The dragon ignored her, as she had ignored Tarma every other time she had muttered something similar. It—she—was a very polite dragon, although a deeply distressed dragon.
She had every right to be distressed, though how that distress and the spell she had cast to bring her some help had interacted to open a portal between her world—which was obviously not the one that held Shin’a’in, since there were no such things as dragons in Tarma’s world—and their world was a mystery White Winds Adepts would probably be debating for the next century or more. That didn’t matter. What did was what she and Kethry were going to do about the situation that brought them here, since obviously the magic that had done so would not release them until they had.
“I’m dreadfully sorry now that I built the spell that way,” the dragon was saying, apologetically, “But I thought I would probably be dragging in some reluctant knight or other, and well—historically my kind and theirs do not exactly get along. I built in coercions, and now I can’t get rid of them.”
Kethry nodded wisely, as Tarma sighed. “At least the track isn’t even cold by Warrl’s standards,” Tarma put in. “I have to admit that you couldn’t have deliberately selected anyone more fit to get Rowena back to you in a reasonable amount of time if you’d tried.”
Warrl nodded. :I really should get on the scent now,: he said, his tone as sympathetic as Tarma had ever heard. :Rowena is probably terribly frightened—:
“Rowena is probably furious,” the dragon corrected. “And if she starts telling him what she thinks of him—”
The dragon’s voice broke on a sob, and her talons tightened on her own oversized mug until it broke, period. Tarma did not finish the sentence, for the dragon had revealed Rowena’s “little talent” to explain why they were going to have to find the girl quickly. Princes are always hard up for cash, especially younger princes. Once he finds out he has the equivalent of a mint and a mine in his hands, he’ll lock her up so tight they’ll have to send daylight to her by messenger.
:I’m on my way,: Warrl said hastily, not wanting to be subjected to another bout of draconic tears and hysteria. The last bout had been quite enough for him.
I would never have guessed that dragons could cry.
Warrl vanished with alacrity, and Tarma decided to change the subject before the dragon broke down again. “Look, this idiot can’t have gotten far with her. She isn’t going to cooperate, and he is going to be far too gallant and polite to knock her over the head and bundle her off unconscious.”
“That—that’s true,” the dragon sniffled. “Rowena didn’t think much of him before, and by now, her estimate of his character has probably placed him somewhere below spotted newts. If he’s lucky, she hasn’t done anything to him that’s permanent.”
“Well, given that, how do you want us to get her loose?” Tarma asked. “I don’t think you ought to appear; he might try something desperate.”
The dragon winced, but nodded.
“We need to be smart about this,” Kethry mused. “I—”
Then she flushed, and grinned. “You did say that her father forbade anyone to go after her?”
The dragon nodded again.
“Well,” Kethry said slyly. “I have an idea that would provide the perfect explanation for why he did that, and possibly even prevent anything like this from happening in the future. Provided, of course, that your fosterling doesn’t mind her reputation being totally destroyed.”
Tarma looked closely at her partner, and as often happened, realized precisely what the sorceress meant; after all, it was an assumption—incorrect as it happened—that was often applied to her and Kethry. Oh my ears! If she’s thinking what I think she’s thinking—
The dragon lifted her head high, and cocked it to one side. “I don’t think she would mind if it kept princes off the ledge, but what—”
:I’ve found her,: Warrl trumpeted in their minds. :They aren’t far away at all. Hurry up, though, I think His Highness is getting impatient.:
“Let’s go” Tarma said, jumping to her feet. “I want to get this over with. We’ll explain on the way.”
~o0o~
This prince, if not a complete idiot, was certainly the most incompetent person Tarma had ever seen. He hadn’t left any kind of a guard on the trail outside the cave he’d hidden in, he’d picked a hiding place barely an hour away from the dragon’s own cave, and he wasn’t paying any attention to anything going on outside. I guess this just proves that the gods watch out for fools and the mad, she thought in disgust, as Warrl drove his horse off. I can’t think of any other reason why he’s still alive.
