The Bear and the Serpent (Echoes of the Fall Book 2) by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Author:Adrian Tchaikovsky [Tchaikovsky, Adrian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781509830244
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2017-02-08T23:00:00+00:00

23

They spent that night at the hearth of the Dragon.

Maniye decided to stay awake from dusk till dawn. She was unsure how many warriors Venat led, but it was at least two score and they were never still. Bands of them were constantly strolling off indolently, joking and laughing. Others would be returning, laden with supplies, often stolen barrels and sacks. The Dragon plainly did not care where it found its meals.

When she first came to their fire she could sense many eyes on her. The sons of the Dragon were all big men, ugly and well armed – or else they were low-slung, pebble-skinned lizards with reeking jaws. When she stood before them at first, she was prey – she saw it in their eyes no matter what Venat might have told them. Only when she loomed over them as the Champion of the north did they give her any respect. Even then, she sensed that more than one of them wanted to challenge her, just because she was something new and fighting was how the Dragon tested the world.

Moon Eye was similarly wary of them, but he was of a size with most of them and they gave him space from the start. By the end of the night, he had thrown a couple of them, and one of them – by no means the biggest – had thrown him. Maniye waited for the angry spirit to light on him but either it was still licking its wounds or it was invisible against the wildness of the Dragon.

Most of all, she watched Tecuman. He sat very still, very straight-backed, and she could almost see the robe and mask there, so fiercely was he conjuring them in his mind. In the midst of these savage and unruly men, his one defence was to be Kasra, to sit there as if he were truly their lord and master.

After eating and drinking, Maniye allowed herself to relax just a little, though whether these raiders cared anything for guest-right was another matter. She sat by the fire and talked with Asmander and Venat: there were some days in the Crown of the World that belonged to the three of them and no others. Somehow it was all fond remembrance with Venat, no matter who else’s shame or pain he might be raking up. He kept talking about it long after she would have expected him to have run out of things to say – and hadn’t he been a thrall chafing at his collar all that time? She remembered him as a sour, surly monster of a man, constantly ready to plunge a knife into Asmander. Watching him now, she wondered if she somehow remembered it all wrong. The old pirate talked about those days as if he pined for them.

Later that night she settled down by Tecuman’s side as the Dragon went to their rest one by one, or else sloped off into the estuary to hunt. She lay awake, listening

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