Dragon Magic

by Megan Derr

  Ha. Take that. Thank you, Cemal.

  I'm going to strangle all of you, Sule grumbled. Why do I keep saving your miserable lives whenever I have the chance to be free of you?

  Binhadi smiled faintly. Have the two of you worked out your snit, then?

  It wasn't a snit. It was this odious fool running his mouth for the millionth time and having no respect—

  I have no respect for anything, what makes you special? Mahzan cut in. You were growing tiresome, with your secret that is not a secret, and even if it had been, it's not a very interesting secret.

  Sule's reply to that was a blank. It was the strangest sensation. Usually there was some sort of reaction, even if all Cemal saw was a wash of different colors, or quickly flashing images or a jumble of largely incomprehensible words.

  Then the white dropped away, like a lid falling off a barrel as it was kicked over, the contents spilling out: shock, relief, disbelief at Mahzan's sincerity and the way all of them so easily accepted something that Sule had always carefully hidden because he was almost always rejected and thrown out for it.

  Cemal choked at the sensation that followed that flood of emotion, a tangle of happiness from Sule, shock from Mahzan, and desire from both. He could feel from both of them what it was like to kiss the other, the heat and pleasure, the unexpected force of a mutual, long-denied desire.

  Then Sule pulled away, embarrassed over his own behavior getting the better of him. Cemal slammed his own walls into place on the chance the two halfwits went further than kissing.

  Beside him, Binhadi chuckled. "That took longer than I thought."

  Cemal smiled faintly. "I thought it would take longer." Safely behind his walls, he tried to squash pointless envy. He wasn't even certain what, exactly, he envied. The kiss itself, maybe. Past that, it was impossible to sort out, so maybe it was for the best no such thing was in his future. He had no business kissing anyone when he could not even sort out which of the three he most wanted to kiss. Binhadi, who seemed to understand him in ways the other two did not? Mahzan, who always made him laugh and with whom he could exchange jests and playful barbs? Sule, as fierce and hot as his fires, strong and appealing for that?

  He had never expected to be drawn to anyone, not after his parents died and so much responsibility fell to him. Certainly not after his sister had been murdered and all he lived for was revenge.

  And could he really trust anything he felt, when there was grief to face and they only traveled together because of a bond forged by mistake? When he could not even stand to think too long about what he had done that evening?

  "I think it is time I went to bed," he finally said, and climbed out of Binhadi's bed to settle on his pallet in the corner.

  It took only minutes to fall asleep, and the Great Dragon must have taken pity, because he slept without dreaming.

  LADY ESER

  "I would give Binhadi's entire fortune for a good bed and hot bath," Mahzan said with a groan as he reluctantly climbed back on his horse.

  Binhadi snorted, his breath misting in the chilly air. "My fortune is at the bottom of the Great Lake, so I would not expect to buy more than the same mediocre service we've been getting all along. That being said, we should reach Eser's manor tonight if we keep traveling hard, and you'll get a bit of luxury there."

  Mahzan heaved a long sigh. "When do we get to travel in leisure and luxury?"

  "Never," Sule said. "Grow used to it, fool."

  "Clearly I should have been more selective in my Oathbinding."

  "You're not exactly my first pick either," Sule replied. "Get used to it, because thus far we have been traveling rather well. After we part ways with Lady Eser, there is only Shimoor Hollow and then no more civilization for weeks until we reach the Point."

  "Splendid."

  Sule cast him a scathing look, though ever since that kiss two weeks ago, his contempt had been less convincing that usual. Mahzan had been hoping to get more than a kiss at some point, but for all he was blunt and bold when it came to everything else, Sule was clearly—understandably—shy and skittish when it came to intimacy.

  But if there was one thing Mahzan was good at, aside from being a magnificent performer, it was waiting.

  "What are you looking so pleased about?" Cemal asked, amusement rippling through the bond. "Already plotting how to terrorize the locals when we reach them?"

  Mahzan shook his head. "I only terrorize nobles. Even if I was inclined to harass villagers, I wouldn't risk incurring the wrath of the last bit of civilization I will be seeing for some time. I'd much rather stay on their good side."

