He bellowed, “Fight like a dragon, you human trash!” Corandrake hated humans as a general rule, and would not even venture into the human inhabited lands.
Then I began my attack. Corandrake was bigger and older than I, but he was not as powerful. My wings beat strongly, propelling me up under him, and past him. He struck out with his hind claws, barely missing my wing membrane. My strike again scored, this time my tail striking his neck. He fell, momentarily stunned, and I pressed my advantage. My talons sank into his back, sinking deep into his flight muscles. When his head whipped back to bite at me, I was ready. My jaws closed on his head, teeth sinking into his skull. “Yield!” I shouted.
The ground interrupted his answer. With less than six hundred cubits of altitude I broke off, stretching my wings to sail away. Corandrake was able to break his fall, but he stayed on the ground, acknowledging my victory. He would have other battles, but this one was mine. Cheers followed me, both from the adolescents and the females. The rules are that for each victory, the victor gets to choose a mate. Sahrendrake was waiting for me at the lakeside. Charged with the thrill of battle as I am, my feet just barely touched ground before I was airborne again, Sahrendrake following.
Dragons could mate in almost any environment, though the air was the most exciting. Added to the simple animal thrill of mating was the danger posed by the ground. You cannot fly with your necks and tails twined together and your wings getting in each other’s way. Mating flights began as high as possible so that we had time to finish before the ground rudely interrupted. That could ruin an otherwise lovely day.
Sahrendrake and I mated, and in that mating I felt my duality slipping. Being a human, with all the human frailties, became a remote part of me. To mate with a dragon, one must be a dragon, heart and soul. We finished long before we reached a dangerously low altitude, and stayed coupled until we had to part to land. “Well, you have proven yourself again, Amberdrake. How many more will you seek this time?” Sahrendrake twined her neck with mine and purred.
“Only two or three. You’re the one I came seeking. You know that.” Her purring deepened with her pleasure at hearing that. Female dragons and female humans were not as different as one might think.
“Just be careful, Amberdrake. We have three clutches of eggs hardening now, and this will be four. At this rate there will soon be too many dragons for the world to hold.”
“No,” a voice said, drawing our attention. The speaker was an aged female named Cyandrake. Her color was blue-green, though she had faded with age and her muzzle was almost completely white. “There are far too few dragons now. We have gone away, and humans are in places that were once ours. There are just not enough of us to fill the world the way we once did. You youngsters keep breeding. Bring us back. Make us masters of the world again.”
Sahrendrake and I watched the mating battles and flights through the rest of the day. She stayed by me, reinforcing the bond that had been forged between us during our first flight together. A week passed before I was in shape for another battle. This time I fought another young dragon, Morandrake. He was a fine specimen, with bright blue and gold scales. Our fight took us far above the clouds, and down under the water, grappling and flaming, each trying to drive down our opponent by main force. He was good, but he was not a match for me. In the end I managed to get him into a position that forced him to yield or die. This time I picked a dainty little female who, for some reason, reminds me of Brandis. Her name was Nevrasdrake, and her teal green and sea blue scales make her an attractive dragon in any circumstance. Our flight, while not as exciting as my flight with Sahrendrake, was enough to leave me panting on the shore of the lake.
“Tired, human bait?” a familiar voice asked.
I looked back at Corandrake and snorted. “Go soak your head.”
“I intend to soak significantly more than my head, Amberdrake.” Corandrake replied as he eased into the water. He was more battered than I had left him, but he wore a satisfied look that told me he had mated.
Mating continued for two more weeks, with the females leaving as soon as they had conceived. I mated three more times, and was well satisfied with myself by the time there were no more females to be had. The older males, and those who had mated early, withdrew from the competition, letting the younger males have a chance at the females no one else had chosen.
It was a sad truth, but there were ugly dragons. Poor, misshapen creatures with dull scales and smooth muzzles. But for a female not to mate was a death sentence. Her body was made for breeding, and the drive that brought her to the dance could kill her if it was not fulfilled.
The younger males, those who had reached maturity but not reached a size to challenge for the right to mate the female of their choice, fought half-hearted battles for those females that were left.
I left the mating ground content. Five females carried my eggs, and they would bear them in the sands of the desert, in secret locations only they knew. It was instinct that they hide their eggs, because it was also instinct that they will destroy the eggs of any other female they find. Survival of the fittest was also survival of the smartest.
I flew east and south, toward the human lands, and Greater Westport. It wouldn’t do for me to not find Laird Willowby. After all, my hearing about him was most likely the bait for a trap. Late in the night I landed within easy walking distance of Greater Westport. I transformed back to human form, then dressed myself hurriedly due to the cold. Dragon hide didn’t feel the cold the way human skin does. It took me the rest of the night and part of the morning to reach the city.
* * *
The gates of Greater Westport stood open to welcome visitors, but guards check those visitors carefully. “Just keep yer hands in sight. Who be ye?” The guard watched me closely while he waited for my answer.
“My name is Drake Standralson. I am here seeking Laird Colem Willowby. I have been told that he can be found at the residence of Prince Tambert.” I kept my voice low and my tone friendly.
