs flopped, Will knew Predator had been senseless before he hit the ground.

The other Grey Misters pulled back away from the figure, hands falling to the hilts of daggers and

swords. Poor fool should have stayed out of what wasn’t his business. Will gathered his legs beneath

him as best he could and began to inch away, then his head and shoulders butted up against something

solid. He looked up, saw a massive Vork looming above him, and yelped.

The other Vorquelves looked down at him, then their heads rose as they studied the elf standing over

him. One of the Grey Misters raised his hands, open and easily. “We don’t want any trouble, Resolute,

but he stole something from Predator and we can’t have that.”

“This stripling stole from you?” Resolute laughed, and the mere sound of it seemed to stagger some of

the Misters. “What was it he stole?”

The Mister shrugged. “Don’t know. Predator said it was important.”

Resolute dropped to one knee and plucked the velvet pouch from Will’s belt. Will grabbed for his

forearm, but his cold, wet fingers found no purchase on the Vorquelf’s thickly tattooed flesh. “That’s

mine.”

“Is it, now?” Resolute stood and opened the bag. Silver light poured out over his face, illuminating

argent eyes and a snarl. The Vorquelf’s hands closed the bag quickly, then he took a step into the middle

of the Misters and kicked Predator hard in the ribs.

“Get him out of here, the lot of you. He’s jeopardized everything with his greed. Get him gone before I

kick his belly through his spine.” The Vorquelf spun and pointed a finger at Will. “And you, you’re going

nowhere.”

The anger in his voice froze Will where he was. The Misters each grabbed an ankle or wrist and

dragged Predator away. As they hauled him off, Resolute kicked water at them, hissing curses in Elvish.

The other figure, which Will discovered to be a white-haired man with a thick white beard, crouched

down beside him.

“How’s that knee?”

Will shrugged.

The man looked up at Resolute. “Think he’s the one? Hardly washed in fire, here.”

The Vorquelf nodded, the thick stripe of white hair on his head glistening with rain. “Yes, but a piece

of Vorquellyn he did redeem.”

Will shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

Resolute tied the velvet bag to his belt. “You’ll learn, eventually.”

“Maybe I won’t.”

The Vorquelf and the man both hauled him to his feet. “You will learn, if all things turn out the way they

are meant to.”

“And if they don’t?”

“You aspire to what, boy? Growing up to be the Azure Spider, the Prince of Shadows? You want to

be a master thief?” Resolute slowly shook his head. “Your life is wasted. Having it shortened will just

save you pain.”

Will didn’t like the sound of what Resolute had said and wanted to snap a remark that would hurt him,

but he was mindful of two things that stopped him. The first was the way Resolute had kicked Predator.

The Vorquelf was clearly not in a good mood, and Will did not want to become the focus of his ire.

The second was that Resolute obviously would hit harder than Predator.

Will had wanted to protest that what Resolute said wasn’t true, but the word “wasted” kept bouncing

around inside his head. Will the Nimble, King of the Dimandowns. That concept mocked him as he

stood there, wet and aching, with his right eye swelling shut. But he’d been hurt before, laughed at

before, told he was nothing before, so there was something else eating at him.

The man threw a corner of his cloak over the youth’s shoulders. “He’s shivering and probably

hungry.”

Resolute nodded. “C’mon, boy, let’s go.”

Will limped along a few steps, letting the cloak slip off him, then stopped.

The Vbrquelf paused and looked back at him. “You can walk along with us, or I will march you

along, boy. Your choice.”

Will’s nostrils flared. “My name is Will.”

“I’m Resolute, this is Crow. Now move.”

The youth frowned. “One thing.”

“And that is?”

Will reached out a trembling hand. “Let me carry the leaf.”

The Vbrquelf’s head came up. “You think I’m going to trust it to a thief?”

Crow laid a hand on Resolute’s shoulder. “He did get it. He can’t run off.”

Resolute’s eyes became crescent slivers of silver. “You lose this, boy, and you’ll wish Predator hadn’t

been stopped.”

The youth raised his chin and snorted. “Predator could have never made me give it up. I won’t lose it.”

Resolute knotted the bag securely, then handed it to Will. “Come on, then.”

Grinning like a fool, Will held on with both hands.

The leaf is shining,

Glowing bright,

In my caring,

Clung-to tight.

The man’s head came up, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Let’s go, Will.”

