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Even though Wilia is far from an admirable person, I have to admit to feeling a lot of sympathy for her in this!
A cold little shiver ran up Wilia's spine. The girl was mistaken. She must be. "No, not true, my dear. Yulrena doesn't have such cruel laws."
The girl cocked a brow. "How long since you've been here? It does now. Ever since the new mayor was elected, more than a year ago."
No, no. That couldn't be possible. Wilia kept the smile firmly on her face. "You're joking with me. Trying to frighten me. That's not very nice."
"No, I'm not. I don't give a damn if you're scared or not. Why should I? It's just the facts. I've been a Yulrenan all my life, so I ought to know. But, if you don't want to believe me, fine. Wait until they raise the axe. Then you'll believe me." The girl threw herself onto her bunk and turned her back to Wilia.
For a few minutes – a very long few minutes – Wilia struggled with herself not to panic.
She would just have to try harder to appeal to the magistrate. Maybe weep a little, show extravagant remorse, beg clemency. Or maybe she could escape. She had never done so before, but she would find a way. She would do anything, anything, to avoid being mutilated. Her body had lost the beauty that had been her stock-in-trade in her younger days, but she still wanted to keep all parts of it. Especially her hands! And she couldn't bear to think of the pain and the blood. No, no, no. Why hadn't she checked before she had taken a job here in Yulrena? Certainly no town she had ever visited had changed their laws so drastically before, but it was still possible. What had she been thinking? She should have checked!
Despite her efforts, she began to tremble, and her breath came in quick little bursts. She couldn't believe this. She wouldn't believe it. She would think of something, surely. But when she tried to apply her mind to creating ideas, all it would do was either conjure up horrific images of the block and the axe, or run in circles like a demented dog. She felt a whimper behind her lips, and clenched her teeth. She would not allow that awful girl to have the triumph of upsetting her. Two tears ran down her cheeks, and she brushed them away quickly.
Even with every bit of her self-control summoned to her aid, when she heard the outer door of the jail open and the jingle of the guard's keys, she half-rose to fling herself against the bars, screaming that it had all been a mistake and begging to be let out. Only knowing how useless that would be kept her on her bunk.
The guard was not alone. He wasn't even the first person Wilia saw come down the aisle between the cells. Usually the guard, a blustering, officious idiot, insisted on being in the lead no matter whether he brought an official, a guest or a prisoner. But now he followed another man, looking none too happy about it, but also looking subdued.
Wilia could understand. The man he brought was some kind of lord. Everything about him shouted it, from his rich clothes to his regal bearing. He had the hard face of a man accustomed to instant obedience. Wilia stared, fascinated. He was a fine looking man, if a bit ascetic in his features for her tastes, and although there was nothing ostentatious in his dress, Wilia's expert eye could easily detect expensive, luxurious fabrics and the skill of an excellent tailor. He wore rings and a beautiful jewel in his hat, gems that made her heart quicken, but with pleasure now rather than in fear. What she wouldn't give for a chance to go through this man's room! And his wife's as well. If he were so elegantly clothed and decorated, his wife must be even moreso.
She was desperately trying to think of some way to attract the man's attention when, to her surprise, the lord halted in front of her cell. The guard glared at the two women inside. "One of these, my lord?"
The lord smiled. Wilia didn't like that smile. There was something coldly smug about it. "Yes."
"Which one? The scruffy one, or the fat one?"
"The elder lady," the lord corrected him, his eyes meeting Wilia's.
Wilia's heart leaped painfully. "Me?"
"I understand that you are in this place after being accused of theft. Is that correct?"
"Yes, but falsely," she said, making her expression hurt and limpid. "I had merely..."
"I don't care," he said bluntly, "as long as you do not steal from me."
"My lord?"
"I wish for you to come with me on a journey. It will take perhaps several weeks, although I think not as long. If you agree, I will bring you out of this place and rescue you from the rather unpleasant fate which awaits you."
Her luck had not forsaken her. Praise the gods! She rose with dignity, resisting the urge to throw herself at him in gratitude. "Although I am wrongfully imprisoned, sir..."
"Spare me," he said sharply. "Do you want out, or would you rather stay here with your unpalatable cellmate and take your chances with the magistrate?"
She gave him a beatific smile. "I do love to travel, my lord. I will be happy to accompany you."
That cold smile curved his thin mouth again. "You don't even wish to know where, or why, or who I am?"
She kept her own pacific smile in place. "I can see by looking at you, my lord, that anything you offer me will be better than this vile place. And I can also see that you are a man of honor," she lied diplomatically, hoping it was true.
"My name is Niam of Hawk's Rest."
"The one known as Hawksblood?" she said, blurting it out involuntarily in her shock.
