Dragon's Treasure by Elizabeth A. Lynn

Author:Elizabeth A. Lynn [Lynn, Elizabeth A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Over the next few weeks, his strength returned. The stableboys brought him gruel. No one touched him, or gave him orders, or spoke to him. He was a ghost. He walked through the yard. He sat on the bench to watch the swordsmen. He ate in the stable, with the mice and the barn cats.

Lorimir—who was, he learned, the Keep's senior officer, captain of the war band—came regularly to examine and salve his stump.

When he could no longer bear his own stink, he found a clean bucket, filled it at the well, and hauled it into his stall. When he could walk from the stable to the well without stopping to rest, he decided it was time to get his own food. He made his way to the kitchen. A skinny youth in a dirty apron scowled at him, and muttered something, in which the words "thief" and "murderer" were prominent. But a sweet-faced girl placidly handed him a stew bowl and a hunk of bread.

That evening, when the men went to eat, Treion followed them. In this hall there was no high seat. Karadur sat with his men, at the long table nearest the hearth. Treion stayed well away from them. He found a shadowy corner, out of the torchlight. No one looked at him, or spoke to him. A serving-girl bustled by him, carrying a platter piled with vegetables and meat and bread. He waited until the men at tables were eating before reaching out to catch her attention. She gave him a bowl of soup and a slab of bread covered with butter. He set the bowl on his knee. The soup had bits of meat in it. He ate slowly. He was still clumsy with his left hand.

A shadow fell across the bowl. It was Herugin.

"Get up," the rider said. "He wants to talk to you."

A chill finger ran up Treion's backbone. He set the bowl aside. "Now?"

"Now," Herugin said. Treion rose from the stone.

As he approached Karadur's table, the hall fell silent. Karadur sat with his back against the cold stone and his arm around Azil Aumson's shoulders.

"You wanted to see me," Treion said.

At his back, Herugin said harshly, "You wanted to see me, my lord." Treion ignored him. The men at the table— Rogys, Finle, Lorimir, the others whose names he didn't know—looked at him as if he were not quite human.

"I did," the dragon-lord said pensively. His eyes were half-closed; for a moment he looked asleep. Then he opened his eyes, wide enough for Treion to see the flame in them.

"Lorimir says your arm is nearly healed. It is in my mind that I need to do something about you. What shall I do with you, One-arm?"

"Give me my sword."

"What could you do with a sword?"

"Cut his own balls off, most likely," said Edruyn. The listening men laughed.

Karadur said, "Quiet." They breathed as one, and were silent. "What would you do with a sword, One-arm? You cannot fight us all."

He could not fight even one of them.

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