Instead, when he was done she leaned towards him and spoke into his ear.
'I can't bring my mother back, Hyram,' she whispered. 'But your sickness, if it truly is the same as King Tyan's, now there I may be able to help you.'
'The V-Viper claims he has a p-potion,' Hyram slurred. 'The a-alchemists know nothing about it. You s-said you had some i-information. In your letter.'
She leaned further towards him. 'He gets his potions from the Taiytakei, but I can do better than that.' From somewhere she produced a small vial. 'He was bringing a sample with him when he came to the palace to answer your summons. I dare say he meant to taunt you with it.' She giggled. 'I stole it when he spent the night at my eyrie on his way here.' She opened the vial and poured a few drops into his wine and then a few into her own. 'I thought about asking my alchemists what it was, but you know what they're like. A year from now they might come back with an answer or they might not. I've had it tested.' She lifted up her goblet and swallowed. 'It's not poison, I know that much. It's a bit…' She giggled again. 'It's a bit like a mild dose of Maiden's Regret. Of course, I don't know if it will help you with your sickness, but I'm sure it can't do you any harm. If you can believe anything Jehal says, it doesn't make the sickness go away, only keeps it at bay for as long as you take the potion. If you stop taking it, the sickness comes back again.'
Hyram stared at his wine. He sniffed it.
'It tastes terrible. It doesn't go well with wine either. Brandy is better.'
'Y-You tried it before?'
Zafir shrugged. 'I wanted to know what it would do before I offered it to you. Obviously I didn't try it until I knew it wasn't poison.'
'B-But it came from the Viper.' Hyram shook his head. The room was blurring before his eyes. 'It c-could be anything.'
She sat back in her chair, moving away from him. 'You don't have to drink it, Speaker. If you do, and it works, I have more.'
'How m-much more?'
Now she laughed. 'Enough for a few months. Enough to see you to the end of your time here. I know where he gets it too. I can tell you, if you want me to.' She leaned into him again. 'Drink it, Hyram. Don't let Jehal win. Be young and strong again, the way my mother wanted to remember you.'
Her closeness, the warmth of her through his clothes, made him shiver.
'What have you got to lose?'
He stared at his wine. He was still staring at it as the feast came slowly to an end. When he meandered away to his bed, he took the goblet with him, still half full. In the morning, he decided. In the morning I'll as\ her for another dose. Jeiros can take it. He can tell me what's in it. He can tell me if it's safe. In the morning. He put the goblet on the table beside his bed and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come, and the goblet seemed to stare at him.
If you were Antros, you'd drink me, it seemed to say. If you were you, you'd drin\ me. If you don't, then who are you? Queen Zafir is right. What have you got to lose?
'Everything,' he whispered, and hoped the goblet would hear him and leave him be, but instead it seemed to laugh.
'Everything? You've already lost everything. And here I am, offering it all back again, and you turn me away? Who are you? What are you? Are you already a ghost?
Trembling, he reached out and took the goblet in his hand. She'd put some into her own cup, hadn't she? And drunk it down. He'd seen her do it. She was right, wasn't she?
That's right, murmured the goblet, as he put it to his lips. Drink me down. Be a man again. Be a man.
Be a man.
36
An Accommodation
Kemir crept out from the trees. In the middle of the river the wounded dragon paused from its howls and turned to look at him; quickly Kemir retreated, but the dragon didn't seem very interested in him. He couldn't see Rider Semian anywhere.
Maybe he got crushed in the fight.
That would be too much to hope for. Kemir ran through the forest beside the river until he rounded a bend and the dragon couldn't see him. Then he crossed over and crept back again. Still no Semian. The dragon hadn't moved either. He watched it for a while, searching for the courage to go out into the water where Sollos lay.
When he finally found him, he wondered why he'd bothered. Sollos was dead, and he'd known that from the moment he'd seen Rider Semian drive down his sword. He helped himself to Sollos's bow, his arrows and his pack.
'Goodbye, cousin.' He turned Sollos over and very gently removed an amulet from his neck, then turned his back on the body and picked his way into the trees. He carefully buried the amulet. Next he set about looking for any tracks that might have been Rider Semian's; he didn't find any, but as the sun slipped behind the mountain peaks two more dragons swooped silently into the valley and landed in the river. Kemir watched them come in through the trees. He strung his bow and crept closer until he could see them properly. The dragons were splashing in the water, cooling themselves down, while their riders clustered by the shore. Four dragon-knights. No, five.
He clenched his fists. He could see Semian again. Still alive. He strained his ears to hear them. The breeze, such as it was, carried their words towards him.
'We saw Storm's Shadow on the way in as well,' said one of the others. Kemir couldn't see his face. 'Mias was riding her, wasn't he? No sign of him though. What happened?'
'We found the white. The Scales was with her. He wouldn't give her back. He set her on us.' Semian shook his head. 'All the others are dead. The alchemist too. Everyone except one of the sell-swords. They were in with the Scales somehow.'
Kemir nocked an arrow to his bow. The breeze carried the scent of the dragons too, a light whiff of ash and charcoal. He savoured it. If he could smell them, then they couldn't smell him. You lying, murdering bastard. I could kill you where you stand. Right now.
'Mias and Arakir got back before they were done. The white attacked them in the air. I didn't see what happened to Mias. The white must have got him.' Semian glanced towards the dragon with the broken wing. 'Arakir was on Tempest. I saw him and the white come down into the river, fighting each other. Arakir was crushed, Tempest has a broken wing and I think a broken foot as well. The white was hurt too. She headed upriver. She was limping and I didn't see her fly. The Scales was still with her and the surviving sell-sword escaped as well. I suppose he's long gone now.'
No, I'm right here. Kemir squinted down the length of his arrow. Where should I shoot you, Rider Rod? In the face? In the throat, as you did for Sollos. Not in your heart, because there's nothing there. Slowly he lowered the bow. This was too easy. Semian could die here and now. Vengeance would be served, but Sollos would still be dead.
There was the little matter of the four other dragon-knights too, but they were armoured and Kemir was sure he could vanish into the forest before they could turn their dragons on him. But merely putting an arrow into Semian wasn't going to be enough. There had to be pain and suffering. He had to die slowly, piece by piece.
'We saw the white. It's a couple of miles further up the river,' said one of the other riders. 'We'd seen Storm's Shadow, and then we saw Tempest. Ancestors! What do we do? Should we go on to the white? It's getting dark.'
Piece by piece. Kemir raised his bow again.
'No.' Semian screwed up his face. 'Yes. No. Was Storm's Shadow hurt?'