by A. M. Deese
“What are we doing today?”
Her father was an important man. Kay had grown up seeing a constant stream of people who traveled from all over to trade with her father, people from as far away as the Sand Sea. They gave furs, silver, and gold, or formed pieces of art. Some gave spices or other various assortments of exotic foods. The list of products traded always differed, but the people all came wanting one thing, dragons.
“I caught a new one, sleeping by the lake early this morning. She had her guard down,” he pushed back Kay’s wild curls. “She’s pregnant.”
Kay squealed with delight. She loved to watch baby dragons grow. They were born small enough to hold in her hand, and she loved looking at their shiny scales and dark glistening eyes. The grew fast though, reaching Kay’s own size after just a week and they were curious and often got into squabbles with each other and their mother, testing their strength and power. They were intelligent too. They understood when feeding times were and they were aware that they had to return nightly for dinner and the security of the barn. Raised in the barn, they seldom ever sought escape, and dragons born at the barn were the easiest to train for breeding, probably because they imprinted with her father when they were still babies.
“Can I see her?” Kay hopped from one foot to the other, twisting her hands in circles. “Oh, may I?”
But Daddy said no and instead ordered her to look after Rumble’s breakfast, arguing that the newly captured dragon needed time to adjust. The mother dragon would be chained now, and though distressed at her capture, she would also be nesting and preparing to give birth. Mama had informed both Kay and her father more than once that under no circumstances was Kay to be placed in any dangerous situations. A newly caught mother dragon would fall under the category of such a situation. More than anything, Kay wanted to watch, but she knew that Daddy would never let her. Probably because he was scared of Mama. Kay didn’t know why her father was so frightened of Mama, but she could tell that he was. He never went against Mama’s wishes. Kay thought it had something to do with the way Mama would tap her foot and scrunch up her eyebrows. She could look pretty mean when she did that.
Kay fed Rumble, carefully setting down his portion of mixed meat. Today it was several fat pigs and a bird of some sort. Kay suspected it had been a turkey, though without feathers it was hard to tell. Rumble hated feathers. She left his meat as well as several bushels of vegetables in front of the dragon before she leaped far from the pile and shouted, “Now, Rumble!”
The dragon lifted his noble head and blew a stream of fire over his offering. Once the food was sizzling and smoking, he devoured his portion, swallowing the meal quickly and sniffing the air around him. Kay was glad that her father had never sold Rumble, because he was her favorite. Kay had heard the terrible stories of what happened to dragons across the Sand Sea and had asked Daddy about it once. His face had looked very angry and his voice was firm.
“It’s not our business what happens to the dragons we sell.”
Kay had kicked at the ground while she thought over his answer. “But don’t you feel sad knowing you’re giving the dragons away to people who are just going to be mean to them?”
Daddy had been very firm. “We do not give the dragons away, Kay. We sell them to pay for the things we need to survive. Don’t you love all of your toys? Don’t you love where we live?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Kay had answered solemnly, because she really did love her life just the way it was. But, she just felt bad for the dragons sometimes.
Mama was always particular to Rumble, more so after Kay had provoked him and he hadn’t attacked. She saw him as a member of the family and was constantly reminding Kay that she was lucky to have such a friend in Rumble because most people never got to know dragons and no one counted one as a friend.
Daddy suggested that Rumble’s natural friendliness toward the family, and particularly Kay, was just because he was so old. And though Mama agreed, it sometimes looked like she wondered.
Kay sat in the dirt beside Rumble, careful to give him plenty of space while he finished his breakfast. She watched him for a moment, smelling her hands and wrinkling her nose at the smell. No wonder dragons had such smelly breath. Finished with his meal, Rumble licked the ground where it had been and then sniffed at the air, flicking his forked tongue in and out before fixing one dark eye on Kay.
She held up her hands, “No more. You’ll just have to wait for dinner.”
Rumble grunted and twin lines of smoke curled up from his nostrils. Kay watched them, mesmerized. Kay had seen dragons in every color of the rainbow, but Rumble was the prettiest. Rumble was a deep red that Kay imagined must be the most beautiful color in all the world.
“It’s the color of rubies,” Daddy had once said, showing her a small red stone. Kay had wrinkled her nose at the shiny rock. It was pretty, and while the hue reminded her of Rumble, it did nothing to capture the sparkle in his scale or his richness of color.
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she said softly. She stood up slowly, keeping her eyes trained on Rumble’s mouth. The dragon stood unmoving. She reached out her arm, unfolding her fingers one by one, careful to keep her breathing slow and normal.
“Easy, Rumble, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“He’s not worried that you’ll hurt him,” her Daddy’s voice was calm and even. “Come away from him baby.”
Kay sighed and did as she was told, turning her back on the dragon and walking toward her father. She could feel Rumble’s eyes watching her leave.
“He wouldn’t have hurt me, Daddy.” Her voice was impatient, but she was careful not to whine when she presented her case. Daddy always said that if she pleaded her case like an adult, she would be treated like one. “Rumble has never been aggressive before. And you even said that when I stood on his nose when I was a little girl he didn’t look like he was mad at all.”
