Dragon (Vlad Taltos) by Steven Brust Read Free Book Online Page B

ideally viewed from the floor below or above, but up close I could see the texturing that went into the detail work, and, though it strained my neck, I could study the head of the wounded Dragon. Even in a painting, there was something powerful and intriguing about the way those tentacle-like appendages around its neck seemed to wave and flutter—apparently at random, yet there was purpose in it. And the expression on the Dragon’s face spoke of necessity, but of a certain joy as well. The wound in its side, which was closest to me, was skillfully rendered to evoke pity but not disgust, and even in the young Dragon there was a certain hint that, though requiring protection, it was still a Dragon and thus not to be trifled with either.
    My eye kept returning to those tentacles, however, as if they were a puzzle that might be solved, revealing—what?
    “Dragons are more complex than they seem, aren’t they, Boss?”
    “I was just thinking the same thing.”
    “Especially Morrolan.”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you notice what he didn’t ask about?”
    “Yes. He never asked about the weapon that was stolen.”
    “You’re not as stupid as they say, Boss.”
    “Save it, Loiosh. Instead, tell me what it means.”
    “That he already knew about the theft. Which means when we were setting that trap, we weren’t doing what we thought we were. Although what we were doing I couldn’t guess.”
    “Yeah. Maybe. Or it might mean something else entirely.”
    “What else?”
    I studied those tentacles again—random patterns that, somehow, made a kind of sense.
    “That he knew there was a particular weapon that would be stolen, which means the theft wasn’t just a test or trial, but accomplished what it was supposed to, and there’s more to that weapon than we’d thought there was. Which would make sense, of course. Or Kragar’s
idea: It didn’t matter what was stolen; the idea was to annoy Morrolan enough to start a war, just because he wanted a war. In fact, we were probably wrong about everything and, no doubt, still are. Whenever we come to a conclusion, we should just assume we’re wrong and go from there.”
    Loiosh was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I like the artist.”
    “ So do I, ” I said. “ Come on. Let’s go home. ”
    I turned my back on the wounded Dragon and walked out of Castle Black.

4
    CALL TO WAR
    Sethra Lavode once gave me a brief history of battle-magic, but I don’t remember a whole lot of it; it wasn’t important at the time, and my acquaintance with her was new enough that I was thinking less about what she said than the fact that she was saying it. I do remember bits and pieces, however. Between what she said and what I subsequently learned from Morrolan and Aliera, I can give you a very rough overview. It goes something like this:
    The earliest practical spells were reconnaissance and illusion; both very powerful, but easily countered. Later there were means developed of creating mass destruction, and all sorts of effort went into protecting one’s army. Defense eventually outstripped offense to the point where a soldier could usually consider himself safe from any direct sorcerous attack as long as he wasn’t carrying too much metal. It was somewhere in here that armor went by the board, except that some used (and still use) wooden armor, and wooden shields are still common, and warriors in the House of the Lyorn still wear copper or bronze vambraces to prove that they are fearless or stupid—two conditions I’ve never been able to tell apart.
    Various methods were created for allowing the foot soldier to carry pre-prepared offensive spells into battle, and these, too, got stronger and more sophisticated, until some big battle, the name and date of which I didn’t pay much attention to, where some sorcerer found a means of making every one of the enemy’s
“flashstones” blow up in his hand—which added a whole new level of spell and counter-spell, and made the common foot