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Now Arutha and his advisers were ready to conduct the business of interrogating the captives. A large section of warehouses in the north end of the city near the Merchants Gate had been converted to jails. Arutha, surrounded by a company of grim-faced guards, looked over the first five prisoners brought forward.

Jimmy stood off to one side and could hear a soldier mumble to another, ‘At this rate we’ll be here a year talking to all these lads.’

For a while Jimmy watched as Arutha, Gardan, Volney, and Captain Valdis questioned prisoners. Many were obviously simple fellows caught up in some business they didn’t understand, or they were consummate actors. All looked filthy, ill fed, and half-frightened, half-defiant.

Jimmy became restless and left the scene. At the edge of the crowd he discovered that Laurie had taken a seat on a bench outside an ale house. Jimmy joined the Duke of Salador, who said, ‘They’ve only some homemade left, and it’s not cheap, but it’s cool.’ He looked on while Arutha continued the interrogations under the summer sun.

Jimmy wiped his forehead. ‘This is a sham. It accomplishes nothing.’

‘It lessens Arutha’s temper.’

‘I’ve never seen him like this. Not even when we were racing to Moraelin. He’s …’

‘He’s angry, frightened, and feeling helpless.’ Laurie shook his head. ‘I’ve learned a lot from Carline about my brothers-in-law. One thing about Arutha, if you don’t already know: being helpless is something he can’t abide. He’s walked into a blind alley and his temper won’t allow him to admit he’s facing a stone wall. Besides, if he lifts the seal on the city, the Nighthawks are free to come and go at will.’

‘So what? They’re in the city in any event, and no matter what Arutha thinks, there’s no guarantee they’re locked up. Maybe they’ve infiltrated the court staff the way they did the Mockers last year. Who knows?’ Jimmy sighed. ‘If Martin was here or maybe the King, we might have this business at an end.’

Laurie drank, and grimaced at the bitter taste. ‘Maybe. You’ve named the only two men in the world he’s likely to listen to. Carline and I’ve tried to talk to him, but he just listens patiently, then says no. Even Gardan and Volney can’t budge him.’

Jimmy watched the Prince’s interrogation for a little longer while three more groups of prisoners were brought out. ‘Well, some good’s come of this. Four men have been turned loose.’

‘And if they’re picked up by another patrol, they’ll be tossed into another lockup and it might be days before anyone gets around to checking out their claims to having been turned loose by the Prince. And the other sixteen have been returned to the lockup. All we can hope for is Arutha’s realizing soon that this will gain him nothing. The Festival of Banapis is less than two weeks off, and if the seal isn’t lifted by then, there’ll be a citywide riot.’ Laurie’s lips tightened in frustration. ‘Maybe if there was some magic way to tell who is a Nighthawk or not …’

Jimmy sat up. ‘What?’

‘What what?’

‘What you just said. Why not?’

Laurie turned slowly to face the squire. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I’m thinking it’s time to have a chat with Father Nathan. You coming?’

Laurie put aside his mug of bitter beer and rose. ‘I’ve a horse tied up over there.’

‘We’ve ridden double before. Come along, Your Grace.’

For the first time in days, Laurie chuckled.

Nathan listened with his head tilted to one side while Jimmy finished his idea. The priest of Sung the White rubbed his chin a moment, looking more a former wrestler than a cleric, while he thought. ‘There are magic means of impelling someone to tell the truth, but they are time consuming and not always reliable. I doubt we’d find such means any more useful than those presently being employed.’ His tone revealed he didn’t think much of the means presently being employed.

‘What of the other temples?’ inquired Laurie.

‘They have means differing little from our own, small things in the way spells are constructed. The difficulties do not lessen.’

Jimmy looked defeated. ‘I had hoped for some way to pluck the assassins from the mass wholesale. I guess it isn’t possible.’

Nathan stood up behind the table in Arutha’s conference room, appropriated while the Prince was overseeing the questioning. ‘Only when a man dies and is taken into Lims-Kragma’s domain are all questions answered.’

Jimmy’s expression clouded as a thought struck; then he brightened. ‘That could be it.’

Laurie said, ‘What could be it? You can’t kill them all.’

‘No,’ said Jimmy, dismissing the absurdity of the remark. ‘Look, can you get that priest of Lims-Kragma, Julian, to come here?’

