“Our founder told us to await the bearer of the dragonmark,” the shrouded woman said.
“Founder?” Esprë glanced at the faces of the islanders and spotted nothing but humans among them. “How long have you been here?”
“For over four thousand years our people have protected this part of the shore and helped to keep invaders like yourself away from the land of the dragons beyond.”
“Four thousand years?” Esprë couldn’t believe the number. That was a long time, even in elf terms. “How could your founder tell you about dragonmarks? He must have— Did he inscribe his prophecy to you on a scroll?” “Greffykor lives still high atop the Wyrmsperch Mountains. He bequeathed to me this part of the Prophecy only two weeks ago, and we have been alert for the bearer of a dragonmark ever since.”
“What if we do not have this dragonmark—or are unwilling to show it to you?”
“Then we kill you.”
Esprë wondered what it would be like to be part of a tribe that murdered any strangers who happened to cross its path. It sounded horrible. “You kill anyone who does not have a dragonmark?” she asked.
“Yes. So Greffykor demands.”
A chill coursed through Esprë’s guts. “Who is this Greffykor? ”
“A dragon of the purest silver and the most inquisitive of minds. He has dedicated his life to the study of the Prophecy, and we are blessed to rank among his servants.” Esprë felt like she wanted to stop breathing. “So the dragonmark shows that the stranger is favored by your dragon?”
“Today, when Greffykor has decreed it so, it is so.” “What about our lady knight here? She has a sword that burns with a silver flame. Our warrior here bears a blade made from a dragon’s fang.”
“These are the finest of omens. They cause Greffykor’s faithful to search even harder for evidence of the fulfillment of the Prophecy. Without them, we may have slain you already.”
“You may have tried.”
“Produce the dragonmark now, or we will bring the full force of our people upon you.”
Esprë looked to Kandler. He shrugged at her. “I have no idea what you’ve been talking about,” he said, “but if you want to start showing off that dragonmark of yours, go right ahead.” He hefted his sword in his hand. “If you’d rather keep it private, I’d be happy to help cut our way out of here instead.”
“What would you do?” she asked.
Kandler smiled. “I don’t want to influence your decision.”
“That’s a first.”
“What do you think you should do?” Kandler said. Esprë stood there, stunned. For the first time, her stepfather seemed to be treating her like an adult. She reached out and gave him a quick hug.
“Go get ’em,” he whispered to her as she broke away from him once again.
Esprë wrinkled her brow at him, a strange, wry smile on her face. Then she reached behind herself to pull the collar of her shirt down, exposing her back to the islanders who stood waiting for her decision.
As one, they gasped.
42
Kandler had to suppress every paternal urge in his body to keep himself from grabbing Esprë and hauling her back on to the Phoenix. He stood with his sword ready, prepared to slash out at the first islander who made a dangerous move toward the girl. He didn’t think he and the others stood a chance of surviving a battle with so many—especially if the dragons that had brought them there returned—but he’d take down as many of them with him as he could. Centuries from now, the survivors would talk of the trio of warriors who nearly wiped them all out.
Kandler ran through a plan of action in his head. He figured he could kill three of them before they could reach Esprë, perhaps five with the fangblade. He’d never used a blade so sharp and deadly before, and he marveled at the way it could slice through just about anything. With none of the islanders sporting any armor thicker than a thatch of grass, the sword would make quick work of them.
Then the shrouded woman raised her arms and said something in Draconic. The other islanders lowered their weapons.
Some of them seemed relieved, but the turn of events clearly disappointed most of them. They’d gotten their blood boiling and the lack of a battle left them frustrated. Kandler wondered if they had much else to do here on the island other than get into fights, heal from the last fight, and prepare for the next one. Still, they did as the woman in the shroud had ordered and gave up on the battle.
That didn’t mean they’d welcome the intruders with open arms. Kandler read hostility and suspicion in every face—except that of the woman under the shroud.
Then the woman lifted the front of the shroud over her head, draping it over her shoulders. Unlike most of the others in the tribe, her hair bore streaks of gray, and her face showed fine lines around her mouth and eyes that showed that she often smiled. Still, she was not smiling now.
“My name is Zanga,” the woman said. Her voice was low and rough but sweet, a pleasant counterpart to her exotic accent. “Welcome to Seren. We are the Gref.”
“You speak—?” Kandler could not believe his ears. “You can understand us?”
“In my youth, I spent time in Port Krez.”
Burch grunted at that. “You don’t look much like a pirate.”
“It’s been a long life.” She smiled. “For such reasons, my people do not trust strangers. You will not be permitted inside the palisades.”
“We don’t wish to stay long,” Esprë said. “We probably wouldn’t have come at all if not for the dragons.”
“Where are you bound?” asked Zanga.
Esprë looked back at Kandler. He sheathed his sword and stepped forward, meeting Zanga’s studious gaze.
“We’re on our way to Argonnessen,” he said.
“Of course,” said Zanga. “My people can take you to Totem Beach. That is where we worship at the feet of the great idols.”
“Who do you worship?” asked Sallah, carefully nonchalant.
Zanga glanced at the silver flame embroidered on Sallah’s tabard. Blood and dirt stained the slashed and torn garment, which now barely covered the lady knight’s breastplate, but Sallah had refused to abandon it.
“The dragons, of course.”
Kandler saw Sallah bite her tongue. Her first instinct when faced with such beliefs would be to spread the faith of the Silver Flame, but she managed to avoid any hint of proselytizing. For that, the justicar gave thanks.
“We’ll want to go a bit farther inland,” Burch said.
Zanga’s brow creased with concern. “How far?” she asked.
“Did you recognize the mark on Esprë’s back?” Kandler said.
He didn’t want to talk about any long-range plans with Zanga, not right now. If her people could bring them to Totem Beach, perhaps that would be enough.
“Of course. It is a dragonmark.”
“Could you tell which one?”
Kandler heard Esprë’s breath catch in her chest. If the Seren had recognized the Mark of Death, he needed to know what that meant to them—including why they had not killed the girl on the spot.
Zanga shook her head. “We do not see many of the marks of favor on Seren. We have little need for them. We enjoy the direct attention of the dragons instead.”
“Then why did you demand to see it?”
“How’d you know she had one?” Burch asked the islander.
Zanga flashed a serene smile. “I didn’t. We only knew that Greffykor bade us watch for one among the invaders who sometimes find our shores.”
“That’s the silver dragon who founded Gref,” Esprë said to Kandler and the others. “He studies the Prophecy.”
“Did the Prophecy tell him to look for you?”
Esprë shrugged. “It seems so.”
Kandler stared at the islanders all around them, then back at Zanga. “I think I’d like to meet this dragon.”