Song of the Dragon by Tracy Hickman Page A

find one of the Myrdin-dai to ask about our special arrangement—and he’s the second one today to do that. With four more folds ahead of us, I don’t know how long this is going to take. It might have been faster just to come back with the rest of the Centurai.”
    â€œMaybe they’ll pass us on their way home?” Belag shrugged.
    Drakis nodded with a laugh and then turned toward the chimera. Both were leaning comfortably against small stacks of their field packs. Drakis pointed toward the dwarf sitting between them on the ground. “Uh, don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
    Thuri and Ethis each held separate ropes around the bound hands and feet of the dwarf. A gag was tied tightly over his mouth.
    Ethis considered the prisoner for a moment before replying. “No, it seems a reasonable precaution.”
    â€œWhy? What did he do?” Drakis said.
    The chimera looked at each other, their blank faces considering for a moment.
    â€œHe kept promising not to escape,” Thuri answered at last.
    â€œHe promised not to escape,” Drakis asked, his brow furrowed with the puzzle, “and so you tied him up?”
    â€œHe wouldn’t shut up about it,” Ethis replied, his large eyes blinking indignantly. “He kept going on and on about how we could trust him and how he had nowhere to run and how he was glad it was us who took him as a slave captive of the war.”
    â€œIt was unnerving,” Thuri finished.
    Drakis shook his head. “Fine, keep his hands and feet bound if you must but we’ve got to feed him. We need him alive—if only to explain to Lord Timuran why the prize we sent to him is a valuable treasure.”
    Thuri shrugged and reached over with his second right hand to tug at the knot. After a few moments struggle—the knot had been tied rather tightly—it gave way. Thuri yanked the gag clear.
    â€œOh, thank you, Master Drakis . . .”
    â€œNo master,” Drakis replied flatly. “Just Drakis. We’re all slaves here—and you had best remember that includes you.”
    â€œOf course, forgive me,” Jugar nodded vigorously. “Brothers together, bound in war and circumstance—slaves are we all to the fates. Jolnar himself looks down upon us, does he not . . . an omen of our merging destinies?”
    Belag and the chimera all glanced up into the deepening blue of the sky, the wandering star shining above the darkened silhouette of the treetops.
    Drakis did not look up, but considered the dwarf. “You know of the gods?”
    â€œOh, I know much of the gods,” Jugar smiled, his eyes shining. “We are on good terms; all fools are watched over by the gods. Jolnar, Tsajera, Mnera . . . even Rhon himself look favorably upon fools. But most of all Qin.”
    â€œThe Wise One?” Ethis scoffed. “Why would Qin favor a fool?”
    â€œOh, Qin values fools most of all,” Jugar said, tilting his head to one side as he spoke. “He trusts the fools to live and learn. In them he holds his trust to remember the things that were forgotten. Of the time when the plains of all Chaenandria shook beneath the mighty armies of the manticores, the armor of their fathers and their father’s fathers shining in the bright sun as they ran to war, singing to the spirits that ran with them and made their armor bright and their weapons keen. Their manes were long, flying behind them, and they ran into glory in defense of their clan-prides. Their might was great and the prides were free to make war as they saw it. Their ships sailed the Sea of Benis and their justice was feared. This was long ago—long before the Rhonas elves came to Palandria and made it their own.”
    Belag snorted. “You are a fool; Rhonas conquered Chaenandria to civilize the manticores. We were a backward, violent race, destroying everything we touched. Becoming a part of the greater Rhonas Imperium brought