There was Markham, his welcome face white and frightened. His lips were moving, shouting something, but the words didn't make any sense. Melissande, too, with her rust-red hair coming down from its bun. Her dreadful shirt had lost three buttons and she was crying messily. Reg sat on her shoulder, claws clutching tightly, wise eyes brilliant with fury and fear. He couldn't see any Kallarapi.
He was still on the ground. Rolling his head he caught sight of Lional, dead on the grass a few feet away. The King of New Ottosland was a ruined travesty of his extravagantly handsome former self. The sympathetica had consumed him so completely his human flesh had succumbed to distant dragon poison, dissolved and reduced him to raw bloody meat. His blue eyes were open, gazing back with blank surprise.
Beneath the searing flame Gerald felt a vast aching sorrow. You fool, Lional. You poor twisted fool. It didn't have to end like this…
The world blurred, then. Strong arms lifted him, carried him. Placed him inside a covered carriage. The horses' hooves were too loud, they clattered on the cobblestones, on and on, making his head ring. Eventually the carriage stopped. He was lifted from shadow into sunshine. Carried indoors and up stairs, flight after flight. Taken into a familiar place, his suite in the palace. His bedroom. His bed. Swift hands stripped the clothes from his body, cool sheets scorched his shivering flesh. He cried out wildly in fear and pain. He thought Lional had returned to torment him, all blood and rotting flesh, fed to fatness on gross black magics that held the grave at bay.
He felt himself plunge into a pit of fire… knew that he was dying… and was desperately relieved.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
When Gerald opened his eyes again and realised he wasn't dead after all, but mending, he was swamped with a bittersweet joy. The curtains were drawn and lamps were lit. Night-time, then… but which night? How long have I been here? When can I leave?
A sound on the pillow turned his head. Reg, settled as a hen on a nest and tossing down minced chicken. Some small spark deep within him flared to a bright brief life.
'Hey' he said, his voice a scratchy whisper.'How many times do I have to say it? No eating in bed.'
She considered him thoughtfully. 'So. You're alive after all, are you? How do you feel?' 'I'm horizontal and breathing.'
She sniffed. 'And that's better than horizontal and not breathing, believe me.' i think…' he began, then frowned. Something was wrong. He closed his right eye… and stopped breathing.
'I can't see…' He opened his eye again. 'Reg? Reg, what's happened?'
She wouldn't meet his gaze. 'Do I look like a doctor to you, sunshine? Is there a stethoscope hanging around my neck?' 'Oh God. I'm blindV
She rubbed her beak against his hair, a rare caress. 'Half blind,' she said gruffly. 'And it may be temporary. No need to panic yet.'
The little brown skink had been blind in one eye. Was reborn a half-blind dragon.
… the acid poison burns his mouth, dissolves his teeth, runs down his gullet and eats out his guts. Tlie little brown dragon is dying… dying…
A pawn. A sacrifice. Killed without mercy on the altar of his necessity.
'I'm sorry' he whispered as the lamplight dimmed and soft oblivion claimed him.'I'm sorry…'
The second time he woke Shugat stood beside the bed, supporting his bent old body with his staff. The bedroom curtains were still closed, and candles burned in their holders. The same night? Another night? He didn't know. He didn't care. He closed one eye and Shugat vanished.
So. It wasn't a dream or his imagination. In darkness he heard Shugat say, 'You said you would pay the price, wizard.'
Darkness was safe; he decided to stay there. 'Your gods did this to punish me?'
He heard a gentle sigh. 'No, wizard. You did this.' 'To punish myself?'
'Forget punishment,' said Shugat. He sounded impatient. 'Think… consequences. Look at me, wizard.'
He opened his eye. Shugat's grave expression rearranged itself into a fierce and unexpected smile. The stone in his forehead was quiet. Unremarkable. 'You have courage.'
Rolling over beneath the blankets, he pressed his maimed eye to the pillow. / don't have the strength for this.'I have blood on my hands, Shugat. That's what I have. The dragon I made killed people. Innocents it was my duty to protect.' He had to stop. Gather himself. 'And then there's Lional.' Another difficult moment, i helped make him what he became. I showed him what was possible.' 'And you destroyed him.That debt is paid.'
Lional groaning. Lional dead. Dead by my hand. Like him I'm a killer.'You think I'm proud of that?'
Shugat shook his head. 'There is no place for pride in wizardry; you have learned a bitter lesson.'
Resentment welled. 'And what have you learned, Shugat? Holy Man Shugat and your omnipotent gods. Where were they when people were dying? You're very good at reading lectures — are you going to lecture them?'
He flinched as the dull stone in Shugat's forehead burst into life. Power licked his bones, threatened an inferno. Something ancient, something living, pressed him to the mattress like a claw — a talon — a padded paw… in his short life a man is many things,' said Kallarap's ancient holy man. 'A lover. A liar. A killer. A king.' Shugat bent down, his dark gaze incandescent. 'A hammer… and sometimes the hand which holds the hammer.'
Gerald turned his face from that implacable regard.'So you used me. You and your gods.'
Shugat shrugged. 'Better to be used by the gods than a Lional.'
'I don't want to be used by anyonel' he said hotly, glaring now. 'I just want to be left alone!'
'The choice is not yours, wizard,' said Shugat, shaking his head.'The power within you has seen to that. You can choose your master… and that is all.'
His fingers fisted in the bedclothes. 'I can choose to walk away! I can choose to have no master. What am I, a dog, to be whistled for whenever someone needs something fetched?'
'Not a dog,' said Shugat. 'A lizard. Reborn a dragon. Destroyer… or defender. The choice is yours. Choose wisely, wizard. My holy man's healing is a precious gift. It is not to be wasted.'
Heart thudding dully, Gerald stared at him. 'You saved my life? I really was dying and you saved my life?' Shugat nodded.
'Why? It didn't seem to matter to you when you refused to help me fight Lional! The bastard nearly killed me before I — before the end.' Another infuriating shrug. 'The gods willed it.'
He struggled to sit up. 'Why? What have your gods got to do with me? I don't worship them, Shugat. These Three of yours, who the hell do they think they are?'
Shugat thumped his staff into the carpet. Behind the curtains panes of glass shivered. Echoes of thunder, rolling. 'Does the hammer demand of the hand that holds it why the chosen nail should be struck?' 'This hammer does, yesV
Incredibly, Shugat smiled. 'Yes. It does.' Then he nodded and headed for the door. Reaching it, he slowed. Turned. 'You tread an interesting path, wizard.We will meet on it again.'
Oh terrific. Just the news he wanted to hear. 'We will? Wlien? Why? Shugat — ' But Shugat was gone.
'DamnV he said. And was ambushed by exhaustion.
The third time he woke it was in daylight. The curtains were open, letting in warm sunshine. Melissande sat reading in an armchair close by his bed, and for once she actually looked presentable. Well groomed. Green silk blouse with cream pearl buttons. Darker green linen trousers. Not baggy but tailored, and crisply ironed. No disastrous bun; her auburn hair was sleek and smooth and captured demurely in a flattering braid. She was even wearing… makeup?
She heard his little sound of surprise. Looked up and smiled at him nervously. 'At last. You've been asleep ever since Shugat left and that was three days ago.'