“A burden?” Tristam asked, surprised at the confession.
“Indeed,” Dalan said. “None of you trust me. None of you like me. I realize that the only reason that I was endured among you was because the airship belongs to me. While you all will gladly allow me to finance our expedition, I feared that none of you trusted me enough to let me wander far from your sight for long.”
“We let you stay behind in Stormhome,” Tristam said.
“You did,” Dalan said, smirking. “And how fortuitous.” He tore a small loaf in half and nibbled on a chunk. “I accomplished a great deal there. Events are set in motion that will put a severe dent into Marth’s plans.”
“Such as?” Tristam asked.
“Plans, plans, great and small,” Dalan said with a chuckle. “I successfully identified several members of Marth’s crew. A few of them have family members who do business with the Lyrandar. Apparently those families have been ordering unusually large amounts of food and supplies. It was assumed they were merely stockpiling, rebuilding resources-after all, many Cyrans escaped their homeland with no more than their names and the clothing on their backs. If they intend to continue ordering supplies for Marth, they will no longer do so on Lyrandar vessels.”
“You’ve frozen Marth’s mail,” Tristam said.
“Basically, yes,” Dalan said, laughing. “You may see it as a petty victory, but many wars are lost by economics. Don’t worry, Tristam, I didn’t waste my time. I have been quite busy. As you have been, I see. You took it upon yourself to add a dwarf to my crew.” He sliced off a large piece of meat and stuffed it into his mouth.
“Ijaac is an experienced explorer and a brave warrior,” Tristam said. “We can rely on-”
Dalan held up a silencing hand and smiled. “Tristam, please,” he said, chewing. “That was no criticism, merely an observation. The Bruenhails are friends of my family. I consider Ijaac’s presence a blessing. He told me how you saved his life.” Dalan drank deeply from his goblet. “Is it true that you fought and slew a dragon?”
“Tricked would be a more accurate description,” Tristam said.
“But it is dead, right?” Dalan said, looking at Tristam carefully.
“Torn apart by the Fellmaw,” Tristam said.
“Good,” Dalan said. “By all accounts, dragons have long memories and a richly honed sense of revenge. The last thing any of us need is a dragon appearing at an inopportune time to settle the score.”
“No, it’s definitely dead,” Tristam said.
“Shame you couldn’t find its hoard,” Dalan said, a faraway look in his eye.
“We had more important things on our mind, Dalan,” Tristam said.
“Of course, of course,” Dalan said, snapping back to the subject at hand. “What else did you discover in Zul’nadn?”
“The power source that Ashrem used to stabilize the Legacy,” Tristam said.
“You recovered it?” Dalan said.
“I destroyed it,” Tristam said.
“Even better,” Dalan said. “If Marth can’t create a reliable prototype of the Legacy, then we just about have this won.”
“Once we find him,” Tristam said. “Even an unstable Legacy is dangerous.”
Tristam wondered if Dalan was right. When the Prophecy entered his mind he saw the Dragon’s Eye, burning large and bright. When he found the actual flame, it appeared somehow reduced. He had the uneasy feeling that someone had somehow removed part of it. How did you remove part of a doorway to another world? That wasn’t the kind of thing a person could simply carry around.
“With luck that discovery will come shortly after we land in New Cyre,” Dalan said. “Several of Marth’s crew have family here. I believe our strongest chance to turn up clues will be his helmsman, Devyn Marcho. He and his elderly mother are the only survivors of a large family, all slain in the war.”
“You’re hoping Devyn will have kept in touch with his mother,” Tristam said.
“And that his mother will be lonely enough to gossip with a friendly stranger,” Dalan replied.
“Do you think the people of New Cyre are working with Marth?” Tristam asked.
“As a whole?” Dalan asked. “No. I doubt many surviving Cyrans would support Marth. After all, I am Cyran, and his actions disgust me. It takes a special sort of person to believe Marth’s rhetoric. My research has shown that most of the soldiers who followed Marth have histories of crime and violence since the end of the war. In any case, I doubt Marth would seek official sanction from New Cyre. He likely sees Prince Oargev ir’Wynarn as weak.”
“Weak?” Tristam said. “You said the prince organized the Cyran refugees and led them to a new home in Breland.”
“And from a certain perspective, that was weakness,” Dalan said. “Better to die Cyran than to live under Breland’s skirt.” He sipped deeply from his goblet.
“Do you think the prince is weak?” Tristam asked.
“Compromise is not weakness,” Dalan said. “In adapting, we survive. I admire Prince Oargev greatly for doing what he must to preserve the remnants of my homeland.” He looked at Tristam shrewdly. “Speaking of compromise, tell me what deal you made with Norra Cais to ensure her cooperation.”
“There was no deal,” Tristam said. “I convinced her that we do not intend to rebuild the Legacy. I promised that I would do all I could to stop Marth. She believed she could offer more help by returning to Morgrave University.”
“A strangely trusting outlook, given her brusque treatment of you in the past,” Dalan said. “I wish I would have had a chance to speak with her before she left the ship.”
“So you could have convinced her to stay?” Tristam asked.
Dalan smiled. The steady whine of the ship’s elemental ring changed tone, becoming a bass hum. The airship banked slightly, forcing Dalan to steady his cup with one hand.
“I think we shall be landing soon,” the guild master said. “You should remain aboard the ship while I go speak with Devyn Marcho’s mother.”
“No,” Tristam said. “I’m coming with you.”
Dalan gave Tristam a long, unflinching look. “With a Thuranni assassin still stalking you?” he asked. “I do not think that is wise. You will be much safer aboard the ship.”
“I’ll bring Seren with me,” he said. “She stopped him before.”
Dalan laughed.
“Why do you find that funny?” Tristam asked. “She nearly died protecting me from him.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt Miss Morisse at all,” Dalan said with a pleasant smile. “I was planning to take her with me anyway. I was merely reflecting on how quickly we have come to rely upon her. If you feel that her protection is sufficient, then I will take your word. She has certainly proven herself capable.”
Tristam nodded. He felt there was something more to Dalan’s reaction, but then that was to be expected. Even now, when he was being friendly and agreeable, Dalan was hiding things.
“Tristam,” said Seren’s soft voice. She opened the door, the morning sun shining through her dark hair as she stood framed in the doorway. “We’re almost in New Cyre.”
“Excellent,” Dalan said. He quickly polished off the remainder of his meal and rose, swallowing his drink in one gulp. Gunther emerged from beneath the bed, wagging his tail expectantly. Dalan dropped his platter on the floor beside several others like it. The dog eagerly began cleaning the dish.
Gerith waited for them just outside the cabin. He handed Dalan a brown wrapped package with a conspiratorial grin. Dalan accepted it with humble gratitude.
“What is that?” Tristam asked, looking at the package now tucked under Dalan’s arm.
“An edge for our negotiations,” Dalan replied.
“Master d’Cannith, I know your opinion of the New Cyran leadership,” Pherris said from the helm. “Regardless of your optimism, you do realize that we are flying directly toward a town known to house our enemy’s kin? I think perhaps it would be wise not to land within the town limits.”