Michael Stackpole - When Dragons Rage

He lifted his chin and pulled at the collar of his jacket to expose the two round scars there. “See these? I got these because a sullanciri tried to kill me. Look like burns, don’t they? Soon someone is going to start singing about how the burn marks point to the ‘washed in fire’ part of the prophecy, and the fact that I survived the attack to the ‘immortal’ part of it.”

Sayce started to say something, but Will rose from his chair and looked past her at all the other people in the room before returning his gaze to her. “Look, I know why you came. The prophecy says someone, a hero named Norrington, is going to vanquish Chytrine. That’s great, but whoever he is, he isn’t going to do it alone. Sure, people want heroes. I’d love to be one, but I can’t be the hero for everyone. And while folks are looking at me, they’re missing all the others out there.

“Look at you, Princess. You and your men rode all the way here from Caledo in the nastiest winter anyone’s seen in almost forever. If that’s not heroism, what is? And look at Crow. Since he was of an age to wear a mask, he’s fought Chytrine. He’s crisscrossed with scars from battles. He’s killed sullanciri . There’s a hero for you. And Resolute and Alexia, they’re heroes. Everyone who was at Fortress Draconis was a hero.“

Will felt the eyes of the assembled crowd upon him, and certainly no one was speaking save for him. “You know, having a prophecy just means that everyone assumes that someone else will take care of things for them. And that’s just wrong.

“Princess, you’ve ridden a long way to find someone to help you. I wish I could be that person, but I don’t know that I am. What I do know is this: hero or not, fated or not, I’d be able to help you more easily if everyone who could do something to help would .”

Will shrugged and looked down at her. “I know you wanted more. You deserve more. I don’t know that I can help you. I will, if I can, but I need to sort some things out. I’m sorry.”

He sighed and threaded his way through the crowd. His feet felt leaden as he mounted the stairs and made his way down the hallway to his room. Suddenly exhausted, he tugged his boots off, then slipped into the bed and shivered himself into a restless sleep.

The next morning came late and Will couldn’t tell if Resolute had slept in the other half of the bed or not. There was no sign of him, or that he had even been in the room. The thief knew there was a small Vorquelf community in Meredo, and while Resolute seemed to hold most of his countrykin in little more than contempt, he imagined that spending time with them would be more pleasant than with him.

He huddled in bed trying to think of nothing, which he managed fairly well given that he was very cold. He eventually decided that if he remained in bed he would freeze to death, so he pulled on cold boots and made his way down to the common room. There he ordered a hot tankard of mulled cider and went over to sit by the hearth.

Will had only just begun to feel warm when Dranae entered the inn and stamped the snow off his feet. He started up the stairs, but the innkeeper pointed toward the hearth. The big man smiled as he crossed the room. “Good, you are awake.”

“What’s good about it?”

Dranae shook his head. “Can’t have that now, Will. Not now. Not today. Today is too important.”

Will’s head came up and the cider’s steam caressed his throat. “What’s special about today?”

“The Norrington pretender has arrived. He’s at the palace, with his mother and the king. King Augustus, Queen Carus, and Princess Sayce are there, along with Princess Alexia and Crow. I was sent for you.“

Will shrugged. “You don’t need me. The lot of you can just take him and finish the fight against Chytrine. I’ve done a fat lot of good so far.”

Dranae crouched and lowered his voice. “I heard reports of what you said in here last night. Do you believe what you said?”

“That I might not be the Norrington?” Will nodded. “You bet.”

“Not that, Will, the other part.” The massive man’s expression contained a bit of bemusement, but more of respect. “You told everyone that they already had heroes; that what would make the war against Chytrine go better was more folks doing what they could.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“So, then, if you are not the Norrington, are you going to do your part?”

Will tapped one of his scars with two fingers. “I’ve done my part.”

“But Chytrine’s not gone yet.” Dranae canted his head. “You remember how you found me, Will? Gibberers had made me a captive and I couldn’t remember who I was.”

“I know.”

“So, don’t you wonder why I’m here? It’s not because I don’t know where I belong, because there are plenty of places I could go. I’m here because what you and Crow and Resolute are doing is very important. I may not know who I am, but I know what I am not. And I am not someone who is going to lie down and cower before some ice queen from the north.”

The thief glanced down in his tankard. “But you could die.”

“Better that than living a slave, or letting others become enslaved.” Dranae stood back up again. “Come on, Will.”

Though reluctant to leave the hearth and its warmth, Will bundled himself up against the cold. He tied his formal mask to his upper right arm and even donned a lacy courtesy mask though it did nothing to protect him from the cold. Then he followed Dranae to the palace, using the big man as a windbreak. He would have resisted Dranae’s entreaty to accompany him, but the man’s referring to the new Norrington as the “pretender” had kindled Will’s desire to see him.

They arrived at the palace quickly enough and made their way to the throne room. As big as it was, there was no way it could be warmed enough to suit Will. More important, tension filled the air. Princess Alexia and Crow stood near the windows in close conversation with King Augustus. All three of them wore thick winter clothes more suited to utility than fashion. Princess Sayce hung back from them a bit, but had abandoned her riding leathers for something a bit warmer.

Across the room from them, Queen Carus looked beautiful as always, though Will suspected she had spent a sleepless night. She spoke politely to Linchmere and he nodded, though he looked as if his mind were suffering from frostbite. With them stood an old woman with so cold an expression that Will found it painful to look at her. He dimly recalled her being Princess Alexia’s ancient aunt.

In the center of the room, however, was the tableau that he had been brought in to witness. King Scrainwood stood talking to a tall, handsome woman with white-blonde hair and eyes as pale as Princess Sayce’s. Between them was a tall, clean-limbed man wearing a green leather mask. He had the thin line of a beard running about his jaw, so Will guessed he was old enough to legitimately be wearing a mask.

Scrainwood let a smile slither onto his face. “Ah, Will, there you are. Please, meet your father’s wife, Lady Nolda Norrington. This is your half brother, your elder half brother, Kenleigh Norrington. He is, obviously, the Norrington.”

Kenleigh smiled down at Will as the thief approached. The man’s big brown eyes watched him closely and his left hand moved to cover his purse. The clothes he wore were quite stylish, but Will had learned enough about fine clothes to realize these had likely been taken from Linchmere’s wardrobe, since they did not quite fit correctly.

Will’s gaze flicked up to meet Kenleigh’s, and he was surprised to see the man flinch because Kenleigh had to have five inches and forty pounds on him. Will looked at Kenleigh’s hands and saw how rough they were, and scarred. They weren’t the hands of a noble or even a warrior.