Daddy smiled, showing his even white teeth. She liked when they peeked out from behind his scruffy beard. “You’re still a little girl.”
Kay narrowed her eyes, “Daddy I’m presenting a case here.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he smiled, lifting his arms in surrender. “Please continue.”
She cleared her throat. “Because Rumble has never acted aggressive toward me and due to the fact that we have established a relationship,” she was pleased to see Daddy’s eyes widen at her using such big words, “I propose that I am allowed to try and pet him.” And try to ride him, she added silently to herself. She knew the importance of picking her battles and instead finished her case with, “Please, Daddy, just let me try one time.”
Her father seemed to actually be considering it. That is, he hadn’t said no and was staring off at Rumble when an opening door sent in a rush of outside air. The cool air tickled her sweaty skin, and Kay shivered from the goosebumps.
Her father spun around at the open doors and smiled at Mama who stood in the doorway. Though her mother respected Rumble, she would never approve Kay’s efforts to get closer. Kay sent pleading eyes to her father, and he squeezed her shoulder before ushering her to the door by keeping a large steady palm in the small of her back.
“Is it time for me to help get lunch, Mama?” She was quick to ask before Mama questioned what they’d been talking about.
“It is. Why don’t you wash up?” she smiled at Kay before turning serious eyes to her husband. “There’s a buyer here.” Her tone was meaningful, and Kay was aware that her parents were silently communicating. She was missing something and she scowled. She hated being left out. She knew better than to ask any questions, however, and instead scampered off to the kitchens, wanting to reach home before her parents in hopes of gaining a clue as to the new buyer.
She raced back home, ignoring her parents calls that she wait, and pumped her tiny legs as fast as they would take her. When she reached their house, she was sweaty and breathing hard. She opened the back door and fell inside, pleased to see the visitor waiting inside their small fami
ly kitchen. The kitchen smelled of warm bread, and Kay smiled deeply at the visitor, feeling very satisfied.
“Hello,” she said, ripping the corner off the fresh loaf and popping it into her mouth. Mama made the best bread. It was hot and buttery and melted in her mouth.
The buyer looked different than the others. In place of the heavy wool robes, the man wore a light tunic not dissimilar to her own. His pants stopped just under his knee and ballooned slightly at the bottom. She was interested in his odd clothing but was more fascinated by his shiny bald head. The man’s dark eyes slanted down at her.
“Hello,” his voice was low and musical. “You must be Kay.”
Kay smiled. She liked feeling important. She was the daughter of the dragon catcher, the greatest dragon trainer that ever lived. She stood tall.
“I am.” She nodded and didn’t demand to know the stranger’s name, even though she wanted to, because she didn’t want to be rude. When he didn’t offer it, she cocked her head to the side and thought of what she could say.
“Rumble is my favorite, but he’s not for sale.”
The buyer’s eyebrows lifted and he smiled, “Is that so?”
Kay nodded, feeling braver. “Yup. He’s my friend. One day I’m going to ride him and everything.”
“Aren’t you scared?” The buyer widened his eyes and looked down at her impressed. “What about his big teeth and all that fire?”
Kay shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not scared, Rumble would never hurt me. Besides, if he blows his fire at me, I’ll just move it away.”
“Kay, go to your room.” Her father had appeared and he filled the doorway. He did not look happy.
“Daddy, I—”
“To your room.” He didn’t even look at her. His eyes were trained on the buyer. She fled from the room but stopped just outside in the hall. She leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, trying not to scream. She wouldn’t throw a tantrum. Only babies threw tantrums and she was seven years old.
“What are you doing here?” It was her father’s voice. He was asking the buyer.
“Is it true? Does Kay have the gift?”
Kay straightened at the mention of her name and pressed closer to the wall so that she could hear better.
“I asked you what you were doing here.” It was Daddy’s “don’t ask me again” voice, which meant that he was good and angry. The buyer would have to apologize now.
“You know why I’ve come.” The buyer’s voice sounded more amused than frightened. Kay frowned and wrinkled her eyebrows, trying to hear what her daddy whispered.
“You can’t have her.” At least, that’s what it sounded like to Kay, but she was already pressed close to the wall and if she moved any closer she would be spotted. If Daddy saw her, she would get in trouble for not going to her room like he’d asked.
“She belongs here, with her family.”
“It’s her duty. Did you think to hide her from us?” The buyer’s voice was angry now. “Did you think we would never find out?”
“You can’t have her.” Her father repeated, and Kay was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. She was sorry she’d ran ahead and she didn’t want to know any more about the mysterious man, she only wanted him to leave.
There was a thud and she jumped back from the wall that still vibrated from the impact. Daddy grunted on the other side. Kay suddenly remembered what Mama and Daddy had told her. She was in trouble, and it was time for her to run. She turned on her heel and hurried to her room.
Chapter Six
BESHAR
Beshar, Tenth of the Thirteen, tried to stay indoors at night. His life in the arena was demanding however, and this wasn’t the first time he had been summoned after hours, nor would it be his last. He was grateful his business there had been concluded within an hour, with any luck he would make it back to his chambers before the sun fully set. Though it was early in the evening, the pits had all been ignited and they cast shadows that flickered and danced on the clay buildings and homes that made up the city. The arena was close to the palace where he made his home, close enough that he’d felt he could walk, Everflame knew he could use the exercise. Now, he regretted his earlier desire to try his hand at fitness.
