Dragonsight Read Free

days she had loved maps; the larger and more exotic the better. For hours she would study them, tracing out roads and ancient highways that linked now vanished towns and kingdoms, creating her own imaginary kingdoms and visualising them in her mind.
    Daretor returned from sentry duty at the perimeter of the encamped caravan. ‘You’re burning a candle?’ he exclaimed.
    ‘All the better to see by,’ replied Jelindel.
    ‘But don’t you know how much they cost?’
    ‘Well, yes, I paid for it after all.’
    ‘But you could read by sunlight.’
    ‘No I couldn’t. I’m riding a horse between dawn and dusk, and I’m supposed to be watching out for danger as well.’
    ‘Well, have you eaten yet? I’m hungry.’
    As it happened, Jelindel had forgotten about dinner. They stepped out of the tent, carrying their packs for security. As they did, a thin man moved swiftly away in the direction of the market. Jelindel had the distinct impression that he had been eavesdropping outside the tent.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Jelindel demanded, but the man had already vanished into the crowd.
    Daretor looked at her, puzzled. He hadn’t noticed anything. ‘Something the matter?’ he asked.
    ‘Nothing,’ she said, putting an arm around him. ‘Nothing at all. Let’s go and buy some overpriced food and drink.’
    The area near the food stalls had become a type of open-air tavern. The caravan master sat at the centre of a circle of several dozen people, holding court like a minor monarch. Jelindel and Daretor listened as they ate dinner, which consisted of various odd looking scraps wrapped in stale flatbread.
    ‘I come from a long line of sailors,’ the caravan master was saying, ‘going back eight generations, but in me it nearly came to a halt because – and I am ashamed to admit it …’ he roared with laughter, ‘that no sooner am I upon the water, no matter how calm it may be, than I am bent over the railing being sick. Nothing to be done about it. Nothing at all. So here I am. Captain of a ship of camels and horses that sails a different sea, one that is mercifully without the slip and sway that so unmans my poor landlubber’s stomach.’
    ‘You can’t be ridin’ a camel!’ someone called, and everyone laughed.
    Also gathered around were a number of merchants travelling to Hez’ar in Baltoria, and some farming representatives returning to the great forests east of Passendof, beyond the Serpentire River. There was also a scattering of noblemen and their families and a mage or two. That, in itself, was odd. Mages tended not to travel, except in times of extreme danger.
    Jelindel and Daretor knew no one on the journey, though some of the travellers had heard of the famed fighting duo. Certainly the two mages, under contract to a town in Unissera, had heard of the Archmage Jelindel dek Mediesar. Jelindel quickly became the centre of attention, but she was not the type who liked to boast and be admired. She made it her business to vanish as soon as she could. Sometime later, Daretor found her back in their tent, lying on her unrolled bedding, too tired to even undress.
    ‘I love travelling,’ she said to Daretor as he began to remove his boots. ‘I just hate the crowds that go with caravans. If we had a rich patron, we could circumnavigate all Q’zar in our very own caravan. We would employ twenty elite lancers to deter brigands, and visit at our leisure every state on the continent.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘To bring the maps of my dreams to life.’
    Daretor shrugged. ‘If you like,’ he said, ‘but we had better find that patron soon. The days are getting darker and troubles brew like plagues. You heard the captain say they’ve had to change the routes and shorten the overall journey. Many lands have fallen on bad times, and even worse rulers. You yourself have predicted that things will get worse.’
    ‘Why is it when one tyrant falls, twenty rise to take his place?’ Jelindel sighed. ‘And