"You might have at least told me that there was help coming," Shana pointed out—reasonably, she thought, but Keman only snorted, and for a moment, she was irritated.
"I didn't exactly have time to discuss it with you!" he said, looking just as irritated as she was. "And we weren't in any trouble, anyway!"
She decided not to quarrel with him—but this new attitude on his part was something she hadn't expected. Not from Keman the gentle, Keman her little brother—
Keman the not-so-little-anymore. . . .
She'd have to take that into her calculations from now on. Males, she thought. He was so much more reasonable when he was still a dragonling! It had to be all of the courting and cooing with Dora, she finally decided.
He wasn't a "kid" anymore and it looked as if he was going to be like every other adolescent male and start proving it.
Now he'd behave like most of the other young male dragons she knew. Wizard males and human males, for that matter. Next thing, he'd be flying mock-combats and doing acrobatics for Dora's admiration.
Lorryn must have guessed at her thoughts—or maybe she was thinking them a little too loudly. :No worries,: he said, squeezing her hand. :He'll get over it. And I assure you, I'm past it.:
:Thank the Ancestors!: she replied, her humor coming back. .7 think I'd send you to the Iron People to get it beaten out of you if you weren 't!:
"All I can say is that I'm glad you came," Kyrtian said fervently, with a grateful slap to Keman's flank. "Whatever is in there can remain in there forever, so far as I'm concerned." He shuddered, and said nothing more, but Shana could only wonder if he would feel that way some time in the future. After all, his father—or what was left of his father—was still in there.
Well, it wouldn't be her problem. He was forewarned now, and if he decided he had to go back, he knew he'd better come with plenty of help.
And, being without a lady friend to impress, he just might act in a sensible manner, unlike certain young dragons.
She cocked her ear to listen for a moment to things outside the camp. The sounds from inside the mountain were definitely weaker. "Did you find any sign of Caellach?" she asked, belatedly recalling that this was why their rescuers had come in the first place.
"We found where he'd transported in—so he did manage to learn the spell—and then we found ambush-beast tracks on top of his," Lorryn said grimly. "We didn't bother to follow them back to the den; there was enough blood to pretty much guarantee that Caellach must have been the beast's dinner."
Her mouth formed into a soundless "O" but she couldn't think of what else to say. Lorryn waited for a moment, then continued. "My thought is to just let him vanish. If the other Old Whiners mink he's gone off to the old Citadel or somewhere else to live in luxury with their belongings and with luxury goods lifted from the Elvenlords, they're not going to make a martyr out of him."
"Whereas, if they found out his own stupidity killed him—?" she countered. "Wouldn't that destroy his credit with them?"
"Then someone might try and make it look as if you arranged for his death," Lorryn replied, with a grimace. The fire flared up for a moment and gave them all a look of rapt concentration. "It'd only be our word for what really happened."
"A sufficiently clever fellow could even make him out to be a martyr if they did believe that an ambush beast killed him," Kyrtian said unexpectedly. "After all, he was the last supporter of the Old Ways, and he was trying to get information that would show the others that you and your New Ways were fomenting treachery to your own kind. It wasn't stupidity that killed him, it was a willingness to sacrifice himself to prove the truth."
Shana stared at him for a moment, astonished.
Where did he get that? It's possible—it's even likely—but I wouldn't have thought of it!
Even Lorryn looked surprised. "I'm glad you're on our side," Lorryn managed, after a moment. "If you can think of things like that—"
Kyrtian shrugged, his eyes bleak in the firelight. "I didn't always think this way," he pointed out. "I suppose I can thank my late cousin Aelmarkin for my education—and my loss of innocence." Then he smiled, and he looked more like himself again.
"Well, your cousin got exactly what he deserved," Keman said.
But Kyrtian shrugged. "Much as I'm glad I won't have to worry about him any longer, I wouldn't wish the death he got on anyone."
Shana compressed her lips; she wasn't feeling that generous. Especially when—now that she came to think about it—it was entirely possible that it had been Aelmarkin who woke that blasted construct. "I doubt he would have said the same of you," she said brusquely.
Kyrtian sighed, and looked weary and pensive. "You're probably right. No, you are right. But it would make me more like him to think that way, so I won't." His jaw firmed. "I refuse to descend to his level. So I'll forgive him."
"Now that he isn't here to make any more trouble for you, eh?" Keman said shrewdly.
"His men are shivering with fear in an ill-made camp, out that way," Father Dragon put in, unexpectedly. "Shall we rescue them, do you think?"
"Yes!" said Kyrtian and Lorryn.
"No!" said Shana and Keman at the same moment. All four exchanged glances, and it was Shana who broke the deadlock.
"All right," she said grudgingly. "I suppose we can round them up and take them back to the new Citadel when you've left, Kyrtian. Zed can probably find a use for them."
"We'll leave the way we came," said Kyrtian, with a sigh.
"Having found nothing but empty caves. We have a larger plan to think of."
"Indeed," Kalamadea rumbled, and it seemed to Shana that he spoke for all of them. "And now—rest We have a great deal of work ahead of us."
Indeed we do, she thought, as Lorryn helped her to her feet, and led her to the tent that two of Kyrtian's men had vacated for them.
Kyrtian stretched, feeling every single scrape, bruise, and pulled muscle. But just as much as he longed for home and a hot bath, he dreaded facing his mother with the news he had.
Absently, to distract himself from his own gloomy thoughts, he patted Kemah's side. "I don't suppose I could talk you and your lady-friend into turning up in a few days, could I?" he asked. "I'd love for mother to see you for herself."
And it would do her good to distract her from my—bad news. Oh, of course, she had been assuming all these years that his father was dead—but it was one thing to assume, and another to know. When you assumed, there could always be that little hope lurking in the back of your heart that you couldn't quite give up....
He knew he was never going to actually tell her what he had found. It would be enough to tell her that he'd found his father's remains and not get any more elaborate than that.
And tell her that, yes, he did find the Great Portal just as he 'd always expected, but that he was killed in an accident. That it looked as if he was taken completely by surprise. That would leave her with the comfortable impression that he'd never known what was going to happen to him.