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For one thing, the Lake of Fire had to be someplace deserted, and there were no people in the
Madiran Desert. For another, it had to be someplace where there was nothing that could burn, and
there was nothing but sand in the waterless wasteland of the far south.
How Tiercel himself was going to survive in a place where there was no water and no people, he
didn't know. That was something he'd have to figure out later. For now, it was enough to have a
plan and a destination. So he might as well stop sitting around here, pretending he might turn into
a High Mage, and go back up to the house to find somebody to tell.
He was walking up the low hill that concealed the "school-house" from the main house when he
looked up and saw that there was a dragon in the garden and not just any dragon. Ancaladar. It
was difficult to miss something the size of a full-rigged sailing ship that glittered like a piece of black
glass, and for a moment Tiercel stopped to admire the sight, though part of him wondered why
Ancaladar was here. He hadn't seen Ancaladar since the day they'd arrived, and he was pretty sure
Harrier would have mentioned it if he had.
But admiration quickly gave way to discomfort. Ancaladar was just going to... die. Not because he
was old or sick because apparently dragons didn't get either old or sick but because Jermayan
was dying of old age. For a moment, Tiercel thought about just going back to the schoolhouse until
Ancaladar had left, but he thought that would be like cheating somehow. As if he were afraid to
meet him. Or ashamed to.
So he kept on walking up the lawn and into the garden, and only when he'd gone too far to turn
back did he realize that Ancaladar wasn't alone. He was talking to someone Tiercel couldn't see.
"I don't even like him," Ancaladar said.
Tiercel stopped. Ancaladar's head was turned away from him, and whoever he was speaking to
was completely concealed by the bulk of the dragon's body.
"You will grow to love him, Bonded," a familiar voice answered.
Jermayan! Tiercel thought. Now would be a really good time to leave. Or hide.
"I won't have time. He'll be dead in less than a century. And so will I," Ancaladar answered.
"Better then than now. And you are needed," Jermayan answered. Though his voice was thin with
age, it was still uncompromising.
He'd already heard too much of this. Tiercel turned to retrace his steps, hoping Ancaladar was too
involved in his conversation to notice, but he couldn't help hearing Ancaladar's next words as well.
"I won't do it. And whether I consent or not is irrelevant. It can't be done. If it could " There was a
moment of silence. "And here is Tiercel now," Ancaladar added, in a different tone entirely. "You
might as well stop trying to slink off. You aren't very good at it."
Tiercel sighed and came back, walking around Ancaladar. One of the large cushioned couches had
been brought outdoors, and Jermayan lay upon it with Ancaladar coiled around him.
"I'm sorry," Tiercel said. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop on a private conversation. I was just... I've
made up my mind what I'm going to do, and I thought I should tell someone, and when I realized
that Ancaladar wasn't alone, it was too late to leave."
"It does not matter. And to learn of this decision would make good hearing," Jermayan said.
"Ancaladar and I were speaking of decisions just now as well."
"You were speaking of decisions, Bonded, /was not listening," Ancaladar said.
"I am rebuked," Jermayan said. "Yet if Tiercel wishes to speak, we will both listen."
There didn't really seem to be a lot of way around it.
"I really appreciate all you've done for me," Tiercel began hesitantly. "But I'm not sure that I can do
very much more with the material you've gathered for me, and so, well, I really think I need to go
find the place I see in my visions. So I guess I should leave."
He'd expected a long argument certainly he would have gotten one back home but Jermayan
simply nodded.
"A quick decision, but perhaps not a hasty one. It would be good to know the direction in which
your search takes you."
"There's a place called the Madiran Desert. It's outside the Elven Lands, but it's on your maps."
"I know it well, though it is far from here. You will need a wagon and supplies for your journey, and
they will take perhaps another moonturn to arrange. And now, I fear, my ambitions for the day
have exceeded my strength."
"Both always exceeded your wisdom," Ancaladar scolded fondly.
"If, of your courtesy, you would seek out Farabiael and tell her I would rest, she will know what
needs to be done," Jermayan added, and Tiercel hurried to obey.
One of the other Elves who'd been with Farabiael Tiercel was never quite able to decide whether
they were all members of Jermayan's family, or servants was able to tell Tiercel that Harrier was
probably down at the stables at this time of day, and Tiercel made that his next stop, since he
might as well tell Harrier his plans before Harrier learned them from somebody else. Until they'd left
Armethalieh this summer, neither of them had really been much for horses, but they'd both learned
a lot of new skills since, and he guessed that Harrier had decided he liked riding.
Tiercel had never actually been in the stables, since he'd walked to Karahelanderialigor, and had
gone no farther after that than the workroom at the bottom of the garden. It was an airy building
on the eastern side of the house, as large as the stables in the largest inn they'd ever stopped at,
and as lavishly-finished as if it were a house, and not a stable. Less than a third of the stalls were
filled. As he walked in, he barely smelled horse at all, only flowers, leather, and grass.
"Stay away from the ones at the end," Harrier said as he came in. "Those are Elunyerin and
Rilphanifel's horses, and they're warhorses. I suppose they aren't mean, but they have nasty
senses of humor. And I'm pretty sure they understand everything you say."
Tiercel walked down the line of stalls, glancing curiously into the ones Harrier mentioned. Two large
gleaming animals regarded him placidly, one grey, one roan.
"They look harmless," he said.
"That's what I thought," Harrier answered darkly.
He was currying a cream-colored gelding, working slowly and carefully from the neck back to the
tail. The animal turned its head and regarded Tiercel as he walked into the stall.
"Reilafar is perfectly calm, which is why he's mine. If you want to go for a ride, I can find someone
to get you a horse."
"No. I've come to tell you that I've decided what I'm going to do."
"We're going to the Madiran Desert? When do we leave?"
"I'm going to the Madiran Desert. You should go home. You can be there by winter if you leave
now," Tiercel said.
"That's your plan? It's a stupid plan. Have you told anybody else this stupid plan?" Harrier asked in
bored tones. He didn't interrupt his even grooming at all.
"I saw Jermayan while I was walking back to the house. He likes my plan. Ancaladar likes it, too,"
Tiercel said stubbornly. He didn't know why fighting with Harrier seemed like such a good idea right
now, except that it did.
"Uh-huh. And you're doing this why?"
"I have to do something."
Harrier stopped, set the currycomb down on an upturned bucket, and turned to look at him. "You
know, Tyr, if the Endarkened, or whatever, is this much of a threat and you know it is you don't
just let it get stronger. You throw everything you can think of at it the moment you notice it. You
don't send a kid like you off to wander around hoping he'll think of something useful. Even Kellen
Knight-Mage did his wandering around with the whole Elven Army at his back."
"Maybe they're doing what they're doing because they do know so much about the problem. Maybe
they think this is the only thing that will work. Maybe they've already tried other things and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]