Read The Fire Dragon for Free Online Page B

quiet safety of their hall, Bellyra took the pin from her kirtle.
    “I nearly forgot,” she said to Maryn. “I've got a little gift for your bard, to thank him for being so patient all winter.”
    “Good.” Maryn held out his hand. “May I?”
    “By all means.” Bellyra gave him the pin. “It's awfully nice, I thought.”
    “It is indeed.” Maryn held the slender silver rose, barely an inch long, twixt thumb and forefinger. “Must be Otho's work.”
    “It is. He looted some silver when you took the dun. Er, or I should say, he miraculously found some silver that no one was using.”
    Grinning, Maryn handed it back, then got up, glancing around the hall. At length he gestured to one of the waiting pages.
    “Maddyn the bard's sitting over by the front door,” the prince said. “Go fetch him for me.”
    With a bow the lad trotted off. Just as Maryn sat back down again, Branoic strode in the back door and headed for the prince's chair. Limping along after him came a grey-haired man, dressed in a linen shirt and wool brigga made of cloth that had been once fine, but now was all frayed and patched. When Branoic knelt at Maryn's side, the elderly man started to follow suit, but the stick he'd been leaning on nearly tripped him. Maryn swung round in his chair and caught his elbow in one hand.
    “Don't kneel,” the prince said. “My rank can give way to your age, sir.”
    The prince let him go, then stood up. The man bowed as best he could with both hands clutched on his stick.
    “My thanks, my prince.” The fellow was stammering. “I have a matter to lay before you, you see, and—”
    “Two matters,” Branoic interrupted. “Your Highness, Councillor Oggyn demanded a coin from this fellow for the privilege of coming to you for justice.”
    “Oh by the gods!” Maryn snarled. He rose and spun around, looking out over the hall, then bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Oggyn! Get over here!”
    With a tight little smile Branoic rose, dusting off the knees of his brigga, and escorted the old man and his stick out of the way. Bellyra twisted round in her chair and saw Oggyn making his way across the hall. Like a hound with chicken feathers still clinging to his muzzle, Oggyn slunk through the tables. The talk and jesting among the lords died down as they turned, a little puzzled, to see what the prince was up to. Bellyra also noticed Maddyn and the page, stopping a little distance away to wait their turn for the prince's attention. At last Oggyn reached the table of honor and knelt at the prince's feet.
    “Branoic tells me you extorted money again,” the prince said.
    “My liege, I never did such a thing!” Oggyn's voice swooped on an obvious lie. “Truly, I—”
    “Can you look me in the face and deny it?”
    Oggyn started to speak, then merely sighed and shook his head no.
    “I told you, no more of this.” Maryn's voice was level but cold. “My justice is free to all who ask. Do you understand that?”
    “I do, my prince.” Oggyn spoke so softly that Bellyra could hardly hear him. “I welter in apologies. I beg your pardon most humbly.”
    “Give him the money back,” Maryn said.
    Slowly and with trembling hands Oggyn fumbled with the pouch at his belt. His lips trembled as well, and his face had turned scarlet all the way up and over his bald skull. When he held out a silver piece, the suppliant snatched it from his sweaty fingers. Oggyn slumped down and stared at the prince's boots.
    “Good,” Maryn went on. “Now then, what shall we do with you? I made you a threat, the last time I caught you grafting. I think me I'd best live up to my word.”
    “Not that, my prince.” Oggyn looked up, his lips working, his hands trembling. “I beg you—”
    “It behooves a noble-born man to carry out what he threatens, councillor, lest his men think him weak-willed. Maddyn! Where's your harp? There's a song I want you to sing.”
    “My lord.” Bellyra got up and laid a hand on the prince's arm.