King's Dragon
Page 15

Da coughed again and fumbled to open the book, searching for something in the dense text written within. Moving to help him, she passed by the window. The shutters were still open, and through the thin skin tacked over the opening, rubbed so fine that it was translucent, she saw a dim light. It bobbed closer, following the well-worn path that descended to the village.
“Someone is coming,” she said, going to the door.
“Don’t open it!”
His voice cut her, and she flinched. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She stared at him, frightened by his abrupt and manifest terror. “Was that new star an omen? Have you read of its coming? Does the book speak of it?” They never called it by its title. Some words, spoken aloud, called attention to themselves.
He slapped the book shut and clutched it against his chest. Jumping up, he grabbed his bow out of the corner, then, with book and bow, walked across to the window. Suddenly he relaxed, his expression clearing. “It’s only Frater Hugh.”
Now it was her turn to shudder. “Don’t let him in, Da.”
“Do not speak so harshly, child. Frater Hugh is a good man, sworn to Our Lady and Lord.”
“Sworn to himself, you mean.”
“Liath! How can you speak so? He only wants instruction. He is no less curious than are you yourself. Can you fault him for that?”
“Just give me the book, Da,” she said more gently, to coax it from him. What she now knew of Hugh was too dangerous to tell Da.
But Da hesitated. Four other books sat on the shelf in the corner, each one precious: Polyxene’s encyclopedic History of Dariya, The Acts of St. Thecla, Theophrastos of Eresos’ Inquiry into Plants, the Dreams of Artemisia. But they did not contain forbidden knowledge, condemned by the church at the Council of Narvone one hundred years ago.
“But he might be one who could help us, Liath,” he said, abruptly serious. “We have been running for so long. We need an ally, someone who could understand the great powers that weave their trap around us. Someone who could help us against them—”
She snatched the book out of his hands and scrambled up the ladder that led to the loft. From her shelter under the peaked roof she could see down into half the room and easily hear anything that went on below. She threw herself down on her straw mattress and pulled a blanket up over her. “Tell him I’m asleep.”
Da muttered an inaudible reply, but she knew once she had made a decision, he would not gainsay it. He closed the shutters, replaced the bow in the corner, then opened the door and stood there, waiting for Frater Hugh.
“Greetings, friend!” he called. His voice was almost cheerful, for he liked Hugh. “Have you come to watch this night with me?”
“Alas, no, friend Bernard. I was passing this way—”
I was passing this way. All lies, delivered in that honey-sweet voice.
“—on my way to old Johannes’ steading. I’m to perform last rites over his wife, may her soul rise in peace to the Chamber above. Mistress Birta asked if I would deliver this letter to you.” “A letter!” Da’s voice almost broke on the word. For eight years they had wandered. Never once had they met anyone Da knew from their former life. Never once had he received a letter or any other kind of communication. “Ai, Blessed Lady,” he murmured hoarsely. “I have stayed too long in this place.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked Father Hugh. The light of his lamp streamed in through the window, illuminating her father’s figure in the threshold. “You look ill, my friend. May I help you?”
Da hesitated again, and she held her breath, but he glanced up toward the loft and then, slowly, shook his head. “There is nothing you can do. But I thank you.” He reached out for the letter. Liath ran her fingers along the spine of the book, feeling the thick letters painted onto the leather binding. The Book of Secrets. Would Da invite Father Hugh inside? Da was so lonely, and he was afraid. “Will you sit with me for a while? It’s a quiet night, and I fear it will prove to be a long one.”
She eased backward into the deepest shadows of the loft. There was a long pause while Hugh considered. She could almost feel, like the presence of fire, his desire—his wish to enter, to coax Da into trusting him more and yet more until at last Da would trust him with everything. And then they would be lost.
“Alas, I have other duties this night,” Hugh said at last. But he did not leave. Lamplight shifted, spilling in turn into each of the four corners of the room below, searching. “Your daughter is well, I trust?” How sweet his voice was.