A Sword for a Dragon by Christopher Rowley Read Free Book Online

large room, white-plastered and floored in oak. On the walls were paintings of the Paxion family and a vast landscape of Kadein by the great painter, Molla. In fact, the only thing that betrayed the fact that this room was in a frontier fort were the windows, which were narrow and easily defended.
    There was quite a crowd, most of it gathered at the stand-up buffet at one end of the room. Relkin noted the other medal winners of the day, who stood out as pillars of blue and brown leather among the billows of satin and lace that the ladies wore in imitation of the fashion of Kadein.
    Among the matrons of mature years were several of their teenage daughters, who were enjoying the break from the monotony of education and sewing. The standout of this group was General Paxion’s youngest daughter, Kessetra. She wore a yellow satin gown, cut tightly to her figure. She was a red-haired beauty, with lush lips and green eyes in which swirled endless patterns of coquetry and manipulation.
    All the young ladies made a great fuss of Relkin once he was identified, surrounding him in a sea of fans, curls, and satin. He was implored to tell them tales of the city of Tummuz Orgmeen. What were the evil women there like? Were there courtesans who really wore the skins of dead men, tanned like leather?
    Struggling to retain his natural modesty, Relkin succumbed and told of the deep, dark tunnels and the slave pens for captive women, chained in the imp-bearing chambers.
    The girls shuddered and squealed in horror and pressed for more details which he would have provided but for the arrival of Lady Fevill, the adjutant’s extremely ample wife.
    “Now, young man,” said Lady Fevill, as she tugged him away from the girls who groaned in disappointment, “you must spend some time with the older women in the room.”
    She introduced him to a circle of her friends: Clevilla Hooks, wife of the captain of the First Century: Faja Rinard, whose husband led the Second Century: and Edyth Alexen and Alys Wulnow whose husbands served in the Second Century.
    They, too, wished to hear personally of the horrors of Tummuz Orgmeen, so he described the slave market, with men and women in chains, with the marks of the lash and the brand on their skins. They listened in fascinated horror, and whenever he paused- for breath, they fluttered their fans and exchanged exclamations.
    At length, however, they tired of him and returned to full-strength gossip, leaving him free to turn his attention to the excellent buffet.
    He had barely helped himself to some syllabub and a plate of quibini and samosas when a vision in yellow satin appeared beside him.
    “Hello, we didn’t meet before, there was too much of a crowd. My name’s Kessetra Paxion, you can call me Kessi.”
    Relkin knew who she was, and he also knew that she was seventeen and no longer the child of her mother’s imagination.
    “I expect you’re finding all this pretty excruciating, I know I am,” she said.
    “Well, the food is good.”
    “Not particularly. The chicken is overdone and the sauces are dreadful. In Kadein, they would hoot at it and demand that the chef be fired.”
    Relkin forbore to point out that Kadein was hundreds of miles away on the other side of the Malgun Mountains. This was Kenor, land of the rough-hewn and free.
    “Come,” she commanded. “Take me up to the top of the tower, we can take a turn there. It is such a gorgeous day. We should be able to see all the way to Mt. Red Oak.”
    Relkin gobbled down his quibini and escorted Kessetra to the top of the tower, which was opened up for just such sight-seeing. They emerged into the warm sunshine of a late spring day in Kenor and immediately felt refreshed. Relkin felt something glitter just beneath his line of vision, and he looked down and there was his medal, a five-pointed star of silver positively aflame in the sunshine. No more than two hundred Legion Stars had ever been made. This thing would set him apart from the others