The Dragon Seed Box Set

by Resa Nelson

  TeaTree rushed up. Wide-eyed and breathless, he stared at Benzel for a few moments before bursting into speech. “Are you truly Benzel of the Wolf? You’re a legend! Did you know everyone thinks you’re dead? Rather, everyone I’ve ever talked to believes it. I can’t speak for the rest of the world. Did you truly kill dragons? And berserkers? Did you kill them, too?”

  Benzel crossed his arms and faced Pingzi. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

  Pingzi drew her body up straight and tall. “I would remind you that this is my home, and you’re a guest in it. And now this boy, TeaTree, is my guest, too. He’ll be living with us.”

  Benzel looked at her in astonishment. “Living with us? Why?”

  Hsu Mao approached them. To Pingzi, he said, “This man is your husband?”

  “No,” Pingzi said. Baffled by a sudden desire to explain, she said, “He’s a Northlander. Obviously.” She waved her hand to point up and down at Benzel’s physique. “A dragonslayer.”

  “A dragonslayer.” Hsu Mao stared into her eyes with fierce intent. “And you said you’re a demon queller.”

  “Did I?” Pingzi fidgeted, surprised that she felt nervous.

  “Why is a dragonslayer living with a demon queller who is not his wife?”

  Benzel edged closer to Pingzi and answered the question in her language. “What business is it of yours?”

  TeaTree clapped his hands together with delight. “Benzel of the Wolf! You speak Far Eastern. Would you please teach me how to speak it, too?”

  Everyone ignored the boy.

  Pingzi focused on regaining her composure, feeling the need to gain control of the situation before it got out of hand. At the same time, she felt intrigued by Hsu Mao and didn’t want to offend him or scare him away.

  “Let’s just say,” Pingzi said, “that we are sanctioned by the dragon gods.”

  Hsu Mao blinked and cocked his head to one side as if making sure he heard her correctly. “The dragon gods sanction a dragonslayer?”

  Benzel grinned. “That’s right. Next time, try keeping your nose out of the business of the dragon gods.”

  His words appeared to strike Hsu Mao like a slap in the face. Hsu Mao bowed toward Pingzi. “My apologies, Mistress Po. I will bother you no longer.”

  “Wait!” Pingzi said.

  Hsu Mao looked up with hope.

  Pingzi struggled to figure out what she wanted to say to him. “I appreciate your kindness in helping me with TeaTree and bringing me home.” She paused, searching for more to say. “It might be a good idea for someone to check in on me from time to time to make sure I recover properly.”

  Benzel rolled his eyes. “I’m standing right here. Don’t you think I can keep an eye on you?”

  TeaTree appeared so excited that he couldn’t help but take dancing steps around them. “What’s happening? What are you saying?” Looking up at Benzel, the boy said, “She likes him, you know. Even though they just met today, she likes him very much. I can tell by the way she looks at him.”

  Pingzi thanked the dragon gods that Hsu Mao didn’t understand the boy’s words.

  Hsu Mao smiled. “I would be most happy to check on the well-being of Mistress Po. And if you find this boy is too excitable for your taste, I can also help with him.”

  Pingzi didn’t understand her conflicted feelings. She wanted Hsu Mao to stay and keep talking. At the same time, she couldn’t wait for him to leave, because she needed to talk to Benzel about her meeting with the gods.

  Since the day she’d met Benzel, he’d become an ally and a confidant. Pingzi often discussed her portents with him, and Benzel helped her make sense of them.

  She needed him to know that the Northlander gods had become so frustrated with their people that they wanted to wipe the entire world free of mortal life. Pingzi also felt the pressing need to discuss Fiera’s efforts to dissuade them, and the All-Father’s promise to think about it.

  Pingzi understood the unpredictable behavior of the gods. Time in their realm appeared different from time in the mortal world. No matter how long the All-Father pondered the question of whether to allow mortals to live or die, that debate could seem to take mere minutes in the mortal world. Or it could seem to take a lifetime.

  “For now,” Pingzi said to Hsu Mao, “the dragonslayer and I have matters of the gods to discuss. But I would be most happy to see you on another day.”

