“Cages?” Myranda said, eyes narrowed.
“Indeed. Surely you do not intend that they be permitted to roam free. The crew is already quite understandably uneasy about a fire-breathing creature riding aboard a ship. Fire is a considerable concern for them.”
“Myn can be trusted to behave herself so long as she isn’t kept from me or Deacon. In our experience, she tends to act up when confined.”
“I… see…”
“Perhaps if you could take us to this cage, we could determine how to make it more acceptable.”
“It is on the main deck. This way,” she said.
Myranda turned to Myn. “We’ll call you up once we’re there. Stay here and don’t cause any trouble.”
Myn gave Myranda a mildly reproachful look. She plopped down on her haunches, shaking the pier again and this time succeeding in spilling one of the workers into the water below.
“Myn!” Myranda snapped. “Now go get him.”
The dragon slumped somewhat, a flicker of shame subtly crossing her expression before she thumped over to the edge of the pier. After a hesitant look at the water, she cautiously looped her tail around the floundering worker. She hoisted him up, set him down, and watched with satisfaction as he backed cautiously away from her. A few vigorous flicks shook away the unwanted seawater from her tail.
“That’s better. Now behave yourself, please,” Myranda said.
Silla continued along the gangplank. The wizards followed a few steps behind.
“I apologize again,” Myranda said. “She’s still a bit of a child.”
“So it would seem,” Silla said. “Not to worry. I am certain the king will overlook this minor act of assault against one of his people.”
Myranda glanced to Deacon. A change of subject seemed in order.
“Tell me, Silla. What sort of quarters do you have for us? I can only imagine the sort of luxury a ship as grand as this one has in store.”
“Naturally, when we arrive in our home kingdom of Sonril, we shall provide you with more appropriate hospitality. While aboard, your lodging will be quite simple by our standards, I am afraid. I have only traveled via our own ships in the past, but I am assured our people’s interpretation of minimum acceptable accommodation is vastly in excess of the requirements of other races. My own room is not so different from the quarters I was given at the Tresson palace during our visit. Your rooms will be of a greater quality than mine.”
“And what of Ivy?” Deacon asked.
“The malthrope, I understand, is treated as an equal member of your force. Thus, her room is a match for yours.”
“And if we had not made her status among us clear?”
“Beasts are normally kept in the cargo hold. Were there room, that is where the dragons would have been stowed.”
Myranda took a steady breath. “I hope you will see, as our own people have slowly come to realize, that Ivy and her kind are no mere beasts.”
“No doubt under your expert guidance we shall learn much. Though the lesson, lamentably, is likely to be short-lived.”
“Why?”
“Because Ivy and her people are short-lived, and unless I have misunderstood their plight, she is among the last. This way to the deck.”
Myranda gave Deacon another look. There was a time when Deacon might have reached out with his mind to discuss his feelings silently. Now it was hardly necessary. She could read his mind from the look on his face, and he could do the same with her. These elves elevated superiority and dismissal to an art form, and it grated on Myranda’s nerves terribly. Never before had she encountered someone who so expertly delivered peerless hospitality while looking resolutely down their nose at their visitors. The elves were so assured of the wisdom of their worldview that every interaction with another race had the distinct tone of humoring a child.
She tried to push the irritation from her mind and instead admired the unique surroundings. Just as was the case for the outside of the ship, the interior looked as though a massive, curling tree had simply chosen to grow into the shape the elves had requested. Here and there, doorways formed from arched branches. Each was a slightly different shape. Most had bark-like doors that had been fit precisely into the openings. The floor was a nearly flat mat, woven from thinner branches or vines. Light came from candles held in the forks of silver-leafed branches emerging from the walls. They burned with a curious, perfectly white flame. Myranda held out her hand as they walked past. The flames were almost free of heat, and each had a small but quite skillful enchantment upon it.
“Impressive,” Myranda said. “I learned a fair bit of fire magic during my education, but I’ve never seen it put to such common and utilitarian use.”