The sound of his horse galloping off—the fool hadn’t even hobbled it!—finally brought him out of the entrance of the cave. He stared in shock at the sight of two grim-faced, armed women—with swords drawn—waiting for him.
Tarma was going to be the one challenging him, because Need had a tendency to over-react and they didn’t want to kill or even hurt him. And right now, caught between the distress of the female dragon hidden out of sight behind them and Rowena’s emotional state in the cave in front of them, Kethry would not be able to restrain the sword if she had to fight the boy.
Of course, there was the chance that he was a much, much better fighter than they thought. He could even be better than Tarma. In that case, they were not going to play fair. Kethry would move in and deal with him. Hopefully, she would be able to keep Need from inflicting anything too permanent.
“Stand forth, kidnapper!” Tarma growled menacingly. “I, Tarma shena Tale’sedrin, do challenge you as a cad and a miscreant. I challenge you for the welfare of the lady you have stolen. I challenge you to single combat for the hand of my lady and my love, the Princess Rowena!”
The look on the boy’s face when she got to those final few words was almost enough to make her break out laughing. His eyes bulged, and his mouth dropped open, giving him an uncanny resemblance to a startled frog. The green surcoat he wore only heightened the resemblance.
“I— ah—” His mouth moved, but nothing more came out of it.
Tarma took advantage of his mental state to advance on him. He barely got his blade up in time to deflect her first move; he never saw the second. Her blow to the side of his head laid him out flat.
“Now what?” Kethry asked.
Tarma shrugged. “Go free the girl and explain the situation to her. She’s the injured party. Let her decide what she wants to do with him. Personally, all I want is out of here.”
:He is a very good musician,: Warrl put in wistfully. :Truly a marvelous minstrel. I don’t suppose—:
“NO!” snapped Tarma, Kethry, and the dragon, all together.
~o0o~
From her position in the cave, Rowena had been able to hear clearly everything that was going on, but it didn’t make much sense to her. First that incredibly odd looking animal had crept in and scared off the horse. She had seen it quite clearly, although she hadn’t recognized it. It was like nothing she had ever seen before.
Warning the prince about what was happening to his horse was not something she was going to do; she didn’t owe him any favors. She was prepared to watch the horse gnawed to bare bones before she opened her mouth, but she was just as happy when it was merely chased away—after all, none of this was the horse’s fault.
But her mouth dropped open in astonishment when she heard the challenge. Who is Tarma shena Tale’sedrin? she wondered. And what does she mean “my lady and my love”—I’ve never even met her!
Then a very pretty young woman with amber hair came into the cave, cut her loose, helped her to her feet and held her up until the numbness wore off and Rowena could walk again. “It’s all right, Rowena,” she said soothingly. “My name is Kethry, my partner is Tarma, and I think you may have seen Warrl earlier. Your foster-mother hired us to rescue you.”
Rowena had several questions about this ‘rescue party’ but she didn’t know if it was safe to talk yet. So she remained silent as she foll
owed Kethry out of the cave into the sunlight. The prince lay on the ground, but Rowena didn’t spare enough attention to determine whether he was dead or merely unconscious. Kethry had obviously been telling the truth about who hired them; the dragon was perched on the trail just beyond the cave. Rowena ran to her and flung both arms around as much dragon as she could reach, which was most of one foreleg.
A scaly chin dropped down to pat the top of her head and then pulled back. “My poor child,” the dragon said. “Have you managed to keep your mouth shut all this time?” Rowena nodded, her head still pressed firmly against the dragon’s leg. “I’m impressed,” the dragon chuckled. “I know it wasn’t easy for you. But you can talk now. He’s unconscious—”
“Not dead?” Rowena asked in mock disappointment, carefully palming two jewels.
“Rowena!” the dragon reproved her. “And Tarma and Kethry and Warrl know about your peculiar talent.”
Rowena turned to look at them. Kethry smiled sympathetically. “It must be awkward sometimes,” she said.