  Hsu Mao gave another bow and a wider smile. He returned to his empty cart and pulled it away toward the heart of the city of Zangcheen.

  CHAPTER 16

  A few days later, Skallagrim returned to the Northlander port city of Gott with Lumara. Since his horses had bolted from the beach where he’d met the mysterious woman, their only option had been to walk through the desolate land south of the city.

  Skallagrim became more enamored with Lumara as each day passed. He felt both at peace and invigorated by her presence, mesmerized by her pleasant and good nature. The fonder Skallagrim became of her, the more beautiful she looked.

  Every time she smiled at him, his heart sang.

  Within a week of meeting Lumara, Skallagrim knew he wanted her to be his wife.

  The familiar streets of Gott comforted Skallagrim, even though he noticed the only boats in the harbor were local fishing vessels. All the ships from the Midlands and Southlands had left.

  I missed my ride. None of these little boats can handle the passage between Gott and the Midlands at this time of year. The seas are too rough. That means I’m stuck in the Northlands until spring.

  Skallagrim smiled at the thought.

  But I’m stuck here with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Here’s hoping for a long winter.

  Walking with Lumara at his side, Skallagrim said, “I wager they’ve kept my room at the tavern. We’ll help you find one, too.”

  When they entered the tavern, Skallagrim beamed when he saw Brigga, the owner. He introduced Lumara, but before he could explain their needs, Brigga interrupted.

  “Where have you been?” Brigga said. Her voice strained with worry. “Three men came looking for you.”

  “Three men?” Her words perplexed Skallagrim. “My last night here I met a woman looking for her missing sister.” He gestured toward Lumara. “I went south to find her. It took all night to get there, but then the horses I hired from your father bolted.”

  Brigga nodded. “I suspected as much. The horses made their way back. We’ve been wondering what happened to you.”

  “Lumara and me, we had to walk. It takes longer on foot.” Skallagrim scrunched up his face in puzzlement. “But why were three men looking for me?”

  Brigga lowered her voice, even though the few townspeople inside the tavern sat so far away and held such a boisterous conversation that they wouldn’t hear her. “They claimed to be your cousins. They wanted to know where you slept. I knew you weren’t in, so I directed them to your room. I didn’t like the air about them, so I followed and caught them.” She stopped in abrupt silence.

  “Something happened,” Lumara said. “Something that made you uneasy.”

  Brigga nodded. “One of them had stabbed his sword into your bed. You’d left the sheets and blankets piled up in a ball under the cover. I suspect he mistook them for you.”

  Skallagrim felt so light-headed that he felt the strength drain from his knees until Lumara placed a firm hand under his elbow as if willing him to keep standing. “My cousins,” Skallagrim said. “You said they were my cousins. From Tower Island?”

  “Scaldings,” Brigga said, confirming his guess. “Your good work gives glory to the Scalding name. All Scaldings are welcome here.” She paused and reconsidered. “Although I’m not sure those three will be anymore.”

  “I don’t understand,” Skallagrim said, genuinely perplexed. “Why would my own cousins try to kill me? It doesn’t make any sense.” He shook his head, bewildered. “Maybe they only said they were Scaldings. Maybe they meant to take advantage by using the family name.�
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  “I think not,” Brigga said. “Two of them had lavender eyes.”

  Her words sent a chill through Skallagrim’s blood. “Are you sure?”

  Brigga nodded. “As lavender as the blooms of seahorse flowers.”

  Shaken, Skallagrim reached for a nearby wooden bench and sank down on it.

  Lumara sat next to him. “What does it mean?” She looked from Skallagrim to Brigga. “To have lavender eyes?”

  “It’s the mark of the Scaldings,” Brigga said. “They’re the only ones to have eyes that color. Legend says it’s the work of an alchemist. I’ve heard tell that the alchemist took some kind of herb or potion to Tower Island and put it in the food without telling anyone. All the Scaldings eat together, so they all consumed it. The next morning, they all woke up with their eyes turned lavender.”

  “Not all,” Skallagrim said.

  “That’s right,” Brigga said. “My mistake.”