The man let Will get in front of him, but the youth really didn’t feel Crow was there to stop him from

running. He chuckled to himself, knowing he’d bolt at the first opportunity, but the throbbing in his knee

told him that opportunity would be a little while in coming. Besides, the man had mentioned food, and

going back to Marcus all wet and hurt and without anything to show for it would just get his other eye

blacked. Might’s well have a full belly.

The warmth from the bag spread into his hands and Will started thinking on what Resolute had said. It

seemed to him that the desire to be the King of the Dimandowns hadbeen a worthy goal, but that had

been before he saw the leaf and touched it. And then, when Resolute had taken the leaf from him, he was

left all hollow inside. He knew then that he’d been meant to steal the leaf. For what purpose he had no

idea, but he sensed there was one. And that purpose is mine to fulfill.

These thoughts occupied him as Resolute led the way through the Downs to an inn that didn’t look

nearly as decrepit as the other Vork haunts. Will seemed to remember having been in that place once

before and having been chased away with a brown bucket of floor stoppings dumped over him. As they

entered the common room Will saw the emerald-eyed bartender scowl at him, but the Vorquelf’s

expression eased into something shy of a smile as Crow closed the door behind them.

Crow pulled his cloak off and hung it on a peg. His white hair had been gathered back into a thick

braid that was knotted with a leather cord from which dangled a rainbow of feathers. His beard ran along

his jaw and flushed full at his chin and moustaches, but left visible an old scar down his right cheek.

Above it another scar ran up into his hair. The brown of his buckskin clothes ran lighter than the color of

his eyes, save where the rain had soaked his shoulders and wrists. The sword he wore had a brass hilt

with leather bindings and a big angular pommel. Daggers rode on his right hip, in his left boot-top, and, if

Will wasn’t missing anything, in a sheath on his right forearm, up his sleeve.

Will couldn’t begin to guess at his age. The man looked ancient—must be at least forty—but a fair

bit of life still burned in his eyes. Crow’s-feet crinkled the corners of those eyes, nicks and cuts had

scarred his cheek, nose, brow, and ears, but he didn’t seem the sort of man to be wasting away, drinking

off scartales in some Dim squalor-squat.

The way he’d moved through the streets, and the power with which he hit Predator suggested to Will

that the man wasn’t as old as he first appeared. There was no doubting at all that he’d seen a lot of life,

and Will figured the man was more than content to let his coloration disguise him. Plenty of folks would

look at him and dismiss him for being old, but Will determined that wasn’t a mistake he’d make.

A shiver shook Will then, and it wasn’t from the cold. Conversation, which had been in Elvish and

unintelligible to him save for the odd curse or two, had died. He turned away from Crow and saw two

dozen Vorquelves staring at the man with expressions that ranged from friendly to respectful. Not a few

were tinged with fear. Whispers started, but Will caught little of them, save for a name. Kedyn’s Crow.

The youth turned back and looked at Crow again. “You’re Kedyn’s Crow?”

“Crow fits better, Will.”

Resolute laughed. “He’s more afraid of you than he was of Predator, Crow.”

Will shook his head, lashing his face with wet strands of hair. “Not afraid.” He shivered again.

“Really.”

Crow smiled and guided Will toward a table, which Vorquelves quickly vacated. “Sit down. I’ll get

you something warm to eat.”

“Yes.” Will sat, still clutching the bag to his chest. “And, sir, thank you, sir.”

His hasty comment sparked laughter from the Vorks, who went back to their drinking and eating. Will

ignored them and stared after the broad-shouldered man speaking Elvish with the bartender. Kedyn’s

Crow! If there were a more famous man, aside from King Augustus of course, Will didn’t know of him.

Minstrels in the Dim sung of his exploits, of his traveling north to the frozen plains of

Aurolan, killing hoargoun and temeryces. Those feathers, they have to be from some of the

frostclaws!

Kedyn’s Crow didn’t seek fame for himself, but was known from when he and his companions—I

know who the Vork he runs with is now—saved a Jeranese caravan from marauders, or showed up in

a snowbound Murosan village and fought off Aurolani raiders or ... The one Will liked best talked about

Kedyn’s Crow hunting through the Ghost March, killing off a vylaen general that Chytrine was using to

lead an army down into Okrannel. Will wasn’t certain where any of those places were, save for being far

away, but he’d reveled in hearing those adventures.

Crow returned to the table and set a wooden bowl full of steaming stew in front of Will. Beside it he

placed an earthenware mug from which steam likewise rose. “Eat slowly.”