Rowena nodded. “But it’s not so bad since the Lady Dragon modified the spell to get rid of the flowers,” she said, carefully catching the jewels and coins in her cupped hands. “The rose thorns in the original spell really hurt!” She looked at Tarma. “Why did you call me your lady and your love? I don’t understand that part—we’ve never met before, have we?”
Tarma chuckled. “That was to discourage further royal attempts at ‘rescuing’ you,” she explained. “If you are thought to be a lover of women, most princes won’t want you.”
“What’s a lover of woman?” Rowena asked, still puzzled.
Tarma sighed, and Kethry giggled. “Oh,” Rowena said, realizing the class of information involved. “That’s one of those ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ things, isn’t it?”
“Something like that,” Kethry replied. “The idea is that when the prince tells this story, people won’t bother you anymore.”
“There’s just one problem with that,” Rowena said. “He’s a minstrel—he’s not going to tell anything accurately—or even close to it!”
“Damn,” Tarma said. “She’s right. We know how strange a story can become when a minstrel gets hold of it.”
The prince stirred and groaned. “What happened?” He looked around, saw the dragon, and promptly fainted.
Rowena sighed. “He’s a frog,” she said firmly.
Pop! Everyone blinked at the sound, then looked at the figure on the ground. The prince was gone, replaced by a frog.
“How did you do that?” the dragon asked in surprise.
Rowena shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “He just seemed like a frog to me.”
The dragon sighed. “I guess I’ll have to start giving you lessons in magic. Wild talents are dangerous.”
“So are some tame ones,” Rowena retorted. “Look at my Aunt Frideswide.”
“Can you change him back?” Kethry asked.
Rowena shrugged again. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t particularly want to change him back, either—not after the way he treated me!”
“Well, you have to do something with him,” Tarma said, “or he’ll be outside your cave every time you look.”
Rowena looked up at the dragon. “Can you do something with him?”
The dragon thought for a minute. “I’ll set up a transport circle, and send him to wherever he’s wanted or needed.”
Rowena nodded. “Let’s hope there’s somebody who wants him then.” She turned to Kethry. “You said that you were hired to rescue me. Did you,” she looked from them to the dragon, “agree on a price?”
“We’re actually getting paid?” Tarma said incredulously.
Rowena handed Tarma the jewels that had fallen into her hands with every word she had spoken since they had rescued her. “Would you prefer coins for the rest?” Tarma nodded, apparently unable to speak. Rowena cupped her hands in front of her face and chanted softly. When she lowered her hands, they were full of gold coins. She handed them to Kethry, who put them into her belt pouch. Tarma, still staring at the jewels, followed her example.
~o0o~
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Kethry asked the dragon anxiously, as she, Tarma, Warrl and their horses took their places in the carefully scribed magic circle.
The dragon could only shrug. “I can only hope. I am not entirely certain how I brought you here in the first place.”
“Just get on with it,” Tarma said, addressing a private and fervent prayer to the Star-eyed. The dragon closed her eyes, and inscribed a complicated figure in the air with one talon.
Then the world went black.
But instead of reappearing in the clearing in the Pelagirs, Tarma found herself standing alone, in a place of softly glowing mist, on a path of light. The Moonpaths! she thought, startled, But why—
“So,” said a familiar voice, a hollow tenor, pleasant enough, but echoing as if the speaker stood in the bottom of a well. “Finally, we find you. Your spirits have been wandering, Younger Sister—wandering quite out of our world.”
“What?” she asked, startled.
“You have traveled in spirit to a very distant place,” her leshy’a Kalendral teacher told her. “Oh, do not mistake me, your venture was quite real, and as you know, you affected the world in which you walked quite decisively—but your true body was lying in your camp, where you were overcome by the dust of gade’shata. You, and your she’enedra both, your horses and your kyree.” He tilted his head to one side. “We bent a rule for you, we, your teachers, and guarded you while you walked.”
