“Well…all right, then,” Gerald said. He was still somewhat hesitant, though, and wondered if he should suggest giving the dragon some name he could pronounce or if that would be rude in a way calling it “Dragon” apparently wasn’t.
The dragon, sensing Gerald’s continuing discomfort, changed the subject. “Now that beastly collar is off, we can make our plans in earnest. How soon can you be ready to leave?”
“Well…I need to disable my own tracking spell,” Gerald said. “I don’t want them to find you again because of me. There’s plenty of food and water stored up, though, so as soon as that’s packed, we’ll be able to leave. Shall we say the day after tomorrow?”
“We shall. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to stretch my legs—and my wings…and hunt something that has not been brought stumbling to my feet.” The dragon gave him a grin Gerald could only describe as “bloody minded” and he hastened to assure the dragon he didn’t mind in the least.
“I’ll be back by dawn,” the dragon assured him, and then it snaked its head back out through the window. Gerald hurried over to watch as the dragon unfurled its wings with an audible snap and then launched itself into the air with a few powerful beats of those wings.
It was a sight to behold and Gerald watched it climb into the air, turning circles around the tower until it vanished from sight.
Only then did he turn away from the window. It was getting toward dusk and the air was starting to cool. It amazed him every night how suddenly and how sharply the temperature plummeted when the sun was no longer in the sky.
He sat back at the desk to write Erick and let him know he disabled the spells and got the collar off. But when he was only halfway through the note, his handwriting degenerating into a messy scrawl of enthusiasm, the interactive map caught his eye. Three of the dots on it had moved significantly closer to his tower.
Gerald turned to look at the pile of letters that had built up over the course of the day, which he had ignored in favor of his messaging with Erick and then in altering the collar. It was with a sense of foreboding that he now opened them.
My dear Prince Gerald,
I would very much like to meet you in person. There is only so much that can be conveyed in a letter, even when one writes as beautifully as you do. It is hard to sense the true emotion behind the words. I am making my way to your tower and I should arrive upon the morrow.
Yours truly,
Princess Kinda
Gerald groaned. The other two said much the same thing: they wanted to meet him face-to-face before they decided if he was worth spending the effort of a rescue on. Of course, that second part was all in the subtext. Not even Prince Lukas had gone quite so far as to actually spell it out.
I’ll have to talk to the dragon and decide what to do. We can’t let them come here and find an empty tower and no guardian. The news of our escape would spread like wildfire and we need to keep it secret for as long as we can!
But he didn’t know how they could do that. Even if they turned away the three approaching royals—and Gerald was well within his rights to do that, it even said so in the manual—nothing would prevent more from coming, or even prevent those three from staying in the vicinity and trying again. And as soon as he left, he would vanish from the map, and then anyone looking at it would know something strange had happened, because there would be no amendment to his page indicating he’d been rescued.
Is there some way to leave the tracking spell active, but detach it from me? Gerald wondered. Could I make it look like I’m still here? But if I do that, then there will really be a problem when someone turns up trying to rescue me and finds the tower empty.
He crumpled the letters in disgust and turned back to his note to Erick. If anyone could find a solution for his problems—at least the magical ones—it would be his cousin.
But as he finished writing, he came up with a solution for the rest of it on his own: when the first would-be rescuer showed up in the morning, Gerald would be quite ill. The poultice he had been making for the dragon looked rather nasty when it dried and would definitely give him the appearance of suffering from some sort of pox. Add a bit of flour to give his skin a pasty, sickly appearance…and he was sure he could fool whoever showed up, especially since they would only be seeing him from a distance.
The words “highly contagious” would certainly deter his rescuers, especially since none of them seemed all that committed to him. And if any of them did turn out to be interested after a brief meeting with an “ill” and “feverish” Gerald, then they would be sure to spread around the story of his illness in order to keep away any potential competitors.
Gerald was quite pleased with the plan and he hummed to himself the whole way to the kitchen to stir up his “pox”—and some dinner.
