"It is rather cluttered," said Tisala.
I grinned at her in appreciation of her acerbic tongue. "There still aren't all that many places in the keep with doors that lock and roofs that don't leak," I said. "A lot of things get put in there for a bit and stay for a few years."
We set up camp just before dark. I stared at the stars from beneath my blanket to remind myself where I was before I closed my eyes—it didn't help my dreams.
I stood in the laboratory room of the Asylum once more, but this time I wasn't strapped to the stained leather table. Instead I stood before one of the other tables, the ones that held flasks of potions and implements of torture. I held a velvet bag in my hands, a bag I had to force myself to look at. Pulling back the velvet, I took out the staff head called Farsonsbane and set it in a stand on the table.
I think it was the way I saw the Bane that made me realize that I was looking at it through Jakoven's eyes. The cloud of darkness that I'd seen in it was not there, though my hand, Jakoven's hand, still vibrated with its power.
I took out a flask and dropped a very small drop of blood on the black gem. The stone flared red and when I touched the dragon's head lightly, I took the power and created a magelight from it—and I still had magic left over.
I took a clean boar bristle brush like those used by artists and painted the stone with blood. Momentarily power filled my body as it had the night I, Ward, destroyed Hurog keep. I reached out with a hand and the leather table, its iron manacles, and metal base disappeared, leaving behind only a bare spot on the stone floor.
"So the Hurogs are descended from dragons," murmured Arten's voice behind me. "Do you know what happened to the boy?"
My lips curled as I answered the archmage. "Garranon happened. Rode out of the stables and through the gates this morning with the boy and an extra mount, heading north."
"North?" Arten's question held no urgency.
"Where else would you take a Hurog brat and be certain they wouldn't let me pay them for his return? Garranon's not stupid."
"Really? He betrayed you."
"The spells don't hold him as well anymore," I said, staring at the power that bled through my hand, not noticeably diminished from the energy expended from the destruction of the table. "It was always so much fun seducing the body while the boy writhed in guilt."
"You'll not find Jade Eyes writhing in guilt," said Arten dryly.
I laughed. "More likely to find him writhing in blood. Jade Eyes has his own charms, don't get me wrong. But I always thought when the spell I kept to insure Garranon's loyalty faded, he'd break."
"Maybe he still will," suggested Arten. "I wonder how he feels betraying the man he's loved for so long."
I smiled at the thought. "I hope he weeps and hates himself for it as he did when he was a boy. I hope he thinks of me as he futters his wife. I … "
"Jakoven?"
"I have just had a marvelous idea," I said. "Tell my guardsmen to bring me the stable master who let Garranon ride through the gates."
"Ward!"
I sat up gasping and saw my breath gather in front of my face in the predawn light. Tosten crouched before me with a cup of something hot in his hands.
"Were you dreaming of the Asylum?" he asked.
I shuddered and took the cup of weak tea he offered, and sipped it to warm my body and soul. "Yes. True dreams, I think. I'll be glad to get far enough from Menogue that Aethervon leaves me alone."
I shared the dream later with Oreg, hoping he could tell me how much power Jakoven could glean from a half cup of Tychis's blood.
"I don't know," he said finally. "I never saw the Bane, you understand—only felt its creation and the disturbance it wrought. It's been such a long time. After so many years the memories fade, faster because I never wanted to look back and see how long I'd been enslaved. I can no longer remember what was history and what was story told over a cup of ale."
"It doesn't really matter," I said, rubbing Feather's nose as I walked beside her. "We need to get Kellen to Hurog, get Shavig to support him, and then get him out to a safer place. We can't risk sending someone to try and get rid of the Bane or the blood … " I hesitated. "I'd be able to find the Bane," I said—as I spoke I could almost hear it calling me. "If I could break it—or destroy Tychis's blood …"
"Don't be stupid," snapped Oreg. "I couldn't get into that part of the Asylum. All that would happen is that you would find yourself Jakoven's guest—and this time he would not underestimate you."
"Right," I said. "So we'll hope Jakoven doesn't have as much power as it appears."
I knew the stable master slightly. He'd seemed like a good man. I hoped he'd die quickly, but I didn't really expect that would be the case. I wouldn't tell Garranon. There was nothing he could do about the poor man except feel guilt. As I was. But I could not risk going back.
A hunting horn blew three crisp notes and I tightened Feather's cinch and swung back into the saddle. There was another part of the dream that bothered me. I wrestled with it as Feather trotted over the flat Tallvenish landscape.
When we walked again, I stayed in the saddle. My time in the Asylum had robbed me of endurance. I would just have to depend upon Feather.
By chance I found myself riding beside Garranon. He was walking beside his mount some distance from anyone else. We traveled in silence for a few miles, Feather as content to match her walk with Garranon's as I was to match his silence.
Apparently it was more restful on my part than his because he said, abruptly and angrily, "Aren't you afraid to catch it, too?"
Bewildered I wondered if I had dozed off and missed part of a conversation, or if my exhaustion had made me stupid.
"Catch what?" I inquired.
"The desire to sleep with men instead of women," he said with great bitterness.
Confounded I stared at the top of his head. I cleared my throat and ventured an answer. "No."
My reply seemed to stymie him and he walked on a little faster. Obligingly Feather increased her pace as well. Despite Garranon's obvious desire to get away from me, I didn't slow Feather because I realized what Garranon's problem was.
"My uncle doesn't dislike you because you sleep with the king," I said. "He dislikes you because you served the king's writ on me while I was under his protection—and he couldn't do anything about it. Tosten has a similar problem. The rest of them," I jerked my chin at the Blue Guard, "they might just not like you because you're an Oranstonian. But, more probably, they think homosexuality is catching."
Garranon turned his head away for a moment, then relaxed and laughed.
"Now as for me," I continued, "I have my eye on a woman and could really care less what bed you spend your time in."
He looked up at me to say something, but changed what he was going to say when he got a good look at me. "I've seen people look healthier than you on their funeral pyre."
"So I've been t-told." I'd been stuttering a lot since I left the Asylum. I took a small sip from the water bladder I carried on my saddle and tried not to think about the touch of Jade Eyes's hands.
My experiences in the Asylum had left me with a couple of questions and it occurred to me that Garranon might be able to answer them.