Tarma blanched. Gade’shata mushrooms produced a cloud of spores which were incredibly potent. Shamans sometimes used them to walk through other worlds and times, though at their peril. If she and Kethry had survived an encounter with those potent fungi, they were fortunate indeed!
“I shall not ask where you walked,” the spirit-Kal’enedral continued. “You could only have been drawn to one who needed you profoundly. I will only say that you have been fortunate to have escaped this with a whole soul, and if I were you, I should be very careful to watch where I stepped in the future.”
And before she could reply, the world vanished again. Only this time, she found herself lying cramped and cold on wet grass, soaked from head to toe by a sudden rainfall. She dragged herself to her feet with the help of a nearby sapling, scraping her wet hair out of her eyes as she looked around.
The mares were tethered nearby, shaking their heads as if dazed, the imprint of their bodies still marking the grass beside them. Kethry was blinking and sitting up; Warrl scrubbing at his eyes with his paws. It looked as if they had just made camp, for the remains of a fire smoldered in the light rain—and just beyond the fire, Tarma spotted the flattened shapes of decomposing fungi, their spores depleted. The mushrooms, she thought dazedly. We camped next to the mushrooms, and the heat of the fire set their spores loose. Oh, the gods watch over fools and the mad!
“What—was it a dream?” Kethry asked, dazedly.
“Yes—and no,” Tarma croaked. “Let’s get out of here while we can. I’ll explain it to you on the road.”
Kethry sighed. “It figures. Any job involving Need where we get paid would have to be a dream.”
The Dragon’s Horde
Elisabeth Waters & Raul S. Reyes
Sigrun thought she was too sick to care about anything when the dragon came and snatched her up. She had thought that nothing on the earth—or above it—could feel worse than the morning sickness which had plagued her for the last month, but she quickly discovered that being dragged through the air made her feel even sicker. To add to her misery, she was wearing her sword at her side, rather than across her back as she usually wore it, and it banged against her hip with every beat of the dragon’s wings. Her hair had come loose from its braid and was blowing all over, and her chain mail shirt, while perfectly comfortable on the ground, proved to be very drafty when faced with a strong
head-wind. Long before the flight ended she was considering death as a desirable option.
They finally landed at the mouth of a cave overlooking the Stuyr River. Far below them she could see the towers of a castle on the riverbank. She staggered to the nearest bush and lost the rest of her breakfast. Her only consolation was that it hadn’t been worth keeping, although she did regret the waste of the coins she’d paid the inn-keeper for it. When her stomach was completely empty, she managed to stand up again, but she still felt very weak and shaken.
“Are you through being sick yet?” came a voice from inside the cave. It sounded like a human voice, although it did have an unpleasantly piercing sound to it. A young girl stepped out of the cave, and Sigrun saw that while she was plain in appearance, she didn’t look quite as bad as she sounded. Her dress was faded, badly frayed at the neck and the hem, which had been cut scandalously short before it frayed, and much too tight around the middle. Obviously it was a very old dress, and this girl was probably not a captive princess.
“I am Princess Rowena,” the girl announced. “What are you called?” Three coins and five assorted gemstones fell from her lips as she spoke.
So she is a princess, Sigrun thought. She certainly has odd taste in food. I guess she must be a captive of the dragon’s. She sketched a bow toward the young princess and was rewarded with an equally sketchy curtsy.
“I am Sigrun of Tal Heights, formerly of the Silver Oak Free Company.”
“I’ve heard of the Silver Oaks,” a voice rumbled from overhead. It was the dragon. “They had a couple of good seasons. Why did they disband?”
“We had a couple of very good seasons,” Sigrun replied. With a pang she remembered her mustering out pay, two hundred and fifty gold coins, a small fortune. It was still with her belongings at the inn where she had spent the night. If she didn’t return soon the innkeeper would confiscate all her baggage for payment, and two seasons’ pay for hard campaigning would be gone.
“I have to get back to the inn,” she said.
The Princess, the Dragon, and the Frog Prince Page 3
