The Last Dragonlord by Joanne Bertin Read Free Book Online Page B

booted feet on the deck behind her. Not one of the sailors, then; they were all barefooted. There was only one person it could be.
    “Why are you still up, Rynna?” a musical voice asked from the darkness and then Otter stood beside her. His eyes met hers in the faint light of the deck lamp, his head cocked in inquiry. He said gently, “What are you worried about?”
    She shrugged to hide her surprise. “Why do you think I’m worried? I—um, I was just thinking how good it will be to see cousin Maylin again. And Kella. She must be a big girl now.”
    He made a rude noise. “I’ve known you since you were a child playing with my imp of a great-nephew by the fireside—remember? Believe me; I know when you’re worried. You don’t eat and you stare off into nothing, chewing your lip all the while. Hah! You’re doing it again. Now what is bothering you?”
    Memories of childhood came back to her: she and Raven sitting at Otter’s feet as he spun his tales for them before the winter hearth, and so many of them about the Last Dragonlord.
    … Raven’s fifth birthday, a time of both great solemnity and great rejoicing. For on this day his hair, allowed to grow unchecked till now, was cut off at his shoulders, all save the lock at the nape of his neck that was braided for the first time. As of this day Raven was truly a part of his clan. Maurynna was happy for him, of course, but most of her joy was for the man who had traveled far for this day and now sat before them, for Otter told her stories of her hero.
    Raven rocked back and forth in excitement, the firelight glowing in his red-blond curls. “Did you really see the hag before Linden Rathan did, great-uncle?” he asked breathlessly.
    Otter nodded. “I did, boyo, and barely had time to warn him. It was pure luck that he heard me yelling in that storm; the wind was howling louder than all the souls in Gifnu’s nine hells.”
    “Why didn’t you mindspeak him?” Maurynna demanded. “You can do that, can’t you?”
    “Ah, but I didn’t know him well then, remember; it was only the second time I’d met him. And I can’t really mindspeak
Linden, even now. It’s just that if I think hard enough about him—
    Here now; haven’t you ever known—just known—that someone was thinking about you?”
    Maurynna turned to Raven, knowing he’d be doing the same. “Oh, yes,” they chorused. “We know.”
    “Well, then, that’s how Linden knows when I want to talk to him, Rynna. I can’t be too far from him, either, or it won’t work. But to get back to—”
    “Linden Rathan killed the evil hag, didn’t he?” Maurynna bounced in anticipation. “He can do anything!”
    Otter laughed and went on with the tale … .
    Linden Rathan had indeed killed the evil hag. Gods; he’d been her hero for so long … . She blurted out, “Otter—hang the Sea Mist! And hang what my family will say! I want to go with you to Dragonskeep.”
    There. She’d said it. She waited for the bard to pin her ears back for an idiot. And Otter could do that very well indeed.
    But beyond a gasp of surprise, the bard said nothing for a long time. When he did speak, his voice was quiet, concerned. “Rynna, you wouldn’t, not really—would you?”
    She gripped the astrolabe so hard it was a wonder the brass didn’t buckle. “Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s just—It’s just that ever since you first talked about it, there’s been a yearning in me to see Dragonskeep, to meet a Dragonlord, to meet him. It’s tearing me in two. I want my ship; it’ll kill me to lose her. But even more I want, I want—oh, gods; I don’t know what I want.”
    But she did. She wanted to follow the fool’s dream that burned in her soul.
    “Have you spoken of this to any of your crew?”
    Maurynna snorted in disgust. “Of course not. I may be mad, but I’m not stupid.”
    He laughed at that. “Don’t, then. Because I promise you this, Rynna: I will bring Linden to meet you. However I have to do