“Having not had to devote the talents and lives of our best spell casters to military conquest or defense, we have been free to weave the touch of magic far more deeply into the fabric of our society. I would share the details of the spells with you, of course, but they are—”
Deacon happily spoke up. “Oh, it is quite clear what’s been done. The flame has simply been coaxed to feed upon the mana intrinsic to the ship rather than consuming the wood itself. I imagine some basic earth magic has been employed to guide and speed the growth of the trees into the form desired, and such an act would produce a plant with a very strong affinity to magic. The entirety of the ship acts as a weak mystic focus in much the same way a wizard’s staff might, even in the absence of a focusing crystal. It is a rather brilliant application of magic, as it means the whole of the ship can be lit safely with self-sustaining mystic flame.”
Myranda smirked at him.
“Oh! But I’ve interrupted you. Please continue.”
She spoke with the slow deliberate tone of one hoping to make her irritation. “I was going to suggest that such matters were secrets of the Sonril sages. Perhaps not as carefully protected as they might be… Here, the main deck is just this way.”
They ascended a set of stairs that was as wavy and irregular as everything else on the ship. It was a bit unnerving to move about on something so large and yet so free of the straight lines and regular curves Myranda normally associated with craftsmanship. If there was one place that had at least a semblance of a normal design, at least by Kenvardian standards, it was the main deck. The deck boards were broad and flat, quite possibly the only traditionally milled lumber so far, but even here the uniqueness of their workmanship showed through, as it was all assembled without a single nail. Instead, the boards, planks, and assorted mechanisms of the ship were connected with complicated joinery that spoke of absurd precision and patience.
“There, the cages,” Silla said, gesturing to the far end of the deck. “As you can see, they should be more than adequate.”
Myranda and Deacon surveyed the cell that Myn was expected to inhabit during the journey. It looked out of place surrounded by such elegant and natural beauty. Stout iron bars traced out a boxy chamber quite large enough to comfortably accommodate Myn. The roof was thatched to spare the interior the full brunt of the sun, and wooden troughs for both food and water were bolted to the floor near hatches that would permit them to be refilled without braving the interior. In truth it was probably larger than the converted stable that Myn slept in back in New Kenvard, but what it gained in size it lacked in hospitality. One would be hard-pressed to argue this was anything but a prison.
Deacon looked doubtfully at Myranda, then glanced back at the cell. There was a second identical one beside it awaiting Garr. He stepped up to it and inspected a heavy lock set into the open door. “I am not entirely certain this will be well received.”
“We took great pains to have it made for just this purpose,” Silla said. “This much hammered metal was difficult to come by in Sonril. As you may have observed, we believe metal has its place, and that place is not among the nobility.”
“Is there something inherently ignoble about metal?” Myranda said.
“Gold, silver, the noble metals are of course well and go
od in polite society. But iron? It is the stuff of weaponry, armor, and tools. These are things best left to lower hands. To secure these cages, we had to contract the Workslag Clan, a rare dwarfish family worthy of collaboration.”
“Interesting. I suppose those elves with whom I was educated were too far removed from their origins to maintain the same fascinating beliefs,” Deacon said. “Or perhaps they occupied a lower caste. I wonder if—”
Deacon’s musings were cut short by a brief, confused outburst from the pier, followed by Myn’s form vaulting up to the edge of the ship. She touched down heavily on the thick branch that formed the railing, rocking the ship ever so slightly. The crew on deck scattered and shouted what Myranda suspected were the most elegant and musical profanities she’d ever heard. Myn looked uncertainly behind her at the water, as if fearful it was trying to sneak up on her. Satisfied it wasn’t plotting something, she scanned the deck, spotted Myranda and Deacon, and hopped over to them. The flurry of motion and the unannounced arrival of the dragon once again caused a crack in Silla’s dour demeanor. She leaped backward, one hand clutching her chest.