He frowned. "The extent of my reputation never ceases to amaze me, particularly since I haven't lifted a sword in a real battle for more years than I care to count."
She had already recovered her wits. She curtsied. "Your reputation is one of great courage, and your name is respected over all Elegar, my lord." In reality, his reputation was so terrible that, no matter how tempting his jewels, she would not borrow any of them from him, not even for a moment.
The man gestured sharply to the guard. Instantly obedient, the guard shoved the key in the lock and turned it, swinging back the door just enough to allow Wilia through. She stepped out, taking a breath of blessed freedom. She curtsied again to Lord Niam, in thanks, and gave the guard a gracious smile. No knowing if she might find herself under his care again, after all. She didn't believe in burning bridges behind her.
The two men led her down the grim aisle, through the banded door, through the guard room, up the stairs, and into the magistrate's office. Sunlight made the air in the room a sparkling gold, and after her time in that horrible dim cell, Wilia took a moment to simply appreciate the light and warmth.
The magistrate's clerk was talking to a tall, skinny man with long blond hair, dressed in the robes of some kind of craft. The man was signing a paper, and the lord said, "Any trouble, Tenni?"
The man glanced over, then looked her up and down, obviously not approving of anything about her. "No, of course not. Your rank opens all doors." His voice was a sarcastic drawl.
"You... Wilia, is it not?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Do you have any possessions in this place? I will send a man for your other possessions later."
"Just my knitting bag, my lord."
To the clerk, Lord Niam said, "Fetch it."
The clerk gathered the papers and scuttled away. The guard was already gone, and the three of them were alone in the room. Wilia wondered just what she had gotten herself into.
Tenni abruptly laughed. "This will really be an interesting page in our saga, Niam. You've picked up a larcenous little granny."
Wilia drew herself up to her full height, which was still small compared to these two tall men. But she was not going to be insulted. "I am not a grandmother, nor am I larcenous."
"Oh? A pardonable error. After all, we are fetching you from jail. And while I will refrain from pointing out your age, you will be bringing a bag of knitting with you."
"Knitting relaxes me," she said. "You should try it."
He laughed, genuinely amused, making her dislike him just a little less.
The clerk bustled back in and handed Wilia her bag. "Check it," said Lord Niam.
Tenni added, "Yes. After all, there are thieves in this place. Not the least of which is that fellow." He gestured at the clerk, who bowed and hurriedly left again.
Lord Niam said, "The bribe was heavy?"
"Not really. But it's always wise to make it seem so."
After glancing through the bag, Wilia clutched it to her breast. "What exactly do you want with me, my lord, to have spent so much time and money?"
"We will discuss that at the inn where we have rooms. I find this place repulsive."
"Not at all what you're used to," grinned Tenni.
At the inn, to her pleased surprise, Lord Niam had hired a single room just for her, and she was allowed to go up and refresh herself before joining him and Tenni in a private parlor. The inn was the best in town, and her room was clean, the sheets fresh and dry. Her luck truly had turned for the better, and just when she'd thought it had left her.
The room had a mirror. As she looked in it, she was shocked by the flash of silver on her head. In her relief and excitement at escaping maiming, she had completely forgotten about the mystery of the cold line on her head. But there it was. She could see it. "I knew it," she muttered, leaning closer to the mirror. "I knew something was there." It glinted silvery, a long curve that ran around her ear and down her neck. It was actually quite pretty.
She wondered if it could be – painlessly – removed and sold.
But at least she hadn't imagined the thing, and it wasn't some disease. She had no clue what it might be, but nothing that lovely could be harmful, she was sure. She didn't know why the girl in the jail cell couldn't see it, but, thinking on it, she realized that no one – not Lord Niam, Tenni, the innkeeper, or any of the servants – had mentioned it or even stared at her oddly. Still, she decided to cover it, just in case, and she wound her thick dark hair in a coil that hid it.
Happy then, she hummed as she made herself presentable, and then, just for the pleasure of it, she waved down one of the inn's servants to show her to the parlor.
A third person had joined Lord Niam and Tenni there, a boy in his early teens. Although he was clean and well dressed, Wilia had not been away from her old life for so long that she couldn't recognize him for what he was, a boy from the streets. She gave him a motherly smile, and he grinned back at her. He, too, recognized that they had something in common which these other two men would never understand.
Lord Niam said, "This is Lur. He, too, will be going with us. You do not need to hide your mark, you know. No one can see it except yourself and me."
She blinked at him, speechless for a long moment. "You know about it?"
"It is why you are here."
She wished she had brought her knitting with her. She sank into the nearest chair, which the boy Lur considerately slid behind her.
Lord Niam went on, as calmly as if he were discussing the price of fruit in the market, "All of us here have that mark. We are part of an elite group, and you, too, are part of it."
