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And now I finish with Geram and am ready to go on to the next Red Talon.
"Nathduil, when he notices humans at all, entertains himself with our scurrying and our woes. Should he win this battle, we can look forward to 200 years of all those things Ril sang to you."
"One dragon can do all that?" he snorted.
"That, and more."
"You say that Nath-whatever has his own humans, right?"
"Yes, the Red Talons."
"Why would any human help that one?" he demanded.
"Nathduil offers each Talon his, or her, heart's desire. Should you have been chosen by Nathduil, whatever you want most in life would be given to you. It is a powerful temptation, especially when you know that, whatever the suffering of all other humanity, you will be spared it. Nathduil's Talons live long, safe lives."
"So he's not all bad. He's at least grateful." He stretched his legs out before him. With the rich stew in his stomach, some of the ale fumes were clearing from his head. "How do you know all this? I mean, if the last time was 200 years ago, and the time before that 400 years ago, and so on, how do you know that all this blather is true?"
Koras sat up, arms wrapped around her bent legs, studying him with interest now.
Mazya said, "Records remain. Stories, songs, legends, and even written accounts. All of it has been collected, organized, and studied thoroughly for the last 200 years by the priests of Johe."
He let that go, although it seemed inadequate to him. There certainly was no better way to know the truth, so this was as good as he would get. And no matter what his opinion, he knew he had to go along with this priestess. The mark on his head compelled him – no matter what, he had to learn what it was and then, if possible, get rid of the damned thing. "Johe," he repeated. "But he's not a god, just some guy. Why's he got a shrine and all you priests?"
"The last time the dragons fought, Johe was one of the Black Talons, just as you are. His lover, Lucin, was also one. She died there in the chasm, and because of her death, the battle was an unusually long and violent one. That is why there is a valley now."
"What, the dragons just popped the roof off the mountain?"
"Something like that, yes. Afterward, Johe could hear Lucin speaking to him in the mountain, so he remained there for the rest of his life. He was a very wise man, and many people came to listen to him and to the story of the dragons – so many that, eventually, the shrine and the priesthood came into being. So, you see, my dear skeptic," she smiled, "we have a first-hand account of the great battle."
"That Lucin woman died. Just how dangerous is this? I mean, to us?"
"You will be safe. I promise you, the dragons will not harm you."
He was pondering all that he'd heard when a movement almost at his feet caught his eye. A snake was gliding across the ground toward them, heading directly for the priestess. His mind instantly flashed to the idea that sending a snake to kill one of them was a fine tactic for that Nathduil, and he yanked out his belt knife.
Paka screamed, "No! Don't!" and, to his horror, grabbed up the snake and held it to her chest.
Mazya had jumped at the sudden sound. "What is it?"
"He was going to kill Lithi!"
Geram blinked several times, trying to understand what the hell was going on.
Mazya patted his shoulder. "Lithi is not a snake. He is an ithi."
"Oh. Oh! Does it talk to you?"
"Why, yes. You've heard of them?"
"Sure. We hear of all sorts of things in the north. I knew a guy who said his captain had one. Said the ithi could predict the weather for his captain and detect other ships approaching even before the watch in the crow's nest could spot them. Can I see it?"
Cautiously, Paka loosened her grip on the creature and set it down. It slithered to him and climbed up his leg, and he saw it had four tiny feet that it used to help it climb. When it was in his lap, it stared up at him with what he would swear was a suspicious expression, even a warning one. He grinned. "Oh, you're a fine big fellow, aren't you?" He stroked it, and as he'd heard, the skin wasn't slick, like a snake's, but as soft as the richest brushed leather. He continued to stroke it, not even aware he was doing so, until it left him and climbed up Mazya's arm, settling around her neck and giving her cheek an affectionate swipe with its head.
He was given the small tent, which was supplied with blankets and a change of clothes for him. He recalled that, in addition to the donkey, there had been four horses. No matter what he might want to think of the magic of the dragon's powers, he couldn't doubt that they had known he was coming.
He woke the following with a vile hangover, and, before opening his eyes to the watery sunlight, he tried to grope under his bed for the skin of wine he kept there as medicine for this ailment. His hand struck earth, and he opened his eyes, startled. For a moment, his mind refused to comprehend the weirdness of what his eyes were telling it, and he closed them again, then peeped once more. He was still on the ground, in a tent.
Then it hadn't all been a weird, ale-inspired nightmare. He really was going to follow a bunch of women and help some dragon take over the world.