Banewreaker(23)

Of course the sun did not shine full upon Darkhaven.

"Your pardon, General," Lilias said. "I did not think upon it."

"No mind." Tanaros smiled again, drawing a deep breath of mountain air. "I have missed it."

Lilias paused, tucking a wind-tugged strand of hair behind her ear. The height was dizzying and the crags fell away beneath their feet, but she was at home, here. "Then why do you serve him?" she asked curiously.

"You know what I did?" His gaze flicked toward her.

She nodded.

She knew; the world knew. Twelve hundred years gone by, Tanaros Caveros had been the Commander of the King's Guard in Altoria, sworn to serve Roscus Altorus, his kinsman. His wife had betrayed him, and lain with the King, giving birth to a babe of Altorus' get. For that betrayal, Tanaros had throttled his beloved wife, had run his sworn King through on the point of a sword and fled, bloody-handed. And that was all Urulat had known of him until he returned, four hundred years later, at the head of the army of Darkhaven and destroyed the kingdom of Altoria.

"Well." Tanaros stared into the distant gorge at the base of the mountain. "Then you know. My Lord Satoris…" He paused, fingering the unseen talisman. "He needed me, my lady. He was the only one who did, the only one who gave me a reason to live. A cause to fight, an army to lead. He is the only one who allowed me the dignity of my hatred."

Small wonder, that.

Lilias knew something of the Sunderer's pain, of the betrayal that had Shaped him; but that was between her and the dragon. She wondered how much Tanaros knew. It was difficult to imagine him committing the deeds that had driven him to the Shaper's side, and yet he had not denied it. She wondered if he regretted them, and thought that he must. Even in the bright sunlight, there was a shadow that never left his eyes. "Come," she said. "Calandor is waiting."

And she led him, then, to the mouth of the cavern, scrabbling up the lip of the plateau, all dignity forgotten. It didn't matter, here. The opening yawned like a mouth, and something moved within it, high above them. Stalagmites rose from the cavern floor, towering in the air in fantastic, tapering columns. Beyond, distant heaps of treasure glinted, gold and trinkets and sorcerers' gewgaws, books and chalices and gems, all bearing the impress of their once-owners' touch.

A smell of sulfur hung in the air, and Lilias laughed for pure joy.

"Calandor!"

"Liliasssss."

One of the stalagmites moved, then another, equidistant. Something scraped along the cavern floor. Vast claws gouged stone, and a bronze-scaled breast hove into view like the keel of a mighty ship. High above, a snort of flame lit the vaulted roof sulfur-yellow. Tanaros took a step backward, reaching unthinking for the hilt of his sword, then held his ground as the dragon bent his sinuous neck downward, scales glinting in the slanting light from the opening.

"Tanaross Caverosss."

The mighty jaws parted as the dragon spoke, lined with rows of pointed teeth, each one as large as a man's hand. Forge-breath ruffled the Soldier's hair, but he stood unflinching though the dragon's head hovered above his own, incomprehensibly vast. Thin trickles of smoke issued from the dragon's nostrils and its eyes were green, green and cat-slitted, lit with an inner luminescence.

"Calandor." Tanaros bowed, unable to conceal the awe in his face. "Eldest, I bear you greetings from my Lord Satoris, whom you once called friend."

A nictitating membrane covered the dragon's eyes in a brief blink; a smile, though Tanaros could not have known it. "I am not the Eldessst, Blackssword. Your Masster knows as much. What does he want, the Sssower?"

"He wants our aid, Calandor," Lilias said aloud what the dragon already knew. "He wants to lay a false trail to our doorstep for the Ellylon to follow."

Calandor ignored her, dragging himself past them step by slow step to the verge of the cavern, positioning his immense claws with care. His plated underbelly rasped on the stone. The crest of spines along his neck became visible, the massive shoulders. His wings, folded at his sides, the vaned pinions glittering like burnished gold. Outspread in the sky, they would shadow the mountainside. Lilias heard Tanaros stifle a gasp.

The dragon scented the air through nostrils the size of dinner-plates. "Sheep," he said, sounding satisfied. "In the northeast meadow. Three have lambed this day. I am hungry, Liliasss."

"Then you shall feed, Calandor."

"At nightfall," the dragon said. "I will take wing. Two ewes, and one lamb."

"It shall be so, Calandor." Lilias had conferred with her head herdsman, as she did each spring. They knew, to a lamb, what losses the flock could sustain. The dragon knew it, too. She wondered at what game he played.