Will nodded and tucked the bag inside his tunic, then grabbed the wooden spoon, stuck it into the

stew, and shoveled up a mouthful. The stew tasted okay, though the cook clearly didn’t know what he

was doing because it was way too thick to be proper stew. The food’s warmth started to seep out of his

belly into the rest of him. He grabbed the mug in both hands and gulped down a big swallow of the

mulled wine, then sat back and burped.

Crow raised an eyebrow. “Slowly, Will. No one is going to take it away from you.”

Will nodded, not sure if Crow was talking about the food or the leaf. About the time Will realized he’d

sooner give up the food than the leaf, Resolute came to the table. He brought with him two mugs of ale,

one of which he handed to Crow. In his wake trailed another Vorquelf.

This Vorquelf brought a smile to Will’s face. Even though his eyes were a solid light blue, he dressed

as if he were a real elf. Red hair hung in two braids at his temples and was long elsewhere in the current

elven fashion; his clothes had been cut along the lines of those worn by dandies in Hightown. Will

couldn’t see a scar or tattoo on him, and his straight nose had clearly never collided with a fist or shutter.

The Vorquelf remained slender and didn’t have a speck of dirt on his clothes or under his fingernails.

And the rings on his slender fingers... Will knew he could have them off in the blink of an eye, and

could even nick the gold coins in the pouch at his belt—for gold weighed much more than silver and

made itself apparent to the trained eye.

“Is this the boy?”

Resolute grunted. “No getting anything past you, is there, Amends? And he’s not a boy, he’s almost a

man.”

“Small for a man yet.”

Crow laid a hand on Will’s arm. “Do you know how old you are?”

Will shook his head. “Fire took my mother, they tell me. Aunts kept me until I ran away. Been in the

Dim since then. Around.”

Resolute rapped a fist sharply on the table. “Your age, boy, not your life story.”

Will jumped, then frowned. “Fifteen years, maybe more, but not much. I’m just small.”

The clean, red-haired Vorquelf narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure this is the one? He doesn’t look it.”

“Of course he doesn’t, with his face swelling like that. Predator hit him.”

Amends snarled. “He’ll pay for that.”

“He already did.”

Amends nodded, then pointed deeper into the common room. “Charity, fix the boy’s face.”

Will turned around as a chair scraped against the wooden floor. A slender elf, not much taller than

himself— a mere slip of a girl with golden hair and full sea-green eyes—got out of her chair and

approached him timidly. She met his glance for a second, then seemed to look away. No black dot to

their eyes, not easy to tell where she’s looking. Still, she came to him and stroked the right side of his

face with her left hand.

He couldn’t see what she was doing, given as how that eye had almost swelled shut, but he could feel

it. His flesh tingled in the wake of her caress. Heat leaped from her hand into his face and he began to

smile. He noticed it didn’t hurt his cheek to do so, and then his right eye opened.

He looked up and saw a trace of pain pass over her features. “What? I didn’t do it. What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

Crow squeezed his right forearm. “She used magick to heal you, and it’s not without a cost. She took

the pain of your healing on herself.”

Will blinked. “But why?”

Charity smiled at him. “For what you will do, in thanks.”

“What I will do?” He frowned and looked at Crow. “What does she mean?”

The man shook his head. “It’s too soon to worry about that, Will. Just get yourself outside of that

stew, then we’ll see if you can have the lend of a bed. Thank you, Charity.”

Will stared after her as she walked away. “Not going to have her do my leg?”

“And have you able to run?” Resolute laughed mirthlessly. “You’ll be fine to sit a saddle tomorrow.”

Amends’ head came up. “You’re not leaving tonight?”

Resolute studied his mug of ale. “Done enough for one evening.”

“But this is important. If you don’t get him there ...”

Crow raised a hand to stop the discussion. “Good Amends, forgive us. Resolute would prefer not to

insult me, but these old bones need sleep before I can head out.”

The red-haired Vorquelf blushed from his throat to the tips of his pointed ears. “Forgive me, Kedyn’s

Crow. I meant no offense, it is just...”

“Don’t worry yourself, Amends.” Crow chuckled lightly. “I vowed to see to the liberation of

Vorquellyn in my lifetime. You should rejoice that my age means that event is going to be sooner rather

than later.”

“If people will let us be about our duty.” Resolute shook his head quickly, spraying a little water from

the strip of white hair running from his forehead to the nape of his neck. “Now leave us alone or make

yourself useful ordering up roadbread and drymeat for us.”

