Whyte, Jack - Dream of Eagles 01 by Whyte Jack

Author:Whyte, Jack
Language: eng
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"I was simply curious to find out how much you know about them. Do you believe that they have magic powers?"

"No. I told you, I don't even believe that charcoal has magic powers."

Her eyebrow went up higher, in that sardonic way her brother had. "Well, Publius,''

she drawled, "you are wrong. Magic they possess. Real magic, but purely natural. The magic of trained memory."

I dismissed that with a grunt. "There's nothing magical about trained memory, Luceiia. It's the first function taught in the legions. When a man's illiterate, you'd better make sure that you train his memory if you ever want him to remember anything, from drill to a crucial message."

She accepted my response without demur. "True, but the Druids have this on a different scale. They have carried it beyond the realms of what Romans would consider possible. They carry their entire history around in their heads and in their hearts, Publius.

They are a truly wonderful people. I have several friends among them whom I value above many 'worthy' Romans."

I dismissed these sentiments too, classifying them mentally as womanly, and my next words betrayed that.

"I presume it was these people who introduced you to the dragons?"

"Don't be nasty, Publius Varrus, it doesn't suit you. As it happens, however, you are correct. They did."

"I see. Well, what have these dragons to do with me?"

"Nothing yet, and yet perhaps everything. As I told you, you will adopt them as your own."

I sighed. I had eaten well and was more than content with her company, but I was not in the mood for circumlocution. Nevertheless, I was at pains to keep any trace of impatience out of my voice, and there was a part of me, a very large part of me, that would have been content to dally in that place all day with Luceiia, even had she been babbling gibberish.

"Could you be talked into explaining that?" I asked her.

"Happily. The Celts who live here in the west call themselves the people of the dragon. The Pendragon, to be exact. I respect and admire them very much. And, as I've said, I have made friends of some of their Druids. The Christians have, as you remarked, been making some inroads into the old religion in the last few years, but the Druids are a long way from losing their place of honour in the land. One of them told me the story of

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the Pendragon and how they were named. It was all very mystical and I listened mainly out of politeness, understanding little of it. But then you yourself alerted me with something you said to Caius, in talking of your grandfather. He repeated it to me and I have been thinking about it ever since."

I waited. She was obviously struggling with unruly thoughts.

"You asked me if I had seen rust-stained hillsides, and of course I have, without knowing what they signified.

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