“Well, as to that I don’t know. There is a tax on entering the city. Four sparks, and ye must be lodged in an inn or hostel. No sleep’n in the street.” The guard didn’t seem to be interested in me beyond what he could shake me down for. There is no tax to enter the city, but he probably counts me low, seeing as I was again afoot.
“Yes, sir. Four sparks, you said? I think I have that much. Just a moment.” I fished in my pouch for the copper coins, and presented them to the guard reluctantly. “Can you tell me if anyone is hiring? I don’t have much left to get home on after I sees Laird Willowby.”
Guards have a universal dislike of having to help someone, and my asking caused them to find other urgent business that required their attention. I passed on, humming tunelessly. If this was a trap, then word should’ve been on its way to Colem. As night fell I began looking for an inconspicuous inn, and found one on a back street that was littered with the refuse of human society.
The Broken Spur might have once been a fine establishment, but that was long ago. Now the door threatened to come off in my hand as I pushed it open. “Shut that door, yer let’n the heat out.”
“Then buy some charcoal,” I replied. Inns such as this do not treat the soft spoken well. “Who runs this flea trap?”
“I does, and watch yer mouth. What does ye want?” The innkeeper was a moderately fat man with the reddish complexion and rheumy eyes of a drunk and a drug user.
“A room. And no questions.” I flipped a silver crown at him and watched it disappear into his apron.
He pointed upstairs and raised three fingers. “Third door, left. This will hold you a week, no more.”
I raised a finger and flared light from it. “Two weeks. I know what it’s worth, and even then the charge is high.”
The innkeeper stepped back hurriedly and held his hands up in a placating manner. “Now, there be no reason to get nasty. Two weeks it is. No problem with that, none at all.”
I went upstairs, keeping a close watc
h on my back. The room was pitiful, and already occupied. A spoken word and a touch of power sent the mice and roaches scurrying out the door and through cracks in the walls. I poured more power into the bed, and was rewarded with a cloud of fleas and worse. When I was satisfied that I was really alone, I sat down and began scanning the city for Laird Colem.
Oh, that is too funny. Who is trapping who?
Laird Colem was, as stated, in the home of Prince Tambert. He was not, however, a guest. Prisoner was the term I chose to use, and Danlin’s presence in the prince’s bed confirmed my supposition that this was indeed a trap.
Danny and the prince were engaged in a wild romp when a servant knocked at the door. “What?!” the prince demanded, and I shamelessly listened in.
A nervous man opened the door a crack and peeked through. “Laird Prince, the man you said to watch for is here.”
“Excellent! Have him captured and brought to me at once. And don’t disturb me again until morning. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Laird Prince.” The man closed the door and withdrew, as did I. So, he wants me arrested, does he? First, he has to find me. I placed my money belt back around my waist and prepared to leave. I had given the innkeeper my right name, and I’m sure he reported it to the guard, as required. Now it was time to move on.
I slipped silently out the window and erased all sign that I had been there. A quick jump and step down a strategically placed pile of trash led me to the alley behind the inn. I quickly covered my tracks again and made my way to the better parts of town, parts where Drake Standralson had never been heard of, but Standral Emverson is well known. A quick detour to another gate and a bit of magic put the memory of Standral Emverson, and his horse, firmly in the minds of the guards.
“Standral, welcome back!” My friend and partner, Chanbern Olstenson, owner and innkeeper at the Silver Unicorn, shouted as he rushed from behind the bar and clasped me by the shoulders as soon as he recognized me. “It’s been years. Where have you been?” Chanbern could be overly enthusiastic at times, and his grasp on my shoulders was becoming painful.
“Chan, settle down. You’re breaking my arms!” I laughed. “It’s only been ten years.”
“Only ten years, he says. Ten long years not knowing if you were alive or dead. Ten years not having a partner to call on....”
“Ten years of not having to share the profits. Don’t look at me that way. You haven’t simply banked my share away, waiting for my return.”
Chanbern was looking at me strangely. “But I did. The Gold Merchant Silat Domberson has been holding your share. Every moon, for ten years, I have given over your share of the profits to be banked in your name until you came back, or we received proof that you were indeed dead.”
Now, I have known Chanbern for fifteen years, but I never expected this. “You really did that? I have ten years’ worth of the profits banked with Silat?”
“I did, and you do. I set it up after you disappeared up Chanders way. At first, I thought you might have just taken a long trip. Then, after a year with no word, I set up the account to be payable to your heirs, if they ever showed up. The title to the Unicorn is still half in your name. The Magistrates declared there has to be proof to declare a man dead and disperse his legacy. And, with no body or evidence that you were dead, you were alive in the eyes of the law.”
I sat heavily on a barstool and groped for the mug the barmaid had set in front of me. It never occurred to me that Chanbern would do something like that for me. But here I sit, beer in hand, a rich man. Rich in more than gold. Chanbern excused himself to see to a customer, and I stared after him. Fifteen years ago, I had used my magic and what financial resources I had possessed to save Chanbern from being driven out of business by an Ice Laird. I was a silent partner, not having any real idea as to how to operate an inn at the time, but I’d backed him with gold and magic. And now, ten years after I had disappeared without a trace, he was presenting me with half of the profits from a decade of hard work.
