Dragonlinks by Paul Collins Page B

from his buskin. He threw it with no particular care, aiming at the edge of the circle directly above Thull’s knife. It hit the freshly cut bark exactly as he intended.
    â€˜Are you convinced as yet?’ called Thull as he walked back with the two knives.
    â€˜One more try.’
    Daretor slipped the link from his finger as Thull approached. Without a word he took both knives from Thull and flung the mage’s at the target. It missed the tree completely and vanished into the thorn bushes.
    Thull winced, then smiled broadly as he caught sight of Daretor’s ringless finger. ‘A cheap lesson, but of little consequence. There is no enchantment in the tree. Only the link has the power.’
    As Daretor sheathed his own knife Thull seemed to mutter something and a line of blue flashed from his mouth and streaked into the thorn bushes. It snappedback, wrapped around the knife. The mage removed the weapon from between his teeth, bowed and sheathed it.
    â€˜That link belongs to a mailshirt, remember that. Ours was not the only ambush planned in the Algon Mountains. There were a dozen men lying in wait further along. Had they seized the link, by now it would be on its way to the house of Fa’red, a merchant-mage in D’loom. He has the whole mailshirt.’
    â€˜This man must be powerful to have such a thing.’
    â€˜Pah. Word has it that he sacked a simple shrine in Hamatriol. The mailshirt had been hidden there and guarded by generations of monks.’
    â€˜Even so.’ Daretor knew that monks were said to be superb fighters. They had to be to fend off the hill tribes. But he would get no further with this line of enquiry from his wily companion. He felt his heart pumping with excitement. ‘So we are going to D’loom.’
    â€˜Of course. The mailshirt is there, and we want the mailshirt.’
    â€˜But surely this Fa’red’s house will be well guarded! If the mailshirt is such a prize – well, I would employ two dozen mercenaries if I were he.’
    â€˜He does.’
    â€˜Then why do you have just me?’
    â€˜Had I not met you when I did, I may well have sought the services of a score of mercenaries myself. However, he who travels with dogs risks fleas. They may have rallied against me, what with the temptation of the mailshirt. Powerful as I am, I am not invincible.’
    â€˜In a way I am heartened to hear that.’
    Thull gave Daretor what might have been an imploring look, had it been the face of anyone else. ‘I neededsomeone I could trust,’ he said simperingly, ‘because in a sense I shall become your follower. The legend goes that he who follows the wearer of the mailshirt is doubly blessed. There is a certain amount of protection to be gained from being the shadow of someone greater – if you gather my meaning.’
    â€˜So when the mailshirt is complete with this missing link, it will make its wearer invulnerable?’
    Thull clapped Daretor on the shoulder and laughed. ‘Very nearly so, my boy. The main danger is always in over-confidence.’
    â€˜Is that why the King had the link guarded by only a half-dozen lackeys who ran almost as soon as we challenged them?’
    â€˜No,’ Thull said. ‘As I have explained, a strongly guarded treasure would attract far more attention, and thus greater adversaries than us. His half-dozen men were an unobtrusive, adequate escort for a courtesan.’
    If he is lying, at least he is consistent, Daretor decided. Thull began collecting brushwood for kindling. While he went about his business, Daretor sat and pondered what he had learned. Night was not far off, and the sharp wailing of a distant dire fox seemed to pour cold melancholy over him. Daretor huddled beneath his trail cloak and wished that Thull would hurry with the fire.
    He now knew Jabez Thull for what he was: a powerful mage and probably a high Adept. If the man had ever taken any vows on the benign