Amends nodded solemnly. “Of course, of course. You’ll be leaving when? Dawn? Noon?”

Crow shrugged. “Dawn if the rain breaks, noon if it doesn’t. No one wants to ride in the cold wet too

long.”

“Of course not, no.” Amends tapped a finger against his lips. “Reason, Sagacity, round up some

supplies for them, see if you can find clothes for the... manling.”

Two other Vorquelves left their tables, pulled on oilskin cloaks, and vanished into the night. It

surprised Will that they moved so quickly to Amends’ orders, since he didn’t look nearly strong enough

to be their leader. As much as Will didn’t like Predator, he figured Predator would have been able to

whip Amends easily.

That was the way of things in the Dim, after all. The strong ruled. Predator would have been on top

until someone like Resolute decided to topple him. Marcus had been supreme until the Azure Spider

went on to greater glory. After that, even Scabby Jack and Garrow challenged him. He’s got

nothing—‘ceptfor me, that is.

Amends stared down at Will again, his face closing up. “I pray he is the one. Gods speed you on your

journey. And good luck to you, William.”

Will looked up from his bowl, the dripping spoon halfway to his mouth. “I’m not William.” He glanced

from side to side, reading shock on all three faces. “I’m just Will.”

Resolute set his mug down and cocked an eyebrow at the boy. “Will? Nothing more? Why are you

blushing, boy?”

“No reason.” Will frowned and looked back into his nearly empty bowl. “I’m Will.”

“You’re certainly stubborn, Will‘’ Crow’s voice came easily, lightly, with a touch of friendliness to it.

”You’ve forgotten, I think, what Resolute and I saved you from. You’ve forgotten what Resolute has

trusted you with. You’ll trust us with your name, won’t you?“

Will lowered his spoon to the bowl again. “You’ll laugh.”

The man shook his head. “No, not at all.”

Will snarled and pointed his spoon at Resolute. “He will.”

“Better me laughing, boy, than having to get it out of you my way.”

That sent a shiver down Will’s spine. “Just this once.” His eyes narrowed and he waved the spoon

back and forth like a dagger. “My name is Wilburforce.”

Resolute and Crow gave no sign of their reaction to his name, but Amends exhaled loudly. “Oh, yes,

yes; perfect. Thus ends one debate.”

Will frowned at Crow. “There’s a lot here you’re not telling me.”

“There will be time, on the road, to answer your questions.”

Will licked the spoon off and brandished it again. “On the road to where?”

Resolute snorted. “Does it matter to you? It’s away from here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to go.”

“It’s not like you have a choice.” The large Vorquelf smiled carefully, wrapping one massive hand over

a scarred fist. “You’re going, Wilburforce.”

Crow waved away Resolute’s comment. “Think of it as an adventure, Will. Who among your friends

has been to the mountains? We’ll go there, see a friend, then you can come back here if you wish.”

“I don’t know.” Will tried to keep his face impassive, but his voice rose a bit at the end, and a nervous

smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He swiped a sleeve over it to hide it. No one he’d known had

been out of the environs of Yslin, save maybe Marcus, and Marcus had never been to the mountains.

A fitting first adventure for Will the Nimble?

“I’ll get to ride a horse?”

“Several.”

Will nodded and scraped at the bowl with his spoon. He recalled well the tales of children snatched

from the streets never to be heard from again, but the wariness engendered by those tales faded. The

kindness in Crow’s voice, the insistence in Resolute’s, and the warmth of the bag pressed against his ribs,

those three things in no way suggested he’d be safe on the trip, but they did tell him he had nothing to fear

from his traveling companions.

Besides, the little hint that there might be danger—and he’d picked that up from dozens of things, not

the least of which was Resolute’s not telling Amends about the leaf— sent a thrill through him. He’d

grown up in the roughest part of Yslin. There was nothing in the wilderness he was going to fear.

“Okay,” Will said. “To the mountains we’ll go.”

Resolute and Crow led the way up the stairs and along a corridor to a room at the back corner of the

inn. The rain beat a steady tattoo on the tile roof, which Will didn’t find unusual. The fact that the roof

didn’t leak did surprise him, however, as did the size of the room. It fit a big bed and a chest of drawers,

with a little side table and spindly chairs in the corner. A candle burned on the table, and one of the chairs

creaked mightily as Resolute sat in it.