WHEN HE RETURNED to his room, Erick’s two-way parchment was chiming, and Gerald hurriedly dripped some ink on it.
The reply spooled out, and out, and out. Erick had apparently realized Gerald wasn’t at his paper, and had decided to treat it like an actual letter rather than a written conversation.
By the time the ink stopped spreading itself into letters and words, nearly the entire page was filled. Gerald squinted at it—Erick’s handwriting had started out neatly enough but had quickly degenerated into a scrawl to match Gerald’s own enthusiastic chicken scratching. He lit an extra lamp and began to decipher the missive.
Dear Meathead,
Good to hear the spells are off the collar! Although I don’t know why you’re so excited the spell alternations worked—I told you they would!
Now, about your own spell…
I disabled mine easily enough. Nothing finessed, though, just a bit of raw power. I admit it was rather a “blast first, examine later” approach. It was quite skillfully placed, too; I didn’t even know it was there until I showed up in that damn Who’s Who guide. Which is to say…I don’t think I can relocate yours. I can tell you how to disable it, but I don’t know how you can move the focus while keeping it active. I expect I can tamper with the Who’s Who, though, to make it look like you’re still there even after you’ve gotten your spell off.
To be honest, I’m not sure why you’re concerned with that. If you and that dragon of yours start rampaging across the Thousand Kingdoms destroying collars, freeing guardians, and generally wreaking havoc on the system, I daresay someone is going to notice sooner rather than later. Unless you convince them to keep quiet, the royals waiting for rescue are going to spread the word as soon as you take off with their guardians. And if you’ve been getting fan mail, you’ve probably noticed most royals aren’t as sensible as we are.
I may have to rethink your nickname. I can now easily list at least half a dozen people who are more meatheaded than you by far.
In fact, with all this planning and plotting and scheming, you’re starting to look downright sensible.
Keep me in the loop.
Erick’s thoughts about the tracking spell were a disappointment, but Gerald knew his cousin was right. The news would be hard to contain. The best he could hope for was to remain anonymous, so even while news spread of a rogue royal, no one would be able to say that royal was Gerald.
Gerald wanted to discuss it all with the dragon before replying to Erick, but when he got up to look out the window, stifling a yawn, the dragon had yet to return. He considered waiting up for it, but another yawn decided him. I’ll tell it everything in the morning…he thought, and then he crawled into bed.
Despite all the thoughts buzzing through his head, with the excitement of moving ahead with their plans, the nervous anticipation of trying to fool the rescuers, the contented feeling that he was really doing something worth doing, rather than what his parents or tutors or sister told him he should be doing, exhaustion overcame him quickly and he was asleep within minutes.
Chapter Six
GERALD WOKE UP with the sun on his face and his first instinct was to pull his pillow over his head and go back to sleep. Th
en he remembered everything that had happened the previous day and he couldn’t get out of bed fast enough. He threw the window open anxiously and he was relieved to see the dragon was still there, apparently asleep.
“Hello down there!” Gerald called and the dragon stirred and lifted itself up to his window. Gerald quickly filled it in on everything in Erick’s letter and how he had decided to keep the would-be rescuers away. “Of course, that means we’ll have to stay long enough to speak to one of them, but it sounded like they would be arriving today, and we weren’t planning to go till tomorrow, so that should be okay.”
The dragon nodded. “I see no problem with that.” Then it cocked its head to the side, as if considering a new idea. “How much of a range does the spell to disable the tracking device have?”
“Um…I have no idea,” Gerald said.
“Your cousin drew a diagram for you, correct? Of how to implement the spell?” When Gerald nodded, the dragon said, “May I see it? I am fairly handy with a spell, myself.”
The dragon produced a pair of spectacles from midair and squinted through them at Erick’s letter. “I have no idea why you humans insist on writing everything so small,” it grumbled under its breath. Gerald covered a smile with his hand and waited for its verdict. “Hmm. Well. I should be able to amplify that easily.”
