eyes went wide, and he whistled under his breath. He gaped at her, as well and truly hooked as a caught trout, gaping at the end of a fisherman’s line. His horse stamped and tossed its head at the sudden slacking of its reins. At last Laz sighed and turned away to speak to his men in the Gel da’Thae language. Some of them shrugged, some of them raised eyebrows, others glanced skyward in disgust, but they all stopped work on striking the camp and began, instead, to restore it.
‘We need to find a place to talk,’ Laz said to Dallandra. ‘We can meet between the camps.’
‘Very well. You’re welcome in our camp, for that matter. The Westfolk will never eavesdrop on a Wise One.’
‘I will not set foot over there.’ Laz’s voice turned hard. ‘I see no reason to let Pir gloat over me.’
‘Oh come now, you know Pir better than I do! Would he truly gloat?’
‘I never thought he’d steal my woman, either.’ Laz hesitated, then shrugged. ‘That’s unfair of me. No one stole her. She’s not a horse.’ Laz seemed to be choking back either tears or anger, but he arranged a brittle smile.
He’s trying, Dallandra thought. Desperately trying to be fair, to do the right thing. She regretted her slip, mentioning that she had information about two of his past lives. Discussing Lord Tren was doubtless safe enough, but Alastyr? She found herself loath to speak of dark dweomer. What if it awakened Laz’s memories and, worse yet, his desire to use it? Worst of all, what if he already remembered and was hoping to get more information? Sidro had often warned her that Laz lied as cheerfully as most men jest.
‘Well, it was her right to choose.’ His voice sounded as tight as a drawn bowstring. ‘Alas. Let me hand my horse over to Faharn, and then we shall go to neutral ground and talk.’ Laz shaded his eyes and looked in the direction of Grallezar and the archers. ‘Ah, I see you prudently stationed a few guards out there.’
‘I’ll dismiss them.’
He grinned again, bowed, and led his horse away.
Laz handed his horse over to Faharn, then gave his apprentice a few quick instructions about setting up the camp. By the time he returned to Dallandra, the archers had gone back to the Westfolk tents. Dalla had picked out a spot midway between their two camps and trampled down the grass in a small circle. When they sat down, he felt oddly private despite the blue sky above them, as if they sat in a tiny chamber curtained all round with fine green lace.
‘Would you tell me what you know about the dragon book?’ Dallandra began.
‘The dragon book?’ Laz said. ‘Ah, there was a dragon on the cover, indeed. I held it in my hands and turned the pages, but I can’t truly read your beautiful language, so I have no idea of what was written in it.’
‘Berwynna told me that you thought the text had somewhat to do with dragons.’
‘Somewhat. For one thing, there was the image on the cover.’
‘I wanted to ask you about that. You have a book that’s decorated with the reverse colours but the same outline of a dragon. Did you buy that in a marketplace?’
‘I didn’t. My sisters had it made specially for me as a coming of age present. I saved it for years until I had somewhat important to write in it. You look surprised.’
‘I am. I suppose Evandar might have scried it somehow. He did see bits and pieces of future events, and if he saw you and the book, he might well have decided to make one much like it.’
‘I truly want to learn more about this fellow.’
‘I’ll tell you, fear not! But about the book –’
‘Well, beyond the cover, I could pick out a word here and there, and “drahkonnen” was one of them.’ Laz paused to summon his memories. He could see the pages of the book clearly in his mind. ‘Odd, now that I think of it! That word seemed to recur in the same place on every page. Indeed, about half-way down and to the right of the line, and on every page that I saw.’
‘How very strange!’
Laz nodded his agreement. ‘Did Wynni tell you about the spirits?’
‘She mentioned that you’d said some were attached to the book, but no more than that. She apparently can’t see the Wildfolk.’
‘She can’t, truly, but I did. They were spirits of Aethyr. They appeared once as flames, icy white with strangely coloured tips. Another time I saw them as a lozenge, floating just over the book. They can move it, by the by, and they must have some way of influencing people’s minds. Somehow they tricked Wynni into taking it from the island.’
‘That’s fascinating! I can see Evandar’s hand in this, all right.’
‘Have you ever heard of anything like this?’
‘Once.’ Dallandra hesitated, then spoke carefully. ‘It reminds me of a tale I heard a long time ago. Have you ever heard of the Great Stone of the West?’
‘I’ve not.’
Yet Laz felt an odd touch on his mind, not a memory, more a feeling of danger attached to the name. Dallandra was watching him, not precisely studying his face, but certainly more than usually alert.
‘What is this fabled stone, if I may ask?’ Laz said.
‘An opal that one of the Lijik Ganda enchanted – oh, a long time ago. Ebañy told me about it. It had spirits guarding it, too, you see, which is why it came to mind.’
‘Ah, I do see. Ebañy’s Evan the gerthddyn?’
‘He is. My apologies, I forgot you wouldn’t know his Elvish name. He’s Wynni’s uncle, by the way.’
‘And a mazrak, I gather.’
‘He is that. He’s not the dweomerman who enchanted the opal, though. Nevyn, his name was, and I know it means “no one”, but it truly was his name.’
The danger pricked him again. Laz felt as if he’d run his hand through the silken grass only to thrust a finger against a thorn. Dallandra was smiling, but only faintly, pleasantly. He wondered why he was so sure she was weaving a trap around him.
‘Can you scry for the book?’ Her abrupt change of subject made him even more suspicious. ‘You’ve actually seen it, and I never have.’
‘I’ve been doing so to no avail, alas.’ Laz decided that talking about the book was safe enough. ‘When Wynni took it, she put it into a leather sack, then wrapped the sack in some of her clothing. The bundle’s still in her lost saddlebags, or at least, I’m assuming that. All I get is an impression of a crowded darkness.’
‘Well, that’s unfortunate!’
‘If I ever see anything more clearly, I’ll tell you, though. Does the book belong to you?’
‘In a way, I suppose it does. I think – I’m hoping – that it contains the spells I need to turn Rori back into human form. The being who wrote the book is the same one who dragonified him, you see.’
‘So
