Dragon Venom (Obsidian Chronicles Book 3) by Lawrence Watt-Evans Page A
Authors: Lawrence Watt-Evans
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from the settee, glanced at his hat, then left it on the table as he followed Black deeper into the house.
Lord Obsidian's Guests
8
Lord Obsidian's Guests
Black had found his wife at the north end of the long gallery, and had scooped her up out of her wheeled chair; Arlian did not care to intrude on their reunion, nor to get in the way of the footmen hauling his belongings from the wagon to his second-floor apartment, so he took the stairs up to the third floor.
This had once been Lord Enziet's private domain, where even his own servants did not often venture; this had been where he imprisoned and tortured slaves for his own bitter amusement, and occasionally killed them. This had been, as well, where he practiced his sorcery, where he sought to stave off the inevitable birth of the dragon growing within him.
That was all gone. This was now the preserve of the Aritheian magicians Arlian had employed, the physicians who knew how to remove the draconic taint from anyone who had drunk the elixir of blood and venom. What Enziet had struggled so long and futilely to achieve, Arlian's hired magicians had mastered.
As Arlian strolled down the passageway a door opened, and a
woman stepped out, closing the door behind her. She turned, and saw Arlian approaching.
"Lord Obsidian!" she said, smiling.
Arlian smiled back. "Isein."
She curtsied. Arlian bowed in return, and looked at her more
closely.
Isein of Arithei, it appeared, had finally fully adopted the styles of the aristocracy of Manfort; she wore a bottle-green velvet vest laced tight over a white linen blouse, and a full green skirt flared from her waist to the floor. Her hair was done up in an elaborate construction of curls and feathers—or at any rate it had been; bits were beginning to come down now, trailing over her lace collar. Because her skin, even after so long in the north, was still darker than that of any native-born lady of Manfort, the effect was oddly exotic.
When she had first come to Manfort, Isein had continued to wear the short, loose, brightly colored robes of her homeland—until her first experience of a real winter, when she had come to see the utility of keeping her arms and legs covered. For years, though, she had preferred her garments looser than custom required, and had always worn her hair in the simple Aritheian style.
It seemed she had reconsidered.
"I was very sorry to hear of Oeshir's death," he said. "You have my deepest sympathies, and my sincerest apologies for missing the funeral.
Her accomplishments brought great honor to the House of Deri, and were of great service to me and my people. I regret my failure to acknowledge that at her passing."
"Thank you, my lord. Death comes to everyone, in time, and she had lived long and well."
"Are her students still here, and well?"
"Lilsinir lives here, my lord, but Asaf and Tiviesh have made their homes at the Citadel, with Hlur, that they might be more convenient to His Grace."
"Very sensible." Arlian was relieved that all three students were still in Manfort; they were the only three magicians in the Lands of Man capable of performing the elaborate cleansing spell that would restore a dragonheart to mere mortality, and he preferred to know they were safe and near at hand. "And Qulu?"
"We expect his return from Arithei any day."
"Another buying expedition?"
"Yes, my lord."
"You did not accompany him?"
"No, my lord; I stayed to oversee matters here. We thought it unwise to risk both of us, in light of the rumors of unrest in the Borderlands."
Arlian gave her a sharp look. "I had not heard any rumors of unrest"
Isein appeared startled. "Had you not, my lord? We have been hearing for two or three years now of disturbances along the border. Wizards and other magical creatures have been harassing travelers; what's more, the master of Tirikindaro is said to be extending its reach into the Borderlands, and there are tales of hauntings and strange dreams as far north as
Lord Obsidian's Guests
8
Lord Obsidian's Guests
Black had found his wife at the north end of the long gallery, and had scooped her up out of her wheeled chair; Arlian did not care to intrude on their reunion, nor to get in the way of the footmen hauling his belongings from the wagon to his second-floor apartment, so he took the stairs up to the third floor.
This had once been Lord Enziet's private domain, where even his own servants did not often venture; this had been where he imprisoned and tortured slaves for his own bitter amusement, and occasionally killed them. This had been, as well, where he practiced his sorcery, where he sought to stave off the inevitable birth of the dragon growing within him.
That was all gone. This was now the preserve of the Aritheian magicians Arlian had employed, the physicians who knew how to remove the draconic taint from anyone who had drunk the elixir of blood and venom. What Enziet had struggled so long and futilely to achieve, Arlian's hired magicians had mastered.
As Arlian strolled down the passageway a door opened, and a
woman stepped out, closing the door behind her. She turned, and saw Arlian approaching.
"Lord Obsidian!" she said, smiling.
Arlian smiled back. "Isein."
She curtsied. Arlian bowed in return, and looked at her more
closely.
Isein of Arithei, it appeared, had finally fully adopted the styles of the aristocracy of Manfort; she wore a bottle-green velvet vest laced tight over a white linen blouse, and a full green skirt flared from her waist to the floor. Her hair was done up in an elaborate construction of curls and feathers—or at any rate it had been; bits were beginning to come down now, trailing over her lace collar. Because her skin, even after so long in the north, was still darker than that of any native-born lady of Manfort, the effect was oddly exotic.
When she had first come to Manfort, Isein had continued to wear the short, loose, brightly colored robes of her homeland—until her first experience of a real winter, when she had come to see the utility of keeping her arms and legs covered. For years, though, she had preferred her garments looser than custom required, and had always worn her hair in the simple Aritheian style.
It seemed she had reconsidered.
"I was very sorry to hear of Oeshir's death," he said. "You have my deepest sympathies, and my sincerest apologies for missing the funeral.
Her accomplishments brought great honor to the House of Deri, and were of great service to me and my people. I regret my failure to acknowledge that at her passing."
"Thank you, my lord. Death comes to everyone, in time, and she had lived long and well."
"Are her students still here, and well?"
"Lilsinir lives here, my lord, but Asaf and Tiviesh have made their homes at the Citadel, with Hlur, that they might be more convenient to His Grace."
"Very sensible." Arlian was relieved that all three students were still in Manfort; they were the only three magicians in the Lands of Man capable of performing the elaborate cleansing spell that would restore a dragonheart to mere mortality, and he preferred to know they were safe and near at hand. "And Qulu?"
"We expect his return from Arithei any day."
"Another buying expedition?"
"Yes, my lord."
"You did not accompany him?"
"No, my lord; I stayed to oversee matters here. We thought it unwise to risk both of us, in light of the rumors of unrest in the Borderlands."
Arlian gave her a sharp look. "I had not heard any rumors of unrest"
Isein appeared startled. "Had you not, my lord? We have been hearing for two or three years now of disturbances along the border. Wizards and other magical creatures have been harassing travelers; what's more, the master of Tirikindaro is said to be extending its reach into the Borderlands, and there are tales of hauntings and strange dreams as far north as
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