He said, “Find peace. Go into the Pale Friend’s arms. I’d welcome that embrace as you shall, in time.”
I asked him then, “Is it so much pain?”
He lowered his head, and I saw fresh tears fall out of his eyes as he answered me, “Aye. Pain beyond your imagining. I think your Sky Lord friend’s the better way. It should be better to put a blade in my belly than suffer this.”
I said, frightened, “Then why don’t you? Why haven’t you?”
He said, “Because I had Deburah and Kathanria. Aiylra’s laying, them; and mine. I’d have followed her into death, save there were no other Dragonmasters then, and I’d not leave my charges solitary. They are my children as much as his.”
I followed the direction of his eyes toward the entrance of the cave, where the bull sat massive on his guardian’s ledge, and understood what Bellek told me.
I felt my mouth go dry. I felt my bowels shrivel. I committed my life here, and Rwyan’s; and carried Urt’s and Tezdal’s with me. I knew that then: I felt small and afraid. Like a boy standing on the beach as the airboat came closer and spread its malign shadow over me. Hoarse, I said, “I understand now.”
Bellek said, “Do you accept it?”
I looked at Deburah and found no choice. I said, “Yes.”
Bellek said, “You cannot tell your friends. Do that-do they disagree-and you’ll fly no dragons against the armies that threaten.”
I looked at him and asked, “Think you they’d disagree?”
He said, “It shall mean your lives here, in no other place; and they shall be very long lives. It shall mean you cannot return to Dharbek, but must take my place in the Dragon-castle.”
I think I knew it even then, but still I must ask him, “Why?”
He said, “Because the dragons will not leave this place, and do you enter fully into the bonding, then nor shall you. You begin to feel those ties e’en now, I think. They shall grow stronger-glorious chains that bind you to the ending of your days.”
I did begin to feel it. Already it was a painful notion to contemplate parting from Deburah. I said, “That, I can accept. I think the others would, too.”
Bellek coughed laughter. “It’s not so easy,” he said. “Shall Tezdal agree to never more walk the earth of Ahn-feshang? Shall Rwyan give up her sorcerous friends? Urt not go back to Ur-Dharbek?”
Doubt clogged my throat, sour. I swallowed. “Why can I not put it to them?”
He turned his face away at that, and when I saw it again, it was composed. “Because they might disagree. Not Rwyan, I think; at least, not so long as you remain. But Urt and Tezdal … ?” He took hold of my hands. I winced at the force of his urgent grip. “You must take my place! You four can bring new life to Tartarus; you can make the dragons great again. But you must pay that price!”
I weighed it in my head. I sensed Deburah waiting for my decision. I wonder, had I not already taken the first strides along that road that binds Dragonmaster to dragon, if I’d have chosen different. But I had, and so I can never be sure. Was it I made that decision? Or was it that I’d see that dream I shared with Rwyan fulfilled? Or was it Deburah made up my mind? I know not; and likely never shall.
I do know that I answered Bellek’s grip then and said, “So be it. I’ll not tell them.”
He said, “Not even Rwyan?”
I shook my head. I felt a dreadful guilt as I told him, “Not even Rwyan.”
I felt such intoxicating pleasure then as makes the headiest wine akin to tepid water. I felt … this is not easy to describe, but a promise of glorious days to come, of long happiness, shared lives, pleasure. I was sent stumbling forward as Deburah craned her great head down to nudge my back. Bellek caught me, else I’d have fallen, and on his face I saw reflected the satisfaction I felt from my lovely dragon.
I said, “My word on it,” and silently, inside my skull, where the deepest and most hidden of our thoughts reside, Forgive me, Rwyan.
There are some bargains as rest heavy on the soul. For each bright shining promise, there exists a dark shadow. Bellek had extracted from me an agreement I was not certain I should have given: I committed my love and my friends to a future in which they had no say. But had I not, then surely our agreed aims could never have been accomplished.
I told myself I had no other choice as I walked with Bellek back along those snow-clad ledges that brought us to the castle.
I had no other choice.
It did not help me much. I thought Rwyan must surely read the guilt I felt inscribed upon my face. My mouth went dry, and when we found the empty hall and stood before the banked fire with snow coming vaporous off our clothes and hair, I found the wine jug and drank deep.
“Remember,” Bellek said, likely not aware he insulted me, “that do you say aught of this, no dragons shall fly.”
I nodded and set down my cup. There are some bargains as sit heavy on the soul.
Rwyan was asleep when I came in. That magic she’d set about the chamber brought gentle light from the walls and ceiling, and perhaps it was that stirred her. Perhaps it was only my presence, the small sounds I made, or her own curiosity. I confess that I’d hoped she would remain asleep, and I be able to slink silent to our bed and not need give answer to questions I’d sooner not now face, but wait for morning and the prevarications of a rested mind.
But I had no other choice: she woke, and raised herself against the pillows, and pushed tumbled hair from her face, and fixed her sleepy, blind eyes on me. I saw them grow alert: I felt afraid. I’d sooner dare the jaws of a bull dragon than this.
She said, “You were long with Bellek.”
Inevitably, a question hung between us. I ducked my head: I’d not then much wish to meet her eyes. In that moment I regretted the promise I’d given the Dragonmaster; I thought of breaking it. I knew I could not, else her dream be damned at its birthing.
I said, “Aye. He had things to speak of.”
She said, “What things?”
I shrugged. “Let me wash first. It was cold out there.” She said, “In the brood cave?”
How much did she know? I said, “Yes,” and hid myself within the alcove, toweling my hair dry, washing: delaying.
At last I must emerge and face her, this woman I loved deeper even than what I felt for Deburah. And likely tell her lies. I think I’ve not felt sorrier than that in all my life.
And in a way she made it no easier for me-love’s fond cruelty-for what she did was fling her magic at the hearth so that the fire flared brighter to warm me better, and hold back the bed’s coverings that I climb in beside her, and then fold her arms around me to warm me with her own body’s heat. And all I could do was crawl guilty in and lie against her, as she told me I was cold and asked if I’d have her warm me ale or wine. And I could only shake my head and ask she keep her arms around me and trust me.
And then the worst: she said, “I do.”
I could only extemporize then.
Or was it prevarication?
I said, “Bellek’s bond-mate died.”
She stiffened. I felt her shudder, knowing she experienced the same shared horror I’d known; that she felt the growth of the bonding no less than I.
She said, low, “That must be …” And shook her head, her sunset hair curtaining my face until she flung it loose and finished: “Poor, poor man. And you were there. You shared his grief.”
Against her breasts I mumbled, “Yes. He wept … He …”
Almost, I told her all of it, but she kissed me then, soft, and said, “Some of that I felt. It was like a dream, but I think Anryale sent it me. I think she’d not lose me. … I think I begin to understand what it is to bond with dragons.”
I asked, “Do you? Truly?”