  "I guess even a fool must show sense once in a great while," Sule said, but the barest hint of a smile slipped past his moodiness of the past two weeks, which had been worse than his usual too-serious nature.

  But if Mahzan recalled old conversations correctly, Shimoor Hollow was where Sule had grown up, and he had no desire to return. Hopefully they could pass through quickly. "Don't worry, I'll never make a habit of it."

  Binhadi's amusement trickled through the bond for a moment and then was gone. "Let's be getting on. I would like to reach Eser's home before nightfall. I think we've all had enough of contending with these forests at night, and the sooner we get there, the longer we can enjoy the comforts of a civilized home."

  "Yes, my lord," Mahzan and the others chorused.

  Sule moved first, resuming his place in the lead position. Mahzan and Binhadi rode a short distance behind him, and Cemal fell back further to take up the rear. Mahzan cast out but felt only beasts and a couple of hunters too far away to matter.

  They traveled several more hours, late morning turning to midday, thankfully all of it passing with no interruption save a break to rest the horses and eat a light meal. Late afternoon was only just turning to evening when their destination came into view.

  The rough shape of it resembled a castle, an old one built purely for function, with no thought to pleasure. But at some point it had been modified to be more manor house than fortress. It was still surrounded by a wide moat, however, and one actually filled with running water rather than merely spikes and other unpleasant ends at the bottom of a long drop.

  It was a handsome house, made of black stone and surrounded by ivy and wild roses. Lamps lined the wide dirt path leading up to the house, even where it split off toward the stable. Expensive and dangerous, but those two factors little mattered to the wealthy and powerful.

  Sule grunted. "I hope your friend doesn't mind unexpected visitors."

  Shrugging, Binhadi replied, "She won't, but I wouldn't care if she did. Some things are more important than manners."

  "Given how you never use them," Mahzan said with a laugh, "I assume you mean everything is more important than manners."

  Binhadi cast him a look as he rode forward to lead the way up the path, but he didn't bother to keep his amusement from the bond.

  The door opened as they dismounted, and five servants came bustling out, all of them wearing gray and maroon tunics and hose. They took the horses, murmuring in low tones to Binhadi that they would see their belongings were taken inside and to the appropriate rooms, which would be made ready as quickly as possible. Binhadi thanked them, then motioned to the others before sweeping up the stairs and into the house as though he were its lord rather than an uninvited guest.

  Then again, Mahzan had never known a noble to act any other way.

  Cemal and Sule trailed ahead of him, not imperious but certainly casual. Mahzan was used to ornate surroundings, but he was definitely always a servant wherever he went. He'd never been a lord's guest, or practically treated like a lord himself.

  He followed behind the others as they were escorted down a hall by a somber looking man with gold marks on the shoulders of his tunic. He radiated curiosity and faint annoyance; Mahzan focused hard enough to pick up that the man had been hoping to slip off early to roll in the hay with one of the stablemen. Mahzan withdrew and left the man to his thoughts, but cas
t his powers to feel out all the servants, whose emotions all seemed equally innocuous.

  There was a glaring lack of emotion from the lady of the manor, but given she was a close friend of Binhadi's, it wasn't surprising she could shield so expertly. It was a surprise she bothered to do so, as she couldn't have known she'd have a mind mage visiting, but perhaps it was simply habit.

  At the end of the hallway, the servant threw open enormous double doors and bowed them into what proved to be a beautiful, if austere, music room. Every instrument he could name, and even a few he couldn't, filled the space.

  In the center of the room was a harp, finer than even the one once played by Relia, the king's mistress. A woman sat playing it, her eyes closed as she focused. She was handsome, with flawless black-brown skin and dark hair threaded with silver, falling in short, tight curls around her head.

  The playing abruptly stopped and the woman opened her eyes. Mahzan gasped. Her eyes glowed the palest white-gold—a seer. Somehow, he'd forgotten she was a seer. They were as rare as healers, but usually because they died young, driven to madness or suicide. Some considered seers another type of mind magic, others considered them a type all their own.

