The Ring of Five Dragons by Eric Van Lustbader

Author:Eric Van Lustbader [Lustbader, Eric Van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2011-05-26T07:00:00+00:00

Everything has changed,” the Old V’ornn said, taking the sixth position, “since last I saw you, Stogggul Kurgan.” For as long as Kurgan could remember, the Old V’ornn had always called him by the formal appellation. He liked that. It showed respect.

“The House of Ashera has been destroyed.” Kurgan assumed the mounted-star defense. “My father is the new regent of Kundala. I am adjutant to Star-Admiral Morcha.”

During the next fifty minutes, he and the Old V’ornn fought hand to hand in the Ka Form, a fluid and complex method of fighting that had long ago been forgotten by others. They were in the Old V’ornn’s vaulted gymnasium. Padded walls held three tiers of increasingly narrow ledges on which lessons were taught.

When they were finished, Kurgan watched the Old V’ornn with an emotion bordering on affection. The dark, gleaming skull, the wrinkled face, the strong, capable hands, these were all as familiar to him as the scent of his own body. The Old V’ornn had taught him everything of importance. But he also listened to what Kurgan had to say. And he was patient. Patient as a stone, patient as the ocean lapping at that stone.

“I made proper use of your lessons this evening,” Kurgan said with no little pride. “Kefffir Gutttin died like the traitorous marsh-lizard he was.”

“You shot him in the back, did you not?”

Kurgan stood very still, watching and waiting with apprehension. He had known the Old V’ornn since he had been seven years of age—a lifetime, it seemed. They had met quite by chance at a street stall where Kurgan liked to go to look at the long-bladed knives for sale. While his mother was buying leeesta from a baker across the street, the Old V’ornn had approached him and asked him which knife was his favorite. Kurgan had immediately pointed to one with a long, thin, triangular blade. The Old V’ornn had bought it on the spot and had told Kurgan that he would teach him to use it to hunt, that when he became sufficiently proficient with it, it would become his to keep. A week later, Kurgan slipped away from hingatta liiina do mori for the first of what would be many difficult and exhilarating lessons at the Old V’ornn’s gymnasium.

Now, he watched warily as the Old V’ornn walked away. “Tell me, Stogggul Kurgan, why do you puff out your chest like a rainbow-cock when your best friend has died?”

Kurgan was so taken aback that he could not find his tongue.

The Old V’ornn paused and turned to face him. “Ashera Annon was brought back here to Axis Tyr and his head was delivered to the Gyrgon. Is this not correct?”

Kurgan nodded mutely.

“And in the glare of your recent triumphs are you to tell me that you have not spent even a moment contemplating his demise?”

“I was the agent of his death. I gave Morcha what he wanted, and in return …” He spread his hands wide. “He gave me what I wanted.”

The Old V’ornn pursed his lips.

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