“Control your beast!” she blurted.
The dragon glared at her, unimpressed by the demand.
“Myn, I’m sure our hosts would appreciate it if you would wait until called,” Myranda said. “But now that you are here, what do you think of your home aboard the ship?”
Myn turned to the cage and padded up to it. Her movements were cautious and measured, as though she expected the cage to contain some manner of trickery. She sniffed at the troughs, craned her neck up to inspect the thatched roof, and finally discovered the lock in the door. Her gaze slowly and savagely shifted to Silla.
“Naturally, the door would only be locked after Myn had retired for the evening,” Silla said defensively.
The assurance must not have been sufficient for Myn, as she took this opportunity to put her burgeoning language skills to use.
“No,” she rumbled.
“It is a simple and reasonable precaution, and one that is quite nonnegotiable. We must take the safety of the crew into consideration.”
Myn leaned down and came face-to-face with Silla. The lore keeper took a single step back, but tried to remain firm.
“No,” Myn repeated with force.
“I-it is simply n-not negotiable,” Silla stated.
Myn released a slow, hissing breath, then turned to the cage. She stood just outside its open doorway, planted her feet, and curled her head aside. Her horns hooked through the bars, and she flexed her neck.
“What is she doing?” Silla asked.
“I suspect she is proposing a compromise,” Myranda said. Normally, she would more vigorously chastise Myn for what she was doing, but the attitude prevalent among her hosts had already begun to wear on her. At the moment, a bit of disobedience felt called for.
The metal of the hinges creaked and groaned. Muscles visibly flexed and strained in Myn’s shoulders and neck. The metal popped, tore, and finally gave way. Myn’s head whipped aside, and the door hurled from her horns, spinning through the air until it disappeared over the starboard side of the ship to splash down into the water.
The job done, she stepped into the cage, turned to Silla, and plopped down.
“This is… how can… this is utterly unacceptable,” Silla said. “The lock on the cage was a perfectly reasonable precaution.”
“Perhaps so,” Deacon said. “But in light of this demonstration, it would appear to have been an insufficient precaution as well.”
“The king will not be pleased with this,” Silla said.
As if beckoned by the mention, the king’s voice boomed from a nearby doorway. “What is this commotion?”
“The representatives from the Northern Alliance refuse to control their beast. It has assaulted one member of our crew already, knocking him into the water, and now it has sabotaged our security precautions against it.”
Mellawin surveyed the circumstances of the deck. “Has anyone been hurt?” he asked.
“Not for lack of trying,” Silla said.
“I imagine the dragon tore the door from the cage?”
“With ease.”
“Then I suspect if no one was hurt, it was for lack of trying, as she certainly wouldn’t have had to try very hard. At any rate, she seems to be behaving herself now. Come, I grow weary of waiting. There are matters to discuss. We shall show you to your rooms after.”
“As you wish,” Myranda said. She turned to Myn. “We will return shortly. Do not cause any more trouble.”
Myn tipped her head up and gave a short huff, then plopped down again.
#
Myranda, Deacon, and Silla disappeared below deck, leaving Myn alone with the crew. To the dragon, this was already beginning to feel unpleasantly like one of the many trips they’d had to make to the south recently. As nice as the flights were, seldom did she get to spend more time with Myranda and the others than when they were traveling. Once they arrived, there was little for her to do but laze about and await her return. Deacon, Ivy, and even Ether were sliding with varying degrees of success into their roles as ambassadors and role models for their people. Myn was as often as not left out in the cold. It had taken her some time to truly understand why it was necessary, but no amount of understanding would make her like it.
She shut her eyes and tried to doze. It had been a very long trip, and she was rather exhausted, but something seemed wrong. Now that she didn’t have something to distract her, she became aware of the motions of the deck beneath her. It was pitching first one way, then the other. The bobbing and swaying was subtle, but she was utterly unaccustomed to the ground moving beneath her feet at all. She stood and plodded over to the edge of the deck. This was the side of the ship away from the pier, and thus the only things waiting below her were gentle blue waves lapping at the hull of the ship. She raised her head and looked out to the sea. The mere sight of so much water caused her heart to flutter with anxiety.