Nathan remarked dryly, ‘You mean High Priest Julian of the Temple of Lims-Kragma? You forget he rose to supremacy when his predecessor was rendered mad by the attack in this palace.’ Nathan’s face betrayed a flicker of emotion, for the priest of Sung himself had defeated the undead servant of Murmandamus, at no little cost. Nathan was still plagued by nightmares from that event.

‘Oh,’ said Jimmy.

‘If I request, he may grant us an audience, but I doubt he’ll come running here just because I ask. I may be the Prince’s spiritual adviser, but in temple rank I am simply a priest of modest achievements.’

‘Well then see if he will see us. I think if he’ll cooperate, we might find an end to all this madness in Krondor. But I’ll want to have the Temple of Lims-Kragma’s cooperation before I blab the idea to the Prince. He might not listen otherwise.’

‘I’ll send a message. It would be unusual for the temples to become involved in city business, but we’ve had closer relationships with each other and the officers of the Principality since the appearance of Murmandamus. Perhaps Julian will be kindly disposed to cooperate. I assume there’s a plan in this?’

‘Yes,’ said Laurie, ‘just what have you got up that voluminous sleeve of yours?’

Jimmy cocked his head and grinned. ‘You’ll appreciate the theatre of it, Laurie. We’ll whip up some mummery and scare the truth out of the Nighthawks.’

The Duke of Salador sat back and thought on what the boy had said; after a moment of consideration, his blond beard was slowly parted by a widening grin. Nathan exchanged glances with the two as understanding came and he, too, began to smile, then to chuckle. Seeming to think he forgot himself, the cleric of the Goddess of the One Path composed himself, but again broke into an ill-concealed fit of mirth.

Of the major temples in Krondor, the one least visited by the populace was that devoted to the Goddess of Death, Lims-Kragma – though it was commonly held that the goddess sooner or later gathered all to her. It was usual to give votive offerings and a prayer for the recently departed, but only a few worshipped with regularity. In centuries past, the followers of the Death Goddess had practised bloody rites, including human sacrifice. Over the years these practices had moderated and the faithful of Lims-Kragma had entered the mainstream of society. Still, past fears died slowly. And even now enough bloody work was done in the Death Goddess’s name by fanatics to keep her temple tainted by a patina of horror for most common men. Now a band of such common men, with perhaps a few uncommon ones hidden among them, was being marched into that temple.

Arutha stood silently by the entrance to the inner sanctum of the Temple of Lims-Kragma. Armed guards surrounded the antechamber while temple guards in the black and silver garb of their order filled the inner temple. Seven priests and priestesses stood arrayed in formal attire, as if for a high ceremony, under the supervision of the High Priest, Julian. At first the High Priest had been disinclined to participate in this charade, but as his predecessor had been driven past the brink of insanity by confronting the agent of Murmandamus, he was sympathetic to any attempts to balk that evil. Reluctantly he had agreed at the last.

The prisoners were herded forward, toward the dark entrance. Most held back and had to be shoved by spear-wielding soldiers. The first band contained those judged most likely to be members of the brotherhood of assassins. Arutha had grudgingly agreed to this sham, but had insisted on having all suspected of being Nighthawks in the first batch to be ‘tested’, in case the deception was revealed and word leaked back to the other prisoners being held.

When the reluctant prisoners were arraigned before the altar of the Goddess of Death, Julian intoned, ‘Let the trial commence.’ At once the attending priests, priestesses, and monks began a chant, one that carried a dark and chilling tone.

Turning to the fifty or so men held by the silent temple guards, the High Priest said, ‘Upon the altar stone of death, no man may speak falsehood. For before She Who Waits, before the Drawer of Nets, before the Lover of Life, all men must swear to what they have done. Know then, men of Krondor, that among your number are those who have rejected our mistress, those who have enlisted in the ranks of darkness and who serve evil powers. They are men who are lost to the grace of death, to the final rest granted by Lims-Kragma. These men are despisers of all, holding only to their evil master’s will. Now they shall be separated from us. For each who lies upon the stone of the Goddess of Death will be tested, and each who speaks true will have nothing to fear. But those who have sworn dark compacts will be revealed and they shall face the wrath of She Who Waits.’

The statue behind the altar, a jet stone likeness of a beautiful, stern-looking woman, began to glow, to pulse with strange blue-green lights. Jimmy was impressed, as he looked on with Laurie. The effect added a strong sense of drama to the moment.