  That certainly explained why she excelled at mental barriers—she was trying to keep people out because the less she let in, the less likely she was to have a vision. No wonder she lived in the middle of nowhere.

  A pretty smile overtook her face as she saw them. She stood and crossed the room to embrace Binhadi tightly. Affection and sadness spun through Mahzan's mind and then was gone as Binhadi reinforced his barriers.

  Mahzan hated when he did that—and hated far more that he'd gotten so used to feeling the three of them in his own mind that he missed them when they were gone.

  He also hated the insufferable smugness wafting off Cemal and Sule as they cast him little smirks he was going to knock off their faces if they didn't quit.

  "It's good to see you, old friend," Eser said, drawing back but keeping Binhadi in a loose embrace. "It's been what, nine years?"

  "Just gone ten," Binhadi said softly. "How are you?"

  "Still sane, which is all I can ask. How are you? What brings you so far afield to see me, shadem?"

  Shadem? Mahzan asked.

  Binhadi replied, The Crimmen word for shadow mage. Eser is half-Crimmen, her father's bastard child, but there was no one else left to inherit when her half-siblings all died of the infant plague, and her parents later died of the consuming sickness.

  Mahzan and the others winced. He'd seen countless children die of it in the streets and the couple of orphanages he'd lived in before being taken in by the Entertainment Guild. He'd been one of the lucky few not to suffer it.

  I barely survived it, Sule said.

  My sister and I got the infant plague. We had a baby brother we don't remember who died of it, Cemal added.

  I had it, too, Binhadi said. Like Sule, I only barely survived. I was weak for a good two years after it passed.

  "Come, come," Eser said. "Tell me of your handsome companions."

  Binhadi drew a breath, let it out slowly. "These are my Oathbound, and I am afraid I have some unhappy news to relate." He led Eser back to her seat by the harp, and then explained all that had transpired from the fearmonger attack onward.

  Eser wiped tears from her eyes as Binhadi fell silent. "I cannot believe it. The Heart was not a happy place for me, but I would not wish so terrible a fate on even my greatest enemy. Would it have been different if I had been there?"

  "I think if you had remained, you would have suffered a tragic accident or been murdered by thieves in an alleyway some night," Binhadi replied. "You don't need foretelling to know that."

  "Yes, that is true," Eser said quietly. She stood and walked slowly across the room to a small bar built into one corner, where she poured a drink with trembling hands and drank it all in one long swallow. Pouring a second, she returned to her seat. "Where do you think the fearmonger is hiding now?"

  Binhadi shook his head. "I have no idea. My strongest supposition is that it has been made dormant and tucked away until it is needed again. I think it was needed only for destroying the Heart. That being said, I will be happier when it and the people responsible for it are permanently removed as a threat."

  "Seems a bit excessive for Seda." Eser pursed her lips. "He's ambitious and cold, but I never knew him to be so brutal. He loved the Heart."

  "Love turns to hate with distressing ease. He and his lovers have suffered greatly. In their eyes, they were betrayed from all sides. That tends to change a man."

  Cemal frowned. "Lovers?"

  "Rumor and supposition," Eser said with a shrug. She cast Binhadi a sly look. "Binhadi is a romantic, and he always wanted to believe the best of Seda and his dukes."

  Mahzan laughed until Binhadi glared and Eser sent him a disapproving look. "Wait. You're serious? You actually think Binhadi is a romantic and cares about anything but killing Seda?"

  Eser huffed. "What else would you call it when—"

  "Enough. I'm no romantic. I was young and foolish. If I'd been less foolish, they'd already be dead, and this might not have happened."

  "You made the best decision you could at the time," Eser replied, reaching out to squeeze Binhadi's hand. "I am sorry I was not of more use to you."

  Binhadi lifted one shoulder. "You did the best you could, and were of more help than anyone else."

  Confusion filled Mahzan's mind, Cemal and Sule just as lost as him. He hadn't realized Binhadi had been so tangled up in Seda's rebellion, which was what they seemed to be implying. He would have been only twenty-six at the time, barely old enough to be declared fit for court. Mahzan would have been twenty-one, a journeyman jester only recently begun working in the castle.

