Well, by the Black Sun! Val said. Its not like youve got anything better to do.
Naught but scout for our mortal enemies. The dragon raised his tail as if to slap the ground, then gently laid it back down. Or have you forgotten the Horsekin?
Theyre to the north, arent they? Val said. Why cant you do both at once?
The dragon raised his head and glared at her. Val set her hands on her hips and stared into his eyes until, with a sigh, Rori looked away. Flames and fumes! he said. Living around dweomerfolk could drive a man daft and a dragon even dafter.
There, there. Dallandra patted his massive jaw. Dont forget, were discussing this in hopes of turning you back into your true form.
Just so, Valandario said. Now, if you could fetch me that horn, and if I can heal it so it sounds the dweomer spell again, and if Dalla and I can figure out the correct workings, well, then, we might be able to summon the island.
Exactly. Dalla said. And if we actually manage to do all that, then lets hope that the book does have the instructions for the dragon working in it. You never know with Evandars schemes.
True spoken. The dragon heaved himself to his feet. Thats the Guardians for you! But well and good then, Im off to the Northlands. If Arzosah comes looking for me, youd best not tell her where Ive gone. I doubt me if shell take kindly to the idea of my turning back into a man.
I hadnt thought of that. Dallandra felt her stomach clench at the thought of Arzosah in a rage. Um, well ford that river when its time to cross. What else can we do?
With a shrug of wing, the silver dragon waddled off, ridiculously clumsy in the grass. He waddled faster, bunched his muscles, and leapt into the air with a rush of wings like thunder booming, all grace, suddenly, and power, as he soared high and disappeared into the glare of the sun.
As he flew off, Rori was grumbling to himself about the arrogance of dweomerfolk, but soon enough the flying itself soothed him. He loved soaring high above the earth, rising on the wind in splendid freedom, or swooping down only to spiral skyward again. At times, when he glided upon a favouring wind, it seemed to him that the world below was moving while he rested, master of the air.
If he returned to human form, hed be giving up the power and the freedom of flight. That thought nagged him worse than his wound. And what would he get in return? Hands, he thought. It would be splendid to have hands again, and cooked food, and other such comforts. But those puny comforts could never compensate for the loss.
As he flew over the Melyn River, he considered turning back and telling Dallandra that the effort she would have to make was simply not worth it, that she and Valandario doubtless had more important work to do. What stopped him was the thought of Enj. If naught else, perhaps the two dweomermasters could bring the island back and Enjs clan with it.
And what of Angmar? Rori asked himself. Hed longed for her return himself, once, a very long time ago now, it seemed to him when he thought about it. He could remember her so clearly, and remember his grief at losing her, but the grief had lost its sting. Missing Angmar, flying north each spring to see if Haen Marn had returned, stopping to speak with Enj hed performed these actions faithfully each year for over forty years now, until theyd taken on a distant quality, like a ritual performed by a priest while he merely watched.
Still, for Enj the grief still lived. For the sake of his friend, Rori flew north on Valandarios errand. Hed bring the horn back, he decided, then return to his scouting. As for the other matter, he would wait and see if it were even possible to walk the earth as a man instead flying so far above it. If it turned out to be possible, hed make his decision then.