That pleased her. Imagine, her, Wilia, part of an elite group that included a lord. "What sort of group?"
"We are called Talons. Have you heard the legend of the Dawn Dragon?"
"Of course. I have worked in homes of wealth and fashion, and I have heard many bards' songs."
Lur rolled his eyes, and she slapped his hand playfully. He grinned. "It's true!" she insisted.
Lord Niam said, "In the case of the Dawn Dragon, not all of what the bards sing is imagination. There truly is a Dawn Dragon, and a Twilight Dragon."
"Oh, come now, my lord. Do you really expect me to believe that?"
"I don't care if you do or not," he said, reminding her for a moment of her recent cellmate. "It will be easier for you if you believe what I tell you, however. Two hundred years have passed since the dragons last fought, and the Twilight Dragon will rise from the sea with the summer solstice and do battle with the Dawn Dragon. Each dragon has chosen five humans to help him. The Twilight Dragon has chosen us."
"Help? How can we help a dragon fight another dragon?" She didn't believe a word of it, but she was willing to play along.
Lur answered her. "Somewhere along the way, each of us has to choose a talisman. You, too. It can be anything, as long as it's special to you. We give our talismans to the dragon, and he uses them to..." He glanced at Niam. "I don't really get the rest too well."
"Each of us has a particular strength. The dragon will use the talismans to give itself those strengths, which will help him defeat his enemy."
Wilia said, "I can't believe I have any strength at all, never mind something a dragon would want."
"We must trust the dragon to know what he wants."
"Why?"
Tenni said, "Because he's not explaining anything to us."
"I see."
Lord Niam said, "You don't believe. I understand. However, recall that you do have the mark, and if you can come up with some other explanation for that, I am willing to listen to it. No? I didn't think so. Also, you know I have come a long way, and I have never been in this town before. None of us has. Yet I knew exactly where to find you, did I not?"
She pondered this. Perhaps there was truth in what he was saying. "May I ask, my lord, what I shall receive for cooperating with a dragon?"
Tenni drawled, "You mean, besides being able to keep both your hands for your knitting?"
"Yes, besides that," she said with dignity.
Lord Niam said, "What would you like? No, don't weigh and measure your words according to what you think you can get. Tell me what you really want."
"Well... I like pretty things."
"The dragon will see to it that you are provided with enough wealth to purchase, not steal, any pretty thing your heart desires. For all the rest of your life."
"It can make me rich?"
"It will, if it wins the battle."
"And if it loses?"
"Then you are at least free, not in jail."
"There is that." She clasped her hands in front of her, staring down at them. She didn't believe in the story of the dragons, and she didn't trust either Lord Niam or the man Tenni. Still, before her, in her mind, was the glory of a life spent in luxury. Silk sheets, collars and muffs of the softest fur, gowns of rich brocade, feasts consisting of the most delicious delicacies, opulent furniture, rings on all her fingers, and beautifully carved boxes of ivory or jade or fine wood, each overflowing with gold, silver, and gems. How could she turn away even the most ridiculous seeming chance to gain all that? "Very well. I will go with you. Where do we go?"
"Next, we go to a place on the Andon River, a keep called Ironhall." The other two looked interested, as if this was news to them as well. "There we will pick up the fifth and final Red Talon. After that, we go to Mount Stelenath."
"All that way! And the mountain is so high. I am glad there is the Pilgrim's Trail," she said, hoping to impress them with her knowledge. One of her previous employers, a goldsmith, had made that journey every other year with his goods.
"We will not be going by the Pilgrim's Trail," Lord Niam said. "In the first place, it is undoubtedly clotted with refugees from the valley, those sensible enough to leave before the battle. And in the second place, where we are going cannot be reached from inside the mountain. We must follow a path up the East Divide."
This, too, was news to the others. Tenni said, "There is no path in the Divides. Everyone knows that. They can't even be crossed, except through the Toothed Pass in the East Divide, and even then it's dangerous."
"There is a path, and it is not dangerous. The dragon knows it, but it is hidden from all but the Talons."
The boy Lur said, "So the other Talons, the Black ones, can find it, too?"
"Yes. Indeed, they must use it in order to surrender their talismans to the current Dawn Dragon."
Tenni said, "Too bad we can't keep them from doing so. Give our side an edge."
"I have that in my mind already," Lord Niam said, with that smile which Wilia disliked.
"Is that why you have your men-at-arms with you?"
"It is one reason. But before I take any action against the Black Talons, I want them to be fully gathered. I want all five of them together, because although I can sense them as a group and know they are not complete, I have no way of finding them individually. I don't want a single one of them to reach Mount Stelenath."