“I’m afraid I’m not quite following you,” Gerald said. “Why do you need to amplify it?”
“To cover our tracks,” it said with a very toothy smile. “If the only ones who disappear from that map of yours are you and your cousin, it will be quite obvious who is involved. But if we disable the trackers on the three who are on their way to the tower…and on those we pass while traveling…and on those we see when we free their guardians…the trail will be a good deal muddier, don’t you think?”
Gerald returned the dragon’s smile. “Not to mention that would disrupt the whole rescue process and cause even more confusion. Oh, I like that plan.”
THE FIRST WOULD-BE rescuer showed up at noon, when the sun was brutally bright overhead. Gerald had applied his “pox” right after breakfast, unsure of when they would come and wanting to be prepared. The dragon rumbled deep in its chest and Gerald heard a high, clear voice command, “Stand down! I am not here to fight.” After a breath, she added, “Yet.”
Gerald walked to the window and looked out. The young woman—Princess Kinda, he presumed—was mounted on a fine chestnut horse that had stopped a prudent distance from the dragon. The princess was not dressed for battle, as she had said, although Gerald could see bits of armor poking out from her saddlebags. She was dressed to impress him, he suspected, in a forest green riding dress that looked striking against her dark skin. Her hair, a deep brown shading toward black, was pulled back into a severe braid.
Physically, she looked nothing like Lila and yet she reminded Gerald strongly of his sister. Something about her bearing, as if she were used to getting her own way.
Not this time, Gerald thought grimly. He opened the window and leaned out. “Hello!” he shouted and then, covering his mouth, succumbed to a coughing fit.
“Prince Gerald!” she called back. “Are you well?”
He brought the coughing fit to a halt and took a breath. “I’m afraid I’ve come down with something. It seems to be dragon pox. Do you have it in your kingdom? You should be safe down there, but it is rather—” He interrupted himself with another bout of coughing. “Excuse me. As I was saying, it’s rather contagious. I wouldn’t want you to come any closer until it’s run its course. It would be dreadfully awkward if I infected my rescuer with dragon pox, don’t you think?”
Kinda had gotten visibly more flustered as Gerald spoke. “Oh, I, yes. Dreadfully awkward. Er…how contagious did you say it was?”
“Very,” Gerald said. “It spreads like wildfire whenever there’s an outbreak. Oh, it’s nothing serious,” he hastened to add. “A cough, a bit of fever. But the pox are really quite itchy. It makes the whole thing rather a trial. I certainly wouldn’t want to be responsible for inflicting such sores on your lovely skin.” He bit his lip to keep from laughing. I’m spreading this a bit thick, aren’t I? But she seems to be falling for it.
“Well…perhaps it would be better for me to come back at a later date?” Kinda suggested. “When you’re feeling more yourself?”
“Oh, that would be most kind,” Gerald said. “It generally runs its course within two weeks. I’m afraid there’s really no point at all in anyone trying to rescue me before then. Anyone who tries is apt to come down with the pox themselves.”
“Well…I do appreciate the warning, Prince Gerald.”
“Why, of course,” he said gallantly. “Oh—” he added, as if it were an afterthought. “If you see anyone else, would you pass the word along? I would hate to make anyone trek all the way out here in the desert heat only to have to turn around and trek back through it.”
“Why, of course,” she echoed, and Gerald could almost see the calculating glint in her eye. She was used to getting her own way, and even if—even though, in all likelihood—she hadn’t decided she was interested in Gerald, she wouldn’t want anyone else to have a chance to rescue him before she did.
“I wish you a speedy recovery,” she said. “I shall return in two weeks. Although, if you recover sooner, please don’t hesitate to write to me. I shall be here whenever you are feeling ready for visitors.”