  I was still working my way up to a promotion that would get me to the Heart.

  I was still traveling, following clues, Cemal said. It took me four more years to make my way to the Heart.

  "Stop dwelling on the past, shadem. It was always your greatest flaw. Go, all of you, I'm sure you'd like to bathe and rest. It will take the servants a few hours to prepare a suitable meal. I will go through the library and pull a few books that may be useful and have them waiting." Eser stood and went to pull a long silk rope in another corner of the room.

  A moment later a servant appeared and escorted them away, up winding stairs and down a hallway, showing each of them to a room.

  Mahzan's room was as elegant and sumptuous as the rest of the house, though an impression of loneliness permeated everything and gave the place a bittersweet mien.

  Unfamiliar clothes were laid out on the bed, several years out of fashion, but in good condition. His own spare clothes were nowhere to be seen, presumably taken off for cleaning. Thank the Dragon, he was tired of smelling like horse and sweat and dirt.

  The door opened just as he started to undress, and a woman came in bearing a small tray with bread, cheese, and wine. "Thank you. I do not suppose you could tell me how I go about getting a bath?" Mahzan asked.

  She smiled and bowed. "You share a bathing chamber with the neighboring room, my lord. Through that door there. Hot water is piped in from the hot springs beneath the manner. The chamber has all the necessary supplies, but if you have need of anything, just ring and we'll come at once to tend the matter."

  "I'm grateful, thank you." When she'd gone, Mahzan headed immediately for the indicated door—and opened it to stare at a half-naked Sule, who promptly blanched and scrambled to retrieve his dropped clothes.

  Mahzan surged forward and grabbed his arms to still him, simultaneously building up their mental walls to give Sule that much privacy, at least.

  "But not the kind of privacy where you leave me alone."

  Mahzan grinned. "Not when I've been waiting and waiting to see if I'd get another kiss, and possibly more than a kiss."

  Sule flushed. "I got carried away."

  "But you weren't sorry," Mahzan replied. "You're not good enough t
o lie to a mind mage yet."

  "I can lie to other mind mages just fine. I doubt even Binhadi will be able to hide from you much longer. What do you want?"

  Mahzan huffed. "That's rather obvious, I'd think. To fuck, you thick-headed soldier. Did you get knocked around the sparring grounds so much your head has suffered permanent damage?"

  For once, Sule didn't rise to the bait. Instead he just watched Mahzan warily, but there was no hiding the thread of hope winding through the bond. "Even though I…"

  "Yes, even though you have tits. I've fucked men like you before, you know. And women with dicks. You'd be surprised how many things you realize you don't care about when you're preoccupied with not starving, getting beaten, or getting forced into a whorehouse. And I was one of the lucky ones."

  "I think it was less luck and more determination."

  Mahzan smiled crookedly and gently took the clothes still bundled in Sule's arms. The binding fabric around his chest was stained and ragged, much the worse for wear after months of hard travel. "May I?"

  Sule's mouth tightened, but he gave a short nod.

  "Do you prefer to keep it on?"

  "Sometimes. Not always. Right now I'm damned tired of it."

  Mahzan laughed and turned him slightly to get at the lacing beneath his right arm. Once those came free, it was easy to unwind the fabric. He threw it aside with the clothes, then finished stripping Sule before removing his own clothes.

  Sule had a body he could look at for hours, toned and fit, heavy with muscle, but he wasn't the size of a house like so many soldiers. His body was also riddled with scars and burn marks, marks of both his soldier life and his fearsome magic. Mahzan was eager to explore every bit of him with hands and mouth, but he turned way to fuss with the tub and give the trembling Sule some space. The pipework was similar to that used in the Heart, so important for managing all the water brought in and the sewage that needed to go out.

  He wrinkled his nose at the strange color of the water that came out, and the smell that filled the small bathing chamber. "How does one expect to get clean in water that smells like sweaty ass and looks like watery mud?"