Lynn Flewelling - The White Road

“He is not a person, my dear,” Magyana told him gently. “You may be right about the rest of it, but he’s not human, or ’faie, either.”

“There’s something we need to tell you,” said Thero.

“What is it?”

“Thero sensed it, but not clearly, when he first saw Sebrahn in Plenimar,” Magyana explained. “It’s true that the rhekaro has been given the semblance of a child, but another form radiates beyond the physical. I don’t understand it, but what I see around him is the form of a young dragon.”

Alec stared hard at Sebrahn, squinting his eyes, but saw nothing unusual. “A dragon? That’s impossible! Sebrahn was made from bits of—me!”

Seregil was frowning at the younger wizard. “Why didn’t you tell us, Thero?”

“I wasn’t sure what I was sensing. It’s Magyana who sees it clearly.”

Magyana took Alec’s hand in hers. “Seregil has told me something of how Sebrahn was made. I believe you can tell me more. Do you know what materials he used?”

Alec shifted uneasily; it was a time he didn’t really want to remember. “Sulfur and salt, tinctures—”

“Nothing of dragons?”

“I saw dried fingerling dragons hanging in his workshop, but I didn’t see him put any in.”

“Very well. What else do you remember?”

“There was something he called the ‘water of life’—some kind of silver, I think.”

“Quicksilver?” asked Magyana.

“Yes, that was it. He put that all in with my tears, blood, shit and piss, hair, and my …” He faltered, blushing under the weight of their collective gaze.

“His semen,” Seregil finished for him. “How in Bilairy’s name do you get a dragon out of all that?”

Thero shrugged, his pale green eyes serious. “We don’t know yet. But they did.”

“It was my Hâzadriëlfaie blood that Ilban—” Alec faltered, horrified to have the slave word for “master” slip out so easily. “That’s what Yhakobin claimed he needed the most. He said that it was the only thing that would work to make a rhekaro. But since I’m ya’shel , he did a long purification process first, trying to get rid of my human blood, he said.”

“Ah, that would explain it,” Magyana murmured. “I thought you looked different, more ’faie.”

That was a sore topic. “I had to drink tinctures of metals and wear amulets; seven of them, I think: tin, copper, silver, gold—I don’t remember the others. And he kept taking drops of my blood and making them burn to see what color they were. When it got to the right shade, he used more of my blood to make the mixture do whatever it did.”

“Right out of his chest,” Seregil growled. “They tapped him like a keg and hung him up to bleed on their mess.” He paused, then leaned over and pushed the hair back from Alec’s left ear, showing them the small blue dragon bite tattoo on his earlobe. “Could this have something to do with it?”

Magyana raised an eyebrow. “It’s possible, I suppose. But it’s such a tiny bite. There wouldn’t have been anywhere near as much venom from it as there was from yours, Seregil.”

The dragon that had bitten Seregil had been the size of a large dog, and the lissik-stained teeth marks spanned the back of his hand and the palm. His arm had swelled up like a sausage and he’d been damn sick for a few days, but lucky to survive all that with no more long-term damage than the mark.

“If that’s what Yhakobin really wanted, then he’d have used Seregil instead,” Alec mused. “Besides, he didn’t know I had the mark until after he’d bought me, and didn’t know what it was once he did. I told him it was just decoration.” He looked to Thero. “What about the Orëska? Nysander knew about the Helm. Maybe there’s some wizard guarding this rhekaro secret, too.”

“It’s doubtful,” said Magyana. “Skala barely existed when the Hâzad went north. And even if there is someone, it’s quite possible that he or she is sworn to utter secrecy, as Nysander was. Or dead. We lost so many during the assault on the Orëska House.”

“Maybe so, but don’t you think that somewhere, down in all those vaults, there might be something about this?” Seregil gave her a winning look. “If anyone would know where to look, it’s you. You know those cellars better than anyone.”

“I’ll look around as soon as I go back, but it’s likely to take a long time, since I don’t know what I’m looking for. There are a few people I could speak with, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“It would be an easier task for two people,” said Thero. “I had a message spell from Prince Korathan’s wizard, Norubia, last night. The prince is losing patience waiting for us to come back and account for ourselves. If I don’t bring you back, then I’d better have a good story. Otherwise it’s likely to raise questions you don’t want asked.”

“I hate to put you in that position,” said Seregil. “But there’s no way we can take Sebrahn to Rhíminee. It would be damn near impossible to hide anyone with a ‘dragon aura’ or whatever it is in a city full of wizards, and if Queen Phoria ever got wind of what Sebrahn is capable of, she’d have him and Alec caged like a pair of chukarees to use against the Overlord’s armies in her endless war.”

“Do you think that was the real reason Sebrahn was made?” asked Magyana.

Alec shook his head. “If Yhakobin had known about the killing power, he and his slave takers wouldn’t have made a head-on charge against us. We have that secret in our favor, at least.”

“Do you know anything more about the Hâzadriëlfaie, Seregil?” asked Magyana.

“Only that they took their reasons north with them when they left. Everyone in Aurënen knows the tale.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Thero said, pointing at Sebrahn. “If I knew someone was going to use me for that sort of thing, I’d run, too.” He paused, then gave Alec an apologetic look. “I meant no offense.”

“None taken.” Alec was too busy wondering how many people had been hung in cages and bled to make the white creatures before the prophet Hâzadriël had her mysterious vision.

“Thero’s right,” said Seregil. “I’ve been up around Ravensfell Pass. It’s the ass end of nowhere, and about as far from Plenimar as you can get. This must be why they’ve been so insular.”

“They killed my mother for bearing a ya’shel child, and tried to kill my father and me, too,” Alec told Magyana. “He spent the rest of his life on the move. I didn’t know why at the time, but it must have been to keep them from finding us again.”

“He never spoke of any of that to you?”

“No. He wasn’t much of a talker, my dad. And if I asked about my mother, he’d just say it was better for me not to know. As I got older, I wondered if she’d broken his heart, maybe by running off with another man.” He shook his head. “After the vision the Dragon Oracle showed me at Sarikali, I’m ashamed to have thought of her that way.”

“You had no way to know, dear boy.” Magyana patted his hand. “Your father was a wise man. He must have loved your mother a great deal to risk so much for her. And for you, as well. As for the Hâzad, consider the consequences of a person of their blood finding his way south again.”

“A dragon oracle, and a dragon child …,” murmured Seregil, wandering over to the window.

Alec suddenly gave a great yawn. Magyana laughed and held out a hand to Micum and Thero. “There’s nothing to be gained by dwelling on such things now. Come along, you two, and let Alec rest. Thero, you must compose your response to the prince and send word to the captain of the Lark that we mean to sail tomorrow.”