The Veiled Dragon by Troy Denning Page A

prices,” Fowler said, “a thousand gold ought to cover what you owe me when we get to Elversuit.” “Owe you?” Vaerana narrowed her eyes and glared at the halfore as though she were considering running a dagger up his belly. “Why do you think I owe you a thousand gold?” “Because of my promise,” Ruha explained. “I said the Harpers would buy him a new cog.” Vaerana’s eyes bulged. “You what?” she gasped. “Why?” “So he would attack the dragon,” Ruha explained. “It was tearing another ship apart, and it was the only way to persuade him to risk the Storm Sprite.” The Lady Constable’s mouth gaped open. “You can’t
    you don’t have the
    ” She let the sentence trail off, then shook her head and cocked her brow. “Did Storm say you could do that kind of thing?” “No,” Ruha admitted. “But it was a Harper’s promise.” Fowler turned out the
    collar of his tunic, displaying the pin Ruha had given him. “And I’ve got proof.” Vaerana stared at the silver harp and moon, shaking her head in disbelief. “You gave him your pin?” “The ship was a very big one,” Ruha said. “If I had let the dragon sink it, hundreds of lives would have been lost.” “If Captain Fowler was reluctant to attack the dragon, didn’t you think it might be too much for the Storm Sprite to handle?” Ruha shook her head. “Of course not—not with my magic.” A purple cloud settled over Vaerana’s face. “Witch, I don’t know where we’re going to get the money to pay for a new cog—but I can tell you this much: it won’t come from Elversult’s treasury! Yanseldara would never stand for that, not for Storm Silverhand herself!” Ruha turned to Fowler with a guilty knot in her stomach. “I am so terribly sorry. Captain. They told me that the Harpers always stand behind the word of—” “What are you apologizing for?” Fowler interrupted. “Didn’t you hear her? Vaerana said we.” Ruha lifted her brow. “She did, did she not?” The witch looked back to Vaerana. “And I was beginning to think you did not like me.” “I don’t, but you are a Harper—at least until Storm Silverhand gets the bill for Fowler’s new cog.” With that, Vaerana fell silent and looked back toward Pros, searching for the first sign of pursuit. The Black Caps were slow in coming, which Ruha took to be an omen both good and bad. On one hand, it suggested that the Maces’ escape had taken the Cult by surprise, which would make it more difficult for them to pursue. At the same time, however, the delay also meant they were taking the time to organize themselves and gather a large force. After a few minutes. Fowler grew impatient and started to rise. “What are we waiting for? Those Black Caps had their fill of fighting in Pros. They’re not coming.” Vaerana grabbed the halfore’s furry arm. “Don’t be in such a hurry, Tusks. It’s a long ride to Elversult.” “Then the sooner we get going, the sooner I get my
    gold.” “It’s not that easy.” Vaerana pulled Fowler back to the ground. “If we don’t discourage our pursuers now, they won’t hesitate to attack us on the open road. I’m afraid the Cult of the Dragon has grown bold since Yanseldara’s catalepsy.” “Catalepsy?” Fowler echoed. “Something’s wrong with the Ruling Lady?” The Lady Constable’s mouth tightened, and she looked away. “Someone poisoned her. Yanseldara’s fallen into some sort of trance, and we haven’t been able to call her back. That’s why I sent for the witch.” “But I am not a healer!” Ruha objected. “I know little of poisons and antidotes.” Vaerana glowered at her disdainfully. “I know what a witch is.” The Lady Constable did not have time to say more, for the valley below began to resound with pounding hooves. She turned and nodded to the Maces who had wrapped oil-soaked cloths around the heads of their crossbow bolts. The warriors began to strike their flints, and within seconds several of