“And we best hope they’ll not devour us,” I said. “Was that not their habit?”
She said, “I felt no threat in my dream, save that I betray myself.”
“Which you’d not do,” I said. “Oh, Rwyan, could it be so, I’d welcome dragons. But I cannot dare hope they shall be our saviors.”
She smiled wearily and was about to speak, but then the door flung open and Urt came rushing in.
His gray hair was awry, and on his face was an expression that mingled fear and wonder in equal measure. He stared at us, his eyes wide. I thought perhaps his “treachery” was discovered and that Allanyn should appear on his heels. I had not known I rose until I heard my chair clatter on the marbled floor.
He turned his startled face to Rwyan and said, “Those dreams you spoke of? Just now-there were eyes…. They asked me to go with them…. You were there, and Tezdal.”
He snatched up the wine flask and a cup, filled the goblet, and drained it. Rwyan cast a triumphant glance my way and went to where he stood. I saw that he shook.
Rwyan set a hand on his shoulder. “We, too, Urt. Daviot and I had the same dream.”
He sighed. “What does it mean?” His eyes demanded answers of us.
Rwyan said, “I cannot say for certain. But that there’s hope, I think.”
He asked, “Of what? They were dragons, no?”
He shuddered. It came to me then that he had cause to fear the dragons. As the Kho’rabi were the nightmares of my childhood, so must the dragons have been the monsters of his. Did the Changed possess the memories of their ancestors as the beasts from which they were shaped owned memories, then dragons must surely be creatures of naked terror. Their threat must be implanted in his blood, passed down generation to generation. I went to stand beside him, setting a hand firm on his other shoulder. I could smell his discomfort, and through his shirt I felt the trembling that racked his frame.
I said, “They offered us no harm, Urt. Did you feel threat in them?”
He shook his head and licked his lips. I saw his nostrils flare, as if he’d test the air for scent of danger. He said slowly, “No. But they were dragons still.”
Rwyan said, “But not dangerous. Not to us. I think these dragons are our friends.”
Urt said, “Dragons friend to Changed? Can that be?”
I said, “Perhaps. Surely what we dreamed was friendly.”
Urt swallowed and ducked his head. “That’s true,” he said. “But I understand this not at all.”
Softly, I said, “Nor I.”
Rwyan said, “I believe we are told something. That we must stand together, surely. But more-though what, I cannot say; not yet.”
Urt said, “The Lord Tezdal was there.”
Rwyan said, “Yes. We four are called in some way.”
“We four?” Urt’s shuddering gradually subsided. “How so?”
Rwyan said, “I’ve as many questions as you, and no more answers. But perhaps-” She paused, her brow creased as she pondered. “Think on it-you, Urt, are Changed. Tezdal is a Sky Lord. Daviot’s a Trueman and a Rememberer. I am a mage. Do we not stand as symbols for the folk who must suffer does this war begin?”
I said, “What of the gifted Changed? What of the Kho’rabi wizards?”
“As I say, I’ve more questions than answers.” Rwyan shrugged. “But perhaps the gifted Changed and the Kho’rabi wizards are too far gone in hatred to hear this call.”
Call to what? I thought, but I said nothing.
Rwyan said, “Or perhaps we hear it only because we four are ready. Perhaps because we’d sooner see peace than war. Perhaps because we join together in common purpose, and what we are-Truemen or Changed, Sky Lord or Dhar-does not matter to us. I know not. But I do not believe these dragons intend you harm, Urt. Not you, or any of us.”
Urt was calmer now, though I could see he was still not much at ease with the notion of dragons, even were they only the creatures of dream. I squeezed his shoulder and said, “Is Rwyan right, then we’ve naught to fear. Is she wrong-why then, we only suffer odd dreams. And there’s a more immediate danger.”
I gestured at the crystal. Outside, the sky assumed that utter blankness that precedes the first light of dawn. I thought we’d not much time, and was Urt still unnerved, it were better we told him quickly what we’d learned, what Rwyan had learned, that he have time to compose himself before he must replace the stone. I thought he’d likely need composure for that, lest Allanyn discover our complicity.
Rwyan nodded. We found seats, and she began to speak.
She’d not a Storyman’s skill with words and I’d have told it more succinct, but she spoke with such fervor, I saw Urt was convinced. I watched as his face-seldom so readable-expressed first amazement tinged with disbelief, then burgeoning conviction, and finally outrage to match what I’d seen on Rwyan’s. When she was done, he snarled. I saw the animal in him then.
He said, “She stands condemned! Traitor, she! And all her kind. Little wonder the gifted guard these stones so close.”
He seemed so angry I took his arm. “Urt, do you speak of this carelessly, I think we shall all be slain.”
He nodded. That animal rage was suddenly replaced with grief. He said, “I’d doubted her ways, but I’d not suspected this. None of us suspected this. She’d lay us all on the altar of her ambition.”
“None of you?” I asked hopefully. “How many of you are there? Enough to oppose her, expose her?”
“No.” He shook his head. “We are but a few, a handful. The Raethe is mostly gifted now. I found a place because I know of Durbrecht and Karysvar; there are a few more like me, without the talent. But Allanyn and her followers are the stronger.”
“Might you convince the gifted?” I asked.
He laughed at that, though it was more a bark. “It should be hard to convince even my friends,” he said. “What should I tell them? That the gifted are insane? That the crystals seduce them? That Allanyn leads us to war only that she might rule us? They’d ask me how I come by this information, no? And how should I prove it? Shall I tell them I have it from a mage of the Dhar and a Storyman? Allanyn should have my head, did the rest not slay me first.”
I voiced acknowledgment with a curse. “Impasse then. Is all we’ve learned useless?”
“I might slay her,” Urt said. “Perhaps I might succeed.”
“That should be hard,” said Rwyan. “And you undoubtedly die. Surely after, likely before.”
He said, “I’d save my people,” doggedly.
Rwyan said, “And I’d save mine, but I think that attempting Allanyn’s assassination should lead only to your death. I think you’d serve your people better alive.”
He said, “To what end? To watch us go to war, that Allanyn rule us?”
“Remember the dreams,” she said. And when both Urt and I looked at her askance: “Perhaps there’s some answer there. Is it not strange that we should learn of Allanyn’s designs and straightway dream again?”
Urt grunted; I shrugged. We neither of us had any ready answer.
Rwyan said, “We’ve time yet, too-until Tezdal wakes, at least. I’d know if he shared this; and perhaps we’ll dream again and get some better answer.”
I could think of no other option, and so I only nodded, keeping silent.