  “You don’t have lavender eyes,” Lumara said to Skallagrim.

  “Nor my parents,” Skallagrim said. “Nor my brother.” He shuddered with a new thought. He looked up at Brigga. “You said two of the three had lavender eyes.”

  Brigga nodded. The solemnness of her face made Skallagrim think they shared the same thought.

  Frandulane.

  “But why would an alchemist do such a thing?” Lumara said. “What does it mean?”

  “All I know is rumor,” Brigga said. She deferred to Skallagrim.

  “I doubt I know more than you,” Skallagrim said. “My parents never talk about it, and everything I know comes from my cousins, who tend to either exaggerate or invent the truth.”

  The women waited for him to continue.

  “What I heard,” Skallagrim said, “is that the alchemist put something in the food that would change the color of your eyes to lavender if you or your mother or father ever murder anyone.”

  Throughout his life, he’d never known whether to feel shame of his relatives, pride of his immediate family, or both.

  Skallagrim continued. “They say it’s the kind of herb that attaches to your insides and stays with you all your life. That means if you’ve already killed someone, your eyes will always be lavender. If you haven’t, the herb hides in your body and will change your eyes as soon as you kill.”

  “But you’re a dragonslayer,” Lumara said. “You must have killed many times, but your eyes are blue.”

  “It’s murdering people that causes the change,” Brigga said. “Not killing animals.”

  “People,” Lumara said in a soft voice. “Not dragons.” She looked up in surprise.

  Her expression caught Skallagrim off guard.

  She seems to think dragons count the same as people.

  “It’s no problem for now,” Brigga said. She’d brought mugs of mead and platters of food and gestured for Skallagrim and Lumara to eat. “I saw what your cousins did. Afterwards, they tried to laugh it off and claim they meant it as a jest.” Brigga’s eyes gleamed. “I believed none of it, so I told them you must have bumped up your plans and already set sail for the Midlands or the Southlands. I sent them to a cloth merchant’s ship leaving the next morning.” Brigga laughed. “The jest is on them!”

  Skallagrim took heart, hoping he understood what she meant. “They’re gone?”

  “To the Midlands and then on to the Southlands where they’re bound to waste the entire winter searching for you.” Brigga giggled. “I said you’d been paid by a merchant to travel a special route instead of doing the normal things you dragonslayers do. They’ll be looking everywhere for you and won’t think anything’s wrong when people tell them they haven’t seen you.”

  At ease for the first time since their conversation began, Skallagrim grinned at Brigga. “Thank you.”

  “We take care of our dragonslayers,” Brigga said. “You know that.” She turned her attention to Lumara. “What about this one?”

  “I’m here because I was foolish,” Lumara said. She spoke with warmth and humility. “I planned to leave with my sister for the Midlands days ago but went on a silly errand and missed the departure.” She gazed at Skallagrim and smiled. “But I had great fortune in meeting your fine dragonslayer.”

  Skallagrim chewed a chunk of meat and then spoke. “We faced a dragon south of the city. I’m not convinced the beast has left the country. With the seas getting rough, it might have stayed here in the Northlands, which means a city like this could draw its attention.”

  “Its attention?” Lumara said. “How?”

  “We’re food for dragons,” Skallagrim said. “The merchants and dragonslayers and tourists may have left for now, but there are plenty of people living in Gott. That’s plenty of food to help a dragon survive the winter. Maybe missing my ship is for the best. I’ll start investigating the caves on the north side of the city. The dragon could make its den there.”

  “Consider your room and board here as payment,” Brigga said. “But I can’t make the same offer for her.”

  Lumara appeared unconcerned. “Is there a way for me to earn my keep?” She smiled. “I get cold easily, so I’d be happy to work around fire. Would you let me help cook food here?”

  “I’ve already got too many cooks for winter,” Brigga said. “But one of the blacksmiths lost his apprentice to the Southlands for dragonslayer training. Do you know how to start a fire and keep it going at the proper heat?”

  Lumara beamed. “I would be happy to learn. That sounds like a wonderful way to spend the winter.”

  “Wait,” Skallagrim said. “Tending fires? That’s not the kind of thing a woman should do.”

