The Eyes of the Dragon

83

Peyna had not forgotten everything he had ever known about the fine art of questioning; in point of fact, he had forgotten damned little of that, or anything else. He had had long sleepless nights when he wished that he could forget some things.

While Arlen made the tea, Peyna went about the task of putting this frightened-no; this terrified-young man at his ease. He asked after Dennis’s mum. He asked if the drainage problems which had so plagued the castle of late had improved. He asked Dennis’s opinion on the spring plantings. He steered clear of any and all subjects which might be dangerous… and little by little, as he warmed, Dennis calmed.

When Arlen served the tea, hot and strong and steaming, Dennis slurped half the cup at a gulp, grimaced, then slurped the rest. Impassive as ever, Arlen poured more.

“Easy, my lad,” Peyna said, lighting his pipe at last. “Easy’s the word for hot tea and skittish horses.”

“Cold. Thought I was going to freeze coming out here.”

“You walked?” Peyna was unable to conceal his surprise.

“Yes. Had my mother leave word with the lesser servants that I was home with the grippe. That’ll hold all for a few days, it being so catching this time of year… or should do. Walked. Whole way. Didn’t dare ask a ride. Didn’t want to be remem-bered. Didn’t know it was quite this far. If I’d known, I might have taken a ride after all. I left at three of the clock.” He strug-gled, his throat working, and then burst out: “And I’m not going back, not ever! I seen the way he looks at me since he come back! Narrow and on the side, his eyes all dark! He never used to look at me that way-never used to look at me at all! He knows I seen something! Knows I heard something! He don’t know what, but he knows there’s something! He hears it in my head, like I’d hear the bell ringin’ out from the Church of the Great Gods! If I stay, he’ll get it out of me! I know he will!”

Peyna stared at the boy under furrowed brows, trying to sort out this amazing flood of declaration.

Tears were standing in Dennis’s eyes. “I mean F-”

“Softly, Dennis,” Peyna said. His voice was mild, but his eyes were not. “I know who you mean. Best not to speak his name aloud.”

Dennis looked at him with dumb, simple gratitude.

“You’d better tell me what you came to say,” Peyna told him.

“Yes. Yes, all right.”

Dennis hesitated for a moment, trying to get himself under control and to arrange his thoughts. Peyna waited impassively, trying to control his rising excitement.

“You see,” Dennis began at last, “three nights ago Thomas called me to come and stay with him, as he sometimes does. And at midnight, or sometime thereabouts-”