You should have brought more men. The three Samur that followed flanked behind him and to either side, but even with the security of his Samur, he felt naked and vulnerable. As a member of the Thirteen, assassins were a constant threat. He quickened his pace, gazing sharply from left to right, drinking in the sights around him. The city smelled horrid of course. The rank odor of the poor wafted up to him, attacking his sinuses, and he pressed a perfumed handkerchief to his mouth to ward off the pungent smell. What was that? Sewage and rotting meat? He shuddered delicately. He was never walking to the arena again.
The palace rose up ahead of him. Emblazoned by the light of the Everflame, the glass monstrosity twinkled and glowed a brilliant orange against the sandy dunes surrounding it. When he got inside he would enjoy a nice steam and a bottle of wine. Maybe two.
The palace had been his home for the last twenty years, so Beshar did not notice its sparkling brilliance or the fact that the fourteen majestic glass towers were awe inspiring in their size and architecture. Built decades ago, the palace was made by Torches who heated the surrounding sands and manipulated the fine sheet of malleable glass into tall, hollow, twisted peaks. The architecture of the palace was beautiful and unmatched by anything in the world, but Beshar saw none of that. To him, the palace was simply his home. To be more accurate, the Tenth Tower was his home. But the towers were all connected to make one striking unit.
A small group of people, upper class by the look of the fine cotton of their robes, strolled toward the palace. A few took leisurely swigs of water along the way, most likely to flaunt their wealth to any who might observe. New money. Where are they going at such a late hour? The palace closed its gate every evening, and no one, aside from the Thirteen, were granted entrance after sunset.
There were four of them, three men and a woman, and Beshar realized that though they were all wealthy to a degree, only one of them had Arbe in tow. The four guard men gave Beshar and his men a careful once over.
“I think it’s scandalous.” The voice came from the woman, and Beshar walked closer, eager to overhear any gossip she might share. There was power in information.
“Where do you suppose he is? It’s unlikely he’d tour the cities so late in the season.”
One of the men snorted. “He didn’t leave for a tour without anyone noticing.”
“Then where has he been? He hasn’t been seen for two days…”
The people turned down an alley and their voices faded with them. They were more than likely headed to the theater, it was the only source of entertainment this close to the palace. For a moment, Beshar toyed with the idea of following them. He dismissed the thought quickly. It was better not to stay out any later than he had to and he had an excellent vintage waiting for him.
He continued on his trek to the palace, mulling over the conversation he’d overheard. It had been a pitiful excuse for gossip. He was aware, of course, that the First had been missing at court. He hadn’t been seen in days. The rest of the imbeciles that made up the Thirteen might have accepted the explanation of the daughter of the First, but Beshar was a man of intellect, and the facts remained that her story didn’t add up. The daughter of the First claimed that her father’s illness wasn’t serious, but if that was the case then why hadn’t he attended the council meeting? A minor illness would not keep one from his duty of ruling an entire republic. And yet, if the sickness was serious enough to warrant an absence from council meetings, why then had the First not seen the palace surgeon? Beshar knew that he hadn’t. He’d paid handsomely for that knowledge and had the man followed for good measure. The surgeon had not been summoned. The daughter of the First was up to something, and Beshar’s mouth watered at the opportunities that arose from her deceit. What was she up to? He couldn’t
wait to find out.
He was almost to the palace, he had only to cross one alley and then he would arrive at its front gates. The gates, while also made of glass, were reinforced several times over and rose nearly twenty feet into the sky.
He hesitated for the briefest of moments in front of the alleyway. It was short and narrow, darkened by the height of the two buildings on either side of it. The courtyard pit did little to light the alley, but Beshar was not afraid of the dark. The absence of torchlight only made things safer.
He strolled forward, ready to relax with his steam and his wine, but he was stopped by a firm grip on his forearm.
He frowned down at the offending appendage before dragging his stare up to meet the imposing figure of Kenjiro. His head Samur shook his head slightly, indicating that there was a potential threat just ahead.
A surge of adrenaline rushed through Beshar. He was no fighter. When trouble arose, he relied on his wit and the power of his wealth to see him out of it. Once again, he wished he’d thought to bring more men. The darkened alley loomed before him. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the worse.
“Who goes there?” he called out. He was surprised at the deep timbre and authoritative ring to his tone.
A figure stepped forward. It was hard to distinguish features in the light of the distant fire pit, but Beshar assumed it was a woman based on the tiny form of the figure and the unctuous sway to the hips.
“Hello, Beshar.” The voice purred over his name as it stepped ever closer.
He was right. It was a woman. She was dressed entirely in black, loose black trousers and tunic, with her hair knotted at the nape of her neck. A black silk mask covered her features.
He dipped his upper half into the semblance of a bow but kept his gaze trained on her face, what he could see of it in any case.
He thought he could detect a slight smile from beneath her mask.
“Such the gentlemen.”