Julian motioned for the first prisoner to be brought forward and the man was half dragged to the altar. Three strong guards lifted him up onto the altar, used ages past for human sacrifice, and Julian pulled a black dagger from his sleeve. Holding it over the man’s chest, Julian asked simply, ‘Do you serve Murmandamus?’

The man barely croaked out a reply in the negative and Julian removed the dagger from over the man. ‘This man is free of guilt,’ intoned the priest. Jimmy and Laurie exchanged glances, for the man was one of Trevor Hull’s sailors, ragged and rough looking in the extreme, but above suspicion and, judging from the performance just given, not a mean actor. He had been planted to lend credibility to the proceedings, as had the second man, who was now being dragged to the altar. He sobbed piteously, yelling to be left alone, begging for mercy.

Behind an upraised hand, Jimmy said, ‘He’s overdoing it.’

Laurie whispered, ‘It doesn’t matter; the room stinks with fear.’

Jimmy regarded the assembled prisoners, who stared with fascination at the proceedings while the second man was judged innocent of being an assassin. Now the guards grabbed the first man to be truly tested. He had the half-captivated look of a bird confronting a snake and was led quickly to the altar. When four other men were led without protest, Arutha crossed to stand next to Laurie and Jimmy. Shielding them from the gaze of the prisoners by turning his back on the proceedings, he whispered, ‘This isn’t going to work.’

Jimmy said, ‘We may not have dragged a Nighthawk up there yet. Give it time. If everyone comes through the test, you still have them all under guard.’

Suddenly a man near the front of the prisoners made a dash for the door, knocking aside two temple guards. At once Arutha’s guards at the door blocked his exit. The man hurled himself at them, forcing the guards back. In the scramble he reached for a dagger and attempted to strip it from a guard’s belt. His hand was struck, and the dagger skittered freely across the floor, while another guard smashed him across the face with the haft of a spear. The man dropped to the stone floor.

Jimmy, like the others, was intent upon the attempt to restrain the man. Then, as if time slowed, he saw another prisoner calmly bend over and pick up the dagger. With cool purpose the man stood, turned, reversed the dagger, and held the blade between thumb and forefinger. He pulled back his arm, and, as Jimmy’s mouth opened to shout a warning, he threw the dagger.

Jimmy sprang forward to knock Arutha aside, but he was a moment too late. The dagger struck. A priest cried, ‘Blasphemy!’ at the attack. Then all looked toward the Prince. Arutha staggered, his eyes widening with astonishment as he stared down at the blade protruding from his chest. Laurie and Jimmy both caught his arms, holding him up. Arutha looked at Jimmy, his mouth moving silently as if trying to speak were the most difficult task imaginable. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped forward, still held up by Laurie and Jimmy.

Jimmy sat quietly while Roald paced the room. Carline sat opposite the boy, lost in her own thoughts. They waited outside Arutha’s bedchamber while Father Nathan and the royal chirurgeon worked feverishly to save Arutha’s life. Nathan had showed no regard for rank as he had ordered everyone out of Arutha’s room, refusing even to let Carline glimpse her brother. At first Jimmy had judged the wound serious but not fatal. He had seen men survive worse, but now the time was dragging on and the young man began to fret. By now Arutha should have been resting quietly, but there had been no word from within his chambers. Jimmy feared this meant complications.

He closed his eyes and rubbed at them a moment, sighing aloud. Again he had acted, but too late to stave off disaster. Fighting back his own feelings of guilt, he was startled when a voice next to him said, ‘Don’t blame yourself.’

He looked to find Carline had moved to sit beside him. With a faint smile he said, ‘Reading minds, Duchess?’

She shook her head, fighting back tears. ‘No. I just remembered how hard you took it when Anita was injured.’

Jimmy could only nod. Laurie came in and crossed to the door of the bedchamber to speak quietly to the guard. The guard quickly entered and returned a moment later, whispering an answer. Laurie went over to his wife, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and said, ‘I’ve dispatched riders to fetch Anita back and lifted the quarantine.’ As senior noble in the city, Laurie had assumed a position of authority, working with Volney and Gardan to restore order to a city in turmoil. While the crisis was likely over, certain restraints were kept in force, to prevent any backlash from angry citizens. Curfew would stay in effect for a few more days, and large gatherings would be dispersed.

Laurie spoke softly. ‘I’ve more duties to discharge. I’ll be back shortly.’ He rose and left the antechamber. Time dragged on.

