The Forging of the Dragon (Wizard and Dragon Book 1) by Robert Don Hughes Page A

myself, I cannot say I understand such feelings fully. It has ever been my lot to wear the simple tunic of the common trader I am, while — but enough of that. I do want you to know that I shall submit wholeheartedly to any decision of the Grand Council as to what my role within it is to be. I am unimportant. The goal of reunifying the One Land — that is all that’s worthwhile!” Paumer ended his passionate appeal with a fist clenched over his heart.
    What a performer, Jarnel thought to himself. Even so, he knew that Paumer believed every word of it — including the line about humility. Jarnel had long been a student of the art of self-deception, and Paumer practiced it well. As to the goal of reunification, the general would not allow his cynicism to dim his commitment to the ideal. He wanted peace. He, too, would willingly sacrifice himself to attain it. “I didn’t mean to offend, Paumer,” he soothed, playing the uncharacteristic role of diplomat. “Shall we get on our way?”
    The merchant clucked his tongue in self-deprecation as he examined their livery and his own. “If you don’t mind traveling a little further in these demeaning costumes ...”
    “We’ll manage,” Chaom grunted. “Where to?”
    “Inside again. But don’t worry,” Paumer added quickly in the face of Chaom’s groan. “I’ve given Garney special instructions not to admit the lad who plagues us.”
    “In that case, he’ll have already arrived.” Jarnel shrugged.
    “Not this time.” Paumer chuckled. “I have it on excellent authority that he’s been seen very recently in the Marwilds on the far side of the mountains. Dark has no way to get inside!”
    Jarnel nodded doubtfully. “We shall see.”
    “Indeed we shall,” Paumer promised. “Let’s be off.” A few moments later they had become part of a Paumer House pack-train headed up into the South Gate.
    They met much traffic — traders, mostly, coming from the west with pack animals of their own, carrying goods picked up in the vast Marwilds. Few of these deigned to greet them, since free traders not yet absorbed into Paumer’s vast enterprise avoided all contact with his operations. None of these merchants had ever been close enough to Paumer to recognize his face and, since the man wore the tunic of a common servant, they all ignored his affable smile. This seemed to please Paumer enormously. “You see?” he gloated to Jarnel. “It’s better than being cloaked by a wizard!”
    The general nodded wordlessly and turned his head to look at the scenery. As they climbed higher into the pass, they saw more and more ruins of the old capital. By all accounts it had been a gorgeous place, a beautiful giantess astride the crossroad of the world. Jarnel wished he might have seen it in its glory. But internal strife had set it afire, and an epic siege had starved it into ruin. Built to embrace both people and ideas, it had none of the attributes of a good citadel. The royal family and those loyal to it had withdrawn into a vast system of tunnels carved into the northern face of the pass, and the rest of the population had fled — the religious folk to the northern farmlands, the magic-minded to the tangled forests of the west, and the commerce-oriented to the warm-water ports of the south. And what was left? Only these ruins and the few still loyal to the One Land concept who dwelt in the darkness of the tunnels — the Remnant.
    “Tragic,” Jarnel muttered.
    “What’s that?” Paumer asked, but Jarnel shook his head.
    “Is Dark coming?” Uda called up from her palfrey near the end of the column.
    Paumer scowled and turned around in his saddle. “I told you I don’t want to hear any more talk about Dark!”
    The girl ignored her father. “I hope he does come,” she murmured with obvious excitement. “I want to see him.”
    “He’s nothing special to look at, believe me,” Ognadzu told his sister. “If he manages to get in, you’ll see what I mean.”
    Jarnel