“I think I need to lie down.”
One of the serving girls led me to an upstairs room and left me alone. It would not have mattered if she had stayed. I was too far gone with shock to avail myself of her charms. In three hundred years I have had few true friends, and none of them would have done what Chanbern had.
I awakened late the next morning. I walked into the main room and noticed that Chanbern was sitting at his favorite table with a man I didn’t recognize. He waved me over and introduced us.
“Standral, I want you to meet Master Trader Zenos Hypherian, from the Kingdom of Cornard. Zenos, my friend and partner, Laird Standral Emverson.” Chan was grinning like a cat with a mouse-tail hanging out of his mouth.
Trader Zenos stood and bowed to me, which I returned in kind. I once spent three years in a Cornardian prison learning their version of courtesy. “To meet you, I am truly honored.” His accent is not as bad as some.
“Zen sho mat sen, Namet Hypherian,” I replied in his language. It means the same thing, but is much more formal. I was taught their language and customs, both high and low, so that I might beg forgiveness from their High Councilor for daring to touch his person. Trader Zenos’ eyes widened considerably at my use of his language. Chan looked startled, but not overly so. I’ve been pulling things like this on him for as long as we’ve known each other.
The trader recovered his composure quickly. “From your tongue, my language flows like silken rain. You honor me.” He bowed again, this time much more deeply.
“I have been long away from your shores, Master Trader. Please forgive if my pronunciation is less than proper.” I returned his bow, being careful to bow lower than he had. Cornardian courtesy was dance that can continue for hours, and I was grateful to Chanbern for breaking in.
“I will never cease to be amazed by you, Standral. How do you know the language of the Cornardians?” Chanbern was looking at me with new respect, so I told him the truth.
“I made the mistake of touching a high official, and spent three years in prison being taught their language and customs so I could apologize.” Chanbern burst out laughing, and Trader Hypherian nodded knowingly.
“Many foreigners make many mistakes in my land. To touch one of a higher station in life is forbidden. And foreigners of the lowest station are.” He bowed in apology for his comment, though it was the simple truth.
I smiled and nodded my acknowledgment of his apology. “If I may ask, what brings you to our shore, Honored Master Trader?”
Trader Hypherian smiled broadly, then looked at Chanbern. “My honored friend Innkeeper Chanbern consigned to my care a most valuable shipment for the Most High Councilor Set Cho Lepearnar. Fifty casks of fine ale did come to my hands, and fifty casks of fine ale did I deliver to the Most High Councilor. To deliver his payment have I come, and to ask of him another shipment. The Most High Councilor Set Cho Lepearnar many friends has, and to these friends the next shipment is to go.”
I nodded sagely. That explained Chanbern’s smile. “Our good friend Chanbern is a most excellent brewer, Honored Master Trader. It has been my good fortune to have learned from him some small portion of his art.”
Chanbern snorted delicately. Cornardians did not, as a rule, make rude noises. “Not half of what I have learned from you, my friend. Don’t let him fool you, Master Trader. He is as good as I am, and in some instances better. The brews that you delivered to the Most High Councilor Set Cho Lepearnar were made from his recipes.”
Master Trader Hypherian nodded and smiled at both of us. I thought he had a better understanding of our language and culture than he wanted us to believe. After all, knowing your friends was far more important than knowing your enemies. “The Most High Councilor Set Cho Lepearnar sends his payment, and again as much. He wishes another fifty casks of your fine ale. Also into my care was entrusted the request from High Councilor Shomat Se Damart for twenty casks of ale, a request from High Councilor Scan Cont Chomat for twenty casks of ale, and a request
from High Councilor Altan Sen Showman for twenty casks.”
I laughed at the order. “I would seem that the Most High Councilor Set Cho Lepearnar has many friends who share his taste in beverage. I am sure that you understand that it will take time to brew so much.”
“Yes. Our friend Chanbern has made this clear, and I am prepared to wait the winter through if need be. This is to the good for myself as well. The demand for such fine ale will grow with the winter, and by spring my own order will be much more valuable.” Trader Hypherian smiled broadly and I looked at Chanbern.
“The Master Trader has requested an additional forty casks. That makes a total order of one hundred and fifty casks of ale.”
“Can we do it?” I asked.
“We? You will be staying then?”
“Yes, for a while at least. I have other business here as well, but I think that it will wait for a time. Long enough to get two hundred casks started.”
“Two hundred? Standral, what are you up to?” Chanbern grinned. He knows me fairly well, and knows that I don’t make simple mistakes.
“As I said, I spent several years in Cornard. The Honored Master Trader would not be willing to wait the winter through, or risk his own profits, if the demand for the ale was not assured. Seeing that, it would make sense for us to invest a share as well. And it just so happens that the necessary funds are available.” I smiled and bowed formally to Chanbern while he laughed.
“It just so happens that the funds are indeed available. Very well. We need to purchase the supplies as soon as possible, before the best are taken.” He turned to Trader Zenos. “My friend, please be welcome in my establishment. Standral and I will see that your order is made the highest priority.”
The Chronicles of Amberdrake Page 40