Jimmy remained lost in thought. In the short time he had been with the Prince his world had changed radically. From street boy and thief to squire had entailed a complete shift in attitudes toward others, though some vestige of his former wariness had stood him in good stead when dealing with court intrigue. Still, the Prince and his family and friends had become the only people in Jimmy’s life who meant something to the boy, and he feared for them. His disquiet had grown in proportion to the passing hours and now bordered on alarm. The ministrations of the chirurgeon and the priest were taking far too long. Jimmy knew something was very wrong.

Then the door opened and a guard was motioned inside. He appeared a moment later, hurrying down the hall. In short order, Laurie, Gardan, Valdis, and Volney were back before the door. Without taking her eyes from the closed portal, Carline reached out and clutched at Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy glanced over and was startled to see her eyes brimming with tears. With dread certainty, the young man knew what was happening.

The door opened and a white-faced Nathan appeared. He looked around the room and began to speak, but halted, as if the words were too difficult to utter. At last he simply said, ‘He’s dead.’

Jimmy couldn’t contain himself. He sprang from the bench and pushed past those before the door, not recognizing his own voice crying, ‘No!’ The guards were too startled to react as the young squire forced his way into Arutha’s chamber. There he halted, for upon the bed was the unmistakable form of the Prince. Jimmy hurried to his side and studied the still features. He reached out to touch the Prince, but his hand halted scant inches from Arutha’s face. Jimmy didn’t need to touch him to know without doubt that the man on the bed, whose features were so familiar, was indeed dead. Jimmy lowered his head to the bed quilting, hiding his eyes as he began to weep.

• CHAPTER FOUR •
Embarkation

TOMAS AWOKE.

Something had called to him. He sat up and looked about in the dark, his more than human eyes showing him each detail of his room as if it were twilight. The apartment of the Queen and her consort was small, carved from the living bole of a mighty tree. Nothing appeared amiss. For an instant he felt fear that his mad dreams of yesterday were returning, then as wakefulness fully came to him, he dismissed that fear. In this place, above all others, he was master of his powers. Still, old terrors often sprang unexpectedly to the mind.

Tomas regarded his wife. Aglaranna slept soundly. Then he was on his feet, moving to where Calis lay. Almost two years old now, the boy slept in an alcove adjoining his parents’ quarters. The little Prince of Elvandar slept soundly, his face a mask of repose.

Then the call came again. And Tomas knew who called him. Instead of being reassured by the source of that call, Tomas felt a strange sense of fate. He crossed to where his white and gold armour hung. He had worn this raiment only once since the end of the Riftwar, to destroy the Black Slayers who had crossed into Elvandar. But now he knew it was time to wear battle garb again.

Silently he took down the armour and carried it outside. The summer’s night was heavy with fragrance as blossoms filled the air with gentle scents, mingled with the preparations of elven bakers for the next day’s meals.

Under the green canopy of Elvandar, Tomas dressed. Over his undertunic and trousers he drew on the golden chain-mail coat and coif. The white tabard with the golden dragon followed. He buckled on his golden sword and picked up his white shield then donned his golden helm.

For a long moment he stood again mantled in the attire of Ashen-Shugar, last of the Valheru, the Dragon Lords. A mystic legacy that crossed time bound them together, and in odd ways Tomas was as much Valheru as human. His basic nature was that of a man raised by his father and mother in the kitchen of Castle Crydee, but his powers were clearly more than human. The armour no longer held that power; it had been but a conduit fashioned by the sorcerer Macros the Black, who had conspired to have Tomas inherit the ancient powers of the Valheru. Now they resided in Tomas, but he still felt somehow lessened when he forwent the gold and white armour.

He closed his eyes and, with arts long unused, willed himself to travel to where his caller awaited.

Golden light enveloped Tomas and suddenly, faster than the eye could apprehend, he flew through the trees of the elven forest. Past unsuspecting elven sentries he sped, until he reached a large clearing far to the northwest of the Queen’s court. Then he again stood in corporeal form, seeking the author of the call to him. From out of the trees a black-robed man approached, one whose face was familiar to Tomas. When the short figure had reached him, the two embraced, for they had been foster brothers as children.

Tomas said, ‘This is a strange reunion, Pug. I knew your call like a signature, but why this magic? Why not simply come to our home?’

‘We need to speak in private. I have been away.’