  Lumara and Brigga faced him with stern expressions.

  “I’m surprised at you,” Brigga said. “You should know better. I’ve met that woman dragonslayer friend of yours. If dragonslaying is a proper thing for a woman to do, why not tending fires for a blacksmith?”

  Flummoxed, Skallagrim stuttered but failed to string together any words that made sense.

  “I would be honored to work for a blacksmith,” Lumara said. “Why do you fail to see the honor in such a task?”

  Skallagrim didn’t know how to explain that the desire to protect Lumara overwhelmed him. He finally offered a weak protest. “Blacksmith fires are big and open and dangerous. What if you get too close to a fire and it sets your clothing ablaze? I’ve heard that happens sometimes to blacksmiths.”

  Brigga moaned in agony while Lumara laughed.

  “I promise to be careful,” Lumara said. “But I would like you to trust that I am a grown woman with a sensible head on my shoulders. I would like you to understand there is no need to be afraid for me or to think I can’t take care of myself.”

  Chagrined, Skallagrim knew Lumara spoke the truth. “You’re right. I apologize.”

  Brigga clapped an approving hand on his shoulder. To Lumara, she said, “I’ll speak to the blacksmith at once. I expect you’ll have your own place to sleep and food to eat before the day is done.”

  Skallagrim squeezed Brigga’s hand in appreciation. “And if I can borrow a horse, I’ll ride out to the caves today and start looking for that dragon.”

  He wondered why Lumara appeared amused by his words and hoped her peculiar expression didn’t mean she harbored offense at the words he’d misspoken moments ago.

  CHAPTER 17

  True to Brigga’s word, the blacksmith welcomed Lumara into his smithery. Although he stood at a medium height and appeared to be better suited to farming, the blacksmith’s experience served him well. He understood every shade of heated iron, from brown to cherry red to sparking white. He understood every nuance of color and worked with speed and efficiency. He taught Lumara how to build a fire, keep it going, and keep the smithery in proper order.

  He also allowed her to sleep in his home, surrounded by his pack of young daughters.

  This morning—like every morning—Lumara arranged kindling for the smithery fire and then lit it. She used the bellows to force air through the
fire. Next, Lumara smothered the fire by shoveling coal onto its flames. When she pumped the bellows again, brown smoke streamed out of the coals.

  While Lumara kept pumping, the brown smoke turned white as fog. Among the smoldering coals, a small spot caught fire. Yellow flames, tinged with blue, shot up between some coals. Tiny sparks floated up and stung Lumara’s skin. She kept pumping until all the coals caught fire.

  For the rest of the day, Lumara would fetch water to keep the quenching barrels full, as well as follow whatever orders the blacksmith gave. At the end of each day, she swept the anvil clean of slag, the gray flakes that emerged from the iron when hammered.

  But for now, Lumara took great pleasure in preparing the fire before the blacksmith’s arrival. Like her sister Fiera, she found joy in the flames.

  For hundreds of years, Lumara had been a young dragon that found delight in simple things, like chasing crickets. Not long ago, Fiera had convinced Lumara to help her with a plan that—if successful—could convince the Northlander gods to let mortals live.

  The idea had confused Lumara, because any time Fiera had talked about mortals in the past, it was to complain about them. Lumara decided to pay closer attention and soon realized Fiera had a soft spot for the mortals who worshipped her and all other dragon gods and goddesses.

  As the sister of a goddess, Lumara didn’t understand at first how she could help. And when Fiera explained that she needed Lumara to enter the mortal realm and take mortal shape to seduce a dragonslayer, the thought baffled her.

  But now Lumara understood. She hadn’t expected the emotions that would overwhelm her when she took mortal shape, but her desire for a man had been a pleasant surprise.

  What surprised her even more was the sense of caring and friendship she felt for Skallagrim. Following her sister’s advice, Lumara took small steps in building her comradery with the dragonslayer. She knew it wouldn’t be enough to simply lure him into her bed.

  Lumara needed Skallagrim to let her walk into his heart.

  At the same time, she realized she’d already allowed him to walk into hers.