“That’s most kind,” Gerald said, before dissolving into another bout of coughing. He raised a hand weakly to wave as Princess Kinda remounted, tugged at the reins, and turned her horse away. As soon as her back was to the tower, the dragon raised an arm and quickly sketched a series of symbols into the air with a claw. There was no visible effect, but when Gerald ducked back inside to check the map, he saw all of the dots around his tower had vanished. Not only his own, or even his own and Kinda’s, but all of them. He broke into a grin and stuck his head out the window to give the dragon a thumbs-up.
The dragon mimicked his gesture with a claw but didn’t otherwise move until Kinda and her horse had vanished from sight. When he was sure she wasn't coming back, he wiped the “pox” off his face—the illness might be imaginary, but the itchiness was uncomfortably real. The dragon waited for him to clean up and then lifted him down to the sand. They settled into their usual places and Gerald patted its foreleg.
“That worked even better than we hoped,” he said gleefully. “Both parts. We’ll have no trouble leaving tomorrow.”
With that said, he unrolled the map and laid out his notes on the other royals awaiting rescue and their locations. The dragon once again plucked its spectacles out of thin air and perched them on its nose, and together they began to plan their route.
“I think we should start with Princess Elinore in the Burning Swamp,” Gerald said thoughtfully. “She’s not quite the closest, but she’s the one who’s been locked up longest. I think we might be able to recruit her—not just free her guardian but get her to help free the others. I mean, she’s been there for…” He consulted his notes. “Three years! And I suppose it’s one thing to take that long when you’re the one doing the rescuing, when you’re traveling around and having adventures and enjoying yourself, but to spend three years trapped in a swamp? Surely that’s enough to sour anyone on the system. Even taking into consideration that everyone else is a great deal more enthusiastic about it than I am,” he finished bitterly.
The dragon cleared its throat softly, or at least as softly as it was possible to clear a throat that was longer than Gerald’s entire body. “About that…” it began. “I will admit to some curiosity. I told you that you are not the first royal I’ve been set to guard, and all of them were quite excited to be courting. But you seem intent on chasing all your suitors away.”
Gerald scowled at the sand. “I don’t wish to be married,” he growled. “And I don’t wish to discuss it.”
“I was only curious,” the dragon said gently. “It is such a, hmm, uniquely human con
vention, you see. I don’t believe I’ve ever met a married dragon; it’s not something we do. But it seems quite important to you humans. I only wondered why it wasn’t important to you.”
Gerald pushed himself away from the dragon and scrambled to his feet. “I don’t wish to discuss it!” he repeated, nearly shouting. He was flushed and had a strong desire to flee, but there was nowhere to go. As soon as he moved out of the dragon’s shadow, the sunbaked sand began to burn the bare soles of his feet. Forgot my boots, he realized. He’d gotten used to going barefoot since arriving in the tower, since he hardly went outside and when he did, he didn’t walk anywhere.
The sudden thought of how ridiculous he would look trying to rescue the guardians barefoot distracted him from the current conversation long enough for him to regain control of his emotions.
He ducked his head and apologized to the sand. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It’s a bit of a…sore point.”
“You don’t say,” the dragon said drily.
Gerald shuffled back into the dragon’s shade and they turned back to their maps and their plans with the topic of marriage set quite firmly aside.
No other would-be rescuers showed up for the rest of the day, which gave Gerald plenty of uninterrupted time to get their supplies packed. Inspired by his success with the waxed canvas rain cover, Gerald had sewn together virtually every bit of cloth he could get out of the kitchen to make a giant pouch and a harness to attach the supplies to the dragon.
Once that was done, Gerald spent the rest of the day repackaging all of the extras from the kitchen. The dragon had examined the supplies and said it could magic the water barrel so the lid would stay on and it wouldn’t spill during transit, and it promised its spell wouldn’t affect the refilling spell that was already on it, so Gerald acquiesced. It certainly seemed easier than decanting the barrel into dozens and dozens of jars and water pouches. He did insist on bringing a few water pouches along, though, so he would have access to water during their flights without the dragon having to land and dig out the barrel.
Royal Rescue Page 6
