“Fairy stories are important,” Jendrai told Alanna. “Legends teach us and guide scholars in searching out the truth of history.” He smoothed the map before folding it. “It would be the adventure of a lifetime to find the Dominion Jewel.”
Faithful and Alanna looked at each other. The cat’s ears had pricked forward at adventure. The knight thought it over. If I win it and return home bringing the Dominion Jewel for the glory of Tortall, no one can suggest that I got my shield with magic and trickery. Instead of being his Majesty’s most talked-of knight, I’ll be the honored vassal who brought a prize to honor his reign. Another voice in her mind whispered, The Roof of the World! Did I ever meet anyone who’d been that far in his lifetime? It’s a place to go. Someplace new. The Goddess said my path would be interesting.
Nahom sighed and put the map away. “Seldom do I regret my family and my duty to them. This is one of those times. I would love to go seeking such a thing. What land wouldn’t prosper with the Jewel in its ruler’s hands?” He gave the map to Alanna.
“How does it work?” Alanna asked. She fingered the ember-stone at her neck. “Do you have to be a sorcerer to wield it?”
“Giamo was no sorcerer,” Coram pointed out. “Look at the damage he did.”
“Norrin wasn’t Gifted, either, although Anj’la knew herb-lore and healing magic,” added Jendrai, scanning a scroll rack. “Here.” He pulled out one, blew the dust from it (making Faithful sneeze), and unrolled it on the table. “This is in High Gaulish—do you read it?” Alanna and Coram shook their heads. “Here’s the section I want. A rough translation is, ‘Said Jewel worketh its power in two fashions. In the hands of the un-Gifted, it exerteth natural benefices, knitting its power with the Earth’s own for as far as its ruler’s holdeth sway.’” Stopping, he explained. “The Jewel only works for those who are rulers or conquerors by nature. It also explains why the Jewel was often better used by a commoner than by someone royal-born. Just because you’re born to be a king doesn’t mean you have the will for it.”
“Where was I … ‘In the hand of one Gifted, one who understandeth the devices of sorcery, the Jewel may be more directly used, in healing and war, for fertility and death. A knowledgeable ruler, knowing fully the creation of magical formulae, may create new land from ocean deeps, or return the breath of a dead child. With its wielder’s knowledge and the will to rule, the Jewel maketh possible all things.’”
“That’s scary,” Alanna whispered. “What could Roger have done with the Dominion Jewel?”
Coram said, “Thank the gods we’ll never learn.”
Outside the air was raw, a reminder that winter was not done. Alanna shivered, walking briskly to keep up with Coram. Faithful trotted in front, sniffing the night wind. Alanna thought wistfully about the Bazhir lands—winter came to them as chilly rains, not snow and ice. She preferred the desert winter; she was afraid of cold weather, in a way she couldn’t understand.
They weren’t far from the inn when Coram spoke. “What will ye do?” Realizing she’d been thinking of something else, he explained, “The Jewel, my lady.”
“I think we should find it.”
“Knowin’ how ye like the cold, I didn’t think ye’d fancy the Roof.”
Alanna made a face. “You’re right. Still, if that’s where the Jewel is—”
Faithful hissed, We have company.
Coram glanced around. “Rogues.” His voice was loud enough for Alanna to hear, no louder. “Wantin’ to take our purses, doubtless.”
Alanna glanced to the corner ahead, where five men in dark clothing blocked their escape. She drew Lightning: It shimmered faintly. “Why so many of them for two of us?”
“Four more on yer right,” Coram hissed. “Because they’ve little else to do?” Out came his broadsword.
Of the thieves, two held swords, two more carried short axs, three had iron-shod staffs. Alanna guessed that the others had knives. “Let us by,” she ordered. “You don’t want the trouble it’ll take you to get our money.” She made the sign George taught her, the one to give her safe passage among rogues.
One of them stepped forward, his sword up. “Be ye Alanna of Trebond in Tortall? Her as claims she’s a true knight?”
Coram bristled. “Ye’ll find she’s knight enough if ye step just a bit closer.”
“Our business ain’t with ye, master,” someone else barked. “Leave now, else ye be hurt.”
“I’ll leave if ye do the same—or when ye’re dead. It’s all the same to me.” Coram shifted his stance, planting himself firmly.
Alanna looked at the one who’d spoken first. “I’m Alanna of Trebond and Olau.”
“We bring ye regards from him known as Claw, back in Tortall. He bids us tell ye mourn for yer lover now, whilst ye have breath. George Cooper will be dead afore summer, but we’re to send ye t’the Black God first!”
He threw himself at Alanna, the swordsmen and staffmen following with a yell. Alanna moved until she and Coram were back to back, meeting the speaker’s charge and knocking his weapon aside. He came at her again with a backhand chop, and she knew he’d had little training. It wasn’t enough compared to hers. She brought Lightning down across his chest, cutting deeply. He fell, and she looked for her next foe.
There was little room to maneuver, little chance to counter single opponents. The thieves understood simultaneous attack. Alanna and Coram blocked automatically, searching for anything that could be turned to their advantage. Hesitation now would mean death.
One of the staffmen swung and missed—she ran him through. Coram shouted fiercely, and someone screamed. When a swordsman looked to see the screamer’s fate, Alanna slashed his leg. He dropped with a cry. A knife fighter rushed to pick up the fallen sword.
A black lump dropped from a roof, clinging to one man’s scalp. Trying to dislodge Faithful, the thief fell into an ax’s downswing. He lost his life. A second later the axman was down, a victim of Alanna’s rapid side-cut. She could hear Coram gasping. Sweat dripped into her eyes.
Alanna’s left arm stung. She reversed Lightning in a crescent, killing the man who’d wounded her. She was bleeding, but she didn’t dare stop to bind the cut.
Faithful launched himself again, yowling fiercely. Coram shouted and was down, bleeding from the thigh. Alanna swung to stand over him, her brain coldly taking charge. Later she’d remember that sweat stung in her eyes, that her arm hurt, that she was scared for Coram. Now she blocked and cut like a machine, looking everywhere at once.
For a moment Lightning was caught under an ax blade. Trying to free her sword, Alanna was knocked down by a staff. Cursing, she rolled to her feet. Before she had her balance, two thieves leaped on her, forcing her down.
One gripped her arms, yanking them behind her back. Alanna bit her lip to keep from screaming. She’d always been afraid this would happen. Disarmed, in the clutch of a stronger opponent, she was trapped. The second rogue grinned at her, reaching for her tunic.
The street echoed with an animal roar. Something shot into the man in front of Alanna: He rammed into a nearby wall and was still. Liam hit the ground on both feet, spun and kicked back into an attacker. The man seemed to leap backward, sprawling yards away. The Dragon shifted, his leg furling up and out, streaking toward Alanna. She froze, and Liam’s kick struck the man gripping her. She was free.
Liam grinned, then whirled to face the last killers. They fought and died, the street echoing with the Dragon’s cry. Alanna’s hands worked as she watched, cutting up her tunic for a bandage. Kneeling by Coram, she examined his bleeding thigh.