Page 72 of Among the Burning Flowers
CÁRSCARO
DRACONIC KINGDOM OF YSCALIN
CE 1005
She went to the Vaulted Gallery, where the doors to the Inysh rooms were unlocked. Wilstan Fynch was alone on his roofed balcony, gazing out at the desolation. Still in the grey of mourning, refusing to let go, even after fourteen years. Marosa took the empty seat beside him.
‘Good morrow, Donmata,’ he said. ‘How do you do?’
‘Your Grace.’ She folded her hands in her lap. ‘I have learned of a way to escape Cárscaro.’
‘Truly?’
‘A lava cave runs from beneath the palace and emerges in the Spindles.’
‘By the Saint. Perhaps we are saved.’
‘Perhaps.’ She paused. ‘Your Grace, has my father ever seen you when his eyes are aglow?’
‘Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?’
‘Because it means that Fýredel does not know you. Your absence would not be noted as quickly as mine. The way through the mountains is dangerous, but … it is theonly plan I have.’ She paused once more. ‘Lord Wilstan, would you be willing to leave Cárscaro, to seek help from Virtudom?’
Fynch had looked hopeful, but now misgiving filled his face.
‘Your Radiance,’ he said, ‘I am honoured that you would trust me with such a grave responsibility, but I am not as strong as I once was. I would not be able to conquer the Spindles.’
‘I do not ask you lightly,’ Marosa said, ‘but you are one of the few I still trust. My father has murdered all of my other allies in the palace, with the exception of Lady Priessa and Lady Ruzio, and the latter … succumbed to grief for her sister.’
‘May the Saint receive her.’
They both made the sign of the sword.
‘Priessa would be missed,’ Marosa said, ‘but I need someone I can trust, Your Grace. And you have always been a true friend to Yscalin.’ She looked him in the eyes. ‘There is another reason I ask you to go. For your own safety. My father has openly said he has no more use for ambassadors. I fear he may wish for you to share the same fate as the others.’
His face hardened.
‘The Knight of Courage is not my patron,’ he said, ‘but … perhaps the Saint will lend me his sword and shield, even in my silver years.’ He took a slow, deep breath. ‘When would I leave?’
‘As soon as possible,’ Marosa said, ‘but before you return to Inys, I must ask you to carry out a task for me. A task of great import, to honour a promise I made to the dead.’ Fynch listened. ‘There is a way to the Ersyr through theSpindles. I need you to deliver an item to Chassar uq-Ispad. He may be at the court of Rauca, or at his own estate in Rumelabar.’
‘I remember Chassar. A virtuous man, for a heretic,’ Fynch said. ‘What is this item, Donmata?’
‘A box. I am told it contains the key to a weapon. Something that can help defeat the wyrms.’
‘Who told you this?’
‘A woman in the dungeons. Her cloak was dyed with Draconic blood.’
‘A knight-errant, then?’
That was the name the Inysh used for cullers. Queen Sabran rewarded them handsomely for their service.
‘A brave one,’ Marosa said. It seemed the simplest explanation, even if Jondu had never confirmed it. ‘Before you leave, you must armour yourself. I think it very likely that wyverns and their offspring are all over the mountains. The only way to survive them, to my knowledge, is to afflict yourself with the Draconic plague. But I am told Ambassador uq-Ispad has a cure.’
Fynch was silent for some time.
‘There is no cure. None was ever recorded,’ he eventually said. ‘The plague was eradicated by careful isolation of the sick.’ He pulled at his collar. ‘Even if thereisa cure, I repeat my point about my age. It takes the old and frail more quickly than it does the young.’