Crow hung the wet cloaks up on the pegs behind the door, then nodded toward the bed. “Go ahead,

Will. Strip those wet clothes and wrap yourself up in a sheet. Can’t have you catching a cough.”

Will, having been raised in a pack of urchins, didn’t suffer from modesty. Wet clothes flew in all

directions leaving him naked, when a gentle knocking came on the door. Crow answered it, and Will

smiled at Charity through the opening. The Vorquelf blushed and turned her head, handing Crow a neatly

folded parcel of clothes. Crow thanked her and closed the door behind her.

He tossed the clothes onto the bed. “There you go. You’ll want to get dressed.”

Will, holding the leaf-bag in his hands, blinked and looked up. “But it’s time for sleeping, right?”

Resolute snorted. “Not going to be getting much sleep tonight, boy. Get dressed.”

Crow had crossed to the window at the rear of the inn. “Looks clear.”

Sitting on the bed, Will pulled some oversized trousers on. “I don’t understand. You told Amends ...”

The man stretched. “Amends does not understand much about our kind, Will, and accepts that the

white of my hair and beard means I might as well reside in a grave. It’s useful to let him and others

assume I’m capable of a bit less than I am.”

“We told Amends what we wanted him to hear, boy.” The Vorquelf tossed Crow his cloak. “By now

the story is circulating that we found you and that we’ll be leaving tomorrow. In the morning this place

will be filthy with people. They’ll be here to see you. Most of them will want you to succeed. A few

won’t. And a couple will want you dead.”

Crow shrugged his cloak on. “I’m not sure about the last, Resolute.”

The Vorquelf scratched at the back of his neck with a big, scarred hand. “You know there are those

who think we’re fools, the two of us. They think we might anger the enemy, and that appeasing her by

informing on us might be the quick way to get Vorquellyn back.”

Will pulled a dry woolen tunic on. “What are you talking about?”

The Vorquelf’s lip curled up into a snarl. “What do you know of the world, boy?”

“I know a lot.”

“Tell me.”

Will hesitated for a second, then looked over at Crow, who gave him a reassuring nod. “Well, I know

that Augustus is king because he beat Chytrine’s army a long time ago.

That’s where he found Queen Yelena. And I know the Vorks don’t have a home because Chytrine

kicked them off it. I know all about the Azure Spider and how he stole the heart of the Wruonan pirate

queen, Vionna. I mean, I know more about him, but that’s one of the best stories I know. And, and... I

know that the smith down on South Street is carrying on with the wife of the baker on Sparrow Road.“

Resolute’s head came up and his expression softened. “That’s it, that’s all you know?” He swung his

left fist around and slammed it into the wall, cracking the plaster. “It’s impossible, Crow. If he’s the one

...”

“Calm yourself, my friend. You know as well as I do that neither of us knew the Azure Spider was on

Wruona.” The man laid a hand on Resolute’s shoulder and smiled. “If Will’s the one, it’s our job to

educate him.”

“Crow, in another lifetime I couldn’t teach him enough.”

“It’s not that dire, Resolute.” Crow looked over at Will. “What do you know of the sullanciriV

The youth shivered. “Everybody knows about them. Everybody thought they were heroes but that’s

not true. They wanted to have King Augustus use his army to take over the world, but he chased them

off, all ten of them, the treacherous dogs. They ran away and went to Chytrine and fed her their souls.

She gave them magickal powers and everything. They’re led by the Norringtons, father and son, just as

they were led back in the time of the war. All of them are there except the one who betrayed them.”

The Vorquelf nodded slowly. “Do you know their names?”

“Heard a couple, maybe. Ganagrei, Nefrai-kesh—he leads them. Not good to mention them because

you might bring them.”

Crow nodded. “It’s wise to be cautious.”

“Well, I’m wiser than they were, that’s for sure.” Will snorted. “The traitor, Hawkins was his name, he

was the one who talked them into leaving Augustus. He fooled them all, you know. He lured them north,

sabotaged their mission, then lost his nerve when he met Chytrine and she wanted to reward him for his

work. He ran away, then tried to cover up for his evil. King Augustus had once called him a friend, but

he banished him. I heard a story that he threw himself into the Crescent Sea, killing himself before others

could hunt him down. He serves Tagothcha, shooting harpoons into ships with a magick bow, dragging

Michael A. Stackpole - Dragon Crown Saga 2 - Fortress Draconis

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