Rhianna wondered at this. Relations had not been so friendly between the two countries a decade ago. But perhaps they were not friendly now, either. There was an edge to Sister Daughtry s voice, a tone of anger or outrage.
Rhianna felt sure that there was more to the story, but Sister Daughtry changed the subject. "These giants that you warned us of, the wyrmlings. Should we kill them on sight, or can we reason with them?"
"Not all wyrmlings are evil," Rhianna suggested. "I saw defectors at Caer Luciare-spies that worked for High King Urstone. But I do not know if you will be able to speak to them, for their tongue is strange, a combination of grunts and barks and growls."
There was a long moment of silence as Sister Daughtry thought.
"So, will you help Fallion, then?" Rhianna pressed.
"You spoke of a trade," Sister Daughtry said. "Is this the coin you want in return for forcibles-the rescue of your mate?"
"It is in part," Rhianna said. "I offer you a great treasure, but in making the offer, I ask that you act responsibly. The whole world will have need of forcibles-not just the horse-sisters, but all of the world, including the kingdoms of men.
"The horse-sisters have not been treated well in the past. Your people were once the poorest of all, at least when wealth is measured in forcibles. But soon you may be the richest. I know where a vast treasure lies, and I will lead the way to it, but I do so in fear and trembling at the thought of what may follow. I would ask that you not take vengeance for ancient wrongs, but share your power with what decent men you can find."
"Spoken like a true leader," Daughtry said. "You never met your grandmother, but I think that she would have been proud." She sighed deeply. "I will honor your wishes. Lead us to this mountain of blood metal, and we will free your lover. And we will share this treasure with the good men of the world."
Rhianna smiled wryly, and tested her. "Do you think there are any good men left in the world?"
Sister Daughtry reached down and picked up a stick, poked the stump of a burning log, moved it deeper into the embers.
"The Knights Equitable are all gone," Daughtry said. "They were good men, for the most part. But the Brotherhood of the Wolf remains. Though the warlords of Internook may hold our world by the throat, it is rumored that good men still fight them in secret, as best they can. Scoundrels among the warlords, the worst of them, often end up murdered, their throats slit as they lie in drunken stupors, or they find themselves ambushed while off on one of their little jaunts a-whoring. It is only because of the Brotherhood that the thugs from Internook show any restraint at all. I suppose that it is time for the horse-sisters to join their cause."
Rhianna considered her words. The Brotherhood of the Wolf had been formed under Gaborn s patronage, and had been a powerful force for good ten years back. It seemed that once again the Earth King was watching over them.
Good omens all.
So she reached across the fire to shake, clasping hands at the wrist, and thus sealed the bargain.
"A force of heroes is gathering," Rhianna said, "preparing to breach the wyrmling stronghold in order to free Fallion Orden, along with Prince Areth Sul Urstone. They may need your help. They may need Dedicates."
"We can find Dedicates," Sister Daughtry said. "But I ask one thing in return-parity. If we are to empower men, we must also empower our women to the same extent. I demand that a horse-sister be allowed to join this company of heroes. She should be granted great power."
Rhianna bit her lip. It was obvious what Daughtry wanted-her own set of endowments.
"I trust that the horse-sisters have chosen wisely," Rhianna said. "Your skills in battle along with your wisdom have earned your people s trust-and mine. Go with the rescue party. Lead it if you like. I would give you my own endowment, if I could."
But of course, Rhianna had granted an endowment when she was young, and thus could never do so again. Even the most talented facilitator could not draw a second attribute from a Dedicate.
The knowledge saddened Rhianna, for she desperately wanted to help.
Sister Daughtry smiled. "Oh, I was not asking for me. I m thinking that you should be the horse-sister to go. Don t you agree?"
Rhianna was stunned. She had imagined that if she made this bargain, the forcibles would be granted to some powerful lord, skilled in war, hungry for power. She never imagined that she would be granted so much as a single endowment. "I, uh, why me?"
"Because your motives are pure," Daughtry said. "You want the power only to save the man you love, and to fight our common enemy. You yourself fear that these forcibles will fall into the wrong hands. Having lived a lifetime of pain and torment, you have become acquainted with unwarranted suffering. You know how much evil this power brings, and you will guard your heart against it."
Rhianna suspected that Daughtry was right, but Rhianna also doubted her own heart.
"You fear to take them?" Sister Daughtry asked.
"With power comes pride, and with pride comes a sense of entitlement," Rhianna said, recalling something that her mother said. "And from a sense of entitlement, many evils are born."
Sister Daughtry smiled, peered both at Rhianna and through her. "Yes, I think I have chosen well."
She changed the subject. "And now, about this mountain of wyrmling treasure…"
To the best of her ability, Rhianna sketched a rough map on the ground. She knew that the fortress of Rugassa was three hundred miles north of Caer Luciare, and suspected that the fortress was close to a hundred miles from where they now stood.
"It will be a long ride to that mountain of yours," Sister Daughtry said. "If the wyrmlings are mining the metal, they will have begun taking endowments."
"Perhaps not," Rhianna said. "The wyrmling lords are still in Rugassa. I suspect that they will want it first. Being voracious creatures, they will not want to share with their underlings. That means that the wyrmling soldiers will have to send the blood metal north. They will pull it in large handcarts. They are powerful men, and tend to march a hundred miles per night."
"It has been only a night since your battle at Caer Luciare," Sister Daughtry said. "That means…"
"The wyrmlings should be delivering their first shipment in two days at dawn."
"The wyrmlings must never see a single forcible," Sister Daughtry said, her face hardening. "We should head south, try to cut them off near Caer Luciare, where they will be far from help. But two hundred miles is a far ride. The horse-sisters will never be able to reach the wyrmlings in two nights."
Now Rhianna brought out the rest of her treasure, opening her pouch and spilling two hundred blank forcibles onto it. "You can make it if you have force horses to ride."
8
Time is a thief that steals our memories. With each passing day they recede from us, and more has been forgotten than shall ever be known. There is no lock that can hold against Time. It is only when a great wyrm seizes us that we find ourselves with a worthy guardian, one that can withstand the onslaught of Time.
The Sanctum had long been used for worship among the wyrmling hordes. A small oval dais of gray agate lay on the floor, with golden filigree forming the three-pointed star upon the ground, where orators could address the lords of the wyrmling horde. Seats made of polished cedar climbed in rows above the dais.
Behind the dais, against the back wall stood an onyx statue of a woman-not a wyrmling woman with a bony ridge on her brow and oversized canines-but a Bright One, a woman flawless and perfect, who stood with her back straight and her angry face glaring down at the ground, as if wrenching away from the audience in disgust.