16
“IN ALL MY JOURNEYS ACROSS THESE DESERTS, I HAVE SEEN NOTHING to compare with
it,” Dornvald said. “It is as unknown as the dragons that have appeared in the
sky. What advice have you to offer, Riddle-Seeker, for no experience of mine can
guide us now?”
“Nor any of mine,” Thirg replied. “But it would seem possible that the dragons
and this latest conundrum are related one to another, for have they not chosen
to announce themselves in quick succession? And do we not see again the radiance
that comes with heat hotter than the heat that melts ice? We have seen the
dragons, and now, methinks, we have found the dragons’ lair.”
The column had halted among rock and ice boulders on the edge of a low scarp,
below which the ground fell for a distance into a wide depression and then
climbed again toward a shallow saddle-shaped rise flanked on either side by
steeper, broken slopes and crags. The obvious way ahead lay over the rise, but a
strange violet radiance, similar to the slender cones thrown by the flying
creatures earlier but less sharply defined, lit the skyline above and seemed to
come from something just out of sight. The welders and laser cutters in the
forest produced the same kind of light at their working points, as did some of
the forms ejected by furnaces and other beings that lived at great heat.
“What manner of greeting would dragons reserve for strangers venturing upon
their land?” Dornvald asked. “Do they show their light as a beacon of welcome to
weary travelers or as a warning of trespass? Are we therefore to ignore their
hospitality with disdain or ignore their warning with contempt, for we know not
which course risks giving the lesser offense?”
Thirg stared at the strange glow for a while. “My recollections of Xerxeon are
that we feared more for our lives from those of our own kind than from any
dragons,” he said. “And it seems to me that any dragon with power to command the
light that melts steel could have rid itself of us all long before now if its
inclinations so directed. But words will not suffice to resolve this. I would
propose therefore, with your approval, Wisher-Not-to-Offend-Dragons, that I ride
on ahead to conduct the examination which alone will set the matter finally to
rest.”
“Ahah!” Dornvald exclaimed. “So does your compulsion to seek answers drive you
irresistibly even now, when dismantling at the hands of enraged dragons might
well be the price if your judgment is mistaken?”
“I would know simply which path we are to take,” Thirg replied. “Might we not
all face dismantling anyway as a consequence of choosing blindly? The risk is
none the greater and more likely less, for what dragon of any self-respect would
deign prey upon one lone rider when it spurns to molest a whole company as
unbecoming of its dignity?”
“Hmm.” Dornvald thought the proposition over. “Such is not any duty that you
owe, Dignifier-of-Dragons, for was it not I who brought you to this place? Any
self-respecting leader of outlaws has his dignity too. I will go.”
“You would be more needed here than I, if my judgment should indeed prove
mistaken,” Thirg pointed out. “For what is of more worth to the robeings behind
us—the leader they have followed faithfully, or a dabbler-in-riddles who knows
not even the direction that would lead them out of the Meracasine? I say I will
go.”
“A plague of oxidization on the both of you!” Geynor said as he drew up
alongside them. “The one is needed to answer riddles, and the other is needed to
lead. I will go.”
Before they could argue further, the pounding of hooves sounded from behind.
Seconds later Fenyig, who had been riding well back from the main body as
lookout, came into view and galloped by the waiting riders to come to a halt at
the head of the column. “King’s soldiers!” he announced. “Flying the pennant of
Horazzorgio—two dozen or more, with chariots.”
“How far?” Dornvald snapped.
“A mile or less, and closing rapidly. They must have stayed on the move all
through dark.”