Blot looked back at the snow-shrouded peak of Mount Valcarsha, hardly believing he was alive. Not only had Ander brought him out of the dragon’s lair, he had risked his life again and again on this steep trail to carry him safely down the mountain.
Blot began to rethink his mission. For all the time he had worked and slaved and hauled and done his master’s bidding, Falon had never done one single thing for Blot. For a year now, Falon had been all grand talk and no action-continually telling Blot they would go together to Palanthas. The truth of it was that Falon didn’t even take Blot along when he went to the inn for a mug of ale. Blot touched the unbloodied dagger at his belt.
Ander eased Blot onto the ground and stretched, his aching muscles glad for the relief. “Hold on, my friend. I saw the tavern’s lights as we came down. It won’t be long until we reach a fire and some grog. As I recall, the healer lives in the back of the inn. Say, Blot, you’re very quiet. Is the pain worsening? You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“No … no. I’m just thinking is all,” Blot muttered. “I can make it to the tavern.”
“Then let’s go before I stiffen up and we are both stuck here for the night,” said Ander, lifting the dwarf back over his shoulders for the short walk to the inn.
*****
A couple of hours later, Blot’s leg was stitched and the healer had gone to her supper, leaving the dwarf with a warning about keeping the wound clean. Blot sat with his feet propped before a roaring fire, his belly full of stew and a tankard of grog in his frost-reddened hands.
“Ander…”
“Yes, Blot?” The assistant scribe put the last touches on a drawing of the white scale, closed his tablet and waited for Blot to finish his thought.
“I have something to tell you.”
“Did you have enough stew? Is your tankard empty? I’ll call the host.”
“No, I’m fine, thanks. Ander, I tried to kill you.”
“Once again, please, Blot? That sounded like you said you tried to kill me.” Ander laughed uneasily.
“You heard right. I did try to kill you. That’s why I lost my balance and fell. Falon ordered me to do it. He’s been stealing your work for years now, taking credit for it so that he could get a soft job back at the Palanthan library. The white dragon was going to be his moment of triumph. I was supposed to kill you, take the entry back to him, and then he’d get his promotion. On all the work you’ve done. Falon erased your name and put down his own. No one even knows about you at the main library, Ander. Falon wanted to make sure they never did.”
A long moment passed before Ander could speak.
“I see. And . . . you would have done it? You really would have killed me up there?” Ander fought hard to keep his voice from trembling.
Blot stared into his tankard. “You were supposed to have been a casualty of the dragon’s wrath.”
“All the time it’s taken for me to advance. Falon’s sealed dispatches to the library. This assignment. It all makes sense now. And you knew. And you were ready to leave me up there.” Ander sighed.
Blot did not reply. There was nothing to say.
Ander moved to the window and looked out into the windy, wet night. Finally he spoke, his voice a little stronger. “Blot, there is one thing I still don’t understand. After all this, why did you tell me? There would have been other chances to carry out your orders. Tonight, as I slept. Tomorrow, after we left the inn. Anywhere on the trail home.”
At last Blot found his own words, a kind of strength returning to him as he spoke them. “I couldn’t do it, Ander. After I fell, you could have just left me there in that dragon’s pit the way I was going to leave you-I’ve never been so scared in all my life. But you brought me here, paid for my food and the healer. I never had a friend before. So I had to tell you. Even though now you’ll hate me.” The dwarf looked miserable.