Myn did not have a good history with water. Though she had fond memories of a place called Entwell, both reaching it and escaping it had involved copious amounts of violent, rushing water. And then there had been an encounter with a frozen lake, one that had in a very real sense ended her life. Until now she’d been too preoccupied with these pointy-eared creatures who were telling her where to go and what to do to consider just what lay ahead. As the pieces came together, she didn’t like the picture that formed.
Two waves slapped together and sent a spritz of water high enough to sprinkle her face. She stumbled back as if struck, then bounded to the other side of the ship. There she found a pier, but just more of the same water beneath it and around it. Crew members dove to avoid her as she dashed to the rear of the boat, then rushed to the front. Water all around. They were floating on the water… And the journey had just begun. Myn peered at the land to the west and realized it soon would be left behind. Her heart went from fluttering to hammering. The desire to be with Myranda and make her proud was floundering in the torrent of fear at just what that would require. She wasn’t frightened of creatures she had to battle. No matter how large, they could always be beaten. But the water, the sea… once she was in its icy clutches, there was nothing she could do to overcome it. It could not be beaten.
“Myn! There you are,” called a voice. “Did you see who threw that big metal thing into the ocean?”
She snapped her head toward the source. It was Ivy, and the young malthrope instantly saw in the dragon’s eyes that she was troubled.
“Is something wrong?” she said.
Myn glanced to the water anxiously, then back to Ivy.
“Oh… Oh… Myranda was worried about this. Silly me, forgot all about how the water scares you. Well you don’t have to worry about it. We’re all here with you.”
Ivy hopped to Myn’s back and gave her neck a reassuring hug. “If I can get used to flying, you can get used to sailing. And look! You’ll have more friends to k
eep you company.”
Myn twisted her head and saw that Ivy was indicating the sky. That could only mean one thing. She darted her eyes about until she found the familiar shape in the sky.
“Whoa,” Ivy giggled as Myn took a few steps along the deck, spread her wings, and launched skyward. She held on tightly, eyes shut, as the dragon made the impromptu trip upward and the ground dropped away beneath them. “Y-you’ve got to warn me before you do that, Myn,” she said shakily. “I’m not that used to flying.”
Myn caught a rising warm current and circled, climbing ever upward, until she was high enough to tuck her wings and glide toward a green dragon and its rider.
Garr offered little more than a glance in her direction, but that was enough. Garr was like her, but he’d seen more, done more. Like Myranda and Ivy, and even Deacon, being with him made her feel as if she belonged, but with Garr, there was something more. Something strong and familiar. Something she couldn’t quite explain, but that she knew she needed.
Ivy briefly released Myn’s neck with one hand to venture a wave to Grustim. Like the dragon, he offered only a glance. Myn felt a twinge of resentment when she thought of how closely they worked, how inseparable the two were, but it passed. Myn had her family, Garr had his. She wouldn’t dream of giving up Myranda, so she would have to tolerate Grustim.
The pair of dragons and their riders wheeled downward again. The vast blue expanse of the sea sprawled out before Myn, cutting at her. She focused on the warm pressure of her rider, the confident grace of Garr, and the wisdom and friendship of those waiting below. It would not be easy. In truth, it would be beyond trying. But if they could do it, she could do it.
Garr landed on the pier. Myn landed directly on the deck of the ship, then leaned on the railing to see what was keeping him. The elves were exchanging words harshly with Grustim, then pointing in Myn’s direction. Garr turned in her direction and unfurled his wings.
Ivy hopped from Myn’s back and stomped over to the sturdy metal cells. Her eyes narrowed. “Why are there cages here?”
The Crescents Page 5