‘So Arutha reported last summer. He said you stayed upon the Tsurani world to discover some cause behind these dark attacks by Murmandamus.’

‘I have learned things over the last year, Tomas.’ He led Tomas to a fallen tree and they sat upon the trunk. ‘I am certain now, beyond doubt, that what stands behind Murmandamus is what the Tsurani know as the Enemy, an ancient thing of awesome abilities. That terrible entity seeks entrance to our world and manipulates the moredhel and their allies – toward what particular ends I do not know. How a moredhel army gathering or assassins killing Arutha can aid the Enemy’s entrance into our space-time is beyond my understanding.’ For a moment he fell into a reflective mood. ‘So many things I still don’t understand, despite my learning. I almost came to an end to my searching in the library of the Assembly, save for one thing.’ Looking at his boyhood friend, he seemed possessed by a deep urgency. ‘What I found in the library was barely a hint, but it led me to the far north of Kelewan, to a fabulous place beneath the polar ice.

‘I have lived for the last year in Elvardein.’

Tomas blinked in confusion. ‘Elvardein? That means … “elvenrefuge”, as Elvandar means “elvenhome”. Who …?’

‘I have been studying with the eldar.’

‘The eldar!’ Tomas appeared even more confused. Memories of his life as Ashen-Shugar came pouring back. The eldar were those elves most trusted by their Dragon Lord masters, those who had access to many tomes of power, pillaged from the worlds the Dragon Lords raided. Compared to their masters, they were weak. Compared to other mortals upon Midkemia, they were a race of powerful magicians. They had vanished during the Chaos Wars and were thought to have perished beside their masters. ‘And they live upon the Tsurani homeworld?’

‘Kelewan is no more homeworld to the Tsurani than it is to the eldar. Both races found refuge there during the Chaos Wars.’ Pug paused, thinking. ‘Elvardein was established as a watch post by the eldar against the need of such a time as this.

‘It is much like Elvandar, Tomas, but subtly different.’ He remembered. ‘When I first arrived, I was made welcome. I was taught by the eldar. But it was a different sort of teaching than any I had undergone before. One elf, called Acaila, seemed responsible for my education, though many taught me. Never once in the year I spent under the polar ice did I ask a question. I would dream.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘It was so alien. Only you among men might understand what I mean.’

Tomas placed his hand on Pug’s shoulder. ‘I do understand. Men were not meant for such magic.’ He then smiled. ‘Still, we’ve had to learn, haven’t we?’

Pug smiled at that. ‘True. Acaila and the others would begin a spell and I would sit and watch. I spent weeks not understanding they were conducting lessons for me. Then one day I … joined in. I learned to weave spells with them. That was when my education began.’ Pug smiled. ‘They were well prepared. They knew I was coming.’

Tomas’s eyes widened. ‘How?’

‘Macros. It appears he told them a “likely student” might be coming their way.’

‘That indicates some connection between the war and these odd occurrences of the last year.’

‘Yes.’ Pug fell silent. ‘I’ve learned three things. The first is that there is no truth to our concept of there being many paths of magic. All is magic. Only the limits of the practitioner dictate what path is followed. Second, despite my learning, I am but just beginning to understand all that was taught to me. For while I never asked a question, the eldar also never gave an answer.’ He shivered. ‘They are so different from … anything else. I don’t know if it’s the isolation, the lack of normal congress with others of their kind, or what, but Elvardein is so alien it makes Elvandar feel as familiar as the woods outside Crydee.’ Pug sighed. ‘It was so frustrating at times. Each day I would arise and wander the woods, waiting until an opportunity to learn presented itself. I now know more of magic than any on this world, now that Macros is gone, but I know nothing more about what we face. Somehow I was forged as a tool, without fully understanding my purpose.’

‘But you have suspicions?’

‘Yes, though I will not share them, not even with you, until I am sure.’ Pug stood. ‘I have learned much, but I need to learn more. This is certain – it is the third thing I told you I had learned – both worlds face the gravest threat since the Chaos Wars.’ Pug rose, looking Tomas in the eyes. ‘We must be going.’

‘Going? Where?’

‘All of that will become apparent. We are poorly equipped to enter the struggle. We are ill informed and knowledge is slow in coming. So we must go seek knowledge. You must come with me. Now.’

‘Where?’

‘To where we may learn that which may gain us advantage: to the Oracle of Aal.’

