Coram frowned. “I’m t’believe ye’re Liam Ironarm?”
“Come downstairs, before she hears you,” Liam sighed. “Windfeld knows me.”
The host’s verification of the Dragon’s identity told Coram it was time to change tactics. So he invited Liam to share his morning meal, and the food eased his hangover. He could concentrate better on quizzing the redheaded man.
“Does she know?” he asked. “Lady Alanna?”
A slow grin spread across Liam’s face. “She knows.”
“No doubt she’s in a dither tryin’ to decide what she wants to ask ye first.” Coram thought for a moment, then met the Dragon’s now-gray eyes. “What’s the likes of ye want with Alanna of Trebond?”
The big man shrugged. “She’s a pretty thing—different, and full of fight. I never heard that she avoids men.”
Remembering Prince Jonathan and the thief, George, Coram flushed. “She’s still not a woman without all virtue.”
Liam chuckled. “She’s too good a warrior to have a bad reputation as a woman. At least, no one will call her bad when she might hear.”
“I’d think the Shang Dragon had his pick of pretty ladies,” growled Coram.
Liam rose. “Maybe. But she’s not just that, is she? She’s as known in her way as I am in mine.” He put a massive hand on Coram’s arm. “I’m not a village lad wanting to boast of having the Lioness’s pelt in my hut, Master Smythesson. I like her. I’d probably like you, if you stopped glumping about my being in her room.”
He left a coin for his food and strolled out as Coram sank his face into his hands. “Life used to be simple,” he told his palms.
Faithful jumped up to sniff at Liam’s plate. Probably more boring, too.
After running errands until noon, Coram returned to find Alanna dressed and cleaning her weapons. “Don’t scowl,” she told him. “I’m not awake.”
“The chambermaid says yer clothes were all over mud. What kind of larks were ye kickin’ up last night without me to keep an eye on ye?”
“I wasn’t ‘kicking up any larks,’” she yawned. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a ride out of the city.”
“We’re ye ridin’ under the horse’s belly, then?”
Alanna could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks. “It’s too embarrassing to talk about.”
Coram wasn’t to be so lightly dismissed. “Does this have anythin’ to do with that Liam bein’ in your room this mornin’?”
“I got tired and fell off my horse,” Alanna said grumpily. “I met Liam on the road. He just made sure I got back all right. He never touched me.”
“Maybe he didn’t,” Coram rumbled, as red as she was. “And maybe he’s plannin’ to.”
Closing the door, he heard Alanna murmur, “Nothing wrong with that.”
They reached House Jendrai as the sun touched the horizon, to be greeted by Nahom Jendrai in person. Alanna had expected him to resemble Myles of Olau—quiet, unkempt, and absentminded. Instead, she and Coram found a trim man in his early thirties, surrounded by children, servants, pack animals, dogs, and baggage. He waved to Coram and waded out of the mess.
“My wife would greet you properly, Lady Alanna, Master Smythesson, but she has only recently come from childbed, and she is resting. Our sixth,” he explained with a smile. “A girl.” He accepted their congratulations with a bow, adding, “Excuse the bustle—our bags didn’t come until this afternoon.”
He led them into the house. “I’m happy to assist Myles’s daughter. If it weren’t for him, I’d be just another nobleman, administering my estates, worrying about how I stood with the king, and scheming to get into power at court. My wife handles the fief—better than I ever could—and the only kings I bother with are hundreds of years gone. I owe that to Myles. He was the best teacher I had. What an incredible mind!”
Alanna picked up Faithful, who was trading sharp words with a dog in the hall. “You were one of Myles’s students?”
“For six years.” He showed them into a room that was lit only by the dying sun. “I suppose it’s too dark.” He began a futile search for flint and steel. “I tell the maids I keep demons in here so they won’t disturb anything. Unfortunately, I don’t get my candles lit.”
Alanna laughed. Now he reminded her of Myles. Pointing at the hearth logs, she sent her Gift out in a burst of violet until they caught flame. With quick gestures she shooed flames to the branches of candles.
Show-off, Faithful grumbled.
Alanna looked at him in surprise. “I am not. This is handier.”
A year ago you would have taken forever to do it the hard way, the cat pointed out.
Alanna blushed. “A year ago I was different.”
“Do they always chat like this?” Nahom Jendrai asked Coram.
“Often enough.” The older man gave him the map.
Jendrai stretched the parchment out on a table, studying it for several minutes. Finally Alanna said, “Should we go and come back when you’ve had a chance to work on it?”
He glanced up, startled—clearly he’d forgotten they were there. “No, of course not. I can tell you what it says. Please, come closer.” Alanna and Coram gathered around the desk, Faithful perched on the knight’s shoulder.
Jendrai’s finger traveled over the map’s surface. “Here are the Eastern Lands, the Inland Sea, a bit of the Southern Lands. That’s to locate the reader—this map isn’t for everyday geography. Much is left out. There are cities, nations, roads—a hundred things not shown. Only the points of interest are here, at the eastern end of the Great Inland Sea.
“The mountains—these jagged lines—show the Roof of the World, east of Sarain. This valley lies inside the Roof’s western edge, north of where Port Udayapur is now. At the valley’s northern end are two passes, Lumuhu and Chitral. This star marks Chitral Pass.” He tapped the silvery star embossed into the map. “Translated, the writing says, ‘In Chitral’s hidden chamber, guarded by the being whose essence is Time, the Dominion Jewel is kept for those with the will to strive. Take it at your risk, for the saving of a troubled land.’”
“The Dominion Jewel,” Coram whispered.
Alanna shivered. “Fairy stories,” she scoffed.
“Ye were impressed by those stories in yer day, Miss,” retorted Coram. “Yer brother always wanted the tale of Giamo the Tyrant. Ye liked t’hear about Norrin and Anj’la.” He looked at Nahom. “The Jewel is real?”
“Very real,” the scholar replied. “In Maren we remember the changes made by King Norrin and Queen Anj’la, two centuries ago. Our wealth and peace are their legacy. We have had no wars or famines or plagues since their day.” He rapped the table to ward off the evils he’d mentioned. “If you have a chance to visit the capital city, you might examine the stonework on the Great Temple of Mithros and on the ceremonial doors of the palace. The same motif is repeated over and over: Norrin’s symbol, a snow-capped mountain, Anj’la’s, a willow branch, and the Dominion Jewel between them. Marenites know what we owe to them and the Jewel.”
“But it’s been used for evil, too,” Coram reminded Jendrai softly.
“Indeed.” The younger man’s face darkened. “Giamo stole the Jewel to build his Gallan Empire. With it he conquered parts of Tusaine, Tortall, and Scanra.” Alanna saw Tusaine armies camped along the Drell River, as they had when she was a squire. She swallowed; her memories of the Tusaine War were unpleasant. “Someone stole it from Giamo’s heir. His empire devoured itself, four hundred years ago.