Tomas studied Pug’s face. In all the years they had known each other, Tomas had never seen the young magician so intense. Quietly Tomas said, ‘To other worlds?’

‘That is why I need you. Your arts are alien to mine. A rift to Kelewan I can manage, but to travel to worlds I know only through millennia-old tomes …? Between the two of us, we have a chance. Will you aid me?’

‘Of course. I must speak to Aglaranna …’

‘No.’ Pug’s tone was firm. ‘There are reasons. Mostly, I suspect something even more dread than what I know. If what I suspect is true, then no one beyond the two of us may know what we undertake. To share the knowledge of this quest with another is to risk the ruination of everything. Those you seek to comfort will be destroyed. Better to let them doubt awhile.’

Tomas weighed Pug’s words. One thing was certain to the boy from Crydee turned Valheru: one of the few beings in the universe worthy of complete, utter trust now spoke to him. ‘I dislike this, but I will accept your caution. How shall we proceed?’

‘To traverse the cosmos, perhaps even to swim the time-stream, we need a steed only you may command.’

Tomas looked away, peering into the darkness. ‘It has been … ages. Like all the former servants of the Valheru, those you speak of have become stronger-willed over the centuries and are unlikely to serve willingly.’ He thought, remembering images of long ago. ‘Still, I will try.’

Moving to the centre of the clearing, Tomas closed his eyes and raised his arms high above his head. Pug watched silently. For long moments there was no movement by either man. Then the young man in white and gold turned to face Pug. ‘One answers, from a great distance, but she comes with great speed. Soon.’

Time passed, and the stars overhead moved in their course. Then in the distance the sound of mighty wings beating upon the night air could be heard. Soon the sound was a loud rush of wind and a titanic shape blotted out the stars.

Landing in the clearing was a gigantic figure, its descent swift and light, despite its size. Wings spanning over a hundred feet on each side gently landed a body bulking larger than any other creature on Midkemia. Silver sparkles of moonlight danced over golden scales as a greater dragon settled to the earth. A head the size of a heavy wagon lowered, until it hung just above and before the two men. Giant eyes of ruby colour regarded them. Then the creature spoke. ‘Who dares summon me?’

Tomas answered. ‘I, who was once Ashen-Shugar.’

The creature’s mood was apparent. Irritation mixed with curiosity. ‘Thinkest thou to command me as my forebears were commanded by thine? Then know we of dragonkind have grown in power and cunning. Never willingly shall we serve again. Standest thou ready to dispute this?’

Tomas raised hands in a sign of supplication. ‘We seek allies, not servants. I am Tomas, who, with Dolgan the dwarf, sat the deathwatch with Rhuagh at the last. He counted me as a friend, and his gift was that which has made me again Valheru.’

The dragon considered this. Then she answered. ‘That song was well sung and loudly, Tomas, friend of Rhuagh. In our lore, no more marvellous thing has occurred, for when Rhuagh passed, he coursed the skies one last time, as if his youth had been restored, and he sang his death song with vigour. In it he spoke of thee and the dwarf Dolgan. All of the greater dragons listened to his song and gave thanks. For that kindness, I will listen to thy need.’

‘We seek places barred from us by space and time. Upon your back I may breach such barriers.’

The dragon seemed leery of the notion of one of her kind again carrying a Valheru, despite Tomas’s reassurance. ‘For what cause dost thou seek?’

It was Pug who spoke. ‘A grave danger is gathering to strike this world, and even unto dragonkind it poses a threat terrible beyond imagining.’

‘There have been strange stirrings to the north,’ said the dragon, ‘and an ill-aspected wind blows across the land these nights.’ She paused, pondering what had been said. ‘Then I think it may be thou and I a bargain shall strike. For such purposes thou hast spoken shall I be willing to carry thee and thy friend. I am called Ryath.’ The dragon lowered her head, and Tomas adroitly mounted, showing Pug where to step so as not to cause the giant creature any discomfort. When both were mounted, they sat in a shallow depression where neck joined shoulder, between the wings.

Tomas said, ‘We are in your debt, Ryath.’

The dragon gave a mighty beat of her wings and took to the sky. As they rapidly climbed above Elvandar, Tomas’s magic kept Pug and himself firmly seated on Ryath’s back. The dragon spoke. ‘Debts of friendship are not debts. I am of Rhuagh’s get; he was to me what in thy world thou wouldst term a father, I to him a daughter. While we do not count such kinship vital as do humans, still such things have